#I usually assumed that I would kill myself or something before I got far enough into adulthood to have my own long-term living space

[cryptid-on-a-string]

one of my main motivations to stay alive long enough to be an adult, is the notion that I’ll be able to decorate my future home however strange, weird, and unusual as I want. I could paint a coffee table with funky colors and patterns. I could buy one of those neon Pepsi clocks that restaurants have. I could have LED lights in lots of rooms. I could make fake human organs and have them strewn around the place like someone was mauled to death. I could sew stuffed animals onto the furniture. I could hang model fish from the ceiling. maybe the thought of growing up doesnt have to be a daunting and horrible task, if someday I’ll live on my own get to decorate stuff however I want,.

[weirdmorefics]

My Birdy Took Flight

A/N- I am aware I really need to write my asks and my Spencer Reid story but I am currently obsessed with Simon Riley okay!

Simon Riley x Sniper Reader

Readers pronouns- She/her

TW- Swearing, falling, injuries, and military inaccuracies but I mean it's COD and they have a zombie game so are going to attack them too? lol

Summary- Who knew the complete off-the-books mission would go off the rails and leave you with the worst rope burns of your life. The injuries however were not the scary part it was having to face Ghost and admit you fell out of the heli.

Word Count- 1991

This mission was completely off the books, asshole Shephard did not care at all that Kate had been taken hostage and would not send reinforcements for help. I've been working with Price and Kate since I was a recruit they are my family. There was no way I was leaving Kate to be killed. The plan was simple enough I stayed in the heli for overwatch while Price, Gaz, and Farah worked their way up the line. Things were going smoothly I've worked with Nik before he is one hell of a pilot. Things however took a turn for the worse an explosive hit the copter and I fucking fell out. I'm sure Nik and Captian thought I died for a moment but I was bloody hanging from the rope. I am lucky my sniper skills are still top-notch when I'm hanging upside down though I would prefer not to test it again. After that hiccup, we recovered Kate and she luckily had no physical injuries.

We returned to base that night and Price insisted I go to the med bay to get checked out. To quote his words, "You look like shit kid, get the hell to med bay before I drag you myself."

The medic rushed to treat me, but something told me that was Price's doing. They wanted to keep me here for observation due to my concussion from the explosion impact. I begged them not to I'd sleep way better in the barracks I hate the sanitary hospital smell, I even prefer the smell of gunpowder. The medic would not take no for an answer I wanted to fight them harder but they said they preferred my anger to Price's wrath. The medic left shortly after and would return sporadically to do random vital checks. At least I knew the concussion wasn't that bad as it didn't beckon me toward the darkness like other times. Though my raw skin kept me from finding any peace I honestly kind of miss the darkness. I spent the night tossing and turning the pain and clinical setting keeping sleep a far distance away from me.

The clock ticking was mocking me as I watched it hit four am. How are hospital settings supposed to help you heal when there is so much beeping and someone always coming into your room? Speaking of which I heard the door creak yet again didn't they just take my vitals ten minutes ago! I can't take this without thinking I launch the flat uncomfortable pillow at what I assumed would be the intern medic yet again only to lock eyes with Ghost looking as shocked as I did.

"That's one hell of a greeting darling," he says in his usual deep voice. My eyes are still wide with shock that I just hit my superior with a pillow but he takes this opportunity to speak again. "Heard you took flight today, Gaz was telling everyone."

I wince at the thought of everyone knowing I failed to hold on during the explosion and try to change the subject to avoid thinking about it, "Aren't you supposed to be on a mission with Soap?"

"Just got back. Johnny and Gaz are out celebrating," he responds.

"They are out celebrating at four am?" I question.

"You know Johnny no one can outdrink the Scott," he says like it's the most obvious thing the world.

"Well, why aren't you out there celebrating with them?"

"My birdy took flight and thought it only decent to check up on her," any other time I would have dwelled on the fact that he said 'my birdy' but he placed his hand on my welted ankle and I could not suppress the groan. His eyes quickly shift to concern and he rips the scratchy hospital blanket off me.

"Ghost!" I shout at him for having the audacity to rip the blanket off me. He has no right to barge in here and act like he's in charge, he may be the boss of me in the field but he is not my doctor and I do not care for showing off my nasty ass wounds to my team members.

He does not acknowledge my shout at him in the slightest instead his full attention is on my rope-burned ankles."What quack treated this," he growled.

"I'm fine," I try to yank my foot out of his grasp but he holds tighter.

"Yeah because the skin falling off your ankle looks spectacular," he says sarcastically.

"Wow you sure know how to treat a girl," I roll my eyes.

"Haven't heard any complaints," he says nonchalantly as if that innuendo wouldn't have Soap applauding.

"Seriously, it's fine. Go celebrate with the team," I assure.

"If you think I am letting you let your ankle get infected you are off your rocker. I am going to need names, sweetheart," he commands.

The nickname glides out of his mouth so easily it's as if he had said it a hundred times. I want to stay as calm and collected as him but I unfortunately stutter, "What names?" God, it's a good thing I'm a sniper and not a spy because I would be dead.

"Of the idiot docs who treated this," he speaks as if it's obvious.

I sigh, "It's not their fault... I didn't tell them. Price only knew about the concussion and I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Ah so you're the idiot," he growls.

"Can you not be mean to me I did just fall out of a heli."

"Shut up you lived," he rolls his eyes, gently places my foot down, and turns to leave.

"Please don't take your anger out on the medics," I beg.

"Oh trust me darling I will be taking my anger out on you," he growls yet again.

I shiver, "Where are you going then?"

"To get some medical supplies for your dumbass. No one way I'm letting a medic treat you when you will just lie to them."

"What makes you think I won't lie to you?" I tease well aware that I am in no place to be teasing.

He chuckles an evil kind still it's one of the best I've heard, "Me and you both know you aren't capable of it."

He exits the room and I am unsure if I want to slap him or rip that mask off and kiss him... I am definitely incapable of either. I may be able to beat Soap, Gaz, and even Price on the mat but no one can best Ghost. I, unfortunately, hear him shouting at medics for a damn first aid kit... so much for him taking out his anger on me.

He returns rather quickly but does not speak as he meticulously places the first aid supplies by my bedside.

He pours some alcohol on my rope burn and I hiss loudly, "shit a little warning would be nice."

"You would have just fought harder. Need to clean the debris out who fuckin knows how old that rope was."

"Aw is Ghosty worried about me," I pout.

"Thought I told you and Johnny to stop calling me that, you want me to make this hurt worse than it already does?"

I roll my eyes at him and in response, he presses the gauze harder than necessary. "You asshole!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I can see his wicked smile through his balaclava.

"Yeah sure," I huff. "You know..." I smile mischievously. "This would go a lot faster if you just kissed it better."

"Oh really," I could hear the grin in his voice. I was expecting him to make some snide comment in return instead he finishes wrapping my ankle and lifts his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose.

I am sure my eyes widen to the size of saucers. I feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. His grin widens it could only be compared to the Cheshire cat's smile. He gently lifts my ankle to his lips but does not stop there. He places delicate kisses all the way up to my thigh. I think I have officially stopped breathing. Then my heart decides to do the most embarrassing thing ever. It speeds up so atrociously fast that the monitors start beeping incredibly loud. That's it I have officially died there is no coming back my face is melting off from how flushed I am.

Ghost sits back and laughs and I mean properly laughs, I have never seen him like this. "This is a good look on you birdy all red and flustered, all for me too." He pulls his mask back down but I can still see the smile in his eyes.

"Shut up! I am a highly trained sought-after sniper, I don't get flustered!" I feel like that would have sounded better if I didn't stutter each word.

Ghost glances at my heart rate monitor, "Your heart says otherwise."

A medic comes in as the dumb machine won't stop beating, "Are you alright? You're looking quite flushed and your blood pressure is higher than it was when you first came in."

I swear I could see the smugness radiating off Ghost. God I want to strangle him.

"She's fine thanks to me," his eyes squint at me and I know he has a huge grin under that balaclava. He then turns to the medic, "Don't you know the 141 are notorious liars and the worst patients! Next time call me down here as soon as she is being treated."

The poor medic flinches at Ghost's rough voice and can barely whisper, "Yes, sir"

I mouth, 'I'm so sorry," to the medic he looks appreciative.

The medic flees as soon as my blood pressure normalizes. Ghost roughly throws his body onto the uncomfortable hospital chair and groans.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be going back to the barracks," I glance as he makes himself comfortable well as comfortable as one can be in a torn hospital chair.

"In a rush to get rid of me birdy?"

"Is that name going to become a thing," I roll my eyes.

"Only for me, if anyone else has the nerve to call you that I'll gut them," he replies.

"Even Johnny?"

"Especially Johnny," He grins.

I smile, "Seriously Ghost you should go sleep in your own bed that chair cannot be comfortable. I'd be in my bed if they would let me escape."

"I know you can't stand hospitals, I won't let you be sleepless and cranky alone."

"Fine, then at least share the bed with me, I forbid you from sleeping on that fifty-year-old chair."

"The fact that you think you can forbid me from doing anything sweetheart is laughable. Are you sure you want me to be over there might make your heart monitor scream again?" He makes his way over to the bed despite his words.

I roll my eyes, "I'll manage."

He lays on the small hospital bed and takes up ninety percent of it but I don't mind it because it doesn't smell like hand sanitizer and blood anymore it smells like him.

"Goodnight birdy," he kisses the top of my head and my heartrate monitor instantly starts beeping annoyingly again.

"Goddammit," I groan and he just laughs.

"You would make a terrible spy with all those emotions, you're lucky the red face works on you." he chuckles.

"You're just jealous of my amazing sniping abilities you must point out my flaws," I poke his chest.

"You ain't got no flaws birdy except the fact that you're stubborn as hell. Now go to sleep before I knock you out myself."

"Yes LT.," I fake salute him and he rolls his eyes.

Sleep comes so much faster in the med bay when you aren't alone, I wish falling asleep would always be this easy.

[sincerely-sofie]

The finishing of this fanfic has left me with some pretty mixed emotions. On the one hand, I dont want it to end. It's such an incredible piece of work and even though I finally committed to reading it a few weeks ago, it already feels like such a significant part of my life. On the other hand, I'm a little glad that it's over. FAR from the sense it was bad (I'll steal your liver if thats how you interpret it) but moreso in the sense that it was like a good crying session. It's something that a lot of us (or I assume a lot of us) typically want to avoid even though we know its good for us, and satisfying after the fact. It's like catharsis in a way. Endings aren't always a great feeling in the moment, but it's something that we can look back on with a fondness.

I'm so glad I found this work. I'm being completely serious when I say that this fanfic, and the other content you make, has changed my life for the better. Its helped me reconnect with that love I have for creativity after nearly a decade of not making anything even though I wanted to. It's helped pulled me out of a few ruts of depression. It's helped me realize that I'm not actually emotionally stunted (per my own conclusions) and be more willing to cry instead of burying those feelings. In the past I would just, kill these kinda thoughts before they got far because of how much I wanted to avoid crying. Much less actually writing them down, or express them to someone else. But now, I've been crying the whole time I write this, and for the first time in, I think ever, I'm okay with that. I know we don't actually know each other, but you've genuinely helped me become a better person with the things you make. Thank you so much for everything you've done Sofie. hey look! I got your name right!

But enough about me. I feel like it's getting indulgent at this point. (I've gotten dehydrated with how much ive cried writing this and from what I can tell, you cry a lot more than I do. So go drink some water first, and then) I wanna hear your thoughts. What are your thoughts and feelings about your work being finished? Do you have plans to take a break from creative endevors for a while, or are you gonna keep going? Are you going to be expanding more on this and other au's, different fanworks or move into something completely your own? Whatever the case may be, I'm excited to see what more you are going to come up with!

From the bottom of my heart, and on behalf of everyone else, Thank you for everything.

It's so surreal to have posted that final chapter. I finished the first draft almost 100 days ago exactly, and I spent a number of days after completing it kind of adrift. I'd go to my computer every morning like I had during the month prior and sit down, ready to write, only to remember that I was actually supposed to be taking a break before I made the final edits.  It didn't click in my head that I had actually done it… until a couple weeks later when it hit me like a truck that I had an entire completed manuscript sitting in my Google Docs. I think I was making myself lunch at that moment, and I had to bolt to lie down on the floor and put my legs up against the wall because I was ready to pass out at the realization. 

This feels pretty similar. For me, The Present is a Gift— the main fanfic, at least— was finished in mid-January. But the process of uploading it and agonizing over what people thought of every passing update wouldn't be formally done until about 3 months later. It still hasn't clicked in my head that I won't be posting a new update once Tuesday rolls around. 

On the subject of taking a break— I've actually been taking a break, at least partway! I've barely written anything after I finished TPiaG's first draft, and I haven't drawn much “serious” art, for lack of a better word, since I started my blog. I've still been making things, yes, but scattered oneshots and sketchy pieces without solid lineart are not my typical fare. I'm usually a lot more “exact” with what I make— words fail me here— I hope I'm not being too vague! I might take a brief break as I finish up the winter semester, but that would be less a break from creating and more of an “OH MY WORD I NEED TO FOCUS ON NOTHING BUT PASSING THESE COURSES” kinda thing. 

TPiaG (along with its derivative AUs) is still very much a living project to me— there's a lot more stories the characters have in them, even if I struggle to envision a full-on sequel. I'm absolutely going to answer the asks relating to it that I've received over the months along with any I continue to receive, and if I get any ideas for comics or oneshots here and there, I'll make them. As for what's officially next up on the Sincerely Sofie menu, I'm planning to make a visual novel that's a lot more meaty than the last one I made. I'm not sure if it will be original or based on TPiaG— but a visual novel is the medium I'm planning on! 

I'm so overwhelmed by your kindness. I truly don't have any words. This project started off as something private to help distract me from a depressive episode and to process trauma, and it's become so much more. I'm so glad it was able to help you. Catharsis was the keyword for TPiaG— I wanted it to uproot difficult emotions and help people start to heal from them, but I never dreamed it would really help anyone but myself. So to hear it was able to provide you with that is unbelievably meaningful to me. 

I gave myself the goal somewhat recently to let myself cry whenever the urge strikes me. I used to go months without crying, and whenever I did shed tears, it was alone in my room while muffling the few sounds I accidentally let slip. I'm a natural crybaby, but I had schooled myself into thinking for a number of reasons that it was bad to cry— that it was selfish, or attention-seeking, or weak— so I've been trying to reclaim my teary-eyed identity. It's been difficult, but it's so freeing to let myself feel things fully. All of this is to say: let the tears fall. I've helped more people by crying than my stoicism ever did. 

Thanks again. I can't properly word my gratitude, but know that it's overwhelming :,>

[sixosix]

I need you to know that I squawked at the cliffhanger of childe’s appearance. Lost my mind and almost threw my phone. Fingers crossed that Aether got to him before the banquet!

But to the chapter as a whole! There are?? So many things I wanna talk about? I’ll try to keep it somewhat short so I can fit it all into one ask but sienussnei-

I’m like 50 percent sure those strings pulled had something to do with the fauti. Something I remembered!! Not every person from the house of the hearth becomes one of the fauti! But they still do remain close to the group! My crack theory is that Rosalie is one of people in that latter group. Arlecchino was able to fully attempt an assassination on Furina without anyone knowing before or after( including the orphans in this as well since they don’t say thing about it as far as i know? And im absolutely positive they wouldn’t push for more info and take her at her word that she didn’t have the gnosis) and the only reason why it was a attempt and not a success is because she stopped herself! Either way though, considering her disguise used for that same attempt, I sure that the hooded figure was Father herself.

ALSO THE PINING OF THIS MAN!!! That polearm?? The sudden flip from fake to real the moment he saw Rosseland (I’m assuming that was the kitty in question) had led Thawed!Reader to him? The instant flirtations? Not to mention that despite the fact Thawed!Reader kept talking about kissing him, he refused!! Because he knew they were both drunk and not quite in their right minds to do that!!! THE MAN CARES!! It’s also a blessing and a curse rn that Thawed!Reader is kinda drunk. A blessing because she isn’t hiding her feelings as much, but a curse because she isn’t being subtle at all. The straight forward question she asked? Lyney isn’t drunk enough to forget that.

The callback to the last chapter too! She really does know lyney so well, even after all this time. He was right, she did know he was lying. And she’s just sitting there, trying to figure out what’s going on while Aether’s just sitting there like ‘you two nerds love each other.’ Not that she would admit it out loud. Yet. Also RIP reader, paimon and Rosalie are friends now, friendship forged by food. They aren’t gonna leave readers life once this is over and done. Say goodbye to your peace and quiet! (Although lyney may complain about that but that’s a different story-)

Losing my mind also over Rosalie and Thawed!Reader’s connection. She doesn’t even realize she is calling Rosalie maman!! But Rosalie does and it’s just so soft and sweet and family and rurnfjkeis. I’ve known Rosalie for 7 chapters and if anything happens to her I will kill everyone in this room and then myself.

Great chapter as always! I’m a little sad to hear regular updates are potentially stopping for a bit but I fully understand! Best of luck with school!!

-Deadman Aether Anon

deadman aether anon i wish you couldve seen my face when i saw your ask i literally lit up. and im sure that the other readers have been waiting for your thoughts as well, based on the tags of reblogs i read (“cant wait for deadman aether anon's insight now”)

HAHA i talked about this w my friend but i wanted to make childes appearance TERRIBLE. i wanted everyone to be like "FUCK. I LOVE YOU BUT NOT NOW." while childe shows up lke a celebrity in a disneyshow. it seems like it worked LMFAOO

INTERESTNG CRACK THEORY U HAVE!!!! the truth will be revealed eventually but i applaud u for how ure thinking of it. :D big brain as usual. it is also interesting to see people trying to figure out who the hooded figure was? deadman aether anon idk if u saw but there are other people guessing differently. im surprised bc i thought it was pretty obvious !!

YEAHH!! IT WAS ROSSELAND !!! i love rosseland and how lyney ended up making the cat his assistant-- that little backstory is so cute. rosseland is such a smart cat, too; writing that scene of leading mc to lyney didnt seem absurd in the slightest to me.

drunk t!reader is a mess kwdhkdfhd some drunk words are sober thoughts. and yes i think and know that lyney is a gentleman. even drunk he would always put reader first. always!

aether is so silly he came in there to blackmail someone and ended up playing secondhand matchmaker, if that makes sense LMFAOO i actually love aether and readers dynamic its so absurd when you look at it from a different perspective. its such a strange friendship they ended up making

yes ure right!!!!!1 im not sure if im portraying it well but reader calling rosalie maman is so ? subconsciously done. its like looking at a cat and going "here kitty". u look at rosalie and the way she treats reader and u go "thanks maman".

tysm for this ask!!!!!!!!! always such a delight to see you stopping by and sharing your thoughts, but i think ive said that every time by now LOL. and thank u too for the wishes T__T ill need them when i deal with chemistry <333 MUCH LOVE

[sherrymagic]

us akdgdhjkjs <3

i'm still convinced about dome being tonkla's brother and there being two timelines but now i'm having doubts about what great's visions really are and how the timelines work because great saw the vision when tyme came to him to ask him out remind him to come to the hospital right? but in the real past when title killed dome great didn't have a wound tyme would need to treat. so this vision can't be a memory from timeline 1 right? or am i overthinking this and great could've still gotten hurt after he witnessed dome's murder

my brain hurts lmao i hope i'm making sense 😭

also do you think win knew tonkla from before? i kinda got that vibe when he fist saw tonkla at the police station and then when he secretly took his picture and smiled at it and then said i didn't think you're like this. could be love at first sight ofc but it feels like he's met his first crush again or smth 👀

- @ahxu-laowen

LITERALLY SOF HDSAJBCSDJ WE'RE ONE BRAIN 🩷

same here, been wondering for a while what these visions actually are which implies asking myself what kind of scifi this is. i have been devouring content about multiple timelines & time loops for more than a decade now so i'm pretty much aware of how the various sub-tropes usually work and yet i still have no idea which ones i should be considering here. i agree with you on Dome being the dead brother and there being two timelines, and in the timeline where Dome died i still don't see any way in which Great can have met Tyme so far. assuming he didn't save Dome the first time i have no reason to assume he called an ambulance for Manee when the first rewind has happened (since my main theory is that time rewinds in timeline 2 to fix what he did wrong the first time in timeline 1) so my take is the first time he both ran away and hasn't stopped Title in time, therefore i have no idea how he met Tyme at all? but the flashes of them together have to be from timeline 1 so there MUST be a connection anyway??

you are making sense dw i am the right person for this kind of brain hurting discourse about science fiction stuff 😭

i admit i did not get that vibe but now that you mentioned it it could be? Win might have seen or met Tonkla before or it might be a typical "fates destined to interwine" thing as you often see in this kind of story, i was wondering just this morning how Win may pop up in timeline 2 bc there's little to no chance (at least according to my own logic + personal experience with time related stories) that Tonkla can not meet Win at all in the second timeline. might be as you said or something on a more "spiritual" level, there's not enough information out yet to be sure about anything on this topic for now 👀 all i know is with 8 episodes adding flashbacks too might be hard since there's way less time to go deep in stuff so for now i'll keep assuming he was just lovestruck by the sight of the pretty twink!

btw feel free to dm me if there's anything you'd like to discuss more deeply about this show, i'm always open to theorizing about anything science fiction and/or mystery-thriller related!!

[chickensoupleg]

I put myself into a wee bit of undue stress so... Writing it off.

--

Every Tuesday morning Chrissy jogged around the block. It was good cardio, and Chrissy enjoying the peace of the morning when no one else was awake.

She had assumed her usual gear: A sport top, her favourite jogging sweats, pink sneakers she got as a gift from Robin, and her lucky scrunchie. She carried a water bottle with her as well, even though she didn't necessarily need it most of the time. Her jogs were fairly short, Chrissy still fit enough that a block wouldn't kill her just yet.

The sound of crying catches her ear as she turns the second corner. She slows down, head turning in an attempt to locate the sound. It sounded close by, but she saw nobody else out.

Her attention goes to a small alleyway, Chrissy walking closer to look into the darkness. It was still illuminated by the alley lights at this hour, leaving her view of the large trash containers and empty boxes set in the crevice.

There was something decidedly less a product of human consumption, curled up atop one of the boxes.

"Are you lost?" Chrissy asks. The kid jerks their head up, eyes rimmed in red clear as day despite the poor lighting.

The kid sniffles, not answering. Chrissy looks around, but the streets are empty.

She takes a step into the alleyway towards the kid, slow as to not stress the kid out. "It's okay, you're okay. You must be scared to death out here!"

The kid chokes on another sob, and oh does it pull at Chrissy's little heartstrings. She pulls the blue water bottle from her belt, extending it towards the kid. "Here, you must be thirsty!"

The kid sniffles loud, rubbing furiously at his eyes. It's a boy, Chrissy realises up close. She still holds the bottle out to him, waiting. The boy eventually grabs at the bottle, sucking at the nozzle on the top furiously, breathing hard and wet. Chrissy doesn't have a napkin for him, but she wishes she did.

"Th-Thank you..." The boy sputters after a few hearty, long gulps.

"It's no problem! Are you lost?" Chrissy asks again.

The boy sniffs, wiping at his nose with his shirt. "My- My dad told me to stay here."

Chrissy looks at the green door that led into the building the boy's back was facing. "Is he inside? Then why are you crying out here, sweetie?"

She regrets asking when the boy whines, Chrissy rubbing his shoulder gently.

"N-No. He's not-" The boy hiccups. "He left."

Chrissy makes a confused face, wondering what he meant.

It clicks a moment later. "Your dad- He wouldn't-" Chrissy can barely finish her sentence. "He left you here?"

The boy nods, and Chrissy pulls him into a hug, the boy clinging to her despite her being an effective stranger. The kid didn't look much older than 6, maybe 5. It's far too early, and this kid was abandoned in an alleyway. Or maybe just on the streets and he wandered in here to cry his little heart out.

Regardless, Chrissy wasn't about to leave him. "Where's your mum?"

The boy sniffs. "Gone."

Chrissy nods. "Come on, I'll take you to the police station. How does that sound? Can I pick you up?"

The boy nods, Chrissy lifting the boy up with ease with her hands tucked under his bottom. The child wraps his arms around her neck, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and Chrissy can't help but melt. Just a little.

She walks home first, if only to get to Heather and Robin. As much as she would like to walk all the way to the station, it was still a bit far for her, especially with a child in tow.

The boy remains still in her arms, likely tired from all the crying and how early it was. She unlocks the door and steps inside the quaint apartment she shared with Heather and Robin and sets down the boy.

"I need to wake up my friend, can you wait a little?"

The boy nods, Chrissy pulling off her sneakers and walking across the room to get to the bedrooms on the opposite end.

She goes into Heather's room, knocking before entering. Heather was nice and comfortable in bed.

Not for long, Chrissy yanking the blanket off. Heather stirs with an irritated groan, Robin curled up like a fetus against Heather's side. She groans as well, lifting her head.

"Chris...?" Robin mumbles, Chrissy smiling and waving.

"I need the car."

"For what," Heather says, face down in the pillow.

"There's this child-"

Heather lifts her head up. "Excuse me?"

The soft padding of feet is enough to alert Heather and Robin more, a shadow passing along the door. The boy pauses there, waving shyly.

"Bathroom?"

"Oh, just down the hall sweetie." Chrissy points, the boy puttering out of view.

"Chrissy-" Heather hisses, Chrissy looking back with a slightly sheepish expression. "Chrissy did you kidnap a kid?"

"Oh my goodness I don't want to go to jail for kidnapping a child I'm too young to go to jail-" Robin says, Chrissy shaking her head.

"No I'm not! I'm not kidnapping! We're not kidnapping. I found him on my jog. He said his dad left him alone. There's nobody out there, I'm pretty sure he's been abandoned. I wanted to take him to the police station, see what they can do."

Heather sighs. "Alright, fine."

--

Heather drove them to the station, Chrissy taking the boy inside. The boy clung tight to her hand, face washed and clean now. He looked nervous, clinging tight to Chrissy.

"Hello." The police's receptionist greets.

"Hi. This child's dad abandoned him near my house so I'm bringing him in."

The receptionist looks at the child, who had moved to hide behind Chrissy's leg. It was kind of cute.

"Oh, of course darling. I'll get CPS to come down here to speak with him, if you don't mind staying until then?"

Chrissy accepts, sitting down with the boy.

"I never got your name."

The boy looks up at her, giving her a nervous little smile. "Jeremy. What's your name?"

"Chrissy. I like your name."

The boy smiles a little wider.

CPS comes by a while later, Chrissy staying with him while the social worker asked Jeremy questions. The boy stayed close to her the entire time, Chrissy whispering encouraging words for him. She didn't know him, sure, but he was a little kid. Chrissy couldn't help it.

Eventually she had to leave. She wasn't his guardian, she was just a random woman who just so happened to stumble upon him.

The moment she stood up though, ready to leave while the social worker was ready to move Jeremy to the back, the boy started whining, reaching out for Chrissy.

"Jeremy, I gotta go now. You're gonna be okay," She tried to reassure him, but the kid wasn't having it. He manages to slip out of the grip of the worker and runs to her, grabbing at her legs.

"Don't go!" Jeremy wails.

Chrissy sucks in a breath, kneeling down so she was level with him. Jeremy was right back near to tears again. "Jeremy I have to go. The nice lady is gonna take care of you okay?"

"I'm scared..."

"I know, but you have to go with her. You'll be okay, okay?"

Jeremy sniffs. "Okay..."

"Good." She gives him one last hug, because why not, kids like hugs, Jeremy hugging back.

He lets go after a while, trailing back to the CPS worker. The lady just smiles at her, walking away with Jeremy. Chrissy waves at Jeremy as he leaves, dropping her hand down once he was out of sight.

She heads back out to the car, Heather smiling softly at her.

"He stole your heart didn't he."

"Maybe."

Heather chuckles, pulling away from the station. "Chrissy you knew him for an hour, tops."

"But he was so young! And his dad just-" Chrissy motions with her hand. "I feel so bad for him. He was just abandoned by his family."

"It sucks, it really does." Heather turns down the street. "But there's nothing else you could have done Chrissy. This is his best chance."

"I know. He just- He clung to my legs and told me not to go, Heather."

"Oh he definitely took your heart."

Chrissy nods in agreement.

A few minutes of silence passes. "Say, Heather."

"Yes, Chrissy?"

"Robin did say that she and Steve got accepted to be foster parents, right...?"

[gnomoflux]

I was walking to school, it's not too far away from home. My dad always tells me that I need to exercise if I want to keep a strong, buff body, or else it wouldn't make sense for humans. And I wanted to keep playing football, so a strong body is the obvious choice. Anyway...

Suddenly, a white van with extremely dark tinted windows pulled over and I had no time to react. Two guys got out, one of them wrapped a dark bag over my head and the other grabbed and threw me inside the van. I knew this was a kidnapping, and I was sure they would go through my phone to call my parents and demand ransom...

But I was wrong.

You see, after they left me in this basement, I could still reach their presence inside the house, on the ground level. There was a third guy there, the driver I'm sure, but his presence was... off. If I could compare with water, a common person would be a clean glass of water. The two brutes were muddy water, still good if you filter correctly. But the third... that was putrid. I wouldn't even compare him to water.

I don't know what he did, but quickly the presence of the other two vanished, as if ceasing to exist. He killed them? They were not expecting that, and the horror I felt on them was so abrupt and vapid it wouldn't even be noticeable if I wasn't paying attention.

I don't know why it took him so long to come down to the basement, probably he was disposing of the bodies... but finally he came down. He was wearing a yellow raincoat, rubber boots and cleaning gloves. Obvious red stains on the front of the raincoat. And he was holding a butcher knife with something red dripping from the blade, the stench of blood very obvious.

That's when I decided to mess with him. You see, both my parents told me to keep my powers to myself, never to show them around. But I thought this situation demands a little rulebreaking...

With each step he took forward, I let my body grow more muscular, until he's less than 5 feet away from me. In that instant, I was too ripped to be contained - both the ropes that tied me up and my school's uniform teared down, scattering on the floor. His face of surprise was pure bliss for me, but I wasn't done. Hehe, not even nearly done.

He turned around, to flee the basement I think, and I slammed shut the door and locked it. I slowly got up and walked up to him, my horns slowly sprouting on my forehead and my skin assuming a redder tone. "Not so brave now, eh, Eric?" Prying into his mind was like running through a maze, but at least the only information I needed was right at the entrance: mentioning his name made the butcher knife shake in his hand. "Who are you?" he asked, basically without courage enough to say anything else. I smiled gently before replying. "I am your worst error... and your worst nightmare."

"I offer you a deal." I continued. I can't even remember his face now without holding in a laughter. "Hand yourself in to the police, confess to all your crimes and where to find the bodies, and I won't devour your soul." I always wanted to torment an evil soul, but I shouldn't draw the humans' attention to me. Thankfully, there were no humans in that basement. I took a grip at his wrist and removed the knife from his hand, playing with it in front of his face. To make a point, I licked the blood on it... yuck, that was disgusting, I know. "You have 12 hours for that."

After that, I unlocked the door and slammed it open, and he darted out of the basement. I could feel his presence running away. After that, I made sure to remove any evidence of me being there - reconstructed the ripped shirt and erased any trace of me on the knife before dropping it on the ground. Shrinked back to my usual size, went back to my skincolor and hid the horns, put on my shirt and darted back home.

I lost a math exam that day, but when I explained everything to my parents they understood. They don't aprove me lying like that - I couldn't devour human souls even if I wanted, that's another type of demon. But they'll let it slide if I get an A on the next exam. I don't know how they managed to convince Mrs. Piper to let me do the exam even after missing it, but I don't need to know.

You were born into a family of demons who escaped hell to live a normal life under humans. Your parents told you never to use your demonic powers. That is until you’re kidnapped by a serial killer of your hometown who you decide to teach a lesson.

[sleepymarmot]

Y Tu Mamá También (2001)

[Watched on April 14th]

Soo, I think this has been on my watchlist for… fifteen, close to twenty years now? (For the obvious reason a teenager in the 2000s would be checking Alfonso Cuarón’s filmography.) I think I might even have a DVD somewhere. Well, maybe it’s for the best I only got to it now.

Notes taken during and after the viewing:

I’m glad I know no Spanish so there was no point in even trying to listen to the words, because holy shit these people are not enunciating.

I have no idea how anyone could watch this in theaters. I constantly had to rewind to process the narration and figure out who’s who. This whole thing seems far more suited to a book. So far it’s a pretty typical novel, complete with explicit scenes that would usually not make it to the screen, and the narrator cutting in to provide background information.

I’m assuming the film expects the viewer to identify with the boys’ POV but it’s completely impossible for me. They’re the aliens, the kind of people I used to intentionally stay away from. She’s the one my gender and age (actually, maybe even a bit younger than me, which makes seeing people refer to her as an “older woman” pretty funny). Is this supposed to be seen as a coming of age story or something? Because so far it looks like the story of an adult walking into the biggest mistake of her life.

The question that haunted me throughout the film was: how exactly big of a mistake that would be, according to the law? It’s one thing to do something irresponsible and immoral; it’s another to knowingly risk going to prison for it. One of these omniscient narrator explanations could have been used to clarify to a foreign viewer what the age of consent was in 90s Mexico…

My mortification on behalf of the woman got so strong I had to pause for a while right before she started fucking the first of the boys. I was so distracted by the relationship drama that I (as you can see from the comment above) forgot about her doctor’s visit and thought it was all just a rebound. To be fair, I initially assumed her mystery illness was more in the realm of infertility, and only figured it out 20 minutes before the end of the film.

Ironically, throughout most of the roadtrip my thoughts were “I’d want to kill myself an hour into being stuck there.” I guess for her, it was kind of the reverse!

Her not caring about protection should have been a hint. That’s actually what had been on my mind the entire film — right from the beginning I was expecting the reveal that one or both boys got their girlfriend(s) pregnant. Honestly surprised it didn’t happen. And here I thought the boys’ carelessness about where their sperm ends up was supposed to be saying something…

By the way, I feel like only Tenoch was given his own characterization, then Julio’s mirrored his. This led to a weird effect in which one of the boys felt slightly more fleshed out than the other, but they weren’t distinct enough from each other. “Teenage Boy™, two copies, please!”

While the boys were obnoxious and the woman was formulaic, what I really enjoyed was the trip through Mexico. The naturalistic filmmaking style makes it feel true to life; the sights of a country I’ve never been to and have rarely encountered in media engage my curiosity and feel like a learning experience, and at the same time, the 90s atmosphere of warmth mixed with social unrest makes it feel like something from my childhood on the other side of the world.

Good filmmaking; I just wish it were about characters and events that were interesting or likeable — at least one of the two.

P.S. A surprising number of reviews mentioned being forced to watch this in class. WTF!

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

How Sidney Died

Made a backstory for my rewrite Sidney Pointdexter on how he died. Warning, it’s really dark. Mentions of suicide, violence and death.

Sidney- How do you think I died specifically?

Danny- They said you were “bullied to death”. I assumed you…

Sidney- Took my own life?

Danny- Y-yeah. I didn’t ask cause I didn’t want to upset you.

Sidney- That was the original plan actually. Well I wouldn’t really call it a plan. I was just at my breaking point of being bullied, I felt so alone, so tired, I didn’t think anyone cared about me, let alone would miss me. I wondered if everyone was better off without me. Then I realized "what did I do!?", "Why should I be gone!?" I never hurt anyone or was a jerk, not like them! Why should I feel like I should have to fit in with those jerks!? Why should people like me or you be mistreated while people like HIM get to live their lives, destroying everyone else's with no consequences!? So I decided that perhaps he should be taken care of and in the process, all those other pests that picked on me.

Danny- You were going to ki-

Sidney- No! I mean, that wasn't what I-I want...

It was a simple enough plan. I took some insecticide my mom used to take care of bugs in the house, put it into a glass cola bottle, hid the bottle in my locker and when no was paying attention, sneak it into his drink or something and-and...

My plan wasn’t really to kill him. I figured he’d just get really sick or hurt. I just wanted to shake them up a bit, put them in my shoes, see how they like to feel scared, to feel like helpless prey, this time at my mercy. I knew it could’ve been worse but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get back at him! Make him feel what it’s like to be hurt! But like you, I-I…

I just couldn’t go through with it. I was just staring at myself in the locker trying to figure out if I really should. Before I could do anything else, that’s when he showed up and shoved me into my locker like he usually did. What he and I didn’t realize was when he pushed me in, it also pushed in the insecticide, right into my mirror, breaking the bottle.

Danny beings to piece things together, his eyes widen.

Sidney- I tried to get out but he seemed to push the door well in and because of the small space as well as me not the strongest, I couldn’t make it budge. I began to panic. In the process I accidentally cut myself from the broken mirror glass. And well I won't go into details but I think you can imagine what would happen to someone when they’re in a confined space filled with broken glass and poisonous insecticide. By the time help came to get me out it was too late for me.

Danny-Oh Sid, I’m so sorry.

Sidney-Sighs. For years I blamed and resented him for causing my death, I still do a bit, but at the same time, I basically tried to bring a gun to a knife fight and got pushed right into the trigger. I pushed everything inside me until it all broke out and made me almost kill someone! He could've ended up like I did and I'd be spending the rest of my life dealing with being a murder-stops his sentence and begins to tear up.

I-I know there could’ve been a better way, or atleast I didn’t need to use something as extreme as insecticide, but at the time I was just so far gone and so angry I ended up destroying my life. And worse I almost put you through the same thing. I’m so sorry Danny, you were right.

Revenge really can destroy you.

This is my Sidney this is based on as well as ep:

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/dnpanimationstudioclone/688093503095521280?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/dnpanimationstudioclone/687345099875680256?source=share

What do you think? I’d love to know💖

[angry-geese]

For Myself

Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: nsfw mention. mention of violence, blood, injury, and cannibalism. implied murder. starts off kind of dark but gets fluffier towards the end. gn!reader.

obligatory warning for my poor editing skills. if theres any egregious errors i'll get to them when i get home from work

Summary: some fluff where Sukuna comforts the reader while they're sick

Word Count: 2.4k

He's certain you would be more comfortable in his lap than on the floor. Even as he beckons you to sit, you refuse, turning your gaze away. You adjust your position to a more comfortable spot on your knees. The floor is hard and cold, but you don't have much longer to wait anyway. Sukuna has grown bored of the man standing in front of him. A peace offering, in exchange for not razing their village. A young woman, brought here against her own will. Her life to replace yours. It's nothing Sukuna wants, nor can he make use of her. She’s no sorcerer, likely no good in a fight, and too frail to be worth eating.

Worst of all, it insults you.

An insult to you, is an insult to Sukuna himself.

The man was only delaying the inevitable. Humans have a habit of doing that. They’re resilient, like cockroaches. You can squash, poison, trap, or drop a nuke on as many as you want to, but they’ll always come back.

He planned on killing him from the moment he stepped foot in the door.

And when he kills him, he makes sure to have the woman watch. She lays curled at your feet as you regard them both with cold eyes. Not a scream passes her lips. She’s either frozen with fear, or knows that moving is the worst thing she can do.

She begs for her life.

Sukuna leaves it up to you to decide.

It was an insult to you, after all. In a past life you could see yourself letting her go. There's many things in life you used to do that are no longer habits of yours. You were in her shoes years ago. Time has hardened you, made you cruel. If a past version of you could look at you now, you don't know if you’d recognize yourself. Not all change is bad. People are meant to change, and they’re going to do so.

You give her a minute to start running. After that, it's up to Sukuna with what he wants to do with her.

She takes the opportunity, thinking she has a chance to survive, and flees. The guards and servants let her. Your word is second to Sukuna’s. The only person who could overturn an order put in place by you is Sukuna himself. He usually doesn't. The resulting chaos from anything you do is good entertainment. And he has all the time in the world. Being immortal leads to a lot of boredom.

Sukuna would hunt her down before she could escape the estate.

Nobody got away from him. Not even you. Nowadays you’re much less serious about leaving but you still threaten it if he dares piss you off.

He'd never let you go. You know that. Try as you will, you're never getting free.

Not that you have anything to go back to. And you're rather comfortable here. Comfortable may be a bit of a stretch, but you're housed, fed, and protected. The basic human needs are taken care of. Sukuna cares about you in his own, twisted way. You may have first been just a plaything to keep his stomach full and his balls empty—a toy to be discarded after a day or two—but you've earned a place by his side. He wakes up next to you, he goes to sleep next to you. He's grown used to having you around. And you to him.

You're just as much his, as he is yours.

Everything about the man is selfish, and all-consuming. But when he is with you, he finds himself giving for the first time in his life.

He gets a servant to draw him a bath. He has the decency to scrub the blood off before finding you, and asking you to join him. His bloodied kimono is replaced with a clean one. It's black, the sleeves are wide enough to accommodate his four arms. Blood doesn't bother you, but he doesn't want to track it all over his house.

Something is wrong.

He doesn't remember you getting hurt, but you’re acting like you’re injured. He thinks back to this morning, how he had to drag you out of bed. How sluggish you acted.

Worry creases itself between his eyebrows.

Your mortality was something he knew of, but never gave much thought. There was no need to. The mortality of others was something he didn't care about. You weren't supposed to be kept long. You were merely a sacrifice, meant to appease Sukuna, and in turn he wouldn't raze your village. While young, and pretty, not good enough to save your people. He planned on fucking you, burning your village to the ground, then eating you. Not necessarily in that order, but that was the plan.

He's taken everything from you. Your home, your life, your family. Even as you were forced to face your fate, you never gave in, never lost your bite. You defied him and lived. You had a malicious streak in you. You were never as sweet and as innocent as the people of your village first played you up to be. Years later you still put up the same fight. It's a constant back and forth between you two.

You’d never be able to hurt him. As much as you'd scratch and bite, you'd never so much as draw blood. Harming the King of Curses was not an easy task.

His 'love' was much more material at first. As you got settled down, survived more than a week, gifts appeared. Jeweled hair pins and beautiful, expensive kimonos appeared. All made just for you. He'd never admit to being behind it. You were not complacent, but you were comfortable. You were his spoiled pet. That didn't stop you from clawing at his eyes whenever he picked you up when you didn't want to be touched. Being spoiled didn't make you nice.

None of his pets have lasted quite as long as you have. At least eight times the trees of his estate have shriveled and turned brown in winter, and the ground has hardened with frost. At least eight times they've bloomed and have had the life of spring breathed back into them, and the ground has thawed and turned muddy. You just did what you had to in order to survive. You've more than just survived. Some would say you’ve thrived. You would beg to differ. If you were the begging type.

He still views you as a pet. You’re human after all. Though sometimes it feels like you’re becoming more curse than human. Being viewed as an equal to him is impossible, but he values you. You're not something that can easily be replaced.

His hand touches your shoulder from behind. You don't flinch. You used to flinch. Then you started swinging. You're never able to hurt him. You're strong, but not that strong.

"She was far too frail to eat," you say, "I assumed you didn't want to keep her for that."

You don't eat human meat. Or try not to. Early on in your stay, before you knew better… It wasn't pork. Uraume was a wonderful cook, but not for anything you ate. Personally it's not your thing. Non-human meat is hard to come by around here, so you’ve stopped eating the stuff altogether. If you wanted it, Sukuna would make a servant get it for you, but you are content without it.

"You made the right call." He says. You always do.

He slips beside you, watching as you remove the intricate pins from your hair. You always loved your hair. Even at your darkest moment you took great care of it. It was a source of pride for you.

A wave of nausea rolls over you. Sweat beads in your hairline, rolling down your back, under the thin fabric of your—his—robe. You have little need for clothes. It doesn't get that cold here. Sukuna tears them off you anyway. Covering yourself up isn't necessary, but you do it out of modesty, and a sense of normalcy. You protest as he pulls at the fastenings of your robe, the flimsy fabric pooling at your feet. You have no plans on getting wet, you’d much rather go to bed. You’re tired, and you don't want to be bothered.

The tub is large enough to fit several of you. You guess it's fitting. The man is huge. He settles into the water behind you, pulling you to his chest. Try as you will, you’re not going to be able to struggle out of his grip. You’re too tired to put up much of a fight, though you do complain.

One of his sets of arms wraps around you, effectively trapping you in place. The other pulls a washcloth from the side of the tub, into the water with you. As much as you hate to admit it, the warm water feels nice against your sore muscles.

Sukuna is not a sentimental man. But with the way his hands trace across your skin, soft, lovingly, like he’s reading a book of braille, makes you think otherwise. He doesn't leer at the curves of your body like he normally does. His eyes scan across your body, looking for any sign of injury.

When he deems you clean enough, and your skin has turned a nice shade of pink from the hot water, he lets you go. You're the first to get out, drying yourself off. You never realized how cold the room was before.

He hauls you into his arms. You do little to protest, which worries him.

The King of Curses has no need for sleep. The bed mostly serves for asthetic purposes, though he's not opposed to fucking you across any flat surface, you seem to favor softer ones.

Much like the tub, his bed is large enough to fit several of you. You feel dwarfed by its size. The man is huge, he needs a bed to fit. You could sprawl out as wide as possible and never have any of your limbs hanging over the sides.

He follows you, silent.

He can't recall ever letting any of his pets share his bed before. Some have tried. Tried. He can't recall any of them surviving as long as you have, either. He finds himself irritated at the thought of anything bad ever happening to you.

He doesn't join you in bed.

He doesn't need sleep the same way humans do. He can, but if he were to decide not to, it would bring no harm to him. He used to never dream. It was something he did, back when he was human, but that time has long passed. But whenever he dreamed, he’d wake up next to you. Experiences like that made him realize just why humans like to sleep so much. Before he never woke up rested; he was never tired in the first place.

You shove the covers aside and crawl underneath. They smell like him. He snubs out the candle burning on the side table with his index finger and thumb. Though it's dark, there’s enough light in the room to make out his much-larger form.

You shiver, although sweat forms along your skin in a thin sheen. Sukuna knows it's not cold. He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. The back of his hand presses to your forehead. You’re burning up.

You were warm before, but he thought it was because of the bath. He’s not really sure what to do. It's rare moments like these that he's forced to face your mortality. He knows you're fragile—compared to him—but he can't bear the thought of something bad happening to you.

One of his large hands moves to cup your cheek. It's just as warm as your forehead. The pad of his thumb runs across your cheekbone.

"Stay with me." You say. You stretch your arms out towards him, making grabbing motions with your hands.

You’re not one to beg. Even when faced with death, you look it straight in the eyes. Call it bravery, or lack of self preservation. He admired that about you. You ignored your mortality because it did not matter to you.

“What's the matter, pet?”

“I don't feel too good.” You say.

Though he doesn't say it, he can tell.

“I’ll get Uraume-”

“No,” your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him back towards your chest, “no. I’m okay.”

He settles down beside you in bed, on top of the covers. When he opens his arms, you go right into them. He makes sure to keep the blankets tucked around you. Sukuna runs warm naturally. You huddle close to him, trying to steal his warmth. Though your face feels abnormally warm, you shiver. His much larger body lays partially on top of yours, his head resting on your chest, ear pressed to your skin. He can hear your heartbeat. Steady, and alive. Something low in your chest rattles when you breathe.

He should get a servant to bring you water, or some tea. It occurs to him how little he knows about the mundane things humans do to make themselves feel better. Not that he ever needed to care. In all the years you’ve been by his side, he’s never seen anything like this happen. He can't decide, and instead calls for both. If you need medicine, he’ll get that too, but you don't seem to be at that point. Uraume knows more about humans than he does. He’s no doctor, but he’ll work. If he asks you, you’ll just say you’re fine.

He holds the cup up to you, beckoning you to drink. The glass is cold against your lips. Even as your hands wrap around it, he doesn't let it go. He sets the empty glass on the side table with a soft thunk.

His large hand smoothes over your head, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His nails feel nice against your scalp. Nothing about the man is soft, but when he’s left alone with you, moments like this are bound to happen. You allow yourself to be pet. The heat, combined with the weight of his body, threatens to lull you off to sleep. The ache in your joints keeps you from doing so.

When he kisses you, you taste like a curse.

[ijwrsmff]

could i request for the dbd killers pig, huntress, death slinger and whoever else you see fit with the idea of reader suddenly disappearing in a trial? like one minute they’re fixing gens and running round the map then the next minute they somehow end up back at the campfire or something and the killers had no idea? mistakenly thinking the entity took them or something. thank you !!!

Woo! This one was really fun to do, I absolutely LOVE this idea, thank you for requesting!

The Pig (Amanda Young):

Something was wrong...you were here just a minute ago…

She saw it with her own eyes

She was stalking behind you, ready to grab and hook you but…

A dark mist encircled you and then you were just...gone

A feral yell made its way up her throat and she began stabbing into the air

Were you...gone forever?

Maybe the entity didn’t approve of her and your relationship...and took you away

She screamed into the sky, and the three remaining survivors feared for their wellbeing

The rest of the trial was...brutal

She may have mercy at some points...but not with you gone

She resigned herself into thinking you were gone for good, and took her sweet time torturing the other survivors

If you were gone...there would be no holding back

She injures the others, letting them get just far away to think they’re safe before she jumps out of the shadows and takes them

She put their torture devices on quickly, and soon all of the survivors were running on borrowed time

She began hooking the others as soon as she could, just wanting this nightmare to be over

If she would be stuck in this loop eternally...she didn’t want to do it without you

Upon returning to the campsite and seeing you sitting there talking to your other survivor friends...she began crying under her mask

You ran up to her, knowing how frightened she must be

“Hey...it’s okay Amanda, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Those words and your warm embrace were enough to soothe her aching heart

The Huntress (Anna):

She was right behind you and you knew it

She had been chasing you for what felt like forever, and you were wearing out

You turned the corner quickly and hid in a locker, hoping to throw her off your trail

But she could see the red scratches that indicated you had entered the locker

“Oh my sweet little rabbit, you didn’t think that would work, did you?”

She swung the doors of the locker open to find...nothing

She was certain you were there...there’s no way you could have left the locker without hearing or even seeing it

The rest of the trial she spent looking for you

Forget the rules, where were you?

She didn’t even care about the other survivors, you were her main priority

After a while, she pinned a survivor down

It wasn’t her fault...he got in the way

“Where is y/n”

He looked confused “what do you mean? We haven’t seen them for a while...we figured you already mori’d them…”

So not even the other survivors knew where you had went…

She sighed and let him get up, continuing her search for you

By now, all of the generators had been repaired and the countdown had begun

She didn’t care

Where had you gone…? The entity wouldn’t have taken you in the middle of a trial...right?

As soon as she was back to the killer’s campsite she ran for the survivor’s campsite hoping with all of her being that you were there

You were there

She rushed over to you and picked you up into an embrace

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again, understand?” Her words were meant to sound firm but it came across as...frail

She was so terrified of losing you it hurt

“I’m sorry I worried you...I wish I knew what happened myself but...all I know is one minute I was in the locker and the next I was back at the camp.”

She refused to let go of you, and pressed her lips softly to your forehead

“I need you...that...that scared me so much” she spoke quietly, not wanting the other survivors to think she was weak

“I need you too...we’re together forever. No matter what stunts the entity pulls.”

Death Slinger (Caleb Quinn):

When he found out the entity took you...he was livid

All of the survivors remaining were absolutely horrified

He seemed...more vicious than usual

And that’s saying something

He aimed to make quick work of the survivors, not wasting any time hooking each and every one of them

There was...a dangerous look in his eyes that made the remaining survivors terrified to the core

He didn’t see it happen, but he assumed. One minute you were there, the next you weren’t. He even tried asking the survivors he hooked where you were but...they had no idea either

He reeled the last survivor in, and made quick work of placing him on the hook

You better be at the campsite...if you weren’t...he’d attack anyone and everyone who even looked at him

He couldn’t help it...he was beyond pissed

He didn’t want to admit it...but if you were really gone for good...there’d be no point in continuing the entity’s game

He would play the game...but he would lose all will to continue if you were gone for too long

So when he had finished with the trial, he immediately sprinted to the edge of the survivors camp

To say he was relieved when he saw you would be an understatement

You looked up to him with the eyes he so deeply loved and ran up to him

He pulled you into a hug immediately

He wasn’t one to show physical affection where the others could see...but this was an exception

“Leave me like that again and I’ll be sure to kill you in the most painful way possible.”

How comforting

At least you know he cares

The Shape (Michael Myers):

You were his primary target

Often, you were

In his mind...he was sparing you from continuing the game the entity had set up

He was saving you

He made sure it was as painless as possible...unless he was mad

Either about how the game had gone so far, or something else

But this time...when he was about to pull you from the generator, a dark mist enveloped your form and you were simply...gone

He stood still a moment, processing what he had just witnessed before his eyes narrowed and he kicked the generator with all the strength he had

The rest of the trial was...absolutely brutal

He made things as painful as he possibly could

It made him feel...a little better

Not enough though

If he could scream out, he would have

Instead, he settled on making the survivors remainder of the trial complete and utter hell

By the time he had hooked the last survivor they had less than half of the generators complete

He wasn’t wasting any time, that was for sure

When he appeared back at the campsite he stalked off into the dark between the two camps

You were there waiting for him…

“Michael! I was so worried, are you okay?” You placed your hands on the sides of his mask, something you did when you were trying to comfort him

It worked, and his demeanor changed

A small noise left his throat, and to you it sounded almost like...a whine

“I’m so sorry I scared you...but I’m here now and that's what matters!”

He placed his hands on your cheeks, mirroring your actions

You smiled up at him, and leaned up to press a kiss to his mask

“I’m here now...you don’t have to worry about me leaving anytime soon...okay?”

He nodded and pulled you closer into a warm hug

“I won’t leave you...I promise.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

inspirational ~ corpse husband

word count: 1589

request?: yes!

“Hi! I was wondering if you could do a corpse husband imagine where the reader has a feeding tube? If you can’t that’s perfectly fine, I just haven’t been able to find one yet.”

description: in which the group plays with a popular streamer that has a feeding tube and corpse tells her how much she inspires him

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of chronic pain and cancer, also i only know a little bit about feedings tubes, i tried to do research in order to make myself more familiar but if there’s a lot of inaccuracies or anything i am very sorry i’m gonna try my best

masterlist (one, two)

Corpse listened to his friends shouting at one another to accuse each other of being sus. As usual, there was no use in trying to get a word in. Corpse spoke so softly that no one would even hear him unless they wanted to hear what he was saying.

“(Y/N)!” Toast suddenly exclaimed. “You’re being very quiet right now.”

“Because my damn tube is mixed up in my headphone wires!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sounding like she was far away from her mic. The group chuckled and continued with their conversation about who they thought the imposter was.

(Y/N) was a known Twitch streamer and YouTuber that rose to popularity when she started a series on her YouTube channel to show her journey through cancer treatments. Long before his own sudden boom in popularity, Corpse had watched all of her videos and became invested in her Twitch streams as well. Being someone who also struggled with chronic illness and pain, Corpse felt a sense of hope watching (Y/N) go through her treatment and still seem to optimistic in life and so productive in her YouTube and Twitch channels.

When Toast messaged the Amigops group to ask if anyone wanted to join his Among Us lobby with (Y/N), Corpse jumped at the chance. He hadn’t had much time to speak with her alone, but he was hoping to be able to tell her how much watching her content lifted him up during his worst times.

The meeting ended with no one being voted and brought them back to the office of the Polus map. Since they were playing with proximity chat, the argument from the meeting immediately continued with Rae and Toast warning everyone to stay away from Sean, who they were susing at the second imposter after already voting out Charlie.

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink astronaut run out of the office, silent amongst the chaos. He waited a moment before deciding to follow her, hoping he could meet her somewhere alone so he could talk to her.

He ran into O2 and noticed a pink bean in the boiler room stood by the water wheels. He ran in and stood in the doorway a moment before speaking.

“Hello (Y/N).”

“Ah fuck!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Corpse! Don’t scare me like that!”

Corpse chuckled. “Sorry, I’ll warn you next time.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m okay with that. I feel like being killed by Corpse Husband in Among Us is like a rite of passage at this point.”

Corpse slowly approached (Y/N) to which she quickly ran away from him to the other water wheel. He laughed again before assuring her, “I’m not an imposter, you can trust me.”

“I don’t think I can, but I will choose to trust,” she told him.

“I actually came looking for you because I wanted to talk to you.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

There were so many things running through Corpse’s mind. He just wanted to blurt out everything he had thought about (Y/N) and her story, to thank her for giving him hope, to tell her what an inspiration she was. But his words caught in his throat and he struggled to get anything out.

Finally, he said, “What’s it like trying to be a streamer with your...with the um...”

“The feeding tube?” (Y/N) finished for him. “You can say it, Corpse. It’s not exactly a secret.”

He sighed, glad that she had a joking tone about it. “Yeah, with the feeding tube.”

“It’s annoying,” (Y/N) admitted. “Like...I’m assuming you’ve seen my streams or my videos but for the sake of anyone watching your stream who hasn’t: I have a nasogastric feeding tube, or an NG-tube, which is a feeding tube that goes in through the nose. As cliché as it is, just picture Hazel Grace from the Fault in our Stars. Additional cliché, I have it because I had cancer and the treatments left me so malnourished that I need a feeding tube even after I’ve gone into remission. So, because it’s tubes that are connected in my nose, I keep getting my headphone wires tangled in my tube or, very rarely, my mic wires, and it’s fucking annoying. It hurts like a bitch when I go to stand up and I yank the wires  by accident or something.”

“Does...does anything else hurt? Because of the cancer or the treatment or anything?”

“Not as much as it used to. I went into remission like nearly a year ago, so I’m doing better. It’s a process, but it’s had an amazing outcome in the end so I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I find you really inspirational,” Corpse finally blurted.

He felt his face heat up with slight embarrassment as (Y/N) giggled. “You do?”

“Yeah. I followed your series about your recovery and I’ve watched some of your livestreams every now and then. What always stood out to me was when you talked about the negative side effects of your treatment, and eventually having to put the feeding tube in and how you’ve found that effects you, too. Being someone with chronic illness and constant pain, I’ve also had those days where it feels like even getting out of bed is too much work and I don’t feel like I can stream or make a video, but then my anxiety tells me that everyone is going to forget about me if I don’t make some type of content, so it’s just an internal struggle when really I should be resting.”

“Being a content creator and having an illness is tough,” (Y/N) agreed. “It feels like you can’t take a day off. I sometimes regret making that series because on days that I felt absolutely awful, I didn’t want to film or edit anything, but I felt like I had to because so many people were watching. Ironically enough, that became the topic of one of those videos; I just sat in front of my camera looking the worst I think I’ve ever looked on camera and talked about how exhausted I felt just from being alive, but felt like I couldn’t rest because of my channel. That’s when I started taking longer breaks between videos and streaming. Your fans won’t leave you, not the true fans anyways. They’ll always be by your side even if you decide to disappear from the Internet forever.”

Corpse half smiled to himself. “I’ve thought about doing that sometimes.”

“It’ll be easy for you to do that where you’re faceless. No one would bother you even after you left the Internet cause they’d have no idea it was you unless you spoke.”

A brief pause in their conversation caused them to hear Sean yelling as he ran past the room. (Y/N) giggled and walked out of the room. Corpse followed, hoping to continue the conversation somewhere else.

“It means a lot to me that you think that about me, though,” (Y/N) continued as she ran into the storage room. “I find you pretty inspirational too.”

This took Corpse by surprise. He didn’t know how to respond. Sure, he heard that all the time from his fans, and it always meant the world to him to know that people found him to be an inspiration, but it felt different to hear that from someone he had looked up to for so long.

“I wish I could’ve been a faceless creator like you,” she said when Corpse didn’t respond. “One of my biggest regrets is probably showing my face online. Although, it wouldn’t make sense for me not to show my face when I’m making a series about cancer treatment, but people can be mean. Even when someone is struggling with illness or a disease, the Internet doesn’t care. Whatever makes them feel better over someone else feeling like shit.”

“I still get a lot of hateful messages even though I’m faceless, though.”

“You do, but you’re so unbothered by it. Publicly anyways. When I get messages about how sickly I look I get so overwhelmed with sadness and I just wanna delete my channel forever. I can’t even fake not caring because it really does effect me.”

“Stick with me, I’ll teach you my ways. My favorite is trolling the troll.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I’d like that a lot.”

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink bean approach his black one. “I’m glad we had this chat, Corpse. It made me really happy, but now it also makes doing this a lot harder.”

Corpse gasped as a kill animation popped up on the screen and (Y/N)’s astronaut quickly disappeared into the nearby vent. He was stunned into silence for a long time, just watching his ghost floating above his dead body. To make matters worse, (Y/N) had closed the door to storage so no one would find his body unless they had to go in there.

Charlie’s ghost floated through the walls and came to float next to Corpse’s. “Figured out Jack wasn’t the other imposter, huh?”

“Yeah,” Corpse said, laughing. “She really had me fooled. Buttered me up with compliments then killed me.”

“I taught her well,” Charlie comments before floating away again.

Corpse couldn’t help but laugh about the situation. He wasn’t mad, more impressed than anything. And he was a little happy; he got to talk to someone that had always been an inspiration to him and he made a new friend.

[moon-light-jukebox]

Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature 

Category: Fluff and Smut 

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?) 

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!  masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

---

I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.  

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.  

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

-

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

-

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?  

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.  

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-�� my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.  

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

-

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

--

[beenovel]

A Frankly Hilarious Misunderstanding

Pairing: Kili x gn!reader

Word count: 2,103 (.... I have nothing to say for myself)

Warnings: none, misunderstandings for the purposes of comedy, not angst

Summary: Some minor human/dwarf cultural differences lead to major confusion. (AKA Kili is a himbo that doesn’t understand human customs)

A/n: This was a random shower thought that made me laugh until I slipped and @claraofthepen encouraged me to write.

Thank you to @claraofthepen @elvish-sky and @messiambrandybuck for beta reading!! Y'all are the best <3

Brief background: Y/n and your brother (Will) are humans that Gandalf brought along on the quest. Don’t ask me why, the spooky old wizard is mysterious. In your culture, it’s traditional for the courter to ask a courtee’s older relative if they can court. This will be important later. Also, homophobia isn’t a thing because I said so.

-

You lowered yourself onto a log by the fire with a grateful sigh. After a long day of walking, the thought of a hot dinner and sleep (even on the hard ground) was a relief. Thorin had called for everyone to stop right as the sun neared the horizon. This meant you’d had enough light to set up for the night much faster than normal.

Kili sat down next to you. He smiled and despite your exhaustion, you returned the gesture on instinct.

“Here,” he said while handing you a bowl of soup. You knocked your shoulder against his in thanks.

You, Will, Fili, and Kili had become all but inseparable over the past few months of the journey. Being so close in (relative) age, you all got along very well. You and Kili had grown especially close. He flirted with you non-stop and you had quickly fallen in love with him.

The only problem was that while Kili flirted with you quite a bit, he also flirted with everyone. Including your brother, though only occasionally. You were waiting to be sure he actually wanted to be with you, but if he made you wait any longer you were going to ask him despite your doubts. Patience is a virtue, but virtues are overrated anyway.

You looked across the fire to see your brother all but sitting on Ori. Dori did not look particularly happy about this. Your brother, on the other hand, was giggling like a ditzy maid at something Ori had said. You could see how happy Ori was at having made Will laugh, as he was looking at him with a small affectionate smile.

You wanted to walk over and smack their heads together for being so obtuse. Everyone could see how much they cared for one another but they were both too nervous to do anything about it. You had seen your brother face down a lone warg with nothing but a handful of dirt and a stick. And now he quailed at the thought of admitting his feelings for the quiet scribe. Ori seemed convinced that someone as brave as your brother could never love someone as quiet and shy as him.

You shook your head lightly in exasperation. Will had forced you to listen as he lamented his 'unrequited love' countless times. Despite your many, many (many) attempts to convince him otherwise (and all evidence to the contrary) your brother resolutely believed that Ori could never love him the same.

You thought back to the other night when you’d both been on watch.

“I’m just some human,” Will had said as he looked over at Ori’s sleeping form like a kicked puppy. “How could he ever feel the same?”

You had rolled your eyes then and you rolled them again now. Will often told you that one of these days you were going to roll your eyes so far back into your head they’d get stuck. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed it when you strongly insinuated that it would be his fault.

You were so distracted by your brother and Ori, you didn’t notice the nervous breakdown Kili was having right next to you. He was staring into the fire with some intensity while silently moving his lips to the thoughts in his head. His hand was deep in his pocket, worrying a courting bead.

Fili (who no one was paying attention to unlike you, Kili, Will, and Ori, who had the entire company's attention split between the four of you, with varying amounts of exasperation) was watching Kili with much the same expression you were watching Will with. After a moment he leaned over to his brother and whispered in his ear so that only he could hear.

“Go ask, you know what the reply will be. I’m growing sick of watching you two dance around each other and if you don’t ask soon, I'll ask for you.”

Kili turned to Fili with wide, concerned eyes.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Want to bet?”

Kili really didn’t.

Kili turned to you and gently placed his hand on your arm, pulling you out of your (by this point slightly murderous) thoughts.

“Take a walk with me?”

You smiled brightly at Kili.

“Alright”

Kili leads you to a stream the company had stopped near earlier in the day. He was silent the whole way and while silence between the two of you was usually comfortable, you couldn’t help but notice how nervous he seemed.

“Everything all right?”

He smiled.

“Of course Y/n!”

He still seemed nervous but you figured he would tell you when he was ready. You soon came to the small stream and sat down on a fallen log beside it.

Kili took a deep breath and turned to you.

“Y/N, for months I have been quite taken with you.”

The boldness of Kili’s words and how suddenly he said them took you by surprise. Kili, upon seeing your expression, hastily tried to amend his words.

“What I meant to say, erm, is that I’ve fallen in lo-” Kili coughed “I mean, I would like— Mahal Damn it give me a moment.”

Much to your giddy amusement, the young prince stopped his ramblings and took a breath, gathering himself before he spoke again. His voice was level, though his hands still fidgeted and his eyes were downcast.

“(Y/N), your mind and your beauty have enraptured me. I’ve never met your equal in wit and kindness, not in all the years I’ve been on Middle Earth. I ask for your hand in courtship, if it would please you, for it would surely please me.”

The prince glanced up at you and saw the tears in your eyes. His own widened and he began to pull away as he backtracked.

“However, if you were to refuse me, I would understand… I shouldn’t have assumed you felt the same… I mean, I’m so sorry-“ you interrupted the prince's ramblings by throwing your arms around his neck.

“Kili I would love to court you!”

Kili pulled back just enough to smile at you.

“So you’ll let me braid your hair?”

“Of course! Isn’t that pretty much the same thing as asking me to court you?”

Kili nodded.

“Then I’ve already said yes, you silly dwarf! …. Though my brother might be a bit upset.”

Kili frowned and remained silent for a moment before he asked

“Why? I thought he liked me.”

“No, no he does! It’s just, well, you were supposed to ask him first.”

Kili looked at you for a moment in obvious confusion.

“Kili? Are you alright?”

That seemed to break Kili out of his thoughts and he gained a look of determination. He quickly got up and began striding back towards camp.

You sat on the log for a moment looking after him in disbelief before getting up and jogging after him. You caught up to him and moved in front of him to block his path.

“Kili, Kili stop. Where are you going?” You asked him breathlessly.

“I’m going to ask your brother,” Kili said, clearly confused.

“We can do that later, my love.”

Kili took your hands in his and looked up at you.

“If it’s an important human tradition then I would honor it. Your culture and customs are just as important as my own.”

You wanted to argue further, but he was being so sweet and thoughtful you only sighed. You could also tell this was something he was going to be stubborn about.

“Alright.”

You hadn’t even finished speaking before he resumed dragging you back to camp.

You got back to camp and Fili turned to you with a big smile, which was quickly replaced with a frown at his brother’s intense expression.

Kili quickly walked up to Will and got down on one knee in front of him. Will looked over Kili’s shoulder at you and you shrugged. He turned back to Kili when he started speaking.

“Will, would you do me the honor of courting me?”

Will blinked and your jaw dropped. Silence fell over the camp. Everyone looked either at Kili or each other in bewilderment.

Ori stood up beside Will and glared at Kili so intensely that he’d have died on the spot if looks could kill.

“You knew I was going to ask him to court me! How could you?!”

Your brother (who had been looking at Kili like he’d grown a second head) turned to Ori quickly.

“Wait what?”

“Don’t ask me, it’s some sort of human custom!” Kili said.

You, Will, and Ori all began talking at once.

“Why would you - talking about - FIGHT YOU FOR HIM”

Will turned to Ori with an “Again, what?!”

Kili turned back to you with a fearful and very confused face.

“You said I had to ask him first.”

You blinked at him for a moment then burst out laughing so loudly Oin fell off his log.

The rest of the company stared at you in shocked silence for a moment before Will asked you (or maybe just the world at large) a question.

“What’s going on?”

Unfortunately, you were laughing too hard to reply and poor Kili didn’t understand any better than the rest of them.

Dwalin looked at Ori (who had turned a brilliant shade of red) and then moved to stand between Ori and Kili.

“Kili I think you’d better explain what happened when you and y/n were in the woods before Ori bursts a blood vessel,” He said

By now your face was starting to hurt. Kili looked at you in worry before he began.

“When I proposed Y/n said,” Kili paused here and turned his eyes to the sky as he tried to remember the exact wording “Of course, but you have to ask my brother first.”

Will started laughing too, and by this time you were lying on the ground near passing out from lack of oxygen.

Bilbo came to Kili’s rescue as most of the company was doubled over laughing now, having realized what you meant.

“I think what y/n meant was that you have to ask Will for permission to court. Not that you have to ask him to court you.”

You vaguely nodded as you continued to wheeze on the ground.

Eventually, you stopped laughing long enough to get off of the ground and you wiped your eyes. Kili gave you a slightly betrayed look as Fili used your shoulder for support to keep himself from falling over.

Will had managed to pull himself together long before you, so he was only chuckling when he said “Kili, I give you full permission to court y/n.”

He got far more serious as he turned to Ori who was now calm and growing shyer by the second.

“And I would love to court you, Ori.”

Ori smiled and nodded and they went off to the edge of camp to braid each other’s hair.

You noticed Nori was having to nearly physically restrain Dori from storming over to them.

You turned to a bright red Kili. “Aren’t you supposed to be braiding my hair?”

Kili took your hand and slowly began leading you to the edge of camp.

He sat behind you and while you expected to feel his hands in your hair, you didn’t.

“Kili?” You asked.

When he took a moment to respond you turned around to look at him. He was looking at your hair with a strange mixture of longing and sadness.

You sighed.

“Kili, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, I-“

“Are you sure you want to court me?” He cut you off “I would understand if you didn’t, I mean I pretty much ruined the whole thing.”

“Kili” you whispered as you put your hand on his cheek.

“There is no one I’d rather be with,” you said.

“And besides, just think what a wonderful story this will make,” you said with a smile “plus if you hadn’t, Will and Ori might not have ever gotten together.”

He barked out a laugh.

“Those are very good points, ghivashel.”

“I know, I’m the one who made them.”

Kili pulled you in for a soft kiss. It quickly got more heated and your whole body was screaming for you to climb into his lap. Sudden whooping (from the company members) and exaggerated gagging (from Will and Fili) reminded you that you had an audience.

You lightly slapped Kili’s knee and said “get to braiding” as you turned back around.

He did and you reveled in the feeling of his fingers twisting in your hair.

“Now, tell me what ‘ghivashel’ means.”

-

-

Tag list: @elvish-sky @kumqu4t @anjhope1 @thewhiteladyofrohan @claraofthepen @dat-pan-dwarf @messiambrandybuck @shethereadinghobbit @cassiabaggins @animallover81

[physicalturian]

[18+] Deranged Love - Hanma Shuji x F!Reader - Part 1

[Probably contains spoilers from the anime and the manga] [She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone is +18]

Words: 9403

Archive of our own

Warnings : Explicit! / Blood / Injuries / Guns / Bruises / Choking / Blood / Graphic depiction of violence / Killing / Murder / Crying / Trauma /

Summary : Wrong place, wrong guy. Wrong in so many fucking ways it only made the attraction more sick and twisted...Yet I wanted more of him and would end up doing anything for him, with him.

If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask, I'd rather be safe than sorry

- - -

Routine.

This would be how I would describe my way of life, a routine. I liked it like that, it was safe, comfortable and I was sure of what would happen. Far from me the idea of only doing the same things over and over again, I would sometimes go out with my friends or see a movie—doing things on a whim was not off the table. But I liked knowing what I was signing up for. Surprises, however, never were a thing I enjoyed—seeing my friends in my house when all I wanted was to relax after work was something dreadful and annoying to no end. I would pull through and be a good host, nonetheless, making sure everything was enjoyable, but I would be drained by the end of their stay.

Perhaps that need for reassurance, for a safety net, was the reason why I never truly took an artistic path or even considered any artistic career. It was too free, too unpredictable, too risky. Never could I have imagined myself doing such a thing; those who did were in my eyes the boldest and I admired them greatly for following their dream, but I was not bold, I preferred the solace of a job I knew would always bring me money. A simple 9 to 5 job was fulfilling enough for me; for some it was not, but I enjoyed it. It was something I could do and found relaxing to do, even when there was more rush. It just made sense to me.

There was not much thrill in this job. The people were nice enough; the clients were a bit bitter from time to time, depending on whether the job we had done was in their favor or not. Some of my colleagues would tell me crazy stories about some firms they had worked on or with and I would have a hard time believing it, but perhaps it was because different departments would deal with different types of clients. I had simple people: homeowners, tax payers, easy stuff. I liked it.

Now, even if I was keen on this routine that I had of going to my job, using the same transports, the same paths, headphones in to ignore the people around, I knew when following that same path would bring me trouble. I knew when to break that routine even just a little bit.

Tonight was one of those rare occasions. As I walked back home from work after having had to stay one more hour to help my colleague Darren fix his mistake—I made sure to tell him he owed me for helping him this late—I saw a group of men surrounding someone on the street. With one glance around, the entire street was empty except for those seven men and their victim. The usually crowded place was completely deserted and as I wondered how it could have happened, I noticed bikes at the end of the road blocking any possible traffic. It did not take a genius to know this was something far above me, there was no way I would interfere with that. Turning around, I made sure my steps were less heavy, less determined and started walking back. I did not have time to think I was going to get out of there safely when I heard, “Miss! Call the police-“. A thud sound, followed by a pained moan reached my ear.

When I dared look over my shoulder, I saw the man on his knees, blood pouring from his nose. I recognized him, he was a creepy older man that would sometimes stay longer on the train to look at younger women. Glancing at the other people around him, I kept my face as neutral as possible. Should I call the police? The outfits they wore all had the same sigil on them, the same pattern, and since they did not look like high schoolers I hardly believed those were school uniforms. Which led to the conclusion that they were the ones the news talked about a lot. The city was filled with gangs fighting over territory, not hesitating one bit to kill anyone who would cross them. I was sure of myself, assertive, yes… but I did not possess a savior complex. Seeing that man on the floor made me realize how wrong the system was, but I could not risk taking part in the situation and helping him. There were too many and clearly a lot scarier and stronger than I was. Looking away, I kept walking and heard them laugh, “That’s the right thing to do missy, he deserved it-“ “I said I was going to pay as soon as I got the money!” The victim interrupted; he was speaking very fast, but the fist smashing his jaw was faster to tell him to shut up. “It ain’t about that, you know it!”

Playing my music again, louder this time, I walked away and let them deal with everything, taking a different route than the one I would usually take. It’s alright to not have helped, you wouldn’t have made a difference… But he deserved it… I can still call the police… A turmoil inside my head started as I kept walking. After a few minutes, I grabbed my phone and dialed the police department’s number; they picked up quite fast, asking me what the emergency was. “There are gang members beating up a man in-“ “I’m sorry ma’am we can’t help with that, have a nice evening.” And just like that, the person on the other end of the phone hung up. Looking at my phone incredulously, I called again, all while taking a turn and walking by a warehouse, “Hello, you must have misunderstood me earlier—it is not a joke, there are gang members in the-“ This time, I was not interrupted by the person on the phone but by my arms being grabbed suddenly.

My heartbeat picked up, I suddenly felt sick and my head started spinning. When things like this happened, we’d always think it only happened to others, so when I realized it was happening to me, I did not feel well. Blood drained from my face, from my entire body. It all happened so fast: one moment I was walking past the warehouse, then suddenly my phone hit the ground and I joined it when I was thrown on it with force. My cheekbone took all the damage as someone pressed the side of my face onto the wet ground and made sure to put weight on my back to stop me from moving. I was shivering in fear already, but that fear only grew when my hair was pushed out of the way by a bloody hand, its knuckles painted red and brown from fresh and drying blood. The action did not feel one bit intimate, it was scary, intimidating. With the pressure on my back, I was pressed against the hard floor and could barely breathe, but in a situation like this I knew better than to talk.

I knew that. Yes.

So why did I talk? Why were my nerves acting up in moments like these?

“I am sure you got the wrong person—I’m just an accountant-“ A gun was now pressed against my cheek, I took it as a sign to shut up and did so. The man on my back twisted the gun a few times against my cheek, making me open my mouth from the weird movements against my teeth, like someone forcing a dog to open its jaws to get food out of it. “Aren’t we noisy? Tonight wasn’t the right night to feel heroic, girl.” The man asked as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I closed my eyes in discomfort, my breath hitching. Laughing sadistically, he continued talking, this time his tone lowered, “Rats shouldn’t snoop in businesses that aren’t theirs.” I felt the weight shift on my back, then heard him ask someone, “Keep beating him up, I’ll take care of her then we’ll continue having our fun,” His voice was stern but I still heard some tones of him being carefree, he was enjoying this. He then addressed someone else, “Sounds good to you?” The answer consisted of muffled cries, attempts at screams that were cut off by hits then a gun cocking. With a sigh, the man on me pulled the gun away from my face and tutted the man who was bound on his knees.

I felt the weight leave my back but did not dare move, I stayed right where I was. Steps on the humid ground were heard, getting away from me but clearly approaching the man who I assumed was being tortured. The gun fired soon after, startling me as I tensed up and closed my eyes a few seconds before opening them again. The crazy man that put me on the ground laughed loudly, “Come on, it’s just the thigh, you can still walk for now, yeah?” He had said. Turning my head to look at them, I saw the older man on his knees, hands tied behind his back and suit bloody. His tie was undone, and he had wounds all over his face and chest. “I said you can walk, yeah?” Recognizing the voice, I could put a face to my aggressor as I watched him remove his glove before grabbing the victim by his arm and making him stand up, only to force him to wobble a bit. “See! I am being nice! Talk and it’s all over, come on.” He cooed in something that could be seen as sweet if it wasn’t happening in a warehouse with violent people and a man bleeding on the ground.

“I told you! I don’t know anything I-“ The man with the long earring in his left ear did not think twice before punching the office worker in the face with enough force. I believe I heard his nose crack. I caught a glimpse of the tattoos adorning his hands but could not decipher, from how far I was, what was written on them. The crazy man laughed after the punch, “Wrong answer! Haha, you have one last chance, ok?” He said, leaning over so that his face was at the same level as the other man’s. From my place on the ground, I could only see the wicked smile on his face, and it made me feel uneasy. The tall violent man was clearly crazy, having such a man roaming the city did not seem safe at all and it scared me to think of what else was happening in the shadows. “Alright, alright, please Reaper-“ The man he called Reaper gripped his chin tight and chuckled, “Straight to point, I don’t have time to waste on vermin like you, you’re no fun.” He said as a matter of fact, as if they both believed this. His face had turned serious so quickly that I feared the moment I felt like I could escape, he would change his mind in half a second.

The bleeding man nodded quickly, tears streaming down his cheeks, “It’s Silas&Sons—That’s the name of the firm that discovered something was off-'' While I was left in shock at the mention of the firm I worked at, the Reaper grinned and brought the gun to the man’s forehead, “Wasn’t hard, was it?” the man tried to tell him not to shoot, adding that the violent one had promised he would stop. The latter shook his head, “I said it’ll all be over! Listen carefully next time,” He said the last part like a parent berating their child then winked and pressed the trigger, killing the man in less than a second as his body hit the ground, blood spattering behind him. The man with black and blond hair looked at the body on the ground and chuckled to himself, “There won’t be a next time, but you get the jest.” He huffed with a wave of his hand before handing back the gun he had been given earlier. Turning around, his eyes locked on mine. I widened my eyes in pure terror and turned my face to be in the position he had left me in; I was aware he had seen me, but I was hoping he would not mention it.

The other people that were in the room had gone silent and were probably all looking at me, the woman lying on the floor, shaking, dreading for her life. The odds of me coming out of this unscathed seemed to be decreasing the more I observed what was happening around me. A stinging pain reached my scalp making me hiss, as someone lifted my head from the ground to make me look at them. While turning my head their way, I saw two men sitting on a crate, one with two braids that were long enough to go down to his ribcage while the other had shorter purple hair and glasses. Boredom adorned both their features alongside blood stains on their outfits, and yet they were nonchalant about it. I saw a man leaning behind another crate but barely managed to catch a glimpse of his tattoo that the man called Reaper snapped his fingers in front of me. “Here, I’m your tormentor, not them, yeah?” He grinned. Meeting his gaze again, I forced myself to keep my mouth shut and kept my eyes on him.

“You’re being courageous, not even crying yet! You’re a fun one, gotta love it.” He said happily, his hand patting the cheek that had taken most of the damage when he slammed me on the ground. I flinched when I saw his hand approach my face then winced at the rough touch against the bruising skin. “What will I do with you little rat? Eavesdropping ain’t nice, tattling ain’t it either.” The latter was said in a more serious tone as his expression turned somber, any humor that dripped from his words a moment ago was completely gone and he was now looking at me with caution. “Get up, come on.” I did not have a choice, the grip in my hair did not slacken and I had to follow his movement to avoid most of the pain. My clothes were dirty and damp from the humid ground; I felt my legs shake as I got to my feet and hissed at the pain when he yanked my hair for me to follow him quicker.

Pushing me forward, he threw me against the crate where the two other men were sitting. Hitting my shoulder against the wooden item, I swore under my breath and was about to fall to my knees again when the man with the long braids wrapped his legs around my neck and somewhat choked me. Caught off guard, I gripped his shins tight and tried to break free, but his hold only tightened. I heard him mock me while he dug his heels deeper in my biceps from the position he was in, “Stop moving and it’ll stop hurting, fuck you’re stupid.” He sighed with disdain, bringing me closer towards him but it only pressed my neck against the wood. Gritting my teeth, I stopped trying to get him to let go and let my arms fall to my side, when I felt the choke weaken and took a large intake of breath while focusing my eyes anywhere but on the man in front of me.

The manic laughter I had now heard many times in those few minutes I was on the floor reached my ears again, “I can see you wanna live, what are you willing to do to stay alive?” He asked in a light tone. It was a real question, but I did not want to do anything. I wanted to punch them and make a run for it, but they had guns and strength, none of which I could match in any way. I kept my mouth shut again.

The Reaper chuckled again, “I don’t know if you keeping your pretty mouth shut is a curse or a blessing-“ he stopped himself and slapped my now undamaged cheek with as much force as he could, making me yelp at the pain. I kept my face turned the direction his hand had turned it, but he gripped my chin forcefully and made me look at him. His expression had turned almost sour as he stared right into my eyes, “Fucking answer the question, what are you willing to do?” he spat, his face only breaths away from mine. Keeping a frown on, I uttered, “I wasn’t calling on you, there were people blocking another road-“ His mouth contorted into a smile once again as he pushed my face against the crate before letting go as he threw his hands in the air, and turned around on himself once, “She speaks! God it’s so entertaining to see you’re—Still. Not. Crying.” He gritted through his teeth the last three words before leaning over once again, his face very close to mine just like before.

“You’re telling me it’s a coincidence then?” He asked in a playful tone, clearly mocking me.

Fuck I wanted to make a run for it and get away from here. My heart was trying to beat out of my chest the longer I spent time here, the only thought running through my mind was: I am going to die here. How else would I end up? He had killed a man that had told him what he wanted to know, so no matter what I said he would kill me, right? Stammering a bit, I nodded the best I could with legs still around my neck, “Yes, I hadn’t seen you were here, I-“

“You’re funny! I’ll give you that! God you’re-“ He pulled back and made a rapid movement of his arms approaching me, as if putting me on display, “You’re fun! Ran, let her go.” The first part was said in excitement, the latter in the utmost seriousness. The moment he had spoken those words, the man let go of my neck and I was about to stumble when the Reaper grabbed me by the shoulders. He was tall, strangely tall, way above average, and it only added to all the traits that already made him scary. My whole body tensed, I thought this was it. He glared at me for a few moments before speaking to one of his friends, his gaze never leaving mine, “What do we know?”

An unknown voice reached my ear, it was close, so it must have been the other man on the crate, “Seems like a civilian, said she was an accountant. She also seemed surprised when the vermin said Silas&Son.” That perked the Reaper’s interest.

“Oh, so the little girl knows things. Have they sent you?” He asked, forcing me to look up by gripping my chin once more. He did not care the amount of strength he used, he couldn’t care less if I was uncomfortable, to him I was just a puppet that he could throw around and play with. Clearly he was right since I moved along and did not fight back. If I did, I would die, I was sure of it. “I was walking home from work—I saw my usual path was blocked and people were ganging up against a man so I-“ “You ran? The rat isn’t one for conflict, eh?” He patted my head and smiled almost reassuringly before letting go of me, making sure I fell on the floor. “Then? Make this quick, this ain’t the time for a bedtime story.”

“I called the police so that they could check—they said it was none of their business so I tried again and you-“ Fuck I was stuttering, the stress was too much and once I had fallen on my back, he was a lot more intimidating. He could just pull out his gun and shoot me, I could not get up with how I was shaking.

“You tried to do the right thing, right?” He asked, his back now turned to me. I could not gauge his emotion, so I replied sincerely, “Yes, it was all that I could do-“

Suddenly he turned around and pointed a gun at me, grinning, “Wrong! You could have helped the poor, poor man on the street, yeah? But you didn’t, why?” I did not reply right away, so he waved the gun around before crouching right in front of me and taking a good look at me. “They were too many-“ “That never stops a hero, does it? It’s all about charisma, determination, letting your body act faster than your brain, no?” He asked rhetorically, but while I waited for him to continue he sighed and looked down, his gun dropping lower as his arm fell limp. He started mumbling to himself a moment, using the gun to scratch his hair. Perhaps it was not the most adequate time to do so, but I looked at his outfit and saw he was wearing suit pants and a white business shirt. Quite the outfit for a murderer, but he had made sure to pull his sleeves up to not stain it. He was right in doing so since all the blood from earlier was on his black gloves and his forearms.

“Tell me, rat,” He slowly looked up and gave me a wicked smile, “Are you a hero?” He brought the gun to my forehead and all I did was close my eyes in fear. A sob escaped my lips as I tried to back away, but I was only met with the wooden crate, accidentally bumping my head against the shoes of one of the men sitting on it. “Do you believe there is good in this world? That it deserves to be saved? Hm? Would you die for this pathetic excuse of a world?” He pressed the gun even more against my skin. I heard the click as he disengaged the safety and tried to close my eyes even more than how I had already shut them, but found it impossible. My entire body was shaking, there was no helping the sobs escaping my mouth even by covering it.

I felt a gentle hand push my hand away and opened my eyes in confusion, only to see that the man who was holding a gun against me was grinning, “Answer the question.” He turned the gun horizontally and rested his arm on his knee as he placed his head on his free hand, completely relaxed. Getting lost in thoughts, I stared emptily at him while he started counting down, “Three…” Am I a hero? How would one describe a Hero? None of the mythological heroes could define me, none of those famous franchises either. “Two, think faster.” What answer did he want? Should I give him what he wants, or should I just be honest? “One-“

“I’m not a hero, I didn’t call right away because he deserved it, I-“ Taking a deep breath, I tried to take a hold of myself and calm down the best I could. “He harassed people, no one ever did anything about it-“

“See! Wasn’t hard, was it? Good girl,” He patted my head before moving the gun under my chin and raising it with the end of the gun, his finger never leaving the trigger, “You’re also a bad person then, you’re like us, right? Some people do deserve to die!”

Shuddering, I took a shaky breath and inhaled, “I’m nothing like you-“ “If he died it’s because ye didn’t act quick enough, don’t you agree?” He inquired with a pleading look, the mockery never leaving his tone. “I don’t, no.” My words were followed by the gun leaving my person as the man stood up quickly and barked out a laugh before asking his friends if they had heard that, they only grumbled in reply. He tucked the gun in the back of his pants and I quickly let my head down in fear I had triggered him somehow, frightened it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I like you, accountant woman. I just wanna see one thing to know what I should do with you—well two, but I’ll start slow.” Bringing his arm behind his back, I tensed again but then felt the gun hit my ankle as he threw it at me.

“Shoot me,” He ordered as he crouched in front of me, his arms crossed over his knees while grinning broadly. “I killed a guy, right? I am bad, killing me should make you a hero.” His little speech was stupid, it only started a vicious cycle of death with no end. Killing a killer that killed one person? It’d make me a killer that killed one person, and so on. But he brought his hand to mine and wrapped my fingers around the handle of the gun before pressing it against his forehead. “Here, you can’t miss from this close, show me you got guts! Come on, do it.” That grin turned into something scary, manic, he was getting off on the thrill. But my hands were shaking, I had never held a gun before, never intended to, but tonight was nothing if not exceptional. When I tried to put my arm down, he grabbed my elbow and kept it up, “It’s you or me, come on, make this fun for both of us-“ “I’m not shooting you in the head! You’re insane-“

Hearing my words well, he barked a laugh then guided the gun to his heart, one of the men behind me sighed and told him to hurry up, but the Reaper only shushed him. “Here, then? Sounds better?” Nothing was right in his head; I couldn’t understand what he was doing. No matter how hard I tried, I did not know the point he was making, but taking all this time to think about it made me lose the position of power he had given me. Forcing my hand to let go of the gun, he took it and, at the speed of light, put it in my mouth, making a sob escape it as he did so. “That’s a missed opportunity, too bad.” He shrugged then as I saw him press the trigger. I closed my eyes, my hands gripping my thighs so tight, it must have left some marks under the fabric of my pants.

The click of the trigger echoed, and I felt myself jump on the spot at how loud the bang was—so this is it? That thought crossed my mind rapidly, but was shoved aside by the loud ringing in my ears. I then heard footsteps echoing around the warehouse. The gun was no longer in my mouth, there were no bullets, it was a blank; I felt my stomach churn and opened my eyes in panic before pushing my tormentor away. I was surprised when he let me do so, but it was better for him. Slamming my hands down, I was on the floor as I emptied my stomach on the concrete. Chuckles reached my ears along with the whispers of a few words, “Can’t even stomach a bit of gun play.” “Should have killed her, blood stench leaves easier than vomit.” The latter comment made one of them laugh.

When I was done, I thought for a second that death was quick, most of the time. And when it wasn’t, you expected it, you weren’t filled with stress. Hence why no one ever spoke of post-mortem vomit. It made me laugh only for a second until I was pushed back on my ass when the man with the earring pressed his foot against my chest, making me wince. “Your name, what is it?” he asked seriously.

Feeling some sort of confidence build up, I looked up at him and leaned over, using the hem of his pants to wipe my mouth, but did not answer. The seriousness on his face turned into the look of someone who had been challenged; he snapped his fingers, then I heard someone say my name, my birthdate and my birthplace. Looking at the person who kept reading out loud, I saw the man with a tiger tattoo on his neck approach before tossing my wallet at me. I did not know when they had found the time to pickpocket me, but they managed to. My cheeks were burning up from the sickness, the stress and the embarrassment this entire situation brought but I still tried to keep my head high, for what it was worth. Bringing my hands to my face, I only now felt the tears that had rolled down my cheeks.

“Okay little tattletale, I think I’ll let you go for now-“ “Are you not going to kill me? Isn’t this what you do?” I asked in a weak voice, not even attempting to get up after all the time you had been mishandled. Both the man with the earring and the tattooed one were standing in front of me. The former reached out for my hand to help me get up, I did not take it, so he sighed loudly and bent over to grab my bicep and forcefully get me up. “We only kill snitches and annoying fucks, are you one of those?” I was about to tell him no when he leaned over suddenly and pressed his index against my lips to shut me up. Startled, I tried to step back but he held the back of my head with his free hand and beamed, “No, you’re not. You’re gonna be useful, you’re just the right amount of malleable,” The finger that had left my mouth moved to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, I shivered in disgust, “I can see it in your eyes that you’ll be a fun one to work with.”

I tried to pull away from him, but his hand gripped my hair tight and kept me in place, stopping me from leaning back when he approached closer, “Since you’re not a hero, we’ll make you a villain then—I mean, it’s not going to be hard considering your stance on killing.” He grimaced at that before turning it into a full laugh and letting go of me.

“Rindou, take her back to her place-“ “I’m not doing that, I got plans with Ran. Send the tiger boy, we’re done for tonight.” The one with purple hair and glasses said as he hopped off the crate, followed by the other man on it. It made the Reaper’s face turn sour as he gripped the one who had just spoken and tightened his hold on his shoulder, “I don’t do escorting, that’s your job.” He gritted through his teeth.

Seeing the tension, I put my wallet back in my bag and cleared my throat, “I’ll—I can walk home on my own, by now they must be gone-“ All of them looked at me with a threatening gaze, I felt like a deer caught in headlights. The man with the braids started walking off, Ran was his name I believe, along with the man with the tattoo on the neck, while the two others stayed right there and glared at me. When I took a step back, taking their silence for permission, the Reaper wrapped his arm around my shoulders and held me close to him, “Right, I’ll do it tonight. Just because she’s a fun one-“ “I can walk home alone, it’s no problem,” I tried to push him away, my hands were shaky and had a few scraps. Without the constant manhandling, not that I missed it, I could feel the dampness of my clothes and how cold it was getting.

Looking down at me without any expression on his face, the Reaper turned us around and waved everyone goodbye, his arm never leaving my shoulders. “We both know that’s not true, if we let you walk home alone you might get beaten up by—how did you put it? ‘Gang members’, yeah, that was what you said on the phone.” He hummed, shoving his free hand in his pocket as he guided us outside. I felt uneasy in his hold, I felt like he was walking me towards my execution. I did not want to lead him to my house, but what choice did I have? He would find it sooner or later; at least that’s what he said, but I did not know how much truth there was to it. In my eyes, it was but a small group of violent men that had killed someone.

“In the end you did get beaten up by a gang member, but it could’ve been worse.” He said lightheartedly as he stopped in front of a car. When I paused my steps and still did not look at him, simply waiting for his next move, I felt him grab my chin and turn my head towards him. My breath hitched in fear as I met his golden eyes. He seemed a bit bored now, but I couldn't care less how he felt, I wanted to bolt away from his touch. “You should disinfect that, and you’ll definitely bruise, but you probably have makeup or something to hide that.” He shrugged.

When he leaned over again, I brought my hands in front of me and closed my eyes to stop him from touching me, but I only heard him huffing a laugh next to my ear as he opened the door of the passenger seat. “Get in, I’ll drop you off.” Looking up at him, I blinked a few times then glanced at the inside of the car. I don’t know what I was expecting, something dirty, bloody, disgusting perhaps. But instead, it was perfectly clean, not a speck of dirt in sight. It looked like an expensive car, but perhaps it was just very clean, I did not know. Still unsure, I hesitantly got inside and was about to close the door but felt a certain strength holding it back. The man was leaning on the door and bent over to peek his head inside the car, thinking he needed something. I pressed myself more against the seat to let him grab what he wanted, but his hand reached for the belt and fastened it for me.

“Wouldn’t want you to escape—ah, I mean, safety first.” He said mockingly before winking and slamming the door shut. My hands found their way to the belt and held it tight as I watched him walk around the car. His steps were too big for me to make a run for it, he would catch up on me in no time, I was stuck with him. As he entered the vehicle and fastened his own seatbelt, he pointed at the glove box and handed me his gloves, “Put them back and hand me a wipe, tattletale.”

His craziness was a lot more toned down, for a second I wondered how many faces this man had. The one I was seeing right now was intimidating from how put together he seemed, the other one was scary from how unexpected his actions were. “Why aren’t you killing me?” I asked without looking at him, focused on pushing the gun out of the way inside the glove box and grabbing the little pack of wipes. Giving it to him, his brow was quirked, “Because you’re a good girl,” He grinned, wiping his hands as he continued, “No one would ever suspect you’re working with the likes of a gang. You’re gonna be useful and that’s all that matters, you should be thankful I didn’t kill you. I hate people who eavesdrop.” He said, as he shoved the wipe in the door compartment.

“I didn’t eavesdrop.” I muttered, looking outside the window when he started the car. The laugh that erupted out of nowhere scared me, making me tense again, I dared to look his way and saw his manic smile again. “So, you’re an accountant, pretty boring. You should be thrilled I chose you.” He said in a mix of pride and humor before increasing the volume of the music then drumming his fingers on the wheel. Thinking about his words some more, I glanced his way and lowered the volume, catching his attention as he looked me dead in the eyes. “What if I don’t want to work with you?” I asked, measuring my tone to not piss him off, it did not take a genius to understand this man was unstable and that I needed to tread lightly around him.

Even with as much care as I put in my voice, his reaction was sudden when he turned the wheel and stopped the car on the side of the road. Passing cars honked in annoyance but the man did not care one bit while I had slammed my hand on the dashboard to stop my head from hitting it. Insulting him under my breath, I looked up and saw he had placed his arms on the wheel, his left cheek resting on his forearm. “Then leave. Get out right now, nothing’s stopping you.”

“What’s stopping me is that you’ll kill me, or you’ll run me over, multiple times,” I could see the smile on his face was spreading, but he did not move. The condescendence in his lack of reaction, of action, annoyed me but at the same time frightened me, was he going to slam my head against the window? Against the dashboard? I did not know, but I continued, stammering this time from how nervous I was becoming, “My life is on the fucking line, that’s what’s holding me back.” I spat. My eyes had never left his, even as his smile turned into a grin and his slender fingers gripped the wheel tighter.

When he did not look away, I did. At the same time, I turned on the seat and fully looked ahead instead of facing him. A silence set for a moment then I heard the car start and the man sighed, content, “You’re smart to stay, you’re only alive because I can use you. If you had left, I’d have shot you and left you on the side of the road to die.” He said in a light tone. The words he had spoken had the same effect of a bullet; my guts took a hit without being truly hit. I did not have a choice at all, I was stuck working for a man I did not know without even knowing what I had to do.

His hand rose and I closed my eyes, flinching slightly, “Type in your address, tattletale.” With the little confidence that remained, I lifted my shaky hand and typed it in while telling him that I had a name. Then added, “You should use it. Maybe there is a name I can call you by?” I was not asking for his ID, nor anything specific, if he had a codename in his stupid gang or something like that I would go with it, but calling him Reaper in my head sounded idiotic. “Sorry doll, I think nark or snitch suits you a lot more.” He hummed a moment, throwing me a glance from the corner of his eyes as his hands moved on the wheel absent-mindedly. Huffing in annoyance, I placed my elbow against the window and rested my chin against my fist, thinking he was done. After all, why should I care what he called me? I should simply call him an asshole if he was so keen on calling me a snitch. Or perhaps I should live up to the title and do exactly that, tell the police.

A hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me out of my daydream with my head bumped against the window. Wincing in pain, I heard the man laugh loudly while being focused on the road, “That’s deserved for not paying attention.” He said through laughter. “Pay attention to what? The road? I’m not the one driving-“ “To me, you should keep your guard up, snitch. Who knows what I could do.” He said with a deadpan expression. Without looking at me, he brought his hand to tuck my hair out of the way, then glanced at me and smirked. His touch was light, almost gentle. It allowed me to get a proper look at his tattoo, but I could not focus on it at all, I only tensed up before feeling him grip my throat and bring me closer to him. I made a choking sound and complied to avoid as much pain as possible, “You can call me Hanma, as long as you don’t scream it from every fucking rooftop.”

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. This night was not going as planned at all and every time I found any respite, it would be ruined, and the man would turn violent again. I could not let my guard down, I knew it but when he would just stay put, I could not help myself but think he was done. Clearly he wasn’t. His hold lessened a bit, so I took the opportunity to claw his hand away and pull myself back, my own hand around my throat in protection. “They called you the Reaper.” I croaked, wanting him to talk more so that I wouldn’t have to.

“They did, yeah.” He shrugged.

That was it. He did not add anything else. The matter was closed. When I asked him why they did that, he pulled the car on the side of the road again, startling me in the process. With how on edge I was, I did not realize where we were and thought he would be mad again, but instead he looked over my shoulder and nodded, “That’s you, get out.” He told me as his left arm rested on the wheel while the right one was on the back of the seat, casually leaning on it while looking at me. Looking behind me, I saw my house and felt some hope at finally being able to get home and yet… I did not leave right away and instead prodded, “The news talks about your gang, how many people did you kill?” His eyes traveled from my head to my hands then up to my head again, the arrogance never leaving his face as he leaned back against the car door and waved a hand dismissively, “Take a guess, I think it should be fun.”

I was about to give him a number when he leaned forward quickly, his face right in front of mine as he whispered, “Don’t forget those in comas or those at the hospital, they might not be dead, but they might as well be,” He chuckled happily then approached even closer, his lips right next to my ear, “They’re only alive because I said they could be, like you are. One wrong move and,” leaning back quickly, he clapped his hands, “Bang, dead.” He said dead meaning those in the hospital, but I fully understood he was threatening me, I was not an idiot.

Taking this as my cue to go, I unbuckled my seatbelt and when I was about to open the door, I heard the mechanism of the car locking it. Turning around to look at Hanma, I wordlessly asked if he needed anything else. His hand reached out towards me, “Your phone.”

“I didn’t record this or anything, I was not on a call with the police either, I-“ snatching it from my hand while I was rambling, Hanma tried to unlock it but instead was met with a locked screen. Hesitantly, I took it from his hand, mine being a lot shakier than his seeing how steady his were and unlocked it before giving it back to him. A minute passed and he handed the phone back to me, “We’ll be in contact. Things are gonna change for you, doll. Hope you’re ready for what’s coming.”

He was an unusual character, he was confusing, violent, and surely insane. All of those things added up in my mind, making me accidentally let it slip, “How can one be ready with you? Crazy man…” I said it all under my breath and huffed the last part as I pushed the door open. I let out a sigh when the door opened easily, part of me even thanked the man for not keeping me in any longer but I was still on my toes, certain he would say something else as I left the car, but he did not.

Grabbing my bag, I shuffled away from the car that still hadn’t moved and kept glancing over my shoulders until I reached the door where I struggled to put the key in the keyhole. At each failed attempt my frustration grew, the swears flooded out of my mouth easily and soon it turned into a stupid crying of frustration. “Fuck this, fucking shit-“ when the key finally fit, I hurried inside and locked the door behind me again but this time with the sliding lock, knowing full well I would struggle again too much to lock my door with the key seeing how tensed I still was.

The darkness of my home was what welcomed me. It was awful, it was cold and above everything it felt oppressive—my face was heating up, I was suffocating, my clothes were burning my skin, but I was also shaking. Fanning my face, I made my way to the bathroom with heavy steps, my breath was quickening, was it breathing or heaving? I needed to calm down, I needed to ground myself but I did not know how, this never happened but I felt like I was dying. I could not breathe, my lungs hurt at each intake of breath. “Fuck, fuck, shit, calm down“ I panted while taking off my clothes, I needed to take everything off, I wanted to burn them, it was filthy, disgusting and smelled wretched.

As I took off my top, I caught a whiff of the stench of the warehouse and let out a sob but did not let it stop me even if I could not breathe. I removed the rest of my clothes and knelt by the bath, leaning over to turn the shower on but did not wait for it to be warm to step inside and let it pour all over my dirtied body. The coldness made me take a deep breath that seemed to have helped with the panic attack I was having, but it did not help the crying, so I let it all out while I was washing up. What have I gotten myself into? What happens next? What am I supposed to do now? Is he going to ask me to kill someone? Am I going to have to use a gun? I didn’t want to do any of those, I only walked by something I had nothing to do with and—letting out a scream of frustration, I sat down in the bath and let the water rain on me. I ran my hands through my wet hair and placed my elbows on my knees, grunting again, “I don’t do gangs… I do numbers, I don’t have time to murder people…” I mumbled.

Letting my own words sink in, I let out a chuckle at first and focused my gaze on the wall in front of me then laughed again, shortly. I don’t have time to murder people, yeah… “Because if you had time you would?” I asked myself jokingly as I stood up, laughing again. Shaking my head, I shut the shower off and got out, almost slipping on the water that had splattered around the bath. I hadn’t taken time to put a towel on the floor or prepare anything, fortunately I managed to balance myself and took one from the closet. Once I was dry, I wrapped my robe around my form and stopped in front of the mirror, taking a proper look at the damage I had taken.

The scratch on my cheekbone was bruised, there was another bruise on my neck that I could probably hide with a turtleneck, the season allowed it, and if not with a turtleneck then a scarf would do the trick. Disrobing myself just to take a look at the rest of it, I had some bruises on my arms where I was grabbed to be moved roughly, without counting the pain on my ass but no one would see that. Passing my tongue over my teeth, I was glad as I still had all of them, but my jaw hurt, “Did I bite the inside of my cheek? At what moment could-“ A flashback of when the man slapped me with full force appeared in my mind, fueling me with a bad feeling of uneasiness as I put back my robe. “Bastard…” I huffed before opening the door of my bathroom and stepping inside the dark room again. Talking to myself, I continued, “Nothing’s stopping me from telling the police, who does he think he is? I could very well call them, yeah…” I paused in my steps and scoffed dryly, “Not that they’d listen.”

The news was always talking about the gangs in the city, telling us that the police were working on stopping them, but no one knew the people that were supposed to defend and help were a bunch of sellouts, bribed out idiots. The system we had put our trust in had decided to fuck us over and to leave us to ourselves, it was because of them that I was in this situation. It’s not like it had been hard to stumble upon one of their gang meetings. They might claim discretion, but if anyone could find them, it was anything but. “Who am I kidding? I am fucked,” I barked a laugh and turned on the light, “Guess I am a gang member-“ I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the man my thoughts were plagued with, sitting on my couch, his legs crossed with one ankle over a knee. “Not exactly, you still need to prove yourself. But I love the enthusiasm!” He said while placing an arm on the back of the couch and looking at me with a satisfied smile, not even fully facing me, only to look right ahead once he was done talking.

Usually, one would say don’t turn your back on your enemy, but he was the predator here, he had nothing to fear, I was the one shaking in my metaphorical boots. Deciding to not be useless, I was about to shuffle to the kitchen discretely when I saw him beckon me closer by bending his index finger. Thinking I could play it off as not having seen it, I took one step towards the kitchen when I heard him click his tongue over his teeth, “I said, come here.” Stopping dead in my tracks, I did not speak, and silently opened my bag to pull out my phone and start recording. His hand gripped the back of the couch and I heard him chuckle mockingly, “Ran said you were stupid, but we both know you’re not, now come.” Putting the phone properly on the furniture, I followed his order and walked up to him to stand right in front of him, my arms crossed over my chest to close my bathrobe up to my neck.

“How the fuck did you get in?” I spat. He was not driving, which meant he could not throw me out of a speeding car. He was not surrounded by other maniacs either, and if he had a gun and decided to shoot me, I would have proof of it. There was a semblance of safety, even amidst the fact that the man had broken in without caring. It led me to have some confidence.

The man grinned and leaned over, his elbows resting on his knees. His demeanor was one of a man in control, he knew he could do anything to me because I would bend, he said it himself, I was malleable. But not for lack of will, simply by fear. And if he kept bending me this much, I would not last long, I would break. As long as I feared him, he had the upper hand… but I was not feeling fearless yet. With a low chuckle, he simply said, “Broke in with pliers,” then showed me the pair of pliers lying on the couch. I glanced at my door and saw the chain of my lock was broken as he had said, but that loss of attention directed to him annoyed him. Snapping his fingers, he brought my attention back to him, “Here, you should make a double of your key-“ “I’m not doing that. First, you’ll pay me back for breaking my lock, then if you want to meet up for whatever you got planned for me, you pick a spot but not-“

My breath hitched when Hanma rapidly stood up, his form towering mine as he looked down at me with his hair falling randomly on his forehead. “We got a lotta confidence suddenly, don’t we? Go ahead, finish your sentence, I’m listening.” He cooed in a condescending tone, his face approaching mine as he hovered slightly over me. Looking up at him, I looked down to his chest feeling my confidence wane slightly. When I tried to step back, not liking how close he was to me, he placed his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Come on partner, let it all out, you seem to have a lot on your mind. Keeping it all bottled up ain’t gonna end up well. We should get along if we’re gonna work together, yeah?” He said in a fake listening attitude, we both knew he didn’t care but I was riled up and clenched my fists.

“I don’t want you in my house, you’re a piece of shit. I don’t want to get along, I want you to fuck off—Get out.” I managed to say everything without stuttering, but his grip tightened on my shoulder, making me tense up even if it was not painfully tight. Simply knowing that nothing was holding him back, not his mind, nor his ethics, nothing. His mood was the turning point of his actions, which means one change of emotion could make him go feral and hit me, it scared me. Hissing mockingly, he tilted my chin up to make me look at him, a smirk adorning his face, “Make me leave then, do something about it.” Grabbing both my shoulders, he pushed me back slightly then spread his arms wide, a huge smile on his face, “Go ahead, I won’t do anything—it’s free hits,” He taunted. When I did not move, he pointed at his face and licked his lips like an animal looking at its next meal.

“Do it, show me your guts, little rat! I hit you right? I put a gun to your head, that must be so annoying, right?” Biting the inside of my cheek, I could feel my frustration building up inside me again. He had done all those things, and no regret was written on his face, none. He had killed a man, broken inside my house, manhandled me and hit me. He had mocked me, humiliated me, mistreated me and while it all happened in a short time span, I already felt strongly about him. Reminding myself all that, I hadn’t realized the hit that flew from my person until it landed on his jaw, my fist feeling like it had hit a wall. His face turned to the side by the end of the action.

Using the heel of his hand to wipe the blood that dripped from his mouth, he looked at me with hooded eyes and grinned, his teeth colored red, “That’s hot, but ye shouldn’t have done that.”

[Part 2]

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (9/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage, angst, swearing occasionally

Word Count: 2059

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: Okay so I feel rushed 24/7 with this fanfic because of my schedule. I hope you all like it! I rewrote this like 5 times ugh! aha

Enjoy

Visitors at nine o'clock at night was far from uncommon for Sirius Black. But, he usually expected said visitors to arrive with him, hopefully after a wonderful night out drinking and dancing. Visitors that arrived at nine o'clock at night and by themselves were quite an uncommon occurrence at Number Five Godric Lane.

Sirius opens the door at the second knock. The figures of his younger brother and a young woman standing on his front porch both looking gloomy.

"Regulus?" The girl looks younger than his brother, very attractive-- well, she would be, he assumes, if she weren't wearing a scowl that rivaled Regulus's cloudy expression. Sirius leans against his door frame, crossing his arms against his chest nonchalantly, "And you must be (y/n)."

(y/n) opens her mouth to respond, but Regulus cuts her off before she can confirm or deny his statement, "Can we stay here?" The interruption seems to piss her off further, her anger coming off her in waves as she stares daggers at Regulus.

Sirius looks between the young couple for a beat, "I-- sure? But why are you here? What happened?"

"Walburga." Regulus steps forwards to enter, prompting Sirius to move out of the way of his brother and sister-in-law. (y/n) gives him an apologetic look but doesn't say anything as she follows her husband into the small space of Sirius's living room.

He wonders what Regulus has done to piss his wife off so thoroughly as he watches them take a seat on his couch, Regulus somewhere near the middle cushion and (y/n) as far to the right as she possibly can be without sitting on the armrest.

Sirius sits adjacent to them in the comfy reclining chair. After a moment of silence, he sighs, "So, are you going to tell me what's happened?"

"We'll only be here for a couple of days at the least. There was no way we could spend another night-- there."

"I don't care how long you stay. Stay as long as you need to." Sirius looks at (y/n), who still has not said a word to him or Regulus. She's not even looking at either of them, her lips drawn tight and her fingers neatly folded together on her lap. "Were you disowned?"

Regulus's eyes meet his, "No. Can we talk in the kitchen? Just for a moment."

"Sure," Sirius stands up, "I've been rude, though. (y/n) would you like anything to drink?"

The girl's eyes meet his, "Water would be fine, thank you."

"I'll be right back with your water." He leads Regulus into the small kitchen.

"Why are you speaking to me with your wife not present? And what happened anyway?" Sirius opens the cabinet, reaching for a glass as he speaks.

"I wasn't disowned specifically because of (y/n). I know it's the truth. Walburga thinks she's possibly pregnant, and besides, I am sure my father-in-law would be furious to find out our parents ruined his daughter's future over me."

"Is she?" Sirius asks as the glass overflows as he fills it.

"Is she what?"

Sirius rolls his eyes, "Is your wife pregnant?" Honestly, he can understand why (y/n) may be annoyed with Regulus. His little brother was always so distracted by his own thoughts he could hardly converse at a normal rate. Skipping over questions and statements, eager to give his take or changing the subject. He could sometimes be exhausting to talk to, especially if you weren't used to Regulus and his ways.

Regulus scoffs as if Sirius was an idiot to suggest such a thing, "I've never failed to cast a contraceptive charm before. It's just an inkling the woman has, hoping that even as I continue to put up a fight against her ridiculous opinions on how my-- my relationship should look, or how it should operate. Of course, when she suggested that... conceiving an heir was a family matter, I told her it wasn't any of her business. Which she didn't like, at all."

"So you're hanging on as the heir because she's convinced (y/n) is carrying your heir?" Regulus makes a face, the only convincing Sirius needed that he wasn't telling him the complete truth.

"I assume that's what she thinks. You know Walburga. She's convinced sex is strictly reproductive."

Sirius chuckles, "talk about your sex life much with dear old mum, eh Reggie?"

Regulus's frown deepens. Oh, how his younger sibling hated teasing, "of course not. She's become a complete nutter about my private matters. I don't even know how she figured out I was using the charm."

"Well, she is a nutter. Maybe she has Kreacher following you around." It's meant as a joke, but Regulus seems to question if there's some truth in the words. "Oh, c'mon Regulus. Wouldn't you notice the little creep if he had been what-- hiding underneath the bed?" Sirius stifles a laugh. Imagining the little gremlin sneaking into Regulus's bedroom to spy on him from under the bed. The image of Kreacher under the bed, the springs of the bed, knocking against his lumpy head.

"It's not funny. That's entirely possible--" Regulus takes the glass from Sirius's hand, downing it in one go.

"Hey! That was for (y/n)!"

In a very not-raised-by-Walburga-Black manner, Regulus wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, nearly slamming the glass on the countertop, "You can refill it."

Sirius mutters something about Regulus being a 'little git' as he refills the glass and pushing past Regulus to bring the glass to (y/n).

"Here you go." The younger woman takes the glass from him, smiling. The smile seems false in his opinion, her eyes immensely sad.

Sirius practically scurries back to his chair, "right-- so all I have to offer is a couch, which I suppose we can transfigure into a bed? Hopefully, that's okay?" His eyes meet (y/n)'s ignoring a sulking Regulus who sits down next to his wife.

"Of course. Thank you." (y/n) stands, looking at Regulus, "Do you mind?" He scowls but gets up off the couch, shuffling towards Sirius. Both brothers watch as (y/n) pulls her wand from her sleeve.

With an elegant flick of her wand, the couch transforms into a comfortable-looking bed large enough to fit two adults.

Looking pleased with her work, (y/n) sits back on the edge of the bed. Almost reluctantly, Regulus sits on the side of the bed (y/n) isn't occupying.

Again, Sirius has the desire to laugh. Clearly, there has been some sort of spat between the couple. Their mother's rudeness can't be the only thing that's got the couple this worked up.

The uncomfortable silence that overcomes the three of them is unbearable. In an attempt to put an end to the awkwardness, Sirius, with a grin, speaks, "I'm still baffled that I didn't get a wedding invitation."

Neither (y/n) nor Regulus look amused by his words.

"This is not the time, Sirius." If looks could kill, Regulus would have surely ended his life.

***

Undoubtedly, Regulus and Sirius shared DNA. I ponder the similarities between my husband and his older brother as I get ready for bed. They both have the same piercing grey eyes and deep brown hair. But their differences could be plainly seen as well. Regulus is a tad bit taller and far skinnier than Sirius. And Sirius's hair is much longer.

Even as their faces share similarities, Regulus always seems to wear a frown while Sirius clearly had an air of ease. Funnily enough, the frown that Regulus wears doesn't match the woman you'd think he would resemble, as Sirius was the one who favored his mother's sharp features. Regulus had clearly inherited Orion's bone structure.

Undoubtedly though, both men were attractive in their own way.

Spitting toothpaste into the basin, I make a face when the thought pops in my head that I find Regulus more handsome than his brother.

I suppose I am allowed to be biased, or at least should be biased, as I'm married to Regulus, but-- I feel silly thinking about this.

Walking back into the makeshift bedroom, I pass Regulus, who doesn't even meet my eye. We've barely spoken since we arrived in Godric's Hollow, only passing looks of anger between us. Part of me longs to reach out and grab his arm, tell him I overreacted, that I'm sorry... but am I really sorry? Or was I just longing for him to whisper sweet things as he held me in bed how he has for the past weeks? I certainly could go one night, or maybe even a few, without his touch.

Unfortunately, I very much wanted him to play the loving husband again. I wanted to listen to his stories and comfort him when painful memories were brought up. I wanted to kiss him in all the ways we could think. Soft and sensual, deep and unforgiving... I wanted the goodnight kisses and the sleepy morning ones.

I obviously-- I don't love him, not yet. Maybe never if this rollercoaster of hot and cold continues on with us. But I did find myself craving affection and attention from Regulus in a way that would suggest feelings had been developing.

And Gods, did I hope that he felt at least an inkling of these developing feelings of mine. Regulus could be soft and sweet in moments, but part of me wondered if he only felt something for me when I was beneath him. It-- was a thought that had begun to plague my mind as our honeymoon had taken a turn for the better.

I had no proof that he didn't have budding feelings for me; I ultimately felt insecure because of that fight.

The way he spoke to me reminded me of every time I was scolded by my parents or grandmother. Like I was a dumb child who didn't have a say in a decision like practically running away from home-- his home.

Climbing into bed, I pull the blanket up towards my chin. The curtains aren't completely drawn, leaving an opening for a sliver of moon to be seen.

I feel my eyes grow tired as I focus on the moon's illumination.

***

Regulus makes his way back into the living room, meaning to discuss their spat. Guilt had sat in the back of his mind since their argument, but he needed her to realize that the anger he showed hadn't been aimed at her. It was stupid to assume that she would just know and understand the history between himself and his parents, and why wouldn't she assume he was attacking her when he raised his voice?

Part of Regulus had hoped she would just understand, and he wouldn't have to explain the rocky relationship between his family to her. (y/n) could be incredibly understanding, but she wasn't a mind reader. He had been unfair.

The carefully crafted apology he had rehearsed in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth sat at the tip of his tongue, dying instantly when he noticed her already under the covers of their makeshift bed.

The moon shines through Sirius's shitty, cheap curtains, casting a beautiful glow on her.

His voice comes out quiet as he calls her name into the dark. Her body doesn't stir, and he walks closer to the bed. The gentle rise and fall of her sleeping form has him convinced she really has fallen asleep without him.

Almost by instinct, he gets into bed, moving closer to wrap her up in his arms, but he hesitates, wondering if she'd even want to be held by him after their fight.

He feels the pang of sadness at the thought that she may not want his touch any longer.

Regulus reasons with himself that if she really didn't want him near her, she would push him away during the night. Maybe-- maybe she would wake up with his body pressed up close against hers, and it could fix something, or at least maybe she'd wake up less angry at him.

Carefully he moves so she's tucked against his body, his arm wrapping around her waist the way he knows she likes best. With a content sigh, she settles back against his body.

Regulus holds still, making sure she hasn't woken up, eventually relaxing and burying his face in her hair.

At least as she sleeps, she still desires him.