#Just… if you see him and his other accounts. Evade.

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Hello Everyone,

In regards to my last post, I am pleased to announce my full return to Tumblr. Thank you all for being so patient and understanding. It means a lot to me.

To make a long story short, I’ve been dealing with an account that has been an… unpleasant experience since late2020/early 2021. This has been an account that has displayed behavior in impersonating more than one individual, creating sensitive comment (both suggestive and gory), sending violent and gory asks (all on anon), and created a platform with ambitions of trying to provide justice on a falsely fabricated belief to Rescue Sonic 3(?). A couple of his accounts (he takes on a different alias for each one) have been removed from Tumblr as of last night.

For the longest time it was just me and my closest friends attempting to resolve the problem with civil conversation. However, confrontation only went so far. No words can describe how sorry I am for taking a hiatus. I have felt unsafe with the account active and hoped to return when I felt safe again. I did not mean to disappear completely. At the time, it felt like the best solution to do. After dealing with him for years… for providing explanations on why I felt the need to block, why I did not accept his replies, all of it, it just felt safer for me to avoid my blog until he was bored or deactivated his account.

To those that stood up for me, listened to my and my friends’ story, and helped me feel safe while on my hiatus, I am forever in your debt. Thank you. You have… no idea how much you mean to me. Seriously, thank you.

And with that, I will be activating the “anon” feature once more and making my return today.

Thank you. Seriously, thank you.

Stay safe for me, everyone.

You matter❤️✨

[msfantasy-comics]

The Family Meet and Greet

Damian Wayne x Reader

Request/Summary: Hey hun! I wanted to send in a request for Damian Wayne x reader. Maybe reader being introduced to the family/the family finding out about them?

A/n: Honestly I can’t tell if the picture is Tim or Damian.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Damian is a pretty private person and doesn’t intend to do an awkward meet and greet with his beloved girlfriend.

He knew that all of his family members would find out one way or another anyway.

Dick Grayson:

It wouldn’t take a genius detective to know that Damian is asking for advice for his love life.

Damian sits in his hero costume, hunched over as his legs dangle over the side of the building. His eyes evade Dicks, a red hue spreading across the tips of his ears.

A soft smile embellishes Dicks lips as he sees his younger brother whom is typically egocentric, now looking timid and shy for the first time ever.

“So my friend started seeing someone recently and he had this dilemma on if he should keep seeing her or not because on one hand he has all this baggage he doesn’t want to burden her with and on the other hand he just can’t bring himself to break things off with her.”

“So this girl your seeing-“ Damian’s eyes bulge, snapping his neck towards Dick, acting too defensively.

“Ugh, are you not listening Grayson? I said it’s about my friend.”

“Right, right, I forgot. My bad…” Dick think’s carefully on his words. “Sounds like your friend is a classic over-thinker. Relationships are far from logical, it’s all based on feelings. It might be hard for your friend, but just enjoy it for what it is.” Damian sits and stares off over the Gotham skyline looking unconvinced. “Look Dames, there is no right answer. Just do what feels right.”

Leaning back into his palms he stares in amusement at his beloved younger brother continues pining in anguish.

“So… how long do we keep pretending that we aren’t talking about you? Can I see a picture?” Damian rolls his eyes with a sigh, sliding his phone out of his pocket, he taps on the screen silently before shoving his phone into Dicks hands.

There laid the image a happy couple. Damian’s arms wrapped around your shoulder. The dark city filtering behind the brightly lit couple, forever captured in permanent laughter.

Dick, initially keen to tease the cheesy photo before him, now silent in pure aw to see the genuine smile, Damian’s eyes lit in adoration.

“Do not tell anyone Grayson. I will share the news when I am ready.”

Tim Drake:

The little rat has been acting rather odd.

Tim tried talking about it to Dick but he just kept evading his questions by pathetically redirecting his attention with someone else’s random drama.

They’re both acting weird and secretive, and there is no way Tim is going to be kept out of such an intriguing mystery.

Usually Tim would just stalk his targets, but this is Damian we are talking about. It is incredibly difficult, if not impossible to track Damian without him noticing. Starting with Damian’s social media, Tim pin points all of the photo locations and begins to visit each site one at a time. He hacks the local cameras and reviews the footage from around the date the photo was uploaded.

Low and behold, footage of Damian smooshing his face into another ladies face….

Whelp, Tim was certainly not expecting to see such a DISGUSTING display of affection. YUCK.

He didn’t even know the rat could even feel those types of feelings.

Tim, now laying on his bed cuddled up to a pillow is looking… traumatised.

Sometimes, it’s better just not to know.

Barbara Gordon

No freaking way.

Barbara could not believe her very eyes.

When completing a Internet background check on the Wayne family to scrub any suspicious allegations or accusations, Babs found the Holy Grail of finds.

An account with a mysterious woman with months worth of photos with the Wayne’s local angsty brat, Damian Freaking Wayne.

When completing a generic photo match search. Lovey, dovey poses with Damian and a girl by the name Y/n flashed up on the screen.

This is juicy! To tell Bruce or not to tell Bruce, that is the question.

Jason Todd

Disgusting. Absolutely foul.

It’s a random Tuesday evening when Jason jumps roof tops only to discover a couple making out all hot and heavy.

Their bodies tangling together as the man rips his shirt off. The girl sliding her hands along his abdomen before landing on his belt buckle.

The man then slides his hands from the back of her neck to her ass, giving it a needy grope before sliding his hands to the back of her thighs, lifting the woman with ease and pressing her against the wall.

This is hilarious, they have no idea Gothams most infamous Vigilante has caught them about to get down and dirty on Gothams roof top.

Jason sat down and ate his figurative pop-corn in humourous delight, until his eyes adjust.

“Ain’t no FUCKING way!” Jason yells, humours delight now churning into a disturbed nausea. He swallowed the bile raising up in his throat.

Pulling out his phone he calls Damian. Panting breaths filter through the phone, only furthering Jason’s disgust.

“What?! I’m in the middle of-“

“I know what your in the middle of you sick bastard! Take it indoors!” The line goes quite for just a moment. “Little freak, your family patrols the roof tops you know, ugh, I can’t - I’m having a flash back to Selina and Bru- ugh I’m gonna vomit.”

Duke

“Finally!” Duke announces, hoping over the back of the couch and sprawling out on the soft cushions of the plush couch. Without a second to spare Duke switches the TV on to watch the latest episode of his favourite show.

“Thomas-“

“No talking!” Duke wholesomely announces, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My phone… forget it.” Damian grumbles, seeing Dukes eyes glued to the TV. Squishing further into the cushions, Duke feels the uncomfortable poke of a hard object pressing into his rib.

Wrenching the wretched object from its place, Duke holds a phone. His haphazard fingers pressing into the screen which lights up and shows the text of a person named Y/n.

Y/n: Can’t wait for our date tonight, I miss your handsome face xx

Dukes cheeks heats up, seeing a private message he shouldn’t have seen. Damian is incredibly private and may murder Duke for accidentally learning something he wasn’t suppose to.

Wiping any evidence of his fingers touching the phone Duke places the phone back between the cushions.

Best if he just abandons his show for now for a tactical retreat.

Bruce Wayne

God, why are his kids so weird?

Seriously? Out of all 20 of them, not a single one was normal…

Sitting at the head of the dinner table, he watches his children talk amoungst themselves in weird cryptic speeches.

“Do you know what I know?” Tim asks intensely, the broccoli wedged on his fork, pointing at Dick, who stares back wide-eyed.

“I don’t know anything … why what do you know?” Dick says scanning the rest of the room to see if they somehow knew what Dick was referring to.

“I can’t share what I know, but just know it. Is. Juicy.” Babs announces with a sly and taunting grin.

“I don’t know anything, I didn’t even want to see it. Oh god, I’m feeling queasy.” Jason says crossing his arms over his stomach.

“IDidntSeeAnythingEither.” Duke announces quickly, and begins to quickly Hoover his dinner.

Damian sighs, massaging his temples at his idiotic siblings.

“So I take it that you have all found out about Y/n?” Bruce asks calmly, slowly sawing into the plump steak on his plate.

The room falls dead silent as all heads turn towards Bruce, surprised that he knew and surprised that he had the guts to say what everyone else was thinking.

“Father, how do you know about Y/n?”

“… I’m Batman.”

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Smile for the Camera

It’s 10pm sharp when I start my stream. I’ve always been on time, always with my makeup on flawlessly, hair styled perfectly, and bedroom set curated just right to show my pretty pink sheets and collection of toys.

I smile and wave at the camera, tossing my hair back to reveal the pink lingerie set I’ve chosen for tonight.

“Good evening everyone! I’m sooo glad to see so many of you tuning in!”

The chat inbox floods with greetings from my audience and there’s an influx of money that comes from my particularly generous viewers. I giggle and flirt with my viewers, many of whom who have become regulars in my viewership population.

Someone in the audience asks for a strip tease and I feel my pussy pulse in response, looking forward to a night of performing for my devoted viewers.

I start slow, running my fingers up and down my body, brushing gently over my lingerie-clad nipples and whimpering loudly for the microphone to pick up. My eyes stare into the camera, all of my thoughts melting away as I fall into my role of entertainer.

Teasingly, I pull along the shoulder straps of my top, letting the fabric fall away from my chest to show off my perky tits and hardened nipples that are always a fan favorite. My hands dance over my chest, pulling gently at my nipples in a way that makes my moans completely genuine. My eyes glance to the screen and I see the excitement building in my chat box, and my account balance steadily rising.

Suddenly, I hear the lock on my door click and my body goes cold. The door to my room is out of the video shot, behind my camera setup and before I can even react, the door slams open.

I let out a startled yelp as my arms instinctively cover my chest. In the corner of my eye, I see the chat go crazy as my audience tries to figure out what it is they’re hearing but not seeing off screen. My attention is wholly focused on the man whose frame fills my doorway.

I scramble off my bed. “What the fuck? Why are you in my house?” My voice is shaking with fear and shrill with panic. I’m far too preoccupied to even think about the livestream anymore.

My fear deepens when I see him leer at me and stalk through my door and towards me without any hesitation.

“A fucking whore like you should be more gracious to me,” he says, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. He and I are both in the camera’s view now and the viewers on my stream are firing off more messages than before, speculating over who he is and what is going on.

Without saying anything else, he moves to me faster than I can evade and grabs my hair. My mouth opens to scream but before sound can escape, he throws me chest down onto my bed. The air is forced out of my lungs and for a moment, I’m still and stunned. The next moment, he’s on me.

His hand is buried in my hair, keeping my face pressed down against the bed while he forces my ass up into the air. I struggle uselessly against him, unable to push up off the bed or move myself away from his ironclad grip. My cries are muffled against my bed and I want to scream and yell for help but there’s not enough air in my lungs.

His free hand lands a sharp slap against my ass that make me jolt forwards and arch my back further in pain. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to land blow after blow. My arms begin to flail, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as I struggle.

“Stop fucking moving, whore,” he growls at me. I feel the spanks subside for a moment and I can feel my ass burning red and throbbing from the pain. My head spins from the abuse and the lack of oxygen. I feel his large hand find my wrist, his fingers locking around me in a bruising hold as he yanks my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder.

The hand on my head finally comes away and I raise my head just enough to gasp in much-needed oxygen. In that split second, he’d grabbed and secured my other arm behind my back as well, his one hand effortless holding my arms crossed behind my back. My body is still bent over, knees on the bed and ass up in the air. My only saving grace is that I can raise my head enough to breathe and glance at my laptop, showing the livestream still ongoing.

My eyes dart across the screen, reading messages as fast as I can. None of them show any concern for me, in fact, a vast majority are discussing how much they wished they were the ones holding my body down in this moment.

“Fuck yes, show that whore her place.”

“God, what would I do to be there to punish her for always teasing us.”

“I bet her cunt is dripping wet right now.”

I whine softly when I see that message because it’s right. “Please, let me go!” I turn my head to look at the menace of a man behind me. He flashes a dark grin at me, “Not until I fuck you out of your whore mind.”

His words echo in my head and panic rises within me. “Please! No! Stop! Someone help me!” I make eye contact with the camera, begging at its cold, dark lens.

He laughs behind me. “There’s no one here to help you, whore. You and I both know that every single person watching behind their computer screen is more than eager to see your whore body get ruined.”

As he speaks, his free hand pulls his belt and pants undone enough for him to pull his massive cock out. I let out a choked gasp when I see it.

“Wait, no, please, you’re too big, it’s not going to fit! Please!” My voice shakes and I start to struggle harder against him. His body dwarfs mine and I watch through the camera as he rips my panties off, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, whore.” I feel the head of his cock brush against my dripping slit and my eyes widen.

“Wait, please-” My begging ends in a wail as he slams himself into me to the hilt. The painful stretch makes tears spring into my eyes but unimaginable pleasure quickly follows as his cock nudges into every sensitive spot inside of me. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to rut into me mercilessly.

Every thrust makes my body shake with pain-tinged pleasure and pathetic moans are spilling out of my mouth as my eyes roll upwards. My hazy vision catches a glimpse of us on the camera. I look like a rag doll, back arched, ass in the air, and shuddering as he towers over me, his cock sinking into my cunt.

Every thrust is accompanied by the squelch of my wetness and the sound of our bodies slamming into each other. The bed creaks under us as his body moves like a machine, drilling into me. “Fuck, you tight fucking whore, your pussy was made for me huh?”

His voice is guttural. Suddenly, he grips my upper arms and yanks me upwards. His other hand comes around to grip my throat as he traps me against his front. The new angle makes his cock stab even deeper into me, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Look at the fucking camera, whore. Show them what a fucked out little slut you are. Go ahead, smile for the camera.” His thrusts seem to come even faster now.

I have tears falling from my eyes as my face reddens from his constricting grip around my neck.

“Smile or I choke you out on my cock like this,” he snarls, hips never stuttering in their punishing pace. I let out a muffled groan and try my best to focus myself enough to obey.

I stare through half-lidded eyes at the camera, barely coherent. My lips pull up in a small, desperate smile as I feel myself gradually running out of air.

“Good fucking whore. Now tell them how much you like having your whore cunt fucked.” His hand leaves my throat and goes to pinch my clit harshly, making me squeal.

“Ah- I like having, ah-, my whore cunt fucked!” My voice is hoarse, my orgasm fast approaching as he starts to roughly roll my clit between his fingers.

“That’s right, and you’re going to cum like this aren’t you, whore? Come on, cum all over me, show them how much you love this.” His words combined with the brutal assault on my body push me over the edge and with a desperate wail, I fall apart.

I hear him groan lowly behind me as my pussy clenches around him, my orgasm ripping through my senses. He uses my body harder than ever, treating me like a sex toy as he chases his own release. He slams himself into me one final time as he erupts, his grip bruising my arms as he keeps me in place.

I collapse against him, a boneless, overstimulated mess. He lets me down gently onto the bed, pulling out of me. The sound of his cock squelching out of my pussy makes my viewers more than aware of how well-fucked I am. He steps away from the bed and towards my filming setup. He leans into the camera and smirks.

“Let me know how else you want to see this whore fucked. If your idea is good, maybe I’ll let you come and enjoy her too.” With that, he shuts the camera off and closes out of the streaming site.

My body is still limp on the bed. I feel him settle next to me and pull me close before brushing my hair away from my forehead and kissing my nose.

“Do you think they liked me?” His murmurs.

“They loved you,” I say, breathless and drowsy from what we just did.

“I hope so, I wouldn’t want my debut on your stream to make a bad first impression,” he says, frowning down at me a little. It makes me let out a soft laugh.

I tilt my head up to kiss his jawline, “Only you would fuck the life out of me on livestream and then worry that you did a bad job.”

I giggle again and he grumbles back at me, “Shut up and sleep, I’ll clean up.” His kiss on my forehead is the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep.

[cursed-peanut]

A/N: Hello everyoneeee!!! As promised, here is part 2 of Reunited!! I will be making more parts however it won’t be like a fic, more like a combination of scenarios, headcanons, etc. If you have any questions or thoughts on this AU, my ask box is always open and so are my comments. My taglist is also open! If you’d like to be added, lmk! Please make sure I can tag your account first though. May sound silly but I couldn’t tag some people because they had tagging disabled. If you were one of the people who asked to be tagged but wasn’t, please change that in Tumblr settings :) Anyway, this kinda gave yandereish vibes at the end??? If you want me to turn it into that or write a spin off where Sukuna is a Yandere for reader, lmk in the comments 💗 Anywho, happy reading and I hope you all enjoy this as much as you all did in part 1 <333

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“You are to be monitored by me at all times! If you get caught walking around by yourself well…I will either get an earful from the old hags at the top or they’ll have both of our heads, no in between!” Gojo Satoru tells you in a tone way too cheerful for what he was telling you.

“What? Why? I don’t even have any cursed energy, I’m just a regular human, I’m not some powerful sorcerer.”

“That is exactly why. We’re keeping your presence under the radar for now, but as soon as it inevitably slips out that you’re back and so is Sukuna, so will immediately become a target.”

“That’s not true. ‘Kuna may not be back to his full power, however he is still strong. No curses and sorcerer’s alike would dare hurt someone so close to the King of Curses.”

“While you may be right that he’s powerful even though Sukuna isn’t at his full potential, your ‘Kuna’ currently has the power of one of his fingers and is stuck in a fifteen year old boys body. He could easily be evaded by fellow special grade curses and curse users. Please realise this is for your safety.”

This doesn’t make sense to you. Yes, he’s not at his full power, but it’s not like you’ll be leaving Jujutsu Tech anyway. After all, you don’t go on missions, you’re not a Jujutsu Sorcerer and you will never have a chance to — not that you want to anyway. So logistically there is no need for your protection. Are they worried sorcerers might attack you? That’s surely a fault in the system of their schooling and society if they’re scared of that. Or maybe…they don’t trust you?

“They want me dead because of my relation to ‘Kuna, don’t they?” Gojo’s deafening silence answers your question. “Why?”

“Because they’re afraid that there’s a possibility you’re hiding a powerful technique from us. I personally don’t believe you are deceiving us, but even if you were, I’d be able to stop you anyway. So don’t be become all cocky with delusion. Thinking you can defeat me.” He grins.

“Mhm, well…thank you then.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for believing in me,” You shakily sigh. “I’m happy to know someone is willing to stand up for me.”

“Of course! I would get a mopey Yuji if you died, and who knows how Sukuna would react, but I know for a fact it would not end well. Talking of Yuji and Sukuna, we should go check on them now!”

That’s right. Itadori has recently been announced as dead, however it seems Itadori must have made some sort of pact with Sukuna to revive him. You and Gojo, along with a few others at Jujutsu Tech, are the only people who know he’s alive. Gojo seems to take this opportunity to train Itadori well, and what that truly means is most of the time he conducts experiments that mainly consist of Gojo purposely annoying Sukuna to see how Itadori’s body would react. Most experiments involved you in some way — he found Sukuna’s threats very amusing, but what he found even more amusing is your ability to make the King of Curses sulk for a day by simply lightly reprimanding him for these threats.

“‘Kuna! That is no way to talk to someone. He just wanted a hug.”

“Yeah ‘Kunaaaa. I just wanted a hug.”

“Gojo-Sensei, please. Stop angering him. It’s getting harder and harder to suppress him.”

“This is exactly why I’m doing this! To help you learn how to suppress Sukuna, no matter the circumstances.” Gojo explains. While that may be partly true, Itadori knows that’s a lie. He’s doing this because it’s funny to him.

“You better watch it, Sorcerer scum,” Sukuna grits. “May I remind you that when I make this idiots body my own, I’m killing you first.”

“‘Kuna!” You scowl, hugging Gojo tighter to Sukuna’s dismay. Gojo flashes a shit-eating-grin Sukuna’s way for one last time and lets go of you.

“Thank you, Sensei. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could suppress him for.” Itadori sighs. You sit down next to him and give him a warm hug, rubbing circles on his back. Itadori looks up at you with warm eyes as you press a kiss to his forehead. You always bring the mummy issues out of him.

Meanwhile, in Sukuna’s domain, Sukuna is looking at you through Itadori’s eyes and he can’t help but marvel at you. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers, and you’re so unbelievably near. He wishes he could take his vessel’s place, return to his former glory with you by his side, but that will have to wait.

He will return to his former glory and you will be at his side when that happens. But above all else, what makes his wait all the more worth it, is the world he plans to create will be perfect for you and him. You wouldn’t need to worry about any disgusting sorcerers killing him and sealing you again.

Even if you hate him for killing the sorcerers, he can live with that. As long as you still love him, and stay by his side, he can deal with that.

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Taglist: @makuzume @spicyhyunn @pearlescentwonderland @namjooningera @six-eyed-samurai @natriae @domainofmarie @lixern @fluttershyfangs @girlyuuta @anabort @yu-87 @sukunaglazer4ever @madison777x @dervngedgf @calisnewworld @ilybbg @the-banshee @mostnormalsukunastan2024real @williamafton26 @mythoswarrior-23 @megantheefan @mindless-rock @kimsunoo2003 @anayesha1 @lelelenlenn @shyshybabyy @unlikelystay @shigemis0ra @iloveboysinred @eresel4mordemivid4 @meo66 @frozen-waffles @mrsslytherin00 @lazyperfectioniste @whosmarjj @itawifeyy @sugurubabe @hanniebanggi

Please don’t copy or take as your own. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Like what you read? Here are all my other works and consider following me! If you’re interested in this AU, here is the masterlist for all works in this AU so far. If you would like to request something, please check my rules first before doing so.

[kalims]

Hi, there! :D

I don't know if my request will be taken into account but you mentioned that it's okay to try.

I am not throwin' away my shot >:D (sorry my indoor theater kid comes out from time to time)

Type: Headcanons

Reader: Neutral

Scenary: The NCR boys see that a student from Noble Bell College or RSA who has been trying to flirt with the prefect, in a bold move steals the prefect's (first) kiss. How would they react and what would they feel?

I feel like it would be a rollercoaster of occurrences and complete chaos in NCR xD

If my request does not convince you, you can discard it without problems, but if not, take your time and without pressure, thank you 💐🌼✨👍✍️I love your TWST fics they always make me smile .

whisk away

premise. despite your many efforts of evading your seeming admirer, they remain persistent in their pursuit. you've considered just leaving them in the dust without an explanation whatsoever but you're too stunned to process the fact that they've just kissed you without a warning. next thing you know there's a murderous aura approaching.

characters. silver, jade, deuce, kalim, vil

note. you didn't really specify which characters jhshs so I took the liberty of scouring your blog and just put the ones you seem to like ^^ and I kid you not, used a wheel for the other 2 lol (so sorry, was gonna post this earlier but got busy since presentations came up so I only finished now.)

silver

has a mixture of shock and anger. which is mostly for your sake honestly, he wasn't gonna intervene cause he felt like you would wanna deal with it on your own so he feels the absolute mortification slipping into his bones. if he wasn't fully awake, then he definitely is now!

fully ready to talk some sense into that idiot who has no sense of space, hello?

last time he knew, you weren't really dating anyone. silver would know if you did, cause you both talk practically everyday and a lover would be something he should be aware of... unless you didn't talk? I mean, who else would just kiss you like that?

someone unpleasant. he decides. one look at your face and he knows immediately that it wasn't something you expected as well.

just pulls up with a rare look of anger directed to the student, brows furrowed, shoulders tense and all. everyone's used to the serene, calm look on his features so seeing him look so different probably put off said student so they scampered after a promise made by silver if they dared to stick around.

"leave, or find out what happens if you don't."

gone is the anger *poof* and is fretting over you now. are you okay? do you want him to knock some sense into that idiot? literally tell him anything, order him to do anything, and he'll do it (within reason) my guy is just here for your sake tbh.

kinda gloomy cause damn, that was your first? he wanted both of yours to be first and some grade a hole just decided to shatter all that. it makes him all the more irritated so if he can't have your first kiss, he'll just take your second, and every single other kiss you'll give.

jade

take the murderous aura and multiply it tenfold!!

jade doesn't really need to reach you and make his presence known by a few words cause it seems like everyone but you within 10 feet radius of him is sensing the murderous aura he's emitting. if it's not feeling that, then it's seeing the eery dark smile present on his face.

and he seems to be having a death march towards a specific direction so everybody knows where to avoid atleast. cause it seems like anyone on his path is gonna get trampled and no one likes a messy hall.

student in front of you pales, deluding themselves that maybe he's just heading somewhere behind them to vent out that rage or something but they glance behind and almost piss their pants when there is in fact, no one present near anywhere and he's getting closer.

so... they wanted to live so they just bolted out. an experience with one of the tweels won't be good news, and if jade is the one who has them in his sights... they'll take the head start thank you very much.

with the students face memorized and tucked into a corner of his mind he smiles almost innocently at you when you spot him and strike the most casual of conversation.

well, that's under the guise atleast. he's shooting you subtle questions about that person to which you reply innocently. oblivious to the grave you're digging for them yourself.

oddly enough jade started being strangely affectionate, a hand on the small of your back, maybe on your shoulder, arm, or a pat on your head as gratitude. but he seems to like kissing the back of your hand a lot...

*turns his head in their direction after kissing your hand*

deuce

I'll be perfectly honest. he doesn't really have much of an impact in terms of the intense aura that should have been felt. he looks a normal degree of angry, that's why the person hasn't gotten chased off even with the clear signs that deuce will be swinging a fist at probes.

unfortunate that's exactly what the person does. despite your clear reaction of disgust they still use you to rile up deuce. cooing at him while reaching for you, and chuckling about how they didn’t even know him, nor is it any of his business to interfere between two... lovers?

oh so they wanted to impact? they're gonna get one right now 👊 since it seems like they want to get to know him so bad they can get well acquainted with his fists, you know?

he made a promise to himself not to get involved with these type of mishaps! or at the very least resort to more peaceful methods than using violence as a sort of communication. the guilt eats him up a little but he thinks he'd never stand for someone who would disrespect you so blatantly!

almost comically, he looks like he spouts a pair of ears that of a dog's and turns to you. looking more apologetic compared to the fiery look he had a second ago, if he had a tail it would be tucked between his legs out of shame or something.

"I'm really sorry," he says. sulking. deuce apologizes to you, not for his choice of knocking out this random in the middle of the street but because of the fact that he did it in front of you. (also he's kinda jealous...)

if asked, he can, and WILL do it again.

don't blame him though! discreetly whisks you away to grab a bite. having literally no regards to the body looking like it's soul got knocked out laying, and looking out of place on the ground. maybe someone will check on them but definitely not him, they deserve it!

kalim

gasps loudly. "noooo!"

which is like a public proclamation that seeing that did everything but please him. which also means he's basically admitting he's jealous in an indirect way, might as well just say he likes you or something (he probably will if asked because he thinks it's nothing worthy of hiding.)

bounds up to you asking who that is quite loudly to the point where it would seem like he just stumbled upon you cheating on him. it doesn't help that he actually looks sad, teary and all. jamil is off, having paused in his trail since he was previously chasing the boy who ran off.

now he isn’t sure if he wants to get involved now. this is so embarrassing.

lowkey other student would just look back and forth to you, then to kalim. the latter in question unintentionally ignored his existence to be honest, since he was too busy shaking your shoulders and probing the answer of you.

"why would you kiss a stranger...?" he trails off, you did answer. kalim is genuinely wondering to himself if it was that easy cause damn, he scratches his head. that made no sense (says the guy who is making no sense.)

he makes it so obvious that he's pondering with the finger under his chin, eyes lost pointed at the air and the unnecessary loud humming... at this point the atmosphere became more awkward because you and the student is staring at him in bewilderment.

drag him off please, and explain it to him elsewhere. public is NOT a good place. so instead of him saving you out of a situation like this, you save him? talk about being built different...

vil

what in the sevens... he surely hopes his eyes are working correctly lest he needs contact lens, or glasses for that matter. either way he'll positively be as beautiful as he ever was.

although he's very pleased that someone notices the extent of your beauty, there are... other ways to express fondness admiration for you, and vil just can't respect someone who doesn't seem to have any shame for themselves for pressing on boundaries.

so this... fool clearly is a mere taint on your image!!! rid of them immediately! you needn't dirty your pretty mouth, rook does love cleansing the world of dirt like them so it's for the better good if they just never dare to appear to your face ever again.

what better way to hurt someone than aim for their pride? *trash talks so good about their attitude that they actually be pondering their life choices*

don't get him wrong. he doesn't like them, like at all. vil can full well do more damage by nit picking details about them they probably aren't even aware of but he'd never willingly give another person a reason to be insecure about themselves, even if they did terrible things.

plus, there's better ways to teach someone a lesson. they'll learn.

who wouldn’t be scared of an angry vil? they scampered away pretty quickly from a few words, even quicker when he mentioned rook but it's their problem to be paranoid whether the hunter is following them or not to be honest.

frets over you right after. living the dream.

[brainrotfm]

the world put you in front of me and we aligned

pairing: ryomen sukuna x reader

word count: ~1.5k

short description: the king of curses has never been asked for comfort before, but that doesn't mean he won't indulge you.

notes: no beta barely edited probably ooc; no content warnings just the fluffiest lil thing you'll ever get from me, mwah! manga credit used for header image [nsfw, 18+]!

"Tell me what you need, little one, while I still feel patient."

"Well I-I... I don't know how to ask for that," you reply sheepishly, ducking your head to hide the flush that was starting to prickle across your cheeks at your own discomfort. Two fingers caught your chin, evading your retreat into yourself, tilting doe eyes back into the intense, scarlet-hot gaze of the man towering over you still, not one to back away from an uncomfortable situation so easily.

"Use your words, brat," Sukuna purrs cheekily in return, gravelly and low but warm like molasses, trying to lure you out of whatever self-conscious spiral he was watching you fall into - it wouldn't work. Not when he was willing and able to catch you.

The way he touched you, the way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you: it would sound silly if you tried to say it out loud, but there was no other word that came to mind but reverence. Utter devotion or nothing at all, there was no in between with someone like him. Were you projecting? Did the passion between you two feel too good to be true, not because of him, but because of you?

Because you couldn't handle being seen by him, could you?

It wasn't easy, but it was familiar; you didn't, couldn't, ask for help, because you didn't have the vocabulary to explain what you needed help with, exactly. No one could snap their fingers and make all your problems go away; if they could, you wouldn't ask for that, because a charmed life had no real value. And yet... no matter what you said, there was an unflappable feeling in your gut that Sukuna would scorch the earth to give you whatever you desired, the closest thing to a god you may ever see.

"I just want you to hold me," and the words sounded silly as soon as they left your mouth. He was a CURSE for god's sake, or at least, he was one. By all accounts, he was a monster, a being of the lowest morale, and there was nothing that would make him to succumb to the petty whims of the human he just so happened to have a dalliance with. A blip on his cosmic radar, a temporary satisfaction in an endless lifetime. He didn't have the time to waste, the capacity to care, the attachment to give --

Except as soon as the words left your mouth, the smallest of smirks twitched the sides of his lips. As always, you yielded when given a command, and he was always filled with a silent pride by your willingness to succumb for him. Without a word, Sukuna scooped you from the couch bridal-style, earning him a startled yip that turned his smile wider. You felt the echo of his chuckle rumble deep in his chest as he carried you into the bedroom, a protest on your lips that this isn't what you meant, not everything was a code for sex... "Sukuna, I..."

The complaint died in your throat though, not having time to manifest as you squeaked instead; Sukuna had kneed his way onto the bed, still not dropping you as he set his back against the headboard and gingerly, with all the tenderness in the world, set you down across his lap. It would've brought tears to your eyes, if you hadn't been so bewildered by this side of your lover, one who got you both off thanks to his penchant for sadism, but this time...

This time, he used his immense reach to grab the comforter, pulling it over your bodies. This time, he used the hand still wrapped around your back, propping you up, to begin tucking in the seams of the blanket, bounding you tightly against him. This time, the heat of your combined body warmth overpowered your cyclone spin of anxiety. This time, his free hand came up to cup your cheek for a moment, looking into your watery, hazy hues before placing the most delicate kiss against your forehead. This time, you would even call him chaste, not a word you ever imagined using in reference to Sukuna. This time, he looked for nothing more, wordlessly pulling your face into his chest as the arm around your back tightened its hold. This time, he really did just... just hold you.

It was too much.

By the time your cheek had pressed against heat of his skin, you were a goner. Maybe you were just that obvious - maybe he saw how pathetic and hopeless you felt, and knew that no amount of his usual teasing would cajole you out of your reverie. You're not sure he could feel sadness; you're not really sure he ever had, but you appreciated this act of softness from him. (He could, though rarely, and he did, though oftentimes only because of you, or in this case, for you). Shaking like a leaf in the wind, you curled as far into him as you possibly could, and with a heave, an onslaught of tears began to leave your body like the damn had broken at the end of a wet summer.

Where did he learn comfort like this? A large palm rested against your lower back, splayed open and anchoring you to his lap, not letting you budge an inch, even if you wanted to. His other hand had curled around the side of your neck to its nape, pressing you against him, silently insisting you stay as near to him as possible, to ride out whatever anxiety had taken you so far from him tonight. He would wait. You had only asked to be held, so he remained silently, trying not to focus on the way your pathetic little hiccups would make his heart squeeze, or why the white-hot lick of anger curled beneath his skin at seeing you in this state.

The more you succumbed to your sadness, though, the worse it seemed to get; the riptide of emotion had grabbed you by the ankle and sought to drown you in its depths tonight. Sukuna noticed immediately when your breaths had grown panicked and short, hiccups faltering into staccato sobs, and your heart began hammering out of rhythm with his own.

No, no, that would not do. You were supposed to be soothed. You couldn't see his brow furrow sullenly, confusion flickering behind maroon eyes, a sound akin to a growl unfurling in his chest. His exasperation with your befuddling human emotions was short-lived. The growing rumble in his chest had finally moored all your senses to the same shore, grounding you in tandem with the anchor points of physical touch.

Once he realized you liked it - and he should've realized you'd like it, you often enjoyed his primal sounds in other scenarios, too - well, of course he continued, your emotional fulfillment his main concern at the moment.

You must be dreaming. That was the only thought in your head as your hiccups waned into pitiful sniffles, doe eyes sore and half-lidded in the shelter of Sukuna's chest. "R-ryo...?" you managed to bleat, softer than he'd ever heard his name on your lips before, and the use of his first name had your lover purring again with a low timbre hum, giving your entire form an encouraging squeeze to signify his attention.

"Don't go... please, don't go," you whined, barely above a whisper, and something in chest shattered at your unwillingness to be without him, now that you had let him in to that tightly locked room he'd call your heart. If he had thought dominating your physical body had been pleasurable, there was an absolute intoxication that came from you being this kind of vulnerable with him; where he had always assumed he'd feel disgust, he felt a dizzying delight in pacifying you this way, still a dance of your bodies, just with different choreography than he'd ever known before.

"Oh, little one," the king of curses assuaged in a tone of equal measure, his whisper husked as he ducked to kiss your forehead again, reveling in the enchanting sigh he earned from you at such a simple affection. With that, he began to rustle you into place for sleep, more delicately than he'd ever handled you before; though, it could be noted that he was still a selfish man, and didn't give you any room to move or curl away from him, intent to keep you tucked against his chest for the rest of time if it meant witnessing you like this, at your most docile.

Your pretty face was folded into the juncture where his chest met his neck, and he could feel your breathing settle into dreamy sighs, comforted and cared for exactly the way you'd asked, so trustful that you would dare to sleep in his presence, the sweetest of lambs curled up and comfortable in the middle of the lion's den. He could kill you, right there. He would kill for you, right then.

"There is nowhere I could go that I could not take you," Sukuna promised softly into the darkness of your room, hoping you'd hear his promise in your dreams. Now that he knew this, he never wanted to know anything again.

taglist: @hercskid @sinlillith @marusatonanhin @kentohours @tzuyuswife @yuujispinkhair @luckyracco @forresway @briannafdez10 @vadersassistant @maximumcherryblossomface

disclaimer: i do not consent to my original writing being fed to ai. please do not repost/redistribute. reblogs help original writing reach a wider audience.

[dix0nvix3n]

𖤓°⋆ Chapter 1 °⋆𖤓

⋆☀︎｡Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader  ⋆☀︎｡Media: The Walking Dead; No Apocalypse & Alternate Universe ⋆☀︎｡Pronouns: She/Her  ⋆☀︎｡ Warning: Smoking (Cigarettes), One mention of weed, Talk of a bad past relationship. (That's it I think?) ⋆☀︎｡ Word Count: 2.5k

⋆☀︎｡ Author's Note: It's finally here... the beginning of my magnum opus. Even though I only have this one chapter out, there hasn't been a single day since I came up with the idea for the fic where I didn't think about it at least once. I just wanna thank all the people who let me infodump about it; y'all are true soldiers, cause I can really ramble on. Special thanks to @sinkdownbeneath for helping me write the intro because I was completely stuck for months with almost nothing to show, and being the person who let me yap the most, he can account for me pretty much talking about it every day for the past five months. So, anyway, I guess I hope y'all like my first finished something that wasn't just a blurb. Last night I only had a little over 200 words at 10 PM something, and now it's 7:44 AM with 2.5k words as I write this... I don't know what got into me, but anyway, enjoy!

June 1st, 1992

Daryl finds himself propped up against a tree, catching his breath. The cool summer air around him makes his chest ache with every breath he takes. He had been running, hearing the twigs snap and the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he darted past every tree, trying to evade potential capture from a party that had him jumping out a window when the cops showed up due to a noise complaint.

He spent much of his life within the comfort of the woodland, underneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the first roof he ever felt safe under.

He gasped for air, his legs exhausted and his lungs overworked, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he slid down the rough bark of a tree, pulling his legs up to his chest.

He's close to the road, hearing a solitary car cruise past. He can tell it's late from the stars that peek through the leaves that loom above him in the thick black sky, but he spots his glimmer of hope, which seems to be the soft light of a gas station just a bit beyond the road's traffic barrier closest to him.

With a deep inhale, Daryl knew he had to walk to the gas station and reluctantly call for a ride in a phone booth.

After fully catching his breath, he pulled himself off the ground and began walking towards the gas station, already dreading the thought of the phone call.

Reaching the gas station, he saw two cars; one belonged to the lone worker at the cash register inside, and the other belonged to a woman smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. The woman did a quick wave at him, which he found to be a little odd just because most people at this time of night aren't too friendly, but he gave a polite wave back anyway. 

Finally getting up to the phone booth, Daryl looked down at his watch, which read 1:00 AM, causing him to let out a deep sigh, realizing how late it was and how much of an inconvenience it would be for someone to come and pick him up. 

He stepped inside the phone booth, staring at the phone for a minute before popping in the quarters he luckily grabbed from the living room floor of the party. If he hadn't grabbed them, he'd be completely fucked and have to figure out his way back to his apartment.

After dialing the number he knew would pick up, the phone rang just a few times before a tired and clearly just woken up by a phone at one in the morning voice picked up.

"Hey, Mr. H... Could ya pick me up?"

"Thanks. 'm sorry about this; kinda just started walking and didn't stop. Ended up at some party, and now I don' know where I am."

"Yeah. Place is called Peachy Speed, never seen another gas station called this; it must be family-owned or somethin' and the closest road sign says it's on Navel Street. You know where I'm at?"

"Okay, cool. See ya in a bit. Sorry again."

After hanging up, Daryl stepped out of the phone booth with his head held down, letting out a deep exhale and running a hand through his hair until he heard a pair of feet shuffling up to him.

He looked up to see who it was, and it was you, the woman who waved at him.

"Need one?" You held out an open pack of Marlboro Reds, with only one cigarette missing from the pack.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." His thoughts stuttered for a moment because he was caught up in the fact that you came over to him. You're really pretty, and now Daryl feels like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask a girl to the prom just because of a simple gesture.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the box and reached to pull his lighter out of his pocket, only not to feel it, and checked the other pocket to have the same luck. "Shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "Need a light too?” You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and handed it over to him.

He nodded his thanks and popped the cig in his mouth before lifting the black bic with a spiderweb seemingly hand-painted on up to the end of the stick. Flicking the flame to life, he took a long inhale and handed you back the lighter, as he really took a moment to take in the sight of you. 

You were in a black tank top tucked into a pair of black ripped jean shorts. Under the pair of jean shorts were fishnets with an intricate pattern of moons and stars, and you had on a pair of slightly battered-up Doc Martens. 

As he exhaled the first plume of smoke into the night sky, he saw your kind smile, which sent a rush of warmth through his face. Your lips had a simple gloss on them, but your eyes were a different story, painted with smokey eyeshadow, sharp graphic eyeliner, and two rounds of mascara on each set of your top lashes. He also noticed the simple yet pretty titanium stud on the left side of your nose and two helix rings on both your ears.

He thought you were gorgeous, his heartbeat a slightly faster pace than what it normally rested at.

"Rough night?" You asked as you lit up a cigarette for yourself, letting out a slight gag at the taste and smell that you weren't used to, which caused Daryl to let out a small chuckle.

"Sorta. More of just hated the fact I had to call and wake someone up to come and get me. First time smokin'?" He said before he took another drag.

"How'd you know?" You said sarcastically as your face contorted in disgust a bit at the taste building up in your mouth and throat after each puff.

"Maybe try a different brand. You'll find one ya like." A small smile graced his lips as he butted off the ash at the end and took another drag. 

"Nah. Think I'm quitting after this one. I'll just stick to weed."

He let out a chuckle. "May I ask, why'd ya even start?"

You let out a small groan, running your hand through your hair in slight embarrassment. "I finally left my shitty boyfriend once and for all. I finally realized he'd never like me for the real me. I constantly had to put on this mask around him, and I finally found out that it was impossible to fix him and the fact he didn't actually like me. I know it sounds weird, but I guess my thought process was that my epiphany about him would stick with me after smoking one like a character in a movie or something." You let out a laugh. "Stupid, right?" 

He snubbed out the end of the cigarette, as it was almost a roach at this point. "Nah, it ain't stupid. A lot of my best thoughts come after smokin' one, cleared my head more times than I can count. You deserve one after the bullshit he put you through, I think. Hope the prick is havin' a shit night after realizin' he's lost you cause ya seem awesome to me so far."

You felt warmth begin to rise in your cheeks at his words. "Thanks. I know I deserve better. I'm just pissed; it took me so long to realize it. So, anyway, what's your name? I can't believe I haven't asked yet."

"Name's Daryl; what's yours?"

You had a few good puffs left of your cig but decided to snub yours out as well since you didn't like it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. My name is (Y/N). Do you wanna come sit with me at my spot against the wall? My most likely melted slushy is calling my name to get this taste out of my mouth." 

"Yeah, I can. Might be a bit till my ride gets here, so I might as well sit down." He started walking to your spot, and you followed in tow. 

When you got back to your spot, you looked down at your slushy on the ground. The dark purple concoction of blue raspberry and cherry slushy combo was completely melted. "Goddammit." You didn't fully care though; you paid for that slushy, because you were stubborn it meant you were going to have all of what you paid for, so you drank down the rest of the sugary liquid with a satisfied sigh. It was luckily still cold, at least, and it was just what you needed to get the taste of the cigarette out of your mouth.

As time passed, you and Daryl talked about whatever came to mind as you doodled some intricate pattern on the front of the pack of the Marlboro Reds with a sharpie, ultimately moving to the back when you ran out of room. You found out that he works as a mechanic for motorcycles and cars at a nearby auto body shop, that he rides a motorcycle that he built himself a few years ago, that he loves to hunt on occasion, specifically with a crossbow, and that he ran from the cops at a house party tonight.

You knew your short time with Daryl was up when you saw a 1987 Ford Sierra MK2 pull into a parking spot at the gas station, and Daryl stood up, doing a quick stretch. The man in the car smiled and made a small wave at you, and you did the same back.

"It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N). I'd talk more, but I don't wanna keep him up any longer." He said as he gestured a hand towards the man who came to pick him up. 

"It was nice meeting you too. Thanks for talking to me, Daryl." You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and held them out to him. "Take these. You need them more than me. Plus, I just quit." You grinned at him as he took the box from you. 

"Holy shit, thank you." He smiled back as he placed the box in his own pocket and slowly started walking backward towards the car. "Hope ya have a good night and that Nick the dick has a shit one. 

You let out a laugh at the nickname Daryl gave your ex-boyfriend and waved him goodbye with a "You too." You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the night sky as your eyes finally began to feel tired, knowing you should head back to your friend's apartment soon and try and get some sleep before your nine AM shift. 

Once Daryl got in the car, he let out a quiet sigh as he looked out the window at you, wishing he dared to ask for your number. You were the first good conversation he'd had in a while, and his schoolboy-like crush on you kept growing the whole time you talked.

"So, who's that?" The man said as he shifted the car into gear, Daryl noticing the grin on his face.

"A girl that started talkin' to me after our call. Name's (Y/N)." He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, mindlessly tracing the pattern of doodles you did.

"You ask for her number? The car was now beginning to be backed out of its parking spot.

"Nah. Mind if I smoke?" Daryl shook the pack and began looking for one of the lighters he left in the glove compartment a few weeks ago. 

The man shook his head with a slight sigh and said, "Go ahead." He wasn't shaking his head over Daryl wanting to smoke, but over the fact he wouldn't ask for your number when he obviously liked you, but he knew he couldn't push him; he understood Daryl's nature.

Daryl looked back out the window at you, opening it as he blew out the first cloud of smoke. He then looked back down in his lap where the box lay, flipping it over to the back to see what you had drawn there as well. His breath hitched as he saw it. On the back was your phone number, and above it said, "Call me" with a smiley face. 

The tips of Daryl's ears were beet red, and he tried to hold back his face from turning the same color. He looked back out the window at you to see you grinning at him this time, to which he smiled and waved goodbye to you as the car pulled out of the lot. In Daryl's twenty-three years of life, he could say that this night was one of his best.

"Daryl, why'd you call me Mr. H again? Son, you've known me for five years; how many times do I gotta remind you to call me by my name? It's Dale for you."

Daryl let out a small cloud of smoke this time, wanting to savor this one on the peaceful ride back. "I'll tell ya again, it happens when I'm nervous; didn't wanna wake you up, s'all, and you still are my boss after all."

"Daryl, you're like a son to me, and I told you to never be nervous if you need help, and that includes coming and picking you up in the middle of the night if needed. I'm here for you." Dale placed his right hand on Daryl's shoulder, keeping his left on the wheel as he squeezed his shoulder lightly before returning it to the steering wheel.

"Now, it's not Mr. H or Mr. Horvath, son. It's Dale."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, sir," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

It was the next day around 10:30 PM when Daryl picked up the phone on his nightstand and finally called the number you gave him, nervously wrapping the cord around his finger. The phone only rang twice before the other end picked up, "Hey, is this (Y/N)?" 

The inner teenage girl in your brain screamed in excitement, so happy that he finally called. "Omg, Daryl! I was wondering when you were gonna call me. I've been waiting since I got off my shift."

"Didn't know if you worked a mornin' shift or got off at night, and I didn't wanna leave too many voicemails on your friend's phone."

"Yeah, I worked a morning shift at the diner today. I got off at five. Morning shifts are the fucking worst." You're lying on your stomach on the couch, playfully curling the phone's cord around your finger and kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

You and Daryl talked for an hour, mainly talking about the shitty customers you dealt with today, sounding especially frustrated about the woman who yelled at you just because the diner was out of unsweet tea that you couldn't do anything about because the place was also out of tea bags to make more. What did she want you to do? Just up and leave your job and go buy the tea bags, your fucking self?

"Even though I don't want to, I gotta go to bed 'cause I have another morning shift tomorrow. I get off at five, so call me around six-thirty, okay?" 

"I get off at five too. Works for me. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight to you too, Daryl."

The call ended, and you both looked up at your respective ceilings, smiling as warmth bloomed through your faces. You both slept well that night, falling asleep to the thought of calling each other tomorrow.

⋆☀︎｡ Extra author's note: Here's what Dale would look like in 1992, I took Dale's age of 64 from the show since the apocalypse started in 2010 so he'd be 46 in 1992. I think this picture of Jeffrey Demunn is from when he was 43 maybe? I can't remember but that's close enough to 46 and even if he isn't 43 in the image he fits the look of someone in their mid-forties. Just imagine him without the cowboy hat, okay? There's not a lot of pictures of him when he was younger.

⋆☀︎｡ Taglist: @mrdixon , @yevmarie , and @shadowcitrine

⋆☀︎｡ Divider creds: @ saradika, go check her account out! She has some very cute dividers!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

"How about something to eat? You hungry?" The man startles you as he closes the gap, looming at youe shoulder. 

You face him as your eyes round and you look past him. Everyone else is absorbed in the real party, meanwhile your sidelined with an unwanted shadow. Why cant you just be invisible like you always were? 

"No thanks," you lie. 

The smell of the barbeque is making you hungry but you don't want to give this guy any invitation to hang around. You only came for Rhiannon. You don't know why this guy is even sniffing around. 

"You vegetarian or something?" He prompts as he gestures with his beer bottle. 

You shake your head, "appreciate it but I'm not hungry." 

"Well, not hungry, I'm Walter." 

You crinkle your brow and blink at him. He nods and cringes. 

"You know I heard one of the other guys make that joke... wasn't funny the first time." 

You swallow and try to laugh, letting out a rocky croak, "um..." you give your name and tuck your thumbs into your front pockets. 

"Ah, finally, got something," he gives a slanted smirk. "So, how about a hamburger?" 

You purse your lips. You said no. You don't like repeating yourself. Just like most people, he isn't listening to you. 

"I should go find my sister," you step towards him and he moves with you. 

You stutter step, thinking for a moment he means to block you in. He backs off and extends an arm towards the rest of the yard, "maybe I'll see you around the block. Place gets boring between all these barbeques..." he finishes off his bottle of beer and eyes its emptiness through the brown glass, "I could use a distraction." 

You continue past him and take long steps across the grass. Very strange. You don't know what to make of that. Distraction? 

You hear Rhiannon before you see her. Shes giggling with one of her friends.... Staci Ann, you think. You can't keep track. She has a plate of salads and a half-eaten hot dog. She looks up as you approach. 

"Hey! Oh, didn't you grab some food?" She trills. 

"Um, no, I... it's okay." 

"No, you should eat! It's so good. They have chicken burgers." 

"I... okay." 

You turn and slink away, evading the eyes of Staci Ann and the other primped housewives. You approach the picnic table and grab a bun. You add some mayo and mustard, a slice of tomato, and a pickle, then scoop up some salad beside it. You wait your turn in the line for the barbecue and ask for one of the pale chicken burgers. 

You walk away with your fare, nearly colliding with another body. You lift your chin in fright, tearing your attention from your food. You gulp at Walter as he squints and eyes you up and done. His lips twitch and he points at you with the neck of the bottle in his hand. 

"Gotcha." 

You back up out if his way and look past him guiltily. He doesn't say anything else as he stalks by and you quickly turn to look for your safe haven. Rhiannon is lost amid an even bigger cluster. You sigh and drop your shoulders. 

You sneak over to the gate. No one seems to notice as you let yourself through the wooden door and tramp out to the front. You sit on the curb and balance your plate on your crossed legs. 

You feel bad. That guy might be a stranger but he wasn't rude. And what did he mean? Gotcha? Does he think you're a bitch? Maybe you are. Some would say standoffish or shy, but you're probably just ignorant. 

You put the top bun on the burger and hang your head. No matter where you go, you just dont fit. Hopefully you can get out of Rhiannon's hair sooner than later. You'd hate to give her a bad reputation by association. 

👟

The days are a gray smear across your consciousness. You wake up, trawl the internet for postings, and hide away from the world. You have to keep at it. Something has to give. Rhiannon seems so certain that a miracle is on its way, you just know you'll probably have to settle for less than you want. 

That morning, you wake up with a crick in your neck. You yawn and sit up as a pang shoots under your shoulder blade. You turn your legs over the edge of the bed and bend over your lap, reaching to the floor as you try to stretch your lanky arms. 

You stand straight and raise your hands toward the ceiling. Your tee shirt lifts and shows your tummy as your pajama shorts feel even more scant above your long legs. You roll your neck one way then the other and let out a whimper. Big mistake. 

You lumber to the door and listen through the wood. Your room opens into the kitchen. It can be awkward when you walk out and there's someone in there. You learned to be cautious when exiting. 

You inch open the door and look around the morning din. You cross the cool tile and take the tin of coffee grounds. You fill the filter for the machine and snap it into place. For a moment, you stop to envy your sister's perfect life as the overpriced brewer starts to whir. 

You lean against the counter and bow your head, rubbing your neck. You blow out between your lips and groan, turning to rest against the corner. You let out a babble as your surprised by a figure in the far doorway. 

Your sister's husband got back the night before. You were certain to make yourself sparse and kept your headphones on later than usual. You stand straight and keep your hand against the side of your neck. 

"Morning," you utter. 

He stares at you as he slowly crosses the kitchen, coming around the other side of the square island, "morning." 

You shy away as he takes out a mug and puts it heavily in front of the machine. He snaps shut the cupboard and you put spqce between you and him. You feel the tension roiling off him. Since you got there, he's been tense and you can't blame him. You're crashing in his spare room when he should be enjoying his newlywed status. 

"Wanna put some pants on," he says as he crosses his arms. 

You gulp and look down, "I have... shorts." 

"Coulda fooled me," he sneers, "my house." 

"Sorry, I... sorry." 

You retreat and hurry back towards your room. You didn't think they were that short. You feel the back hem. They end just at the top of your thighs but don't show anything more than leg. 

You glance back at his broad shoulders as you close the door. His teeth shirt strains across his back as he presses his hands flat to the countertop. You find a pair of sweats in your bag and pull them on. 

You don't go back out right away. You hope to wait him out and listen for the machine's grind to end before opening the door. He's still there, sipping his coffee as he stands at the island, his phone on the marble top as he scrolls with a finger. 

You take out a cup of your own and fill it. He clucks and you put the put back on the burner. He sighs and glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

"There's instant in the cupboard. It's cheaper." 

You wince, "oh, sorry, I..." 

"You know, this isn't a charity--" 

"I... I offered Rhiannon money for groceries--" 

"She's too nice to take it. We both know that. It's my house, so talk to me. You wan a contribute, I'll gladly accept." 

You stare at him sheepishly then look at the coffee, "okay." 

He huffs again, "I don't get it. How are you related to her?" 

You shrug, "I'll get out of your way soon. Promise." 

You drag your feet around the counter and he tuts, "no food in your room. I don't need ants." 

You stop short and turn back to him. You don't get him  either. You don't get what Rhiannon sees in him. 

You near the island and sip the coffee before letting the mug rest on the marble. You peer down at the dark liquid, wallowing in his roiling silence. He bends to lean on his elbows, slurping and tapping at his phone.

"You ever keep a promise?" He speaks at last and his blue eyes flick up, "just wondering."

You frown. You have no right to argue or get mad. He has every reason to doubt you. You're certain he's heard all about your mess ups.

"Well, you know," he stands and lifts his mug and swipes up his phone, "maybe you should find a man. Maybe he could put your head on straight."

He turns and struts away, leaving you to rot in his judgement. You can't even do that. You're just a burden to everyone, even your own family.

[galedekarios]

so, let me get this straight...

laiostoudenn aka wizardblood/lathanderr/spellbooking/the james somerton of the bg3 fandom instead of actually apologising and taking accountability for his repeated actions, now:

block evades, keeping his old blog up as an "archive" and making a new one, while, of course, not deleting any of the other sets he blatantly stole from others, including myself

lies and tries to change the narrative of what actually happened once again, while also conveniently not going into any details at all of what little he does admit, lest those who still believe him for some unfathomable reason look deeper

calls his stealing and constant plagiarism that has been going on for months "fandom drama" that is being "rehashed" constantly due to no fault of his own

still lies about not knowing these gifsets (or "a" gifset as he puts it) that he stole existed, while also saying at the same time yet again how it's just "gifing the same scenes" and that there would be "nothing" left to do if that isn't allowed, despite this still not being the issue and us showing ample evidence of what he is actually doing, i.e. him taking word for word captions, frame by frame sets, entire concepts down to a t, and him literally contacting us to "remake" these sets and not taking no for an answer, no matter in which way it was said to him, privately or publicly

feels he is being "villainised".......................... for plagiarising

claims we never gave him a chance to "right his wrongs"... as if he isn't 100% free still to do just that by say, deleting everything that was stolen and actually apologising, acknowledging what he did was wrong instead of lying about it, instead of whatever the fuck this manipulative collection of lies sprinkled with a pity party is...

and let me be clear: he claims he took accountability, but he doesn't like what taking accountability actually would look like in his case because he's been in this for internet clout and notefarming since day 1 & that's the only reason why he doesn't "right his wrongs"

claims he is being isolated and made to feel unwelcome in the fandom space, which i can't help but wonder.... might that perhaps be because he is plagiarising ppl, has taken back his initial damage control apology from march, while continuing to vague about the creators for months (ranging from accusation of transphobia, bullying, clique behaviour, etc) and now feels backed into a corner after it has come to light that he is still doing this and has now been blocked by various people who have been affected over a long time? might that be it?

is now further trying to victimise himself by saying he received homophobic messages, which... even IF true (and it's a big if solely based on just how much he lies and that he accused the initial person who spoke out against him of being transphobic), it still doesn't make it right that he stole despite being told to stop it multiple times. two things can be very, very wrong at the same time.

claims he did actually take accountability... which again, i can't help but wonder: was that by gleefully delighting in the fact he sees himself as the "top hated bg3 blog baybee"? that he is now in his "reputation era"? is that what taking accountability looks like for him?

still pretends he is a small blog bullied by bigger creators when his stolen sets made as many, or at times, even more notes than the ones he stole did, and as if his blog didn't grow big on the backs of actual original creators

and, finally: "And fair warning: If you do not stick to the status quo in this fandom, you will be eaten alive." like,,,, be so for fucking real right now, this is legitimately embarrassing

i thought this was finally finally over and done with, but no.

[particular-one]

as the world caves in.

pairing. dan heng x gn!reader cw. slight mentions of gore and injury (not explicit), implied established relationship between reader and dan heng author's note. whoever let me out of my cage (finals) now has to deal with this emotional rollercoaster being unleashed. enjoy!

"i don't want to die, dan heng."

"whew! that was the last of them." march's voice came from behind him just as he brandished his spear to finish off the last frostspawn in the area. dan heng looked behind him only to see march, but not the one he had been looking for — "where's y/n?" march only gave him a look of surprise. "oh ... we separated halfway. but they should be coming back soon!" dan heng only sighed, but didn't think too much of it. he knew that you were capable, and despite how much he still worried for you, you always reminded him that you were going to be fine. "oh! there they are! over here, y/n!" march was waving at your figure, and dan heng couldn't help the relieved smile that graced his lips. it was only seconds after that he noticed something was very, very wrong. you were walking slower than usual, the confident stride in your walk was nowhere to be seen. you still had that smile, but even that seemed shallow. dan heng was about to inquire what was up with you, when you fell into his arms wordlessly. that was when his blood ran cold, and he felt the warm red liquid that stained the lower part of your top drip down on the ground. "march! get help!"

this wasn't real. this wasn't happening. it had only been hours prior that you had told him the worst space joke had ever heard while simultaneously holding in your laughter. dan heng simply groaned and asked you never to repeat it again, but how he would give everything to hear your stupid joke one more time.

i should have protected you. if dan heng had only kept a closer eye on you and insisted on not separating ways on a seemingly harmless scout mission, you wouldn't be laying motionless in the med bay right now. the consistent beeping noise that came from the monitor beside your bed was the only thing that kept dan heng from spiraling, really.

march, himeko and welt had checked up on you a couple of times now, but dan heng couldn't bring himself to leave your side. he could barely sleep anyways — each time he closed his eyes, all dan heng could remember was the faraway gaze in your eyes before you collapsed in his arms. though you had your eyes closed now, he couldn't forget the petrified look on your face.

he could feel your breathing grow erratic with every passing second, as he held you close in his arms. dan heng was running as fast as he could, evading any of the other fragmentum monsters that were drawn to the noise that he was making with his escape, but he didn't care. march seemed to be shouting at him from behind, but he didn't care. dan heng was so laser focused on getting you away from everything, but it took you calling his name to actually get him to slow down. "h..hey... s-sorry ab-" dan heng shook his head, holding you even tighter. "save your breath. don't.. say sorry." dan heng considered himself to be a brave man, but he couldn't stomach to see you in so much pain. the wound on your lower abdomen looked serious, and that wasn't even accounting all the other injuries you sustained. what had you gotten yourself into? he cursed so many times to himself. it didn't help that medical expertise was out of dan heng's specialty. "i'm scared." that was when dan heng took a good look at you for the first time since he held you all the way back. the panic in your face was palpable, and he could feel his heart drop and shatter in a million pieces every time you uttered the same words. "i don't want to die, dan heng. i don't want to go, i d-don't...-"

"s..s-someone?"

your voice was barely a whisper, but at the sound of it, dan heng's head snapped up to meet your eyes. it was you calling out that always got his attention. dan heng immediately dropped everything he was doing and ran by your side, his brows creased in worry.

"hey. it's okay ... you're safe here. it's me, dan heng." your teammate, your partner, your love. there was so many things that dan heng wanted to say to you, but he bit his tongue from expressing it before he said anything more. at the sound of his name, dan heng could see you visibly relax, but you still didn't seem to be opening your eyes completely. "everything's so... bright. i c-can't see where you are."

it took everything in dan heng not to hold you in his arms right now, so he merely settled by brushing the stray bangs of hair that seemed to be getting in your eyes. "i'm here... i'm right here." he murmured, and there was that soft smile resurfacing again. the smile that made him fall in love with you every time like it was the first. and yet, he couldn't find himself to mirror the same smile you were giving him.

"t..thank.. y-y..ou." the irregular beeping from the monitor suddenly started up again, and dan heng could feel everything in him plunge into a state of panic. no, no, no.

"y/n, no, no. come on, just.. hang on. stay-" the beeping only grew louder and more ear-piercing by the second, and dan heng fought against succumbing. "-stay with me. please." each time he glanced at you, you already seemed to be in your own little world. but you were doing fine, just moments ago! the medical pod should be doing its job right, so what was not working his way?

"...for-." shut up, he did not want to hear it! dan heng was out of the room at once, and for the first time since he boarded the express, he was helplessly calling for someone to do something. he usually kept his emotions locked tight, but everything just flowed out of him in his panic. himeko was just around the corner, when he grabbed her by the arm all of the sudden. " dan heng, what's-"

"it's y/n, please. you have to help them, please, please." dan heng could hardly remember the following moments, himeko and the others were rushing towards the room, dan heng could hardly stand still. it only took pom pom's sullen look as the conductor came out of the room that he could feel the world caving in on him for the last time. that was when dan heng finally broke into tears.

he didn't even get to hear your last words completely.

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

[anothercrisis]

Wake up, I’ve been brainrotting over the civvie au (with healthy enablement from @alexgalaxyboo) and I’m here to share some thoughts.

Here’s some of the groundwork and some who will be here and how they get introduced:

Price, late-thirties, decides he’s tired of the city and wants to move into a quieter neighborhood. He can work remotely and doesn’t have any real ties or reasons to stay in the city so he doesn’t.

The house he purchases is a shabby thing at the corner of the street. His neighbors are the Laswells, Kate the American and her British wife, along with Kate’s nephew, Alex Keller.

Their houses are a little closer than standardly comfortable. But there is a large oak tree between them (remember that, it’s vitally important later on) that shadows and gives them a bit of privacy.

The neighborhood is friendly enough with each other, but they’re not like a community. Which suits Price fine because he isn’t there to make friends; he just wants some quiet. But the Laswells see this man move in next door, alone, and adopt him. They check up on him regularly, invite him over for tea, and bake and cook for him occasionally.

And it’s good for several years, this little life. But Price didn’t account for the loneliness he would start to feel. So, because of the heart he has and the fact he always wanted to be a father, he signs up to foster kids.

Soap and Gaz, who are about 10 and 9 respectively, are two halves of a pair. (I’m not sure yet why they’re in the foster care system but that’s where they are.) The system has tried to separate them, but Soap is crazy and does all kinds of wild shit any time Gaz is taken away from him, like setting things on fire or running away.

Chaos Incarnate and his Accomplice get assigned to Price, who is nervous at first because of what he’s heard, but this man (in every universe it’s a Constant) can and will adopt and wrangle these boys with his firm father hand and his depthless love.

The fact that Alex Keller, who is Soap’s age, lives next door has nothing to do with why Soap behaves. It’s totally not because Gaz has a crush on the American boy and asks Soap to behave so they can stay. (I’m lying to you.)

But it’s not just that. Soap and Gaz fit in really well with Price. They like him, he likes them. They make a good family. So, after having them for a time, he starts the process of legal adoption. They’re about 12 and 11 when they legally becomes Price’s sons.

Some months later, the Riley family moves into the neighborhood, bringing with them another boy their age. Simon is about 13 and is immediately welcomed into their merry little band of preteens. Which he joins, because he takes any opportunity to be away from his father.

Time passes. The boys are getting bigger and stronger. They play rough, and sometimes do it inside despite Price’s insistent that they don’t. Soap accidentally puts his shoulder through the wall while trying to evade capture. Insert Nik, the big Russian carpenter/repairman who Soap and Gaz immediately decide will be their second dad.

[hannahssimblr]

A sliver of light hovers above the horizon. A glow, hardly even there, rests atop the sea as waves drag rounded pebbles along the shore with a soft shh. I can’t sleep. I crawled out of bed after three and walked straight to the water's edge without shoes, to find the sand cool and white beneath the glow of the quarter moon. I sit watching the sun graze the bottom of the sky like paint bleeding onto tissue. 

Sleep evades me sometimes for reasons I cannot explain. Insomnia arrives like this. It's like all those intense feelings and urges in my body. I can't verbalise them. I sit in boxer shorts and a hoodie on this final spit of beach before the coast turns to a cliff, and try to think of some poignant reason for my lack of sleep, only to come up with everything. There are a million reasons why. All the time, all at once, but then why only sometimes? And why tonight in particular?

Sometime around four, I change into a pair of shorts and run the length of the beach as the sun rises, pushing myself until sweat rolls from my body and there is fire in my lungs. I return to my end of the beach on shaky legs and take my clothes off, all of them, because the beach house is quiet and nobody is watching. Then I wade into the sea and float there with the waves lapping under my chin until the early birds sing and my hands and feet go numb. 

After a shower I collapse on my bed and sleep until close to midday, when I wake up to an empty house, starving, and with no food in the fridge. There is a message on my phone from Jen. 

Good morning lazy bones  Gone to the tennis court and then we’ll be on the beach, probably  See you around later? 

I forage the cupboards for something, but by the looks of it, the last of the food has been ravaged by the others, leaving nothing behind but crumbs and dirty plates, stacked up in the sink as usual. Someone should clean that eventually. 

When I locate my wallet among the random books and electronics heaped on the kitchen table, I zip open the coin pocket to find just a twenty-cent piece and a few useless coppers. I used the last of the money on my debit card at the petrol station yesterday. I know because I tried to buy some snacks and the only thing I could afford was cherry cola Tic Tacs which were rationed out between the three of us. I swear under my breath and call my dad. 

He’s already pissed off when he picks up. 

“Jude, what is it? I’m in the middle of something.”

“I need more money.”

“Already? What are you doing down there? I bet you’re putting it all into those stupid arcade machines, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m eighteen years old. I’m not doing that.” I’m also banned from the arcade, which he should know after the interminable speech he gave me about decorum and respect in the aftermath. 

“I put five hundred euros on that card.”

“Yeah, I dunno, I used it.”

“It was supposed to last the entire summer.”

I sigh, “It didn’t.” As he’s ranting in my right ear, I begin to wonder what I really did do with all the money. I suppose there was all of the alcohol, the takeaways, the junk food, that PlayStation game I bought, and the earphones for my iPod since I was careless with my old ones on the beach. Oh yeah, and I bought those running shoes too. I suppose that wasn’t a necessary purchase, I just wanted them.

Yesterday I bought everything for Jen and Evie, all of their tickets, food and drinks… I have a vague, passing thought that I might not be very good at managing money and that maybe I should have done accounting or something at school like my mom suggested instead of randomly choosing geography. I’m also aware that it’s completely fine. Once Christopher has finished going on about it he’ll simply send more. We just have to go through this charade first.

I wait for a gap in his mad diatribe and say casually, “So can you send me some?”

There’s a clatter in the background and I imagine him tossing his little weighty engraved silver pen across his desk. He grits his teeth, “What do you need?”

“I dunno, another few hundred. I want to book tickets to this festival in August, too, I think they’re, like, two-fifty, so.”

“A festival?” He really doesn't need to act like we’re discussing satanic rituals, but I continue as though I'm talking to a normal man. 

“Yeah, I want to enjoy my last summer in Ireland and all that.”

He makes some flabbergasted sound in response, which is obviously stupid because he has all the money in the world, and this whole thing is an exercise in control and power.

“So, a thousand?” I venture, resting my phone on my shoulder so I can pick some dirt out from under my nails. 

“Yes. Later.”

“No, I need it now, there’s no food in the house and I’m hungry.”

He taps furiously on the keyboard of his computer, “Fine.”

“Hm?”

“Fine. I said fine. I’m transferring it.”

“Thanks.”

The line goes dead. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

To Hell...: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Summary: A man intentionally admits to murdering ten people he didn’t kill all because his sister is missing. The facts take you to a pig farm where a world of horror is waiting for you.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

According to Will's mother, when Lee disappeared, she begged her son to go out looking for her. It wasn't fair to ask that of him since he'd just gotten home from Iraq, he'd just started therapy for losing his leg, and he hadn't even processed what happened to him yet. Still, he did what she asked, found her, and brought her home.

For two weeks, her mother had Lee going to meetings and trying to turn her life around. She even got her daughter into Welfare, but the day after the first check came, she disappeared. The first check came in on the 2nd, the day after she cashed a welfare check. Going along that theory, Spencer found out that the men are abducted around the 1st and the 15th of every month, which is when welfare checks are issued.

What if the unsub isn't intentionally clustering men and women? What if this is how he best isolates them? He must have a way to isolate them based on how they cash their checks, then he spends the rest of the month kidnapping prostitutes. It would explain the pattern he's created.

However, there is no way to find out where they cash their checks because apart from Lee, you don't know their last names. Luckily for you, Derek went back and talked to one of the men he spoke with about where he cashes his checks. Now, it depends on what they want the money for. Everyone either has to spend their checks on food or shelter, and not everyone wants food and shelter.

So, there is a motel called Greyburn Lodge on 3rd Street that allows people to cash their checks and use them for drugs or other things that aren't food or shelter. The motel cashes the check for thirty cents on the dollar provided they don't use their rooms. They walk away with drug money but they're still on the streets.

Turns out Lee cashed her check there, too.

You make your way to the motel on 3rd Street and walk right up to the attendant who looks scared shitless.

"What's going on?"

"FBI. Have you seen any of these men?"

Derek slides the pictures of the men through the small opening in the window.

"Maybe."

"Not maybe. It's a yes or no question."

"Have you been giving them cash in exchange for their welfare checks?"

"They need the cash and I need the business. Nobody gets hurt, folks."

Hotch gets tired of him evading the questions and goes through the back to confront the man in person.

"Garcia traced Lee to this location on the night she disappeared. The others were here, too."

"Have you seen this girl?" Hotch asks and shoves Kelly's picture in his face. Kelly is the only girl who isn't accounted for, and you fear she is the next victim.

"Yeah, she was here fifteen minutes ago."

Hotch turns and uses the printer to fax her picture to the agents back in Canada.

"Did anybody approach her when she left?"

"There was a dealer across the street. He just sits there and then they signal."

You walk away from the booth and toward the street to see if you can see where Kelly is and if she had gotten into a car with someone. Kelly appears before your eyes and walks across the street to a car that looks older and has two tail lights on either side that look like small rectangles. She gets into the car and the car jiggles as if there is a struggle.

Then, the unsub drives away. You have no clue where he's taking her.

If the unsub was here fifteen minutes ago, then he's already on his way through the checkpoint into Canada. Your team heads over there as quickly as possible and meets up with Spencer and Rossi. You think you get there fairly quickly, so if the unsub is going to pass over, you're going to spot him easily.

One hour goes by, then two, and now you're questioning if he's even going to cross the border.

"They should have tried to make the cross at least an hour ago," you sigh.

"Any word from the off-road sites?" Rossi asks.

"I have agents at every known drug smuggling entry. Nothing."

"This unsub's smart. Everything about his plan is well-researched. I think his border crossings would be consistent."

"Are there former shipping lanes somebody could have studied in advance?"

"There's nothing marked," Emily says with the big map on one of the car's hoods.

"Hunters might know the terrain but it's word of mouth. There's nothing documented on any map," Jeff explains.

"What about the underground railroads?" Will asks. "In the Civil War, Detroit was the last stop for a slave before they escaped to freedom in Canada. They made the crossing in this area."

"He's right, but there aren't any historical landmarks that register the crossing points."

"If I remember right, they built a series of Victorian homes along the river to signify safe passage. Some of those homes might still exist."

"The river?" you ask and look at the map again.

"We know your sister's cell phone pinged at a tower near Port Huron. He had to be close by when he crossed the border."

"Wait, guys?" you ask, gaining everyone's attention. "What if he's crossing the border by boat? This place is surrounded by water, and there are no checkpoints in the lake."

Hotch takes out his phone and calls Penelope.

"Garcia, is it possible to cross-reference Civil War maps with Victorian homes that still exist in the Port Huron area?"

"Well, I'm gonna take that question as rhetorical. I've got one. It's three miles south of the Blue Water Bridge."

"Can you send me a GPS map?" She does. "Y/N, you and William are coming with me. The rest of you stay here. We might need to be mobile in a hurry."

You leave with the two men and head over to the location that Penelope sent over. It's right by the river's edge, so it's perfect for someone to exit out of a boat.

"Are you sure this is the spot?" you ask when you get out.

"The house is inland. Access from the water would be here."

"There's nothing here."

"Let's split up. The river's over here."

You go off on your own while still staying close to Will and Hotch. There is a heap of trees bushed together off to the side that is calling your name. You shine your flashlight inside and the light catches the paint of a car.

"I got something!" You push your way through the brush and see a car that has been stashed there. Will helps remove some of the branches and trees to get a better look at it. The license plate has been removed, but you can use the Vin number to see who the car is registered to. "It looks like he might have stashed cars on either side of the river."

"The license plate is missing," Will says.

"Garcia, I need you to run a VIN number for me."

You shine the flashlight onto it and speak loudly for her to hear you.

"379-November-2-Papa-44."

"Did you get that?"

"Yes, the vehicle belongs to Mason Turner. At age thirty-nine, he went to undergrad in Toronto, graduated second in his class from Michigan Medical Institute, and in 2000, he worked for a public health organization in Detroit."

"Do you have an address?"

Mason's house isn't far from where the car is stashed, so Hotch calls everyone to come out here as quickly as possible. Only until everyone is here, do you gather and listen for instruction. As soon as you step out of the car, you're hit with this wave of death. It knocks you back a couple of feet into Derek, and he catches you so you don't fall.

"What's going on?"

"So much death is here," you whisper.

"I think we have the right place."

"Alright, you four take the exterior," Hotch says Jeff, Rossi, Derek, and Emily. "We'll take the house."

"I've fought on other people's turf before. You don't walk into this situation unarmed," Will says.

"I can't give you a gun, William."

"I've got ten years of active duty."

"Will, the man we find might have killed your sister."

"I need answers. If I shoot him, I get nothing."

"I'm sorry. Stay close. What we find might not be easy."

"I just need to know," Will sighs.

Your half of the team walks closer to the house, and the wave of death is even stronger. You gasp and grab Spencer's arm to steady yourself.

"What is it?" Hotch asks.

"There is so much death. So many victims. I can feel them all," you whisper fearfully.

Hotch takes the lead and enters the house with his gun drawn. There is heavy breathing coming from one of the bedrooms, and you walk inside carefully. However, this isn't something you thought you'd see.

There is a man lying on his bed with a tracheostomy hooked up to a ventilator that is breathing for him. He has mirrors set up all around his room so he can see since he can't get out of bed.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"Who the hell are you? Get the hell out of my house!"

"Are you Mason Turner?" you ask.

"That's not your business."

"He's our unsub?" Spencer asks in disbelief.

The only plausible way that Mason is the unsub is if he has a partner. If he does, then where the hell is he? More importantly, why do you feel so much death here?

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[jikookuntold]

The Untold Truth of Jungkook’s WeLives

I had the idea of this post in my mind for a long time, but I didn't know how to put it out. Since most Jikookers have noticed some kind of pattern in JK's livestreams recently, I thought maybe it's time to write this post and add my notions to the known theories and facts. 

Weverse, instead of VLive

Let’s go back one year in time. On June 16th, 2022, a day after BTS announced the pause in their group activities, which caused chaos due to media misinterpreting it as their hiatus or even disbandment, someone had to reassure ARMY about the continuation of BTS and do the damage control. And for some reason, JK was the one to be called for this duty. He started his first solo livestream in Weverse app in a place we had never seen before. That place had a few pieces of furniture from their Hannam dorm, rumored to be rented by Big Hit just a couple of weeks earlier. 

Months passed, and JK didn’t do any livestreams until his birthday came, and another assigned live in the Weverse app happened at the same place. Like the other six members (five, to be more accurate since Tae evaded this), he promoted his photobook and did the routine of his lives by singing songs and casually talking with ARMY. His next solo live happened after the World Cup performance in a Doha hotel room, and he didn’t appear in any Weverse lives for some time. 

Midnight Streamer

After doing only three lives in almost a year, all assigned by the company, JK came back to Weverse app on the first night of February, and this time it wasn’t an assigned livestream, but it was an unplanned and unauthorized one. He appeared at 2 AM singing songs, including Vibe, the newest release by Jimin. Since this live happened out of nowhere, Namjoon and later Tae tried to intervene and control the situation, then they realized there was nothing to worry about. 

The next JK live happened only two nights later around midnight, and Jimin was the first one to comment. JK was so excited to see Jimin’s comments and invited him to have chicken, but Jimin was too busy with his schedule (even at midnight) to accept his offer. A few days later, on the 11th of February, JK did a livestream at his boxing trainer gym, and again, Jimin was one of the first ones to comment. JK and his coach invited Jimin to resume his training and implied that they both train with the same coach. 

Unfortunately, this was the last livestream from that gym since JK’s privacy got invaded and videos of him doing work out there, were leaked by some stalker. A few weeks later, on the last day of February, JK did another live (this time around noon), and the same day, he deleted his Instagram account.

Is This the End?

You know that I’m among the hardcore believers of Jikook living together. And at this era, anons and non-anons kept asking me if I am still in my belief or not, since JK was showing up alone in the middle of the night, which was against this belief. But I couldn’t wrap my head around it because couples don’t suddenly stop living together unless they break up, which wasn’t the case because they weren’t acting like exes, since you don’t invite your ex for dinner or boxing together, you don’t go watch his dance practice and cheer for him. So, why were these all happening?

Jimin was getting ready for his solo debut at this time, and when the Bangtan Bomb for Jimin dance practices came out, we saw him talking about the strict diet he was on for keeping his weight around 50kg since dancers had to carry him for choreo. We weren’t strangers to Jimin’s strict diets before each comeback, but this statement was the information I needed to have my ultimate conclusion. Jikook had to stay separated for a short time because Jimin was working hard and dieting harder, and spending time with JK would work against his plans (he was literally inviting him for food in one live, remember?). This was the exact time JK started doing his routine livestreams from Brunnen because he had to stay there apart from his Jiminie hyung. But this was not the only conclusion I had from JK’s regular livestreams.

I’m Hyung’s Fan

In March, JK kept doing his livestreams which was a sign of the continuation of Jimin’s tight schedules. JK did one livestream on the 3rd day of March around 2 AM, and I don’t remember anything specific about it, but the next one was unforgettable. On March 14th, The White Day, when Jimin was out of the country for recording Jimmy Fallon show, JK did four consecutive livestreams from around 8 PM till midnight and played a playlist consisting of “There for You”, “Christmas Day” and “Nothing”, all Jimin-coded songs. He finished the fourth live a few minutes before midnight and reminded us that something amazing is coming at 00:00, which happened to be Jimin’s solo pre-release, Set Me Free Pt2. He changed his outfit three times in these lives from a black jacket to a white shirt and a purple jacket which at first didn’t seem to mean anything until Set Me Free MV and dance practice video came out.

The next JK Weverse live was another undercover promotion for his Jiminie hyung. A few hours before the official release of “Face” he came online and spoiled “Letter” the hidden song in the album he did the back vocals for. If you think JK was being obvious in promoting Jimin, then you should have watched the next WeLive he did. Four days after his last livestream, he came back online to watch the newest episode of Suchwita because Jimin was the guest. He admitted that he had never watched any episodes of this drinking show before, and after that, he watched other videos of Jimin on YouTube, letting the algorithm expose his bias. 

The next day, he answered Jimin’s comment about missing “ARMY” with “me too” and Jimin replied making it obvious that JK was missing “him”. The same day, Jimin did a livestream on his way back from pre-recording a stage performance, and JK spammed it with 19 comments. JK never did this for any other member. All the Hyung line had their solo releases too, but JK never did anything for them that was remotely close to what he did for Jimin. He obviously wasn’t lying when he commented ‘I’m Hyung’s fan”. 

I Really Want to Stay at Your House

After the end of Jimin’s solo album promotions, JK’s regular livestreams suddenly became less and less regular, and it was safe to say they were back to their normal living routine. I know Jikookers heard his voice in Jimin’s livestream after getting Billboard Hot100 No.1 on April 3rd, but I’m not going to go there. JK did a short WeLive on April 8th before his trip to LA, but it was a different story, he did that to explain the situation earlier happened in the house. On the 18th of April, when Jhope was enlisting, we saw Jikook’s passionate hug and hinting about the drinking they had the night before, proving again that they spend a lot of time together in their free time.

On April 25th, Jimin traveled to NYC for a Tiffany event and recorded his latest collaboration, and on the same night, JK appeared in Weverse app for another livestream, and the first song he played was named “I Really Want to Stay at Your House”. The next day he posted his food, and a few days later he attended the LV event after-party with Mingyu. On the 4th of May, he complained about a stalker sending food to his door in a Weverse post and threatened with legal action. Two days later Jimin came back from NYC, and JK went on socmed hiatus again. On May 21st he posted a cute photo of Bam, and on the 23rd Jimin left for London, and the next day JK came back to WeLive like a clockwork. 

I tried to review everything in chronological order, but I know I have spared lots of details. I don’t think this post needs any conclusion or further explanation because everything explained itself, and you are free to have your own concussion. JK doing livestreams or posting food photos only when Jimin is away or busy, promoting his work and adoring him the way we had never seen before, only has one reasonable explanation, and anything other than that is not valid. 

[generaltrashshecox]

Just something I want to say: I feel like we all shouldn't take blocking as an attack. Blocking is not an be all end all. I mean how many have personally block evaded? I personally block liberally for any reason. I don't know Damien personally but I know, as a person who is online, that a break will only work if you get rid of the reason, even just momentarily. Because even if you delete the app and log off you will have this nagging itch to check every five seconds and seeing emails about those notifs don't help. So I get him blocking. It was rash but not unforgivable. He fucked up. He's taking a break. I hope he's reflecting. I'm not gonna defend his fuck up cause that wasn't fair to come out of the gate as if it was an attack and not a call to accountability. But we're putting too much power in him blocking people.

Focus on the real problems which is speaking up about Palestine and the people stuck in Rafah as Israel continues its attack. Share resources, GoFundMe's, and anything you can to help. I will link the Operation Olive Branch linktree and a few others here cause I feel like that's what's best.

Do whatever you can to help even if it's just spread the word. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free. Ceasefire now.

[lawsend]

Murder at Vista Heights Chapter 6

Series: Law’s End

Episode 1: Murder at Vista Heights

Fandom: The Royal Romance (loosely, there’s not much canon in here).

Pairings: None yet

Word Count: 2,500

Rating: MA

A/N: This counts as @karahalloway ask from my 1500 followers celebration post on my main account @angelasscribbles.

Warnings for series: adult themes, any given chapter may contain murder, violence, language, drinking, drug use, etc.

My other stuff can be found on my main blog @angelasscribbles here is the Master List.

The homicide division of the seventh precinct had been plunged into chaos. All three interrogation rooms were in use, leaving a person of interest cooling his heels in the waiting area.

Riley was trying to get comments from anyone that would talk to her. Max had narrowly evaded being tossed out of the station when he had attempted to get photos of William Sloan as he was brought in for questioning.

The mayor was livid at being called late in the evening by one of her biggest campaign contributors. “I don’t care what fucking time it is or how many hours you already worked today!” Madeleine was yelling at a lithe redhead with her hair pinned immaculately in place despite her protestations over the lateness of the hour.

Olivia Nevrakis narrowed her eyes at her boss. “And I don’t care how much money Sloan Enterprises has donated to your re-election campaign. If he’s a suspect, he has to be questioned, just like everyone else!”

“William Sloan most certainly did not murder Trent Hayes! Are you out of your mind?”

Olivia doubled down. “If there wasn’t some reason to suspect him, Liam wouldn’t have brought him in for questioning!”

While the mayor and the DA were having their showdown, Drake Walker was pacing the floor, waiting for his turn in interrogation.

He was a person of interest. Presumably, because someone had ratted him out to the police about his business relationship with William Sloan. His eyes scoured the open office area until he spotted her.

Riley saw him coming and made a strategic exit to the woman’s room. She almost ran over the sketch artist from earlier. “Oof! Sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Lillith assured her. “Who are you hiding from?”

“What makes you think I’m hiding from anyone?”

“I recognize the panic.”

“Wait. Who are you hiding from?”

“My sister.”

Riley’s brain spun to catch up. Then realization washed over her. She should have made the connection before. Nevrakis was not a common name. “The DA is your sister?”

Lilith flinched a little. “Half-sister. She hates me.”

“Why?”

Lilith shrugged. “Something about my whore of a mother breaking her mother’s heart.”

“Oh….” Riley was rarely struck speechless, but she had no idea how to respond to that.

“Sorry!” Lilith dropped her face into her hands. “That was TMI and now I’ve made things awkward!”

“No, no, you’re fine!” Riley assured her. “Trust me. As a reporter, I’ve heard every damn thing. That’s not even in the top ten for most awkward.”

Lilith smiled wanly. “I’d like to hear that top ten list then.”

“Sure. We should get drinks sometime.”

“Really?” The sketch artist searched her face to see if she was joking.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Okay, yeah, I’d like that.” This time, the smile was bigger, brighter. Lilith didn’t have a lot of friends, tended to be socially awkward, and was used to being somewhat of a pariah in certain upper society circles because of her status as the bastard child of an extramarital affair.

Riley eased the door open to peer through the crack. “Unless you have any information about the case you’re willing to give me, I need to get back out there.”

Meanwhile, in Interrogation Room One…

“I get it.” Flynn eyed the man sitting across the table from him. “Beautiful woman. Rich, powerful husband. You don’t want to get sidewise with him, so when Trent started blackmailing her, threatening her—”

“I told you I know nothing about that!” Dean yanked on the chains holding him to the table, making the hard metal slam against the wood with a satisfying clang.

“You didn’t know he was blackmailing her?”

“No!”

“Did you know he found out about the affair?”

“No!”

“So, you don’t deny the affair?”

“What?” Dean looked up at him with a defeated expression. “No.”

“Okay, good. We’re getting somewhere. So, you were sleeping with her and—”

“I love her!”

“Okay, okay.” Flynn held his hands up in surrender. “You’re in love. And this man threatened her—”

Dean heaved a sigh and slumped back in his seat. “How many times do I have to tell you that I knew nothing about that?”

Interrogation Room Two….

“Here you go, buddy.” Liam sat a bottle of ice-cold water on the table and slid it across to the CEO of Sloan Enterprises. “Sorry about all this. But we have evidence your wife is having an affair and was being blackmailed by the victim. You understand how that gives you motive, right?”

William fixed the detective with a steely glare, remaining silent.

“So, how did it go down? She missed a payment? He called you up and told you? When confronted with proof of the affair, you snapped, shot the messenger so to speak? It’s understandable. Heat of the moment. The sooner you tell me what happened, the sooner I can help you.”

William leaned forward and pushed the water bottle back across the table. “I want my lawyer. Now!”

Interrogation Room Three….

Bertrand stood in the doorway of the room in his somehow perfectly pressed suit and tapped a file folder against the palm of his other hand as he regarded the woman in front of him. “Did you do it yourself, or did you have someone else shoot him? Leo Rys, maybe?”

Katie sniffed as she lifted an imperious gaze to the man across from her. “I had nothing to do with Trent’s death, but I would certainly like to thank whoever did. He was the worst kind of pond scum, and he won’t be missed.”

“Not exactly the type of sentiments that will exonerate you, Mrs. Sloan.”

She gave him a coy smile. “Please. Call me Katie.”

Bertrand’s dour expression never changed. “I don’t think you grasp the gravity of the situation, Mrs. Sloan.”

A mirthful laugh bubbled out of her. “I’m not worried because I didn’t do it.”

“Who else had more of a motive than you?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you talk to that psycho he cheated on me with?” Her face lit up with clear hatred.

Bertrand languidly raised an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

“Sabrina Simmons!”

“Are they still an item?”

“If they are, he’s cheating on her, I guarantee it, and you know what they say about a woman scorned. Besides, she has a history of stalking behavior. She’s fucking crazy!”

Bertrand made a noncommittal sound in his throat as he jotted the name down on his notepad.

Back in the main office area…

Riley was trying to sweet talk a crime scene investigator when Drake caught up with her. “Rashad. That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.” Even with his dark complexion, the blush that spread across his features was noticeable.

“There you are!” Drake’s voice boomed out as he grasped her upper arm firmly and pulled her away from Rashad. “I think we’re overdue for a conversation.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what—”

Rashad was suddenly serious. “Hey! Is everything okay?”

Riley’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men, noting the tension in both sets of shoulders. Diffusing the situation was preferable to escalating it, so she smiled sweetly at Rashad. “It’s fine. He’s right. We have a previous…. agreement we need to discuss.”

“Oh.” The other man looked disappointed, but excused himself with a regretful glance back at the reporter.

“Did you rat me out to the cops, Riley?” Drake asked as he pulled her to the side of the room for a private conversation.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then why have I been brought in for questioning? Why is my client in an interrogation room right now?”

“Your client is in an interrogation room because his wife got busted with her lover tonight by the lead detective on the case.” Riley pulled her arm out of his grasp, but moved her body closer to his. “As for figuring out he hired you as a PI, I’m assuming that was their own detective work because I did not rat you out!”

He wanted to believe her. All CCPD had to do to find him was to run Sloan’s financials. Or Max’s. “Hm. Why do I have a feeling you’re going to be a giant pain in my ass? Tell me this, who pointed them in the Sloan’s direction in the first place?”

“A private citizen who witnessed—”

Drake’s lips pressed into a thin line as he shook his head. “Maxwell Beaumont was not a private citizen when he took those photographs!”

A scathing voice cut through their conversation. “Did she sleep with you for information, too?”

They both turned to find Liam approaching, with Max hot on his heels.

Drake took a step back in confusion. “What? We haven’t slept together!”

“Yet,” Max mumbled under his breath. His eyes widened when he realized Liam might have heard him. He cleared his throat and began to fiddle with his camera, pretending to ignore the conversation.

Riley shot a murderous expression at Liam. “For the last time, Liam, that’s not what happened!”

Drake blinked as he processed the insinuation. Moving his attention back to Riley, he asked, “You slept with him for information?”

“No, I did not.” She replied through gritted teeth.

“Come on, Walker.” Liam gestured toward the interrogation room. “We need to have a discussion about what services you provided for William Sloan.”

Drake turned his head to watch Riley over his shoulder as he followed the detective, mumbling the whole time about client privacy.

As Liam and Drake walked down the hall toward the interrogation rooms, they passed William Sloan and his lawyer, Sadie McGraw, on their way out.

The moment Madeleine saw William and Sadie, she scurried after them, apologizing profusely for the misunderstanding.

Bertrand and Flynn walked into the open office area deep in conversation, comparing notes about their respective interrogations. Olivia approached them before they could make it to Bertrand’s office, a dark haired young man trailing behind her. She wasted no time demanding answers about the investigation.

Bertrand ushered everyone into his office, where the DA was given all the latest updates on the case.

When the detectives were finished talking, Olivia nodded her head. “Between Trent’s bank account showing deposits from Katie and Dean’s confession of the affair, I think Kiara will sign off on a search warrant for the Sloan properties and bank accounts.” She turned to bark at the law intern who had been shadowing her for weeks. “Anton! Get Judge Theron on the phone!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Anton squeaked as he fumbled for his phone.

Thirty minutes later, the CCPD had a search warrant, Drake was released from interrogation and Bertrand was yelling at Riley and Max to get out of his station house.

“What are you doing at my desk?”

Riley looked up into Liam’s stormy expression as she closed the lid of her laptop. “Updating my story. I promise I didn’t look through your files!”

“This time.”

“That’s what I said.” She gave him a disarming smile as she rose and started stuffing the computer, notepads, and pens into her taupe, Saffiano leather Kate Spade laptop tote. “I didn’t read any of your files this time.”

It had been a long day; he was tired; he was irritated; he was ready for a break in this case… and yet something about her infectious grin and the teasing lilt in her voice pulled a begrudging smile from him. He shook his head in wonderment. How did she keep getting under his skin?

He called out to her as she walked away. “Hey, Riley!”

She turned back to face him. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. Your intel was actually helpful tonight.”

Her grin broadened into a full fledged smile, lighting up her whole face. “You’re welcome, detective. See you around.”

She found Drake and Max both waiting for her at the homicide office door. She directed her attention to Drake. “What are you still doing here?”

“Just got out of interrogation, thanks to someone who doesn’t understand confidentiality.” There was no accusation in his tone, just a simple statement of fact.

“It’s not my fault your client was implicated in a homicide.”

“Oh, I’m not blaming you.” He replied as he looked past her to shoot daggers at Max.

Max blinked. “What did I do?”

Drake shook his head as he pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. She’s with me.” Max flushed a deep shade of crimson. “We’re both in my car, I mean!”

“Then I’ll walk you both out. Can’t be too careful. It’s late, and this is Cordonia City.”

“I’m perfectly capable of protecting her.”

Drake’s eyes ran quickly and dismissively over the younger man. “Sure you are, kid.”

The three stepped out into the dimly lit, air-conditioned hallway as Liam watched them leave with curiosity, regret, and annoyance mingling in his expression.

The ancient, decrepit elevator dinged as it rocked to a stop on the first floor and the doors slid creakily open.

Neville VanCouer was arguing with the front desk sergeant. “I heard suspects were brought in for questioning. I just want to get a statement—”

“Heard? Or read it in my story?” Riley gloated.

Neville looked like his head was about to explode. “Why were they allowed in?”

The desk sergeant’s bored expression never changed as he shrugged. “Came in with a homicide detective.”

“How?”

Another shrug from the sergeant.

Neville spun on Riley. “The updates you’ve been posting…someone is giving you insider information!”

She gave him a saccharine sweet smile. “Or I’m just a better reporter than you.”

Neville took a step toward her, but Drake moved quickly, inserting himself between Riley and the other reporter. “Why don’t you go harass someone else?”

Neville glared at Drake, but he stepped back. The showdown was broken by Neville’s photograph, who had just reappeared from the men’s room. “Hey! That’s the guy that told me there was a door open around back!”

Max lifted a shoulder innocently. “There was when I was back there.”

The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Then why haven’t any crime scene photos been published anywhere?”

“Ah…. technical difficulties.”

The photographer looked skeptically between Max and Neville, as if trying to decide if Max was lying.

Neville shook his head, “It’s not worth it, Tariq. Come on, let’s go.”

“See?” Drake was almost gloating. “You needed me.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Neville is annoying and slimy, but he’s not dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Max chimed in, “And we’re standing in a police station.”

“Listen.” Riley decided to get the elephant in the room out of the way. “I know you think I threw you under the bus with Liam. I’ll understand if you want to cancel our dinner plans.”

“Oh, we’re still going to dinner.”

Riley’s brows furrowed in confusion. “But I thought you said—”

“I said you were going to be a giant pain in my ass.” His eyes tracked across her face. “But something tells me you’re worth all the trouble.”