#Killer deserves soft clothes I think

[pigeonstab]

[heathermason6060]

Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings

Warnings: serial killer daryl, rough smut, inconsiderate smut, NO noncon, stalking, stealing, mentions of killing

Summary: Daryl can't decide if he wants to kill you, or fuck you. Switches between Daryl's and Readers POV.

Notes: SO SORRY ITS LONG This was really fun but really challenging to write, I tried to keep him as in character as possible, but that's hard when making him a serial killer lol! I'm making this a two pt, with the reader finding out in the next part.

Some days Daryl thought his luck might run out. He'd been lucky for too long. As far as he knew, no one suspected a thing. Every time he'd go out “hunting”, no matter how long he was gone for, he'd always managed to bring back something. Deer, rabbits, squirrels when prey was scarce. 

It was easier now that the world had ended to keep it a secret. No threat of cops catching on, no more cameras on every street corner, no need to try to erase every possible trace.

The only thing he found to prove difficult had been finding a place to keep his trophies. He didn't really have a preference, hair, a tooth, or a piece of clothing, it was something he didn't understand the meaning of but something he did each time. He kept it in his room in the vent above his bed, behind a few boxes of books. The week prior he took it down to put the wedding ring of a man who tried attacking Rick out on their supply run, he’d had to restrain himself and keep the stabbing to a minimum because of Rick's presence. 

He found himself growing uncomfortably interested in you. A revelation that he really, really didn't like. You were off limits, you were one of Rick's closest friends, you'd been there way too long. And you clearly hadn't done anything deserving of the things he daydreamed about doing to you, unlike the victims he’d killed before.

The more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they came back. His hands around your throat, the way your eyes would tear up as you struggled against him and the fact someone you trusted so much was the one ending your life. 

His eyes followed you over the flames of the campfire as you took your plates and went inside. Aaron had hosted a little get together in his yard in Alexandria, cooking dinner for everyone in celebration of the newest addition to the town. Some nobody he found out there on their own, who jumped at the idea of joining a large group of people. 

If Daryl had to kill you, he’d keep a lock of your hair. 

He couldn't stop staring at it as you went inside. His mind flooded with flashes of pictures of it, his hand in it, stroking your soft locks before grabbing a fistful and putting a knife to your throat. The way you'd squeal and beg, squirm against him as he presses the edge firmer into your skin. 

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away after you disappeared in the house you shared with Maggie and a few others. 

It was like you were practically begging him to follow you. 

Five different times that week you'd gone out on your own to ‘clear your head’, whatever the hell that meant. 

First time he heard Glenn mention to someone that you'd just gone out beyond the walls, he wanted to follow you. The idea was far too tempting. But he didn't, he knew damn well he couldn't trust himself with you all alone, no one to hear you scream. 

The fantasies he had begun to form disgusted him. He didn't just go out and kill any random human he felt like, he had to have some sort of rules or else things would get out of hand real fast. If he were to get caught, it needed to be someone Rick wouldn't think twice about him killing. Some raider, or any kind of piece of shit who'd be a threat to their group. He needed to have a fallback, worst case scenario one of Alexandria caught him. 

Second rule, none of his people. Ever. His morals were questionable, if he had it his way he'd go out and hunt down any human he came across outside those walls.

But never his people. In a hypocritical way he did care about them, in the same way that any normal sane human being would care about their family. He could never even dream about hurting any of them, he’d rather die. But they had to earn that place in his heart. 

It was a wonder you hadn't been killed by anyone else yet. The way you walked through the woods with your light pink sweater, leaving tracks in the leaves that a blind man could follow, and that fucking humming. He could easily track you with his eyes closed for miles with the way you kept humming. 

You'd gone into an old shack in the backyard of an abandoned trailer.

A part of him felt angry then, how were you so stupid? If it had been someone else following you, and not Daryl, who knows what they'd do to you? And you'd have no idea until it was too late. 

He paused at the thought. If he wasn't careful, that's exactly what would happen. 

He followed you home about half a mile behind the entire time. When you were at the road that led to the gates he turned back, deciding it was the perfect time to go hunting. 

The crossbow on his back weighed heavier than it normally did as he slunk down into the underbrush at the forest's edge. He hadn't decided on what animal yet, but the frustration and confusion alone caused by you made it pretty easy to guess. 

He wiped the blood from the molar before he tucked it in the box in his vent, and decided to pay Maggie and Glenn a visit.

The house was completely empty, so he let his curiosity get the better of him.

Your room was pretty. 

Your bed, a whopping full size mattress, made his pull out look like a military cot. You had an array of paintings on your walls, he remembered some of them. As soon as you got your own room in Alexandria you went out on runs with Glenn and Maggie just so you could decorate it. 

His eyes went from painting to painting, then to your dresser. You kept it unexpectedly neat for someone who behaved so sloppily in the woods. Your journal, a small glass box you kept your sentimental jewelry in, a few makeup products. What drew his attention was the jewelry box, he could see the pair of pearl earrings you used to constantly wear. You never took them out back then, not even to sleep. 

Orange bled into a dark purple against his face and he blinked, coming back to himself in front of your bedroom window. A strange confusion twisted in his gut when he realized he'd just been standing there, staring out your window for so long the sun had set.

You weren't stupid, or blind. 

You'd have to be a fool to not notice the way Daryl had been taking interest in you. 

There'd been several times in Alexandria where you'd be busy doing something, turn around and see him standing off in the distance, staring at you like fuckin’ Michael Myers. 

If you'd go on runs and he came with you, you'd often glance at him to see him already looking. He'd always look away, pull out a cigarette and act like he wasn't just burning holes in the back of your head. 

You'd come to the obvious conclusion that he had a crush on you. 

What else could it be? You'd always thought he was really hot, men like that were hard to come by. Quiet, observant, strong as hell, he’d do anything for the people he loved and he wasn't an annoying pervert who'd suddenly turn into an asshole if you rejected him. Not that you'd ever reject him. 

Each time you caught him staring your heart would race and you'd try to give a friendly smile, but apparently he was too shy for that. Which sucked, because of all the men you could have the hots for, Daryl was the most unapproachable and intimidating. 

“Hey, have you guys seen an earring laying around anywhere?” You asked at dinner, glancing around the table. Carol had invited the inner group over for dinner, she'd made pasta and cookies. 

You could never get enough of Carol's cookies. 

“What's it look like?” Maggie asked beside Glenn, the two of them looking at you thoughtfully from across the table. 

“Just a pearl earring. The one's I always used to wear.” You took a sip of your sweet tea, looking at the other faces to see if any of them had a split second look of recognition. 

“Not that I can remember.” Glenn cleared his throat and shook his head after swallowing a heavy mouthful of alfredo pasta. 

“I'll keep an eye out for it.” Rick tipped his head to you, nodding slightly before continuing eating. You smiled in return, knowing if anyone was likely to find it, it’d be him. 

He'd grown very fond of you recently, the image of you had shifted in his head from another person he was responsible for, to a dear friend he could trust with his life. Mostly due to the way you were with Carl, always doing your best to be a figure of comfort to him. Not as close as he'd grown to Michonne, but more of a young aunt who takes too much interest in art and jewelry.

“I haven't seen you wear those in a while.” Carl spoke up. 

You sighed when no one had any leads. “Yeah, I know. Just been worried about losing them, they're pretty important.” You took the last bite of your cookie, dusting your hands together before speaking again. “It's really weird, they were both in my jewelry box last time I checked, but this morning there was only one.” 

“You think someone stole one?” Carol's voice held a tight tone of suspicion, her eyes narrowing so slightly you could've missed it if you blinked. 

“No, I mean, no one goes in our house besides you all. And I know none of you care about a single earring.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek in deep thought. 

You felt that familiar sensation of warmth on your cheek, like someone had a hot iron near you. 

You turned your head to your left, met with Daryl's eyes from his spot at the end of the other side of the table. 

To your surprise he didn't look away like he usually did. He kept his gaze steady, his elbows propped on the table and his hands clasped together in front of his mouth. 

You didn't feel butterflies like usual, and your cheeks burned for a different reason. For the first time you were the one to look away. 

Rick had put together a group to scout out further into town for more resources. The usual suspects, Aaron, Sasha, Rosita, Abraham, Daryl and of course, you.

He hadn't made up his mind on if he was glad or not. He'd been stupid, feeding the sparks of his mild obsession, and that pretty little pearl earring he kept in his jeans pocket felt like twenty pounds of red-hot metal.

They'd set up camp for the night in the woods right on the outskirts of town. Abraham had set up mediocre sound traps around the small clearing, and Daryl couldn't help but snort when you walked right into one and the cans failed to clash together. 

Fire was a dumb idea too. 

Daryl had started to remember why he preferred being alone. Aaron was too used to the safety of the Alexandria walls. 

Abraham told him he'd better put it out after dark, also throwing in a passive aggressive insult, and Aaron stuttered out an agreement. 

It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes off you. He sat across the fire from you, watching you smile and laugh and joke with Rosita like you were two young girls in summer camp.

As the flames of his fixation on you grew, so did his confliction. 

He had no problems with you. He'd barely even paid attention to you before you'd arrived at Alexandria, you were just another background character in his story that wouldn't make a difference if you died or not. But you'd grown close to Rick and Maggie, two people he cared about. So by extension, he cared about you too. 

He wasn't sure when it started. It kind of just happened over time.

He was always an outside observer, keeping details of each person he knew on a list in his mind. 

But you, he couldn't think of any reason you'd be so special. It was obvious you were smoking hot, he wasn't blind. But he'd seen his share of beautiful women. Maybe it was the fact you seemed to always have luck on your side, you could go out singing in the woods and never run into any trouble. 

If the two of you weren't careful, that luck might change tonight. 

Abraham and Aaron were busy looking at a map of the town and figuring out what pathing they'd take in the morning. Sasha and Rosita were sitting on their bedrolls cleaning their guns and talking about meaningless things, he didn't care enough to listen. 

You were the odd man out. Just like him. 

Sitting in the dirt on the other side of the fire, fidgeting with a stick in front of you while you thought. 

He could tell you knew he was staring at you again. And judging by the way you were forcing yourself to keep your eyes on the stick you were drawing circles in the dirt with, you were trying your best not to look up. 

He didn't expect you to look up. He almost let the confusion show on his face, caught off guard by his incorrect prediction. He saw the way your cheeks flushed even though the light of the fire made your face glow orange. He flared his nostrils at the sight, why'd you have to make it so damn hard?

His heart dropped when you suddenly stood and walked off into the woods. 

No one had even noticed, too wrapped up in their conversations. Another thing that succeeded in his self restraint slipping away. 

Daryl followed after counting three minutes in his head. He'd really hoped you'd come back before then, praying you'd be lucky enough to slip back through the trees before he got to his feet. 

It was dark in the woods away from the campfire. 

He could hear you a few yards ahead, your boots crunching lightly on leaves despite your attempts at being quiet. 

He kept his distance, just following the sounds of your footsteps and the slight silhouette of your body, the moonlight seeping through the treetops barely grazing your hair and shoulders. 

This was way too natural to him. 

Now out here you were just like any other victim, but it brought him comfort knowing there'd be no way he could hurt you and get away with it. The two of you disappear off into the woods at night and only Daryl comes back? He might think the people around the fire made stupid decisions sometimes, but they weren't stupid enough to not be suspicious of him. 

Maybe he could say walkers got you. 

He clenched his jaw when he realized he was at such a desperate point that an idea that stupid even crossed his mind. 

“Daryl?”

The sound of your sweet voice made him physically recoil, his hand falling from the knife in his belt that he didn't realize he'd been gripping. 

He could barely make out your figure in front of him. You were facing him, maybe six feet away, standing underneath a large pine tree. 

There was no use in hiding. Your eyes would've adjusted enough by now to see the shape of him. 

Finally, he answered, his voice coming out in more of a growl than a human speaking. “Shouldn't be out here alone.” 

There was silence before you filled it with the crunching of your footsteps moving towards him. 

His body tensed as you drew closer, now able to make out the pretty features of your face. An image of you flashed in his head, blood running down your nose and lips, tears in your eyes, your fingernails raking down his wrist. 

“I just needed a minute to clear my head.” You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you weren't out in the dead of night stomping around loud enough for any walkers within a five mile radius to hear. 

Daryl said nothing, his eyes fixed on your face as you slowly crept near. Although he hated not being able to read your expressions, he was thankful for it, because he was hanging on by a thread and if you even showed the slightest hint of fear, he'd snap. He wouldn't be able to resist if your lips trembled, or if your eyes widened and you stuttered a single apprehensive syllable. 

But as his eyes adjusted even further, his mouth ran dry and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. That would've been less of a stun than the look you were giving him, standing only a few inches away from him. 

Your plan had worked. You'd been plotting it ever since Rick paired you up in that group, the silent attention Daryl had been giving you ended up driving you mad. You found it absurd that all it took was a few stares to make you feel like he was some A list celebrity giving you special treatment.

Maybe it was a little stupid the way you went about it, but the curiosity eating you up inside didn't have you thinking straight. Walking off into the woods was one thing, but at night? In woods so thick you could barely see your hand outstretched in front of you? Blindly trekking through the leaves in the mere hope that he'd follow you and make a move? 

You hadn't had sex in way too long. 

Yeah, that was it.

That's why you were making the decisions of a dumb bitch in a horror movie. But at least it was Daryl you were after, you knew you'd be fine if you ran into trouble. 

You thought you'd be fine.

Emboldened by the darkness and privacy you'd secured for yourself, you approached him. Your heart hammered against your chest, and you had to bite your lip to keep from panicking, the fear of rejection or a humiliating scolding almost made you change your mind. 

Your eyes strained in the dark to make out the features of his face. 

He looked almost expressionless, but there was something in his eyes, something that had your steady breathing turning into shuddering breaths coming from your mouth. His gaze looked like a textbook example of ‘dark’. Your heart felt like it was literally about to explode, and when you saw his upper lip barely twitch, you let out an accidental sigh, too exhilarated to feel embarrassed with yourself. 

He was right in front of you then. You'd crossed every single inch of ground that separated you, and you could smell his signature scent of cigarettes, smoke, those spicy little mint leaves he'd chew on for his oral fixation. There was a hint of male musk as well, just barely there after a day walking outside in the woods. 

You could see his chest rising and falling more dramatically now. 

He was still dead silent, his eyes never leaving yours, even as you looked over every inch of him. You'd been biting your lip so hard it started to ache, and so you released it, your mouth opening to speak, you yourself unaware of what you planned to say.

The sound of Abraham’s whistle signal breaking through the thick silence had you feeling like you fell out of a plane. You sucked in a gasp and pulled your hand back from where it hung inches away from Daryl's chest. 

Daryl's posture snapped into something so different it gave you whiplash. He was Daryl Dixon again, the sight so drastic you couldn't help but feel unnerved. 

He whistled back before looking at you once more. It was still too dark to tell if he looked relieved or disappointed. “C'mon.” 

Keeping his distance from people had never been a problem for Daryl. But what you did that night had permanently altered something inside him. 

He didn't know if he wanted to fuck you or kill you. Maybe both. 

You became his new favorite pastime. 

When everyone fell asleep that night, he sat with his back against the same tree he'd been sitting under for hours, his eyes keeping their unwavering stance on your sleeping form. All the while he imagined hundreds of different things to do to you. 

His mind kept going between strangling the life out of you, watching it bleed from your eyes. Or the other one, the image where he was burying his face between your legs with his tongue and teeth sucking and nipping, licking till it became too much and you begged him to stop.

He carefully planned out his next encounter with you over the course of days. He acted it out the night of a “party” at Aaron and Eric’s house, so focused on his plan he didn't even know what they were having a party for.

Daryl didn't care if you caught him staring anymore. That night in the woods he could practically smell how bad you wanted it, it didn't matter to him anymore if he disregarded all basic manners.

The last time there was a party in Alexandria was when Rick's group joined. Daryl hadn't gone to that one, the feeling of being an outdoor cat watching indoor cats eating their fancy wet food too much for him. 

But he'd do anything to continue this little game with you. It was new, and there were no rules. 

For the most part he was his usual self, sticking to the side and keeping enough casual conversation to blend in. The perfect balance between himself, and the part of him that imagined in great detail all the sounds you'd make. 

He took a sip of the beer Aaron forced in his hands, his eyes looking back to you. 

You looked like a fresh cut of meat just waiting for him to sink his teeth into. 

The dress you wore hugged every single piece of your body, fitting you in a way that was almost poetic, but it was modest enough that it didn't draw unwanted attention. You were beside Rick most of the night, happily chatting and drinking champagne in a way that oozed confidence. 

Every now and then you'd look at him, and he'd savor all the details of the way your confidence faded into something he didn't have a word for. You looked nervous, but hungry, like someone reaching out a hesitant hand to stroke the pelt of a tamed predator. 

Daryl wanted to bite that hand, hold it in his harsh jaws while your other one stroked his fur. 

You played your part well, after most of the formal greetings and casual conversation had been taken care of you slipped out the back door. 

He counted three minutes in his head before making his exit, which was stopped by Carol.

“Leaving already, huh?” She gave him a knowing smirk, unaware that her assumption he was just bored was incorrect. He'd never been more entertained. 

“Yeah, shit ain't for me anyway.” He played along with a nonchalant shrug, pulling a lone cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Done enough already just by comin’.” 

Carol nodded, that smirk still on her face as she looked at the people standing around making friendly conversation. “Don't get into any trouble. Don't wanna help you hide bodies again.”

Daryl snorted, the cigarette bobbing between his lips. If there was anyone he'd come to for help hiding bodies it definitely would've been her. “Yeah yeah. Night Carol.” He gave her a pat on her shoulder before turning sideways to fit through the cracked door. 

He hadn't expected you to be so good at this. He'd been prepared to walk down the steps of the porch and see you standing down the sidewalk, waiting for him like he was your prom date. 

You weren't too good, though. He found you rather easily. The bottom of your heels left slight little indents in the dirt, leading between the houses, down the street, and right up to the sidewalk in front of your house. 

His heart rate sped up a little when he remembered that house was completely empty, all but you.

Or so he thought.

You weren't anywhere to be seen. He checked every room, growing increasingly irritated when each one turned up nothing. He was about to give up and just head home when he checked your room one last time. 

Something caught his eye, a blade of grass, his eyes followed the bits of grass to see those black heels sitting under your dresser, taking the place of your boots.

You tried to keep from anxiously picking at your fingernails as you stood behind the thick underbrush at the woodline, watching for any sign of movement along the outside walls. 

There was a spot at the back wall near a platform no one really watched anymore, which is where the both of you had gone to leave without being seen. 

You were beginning to think maybe you'd read him wrong. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered that look he gave you at the party, it was impossible to describe. He was lacking any sort of expression, but in his eyes held this darkness that made swallowing your champagne hard when you'd seen it. The way he leaned against the wall near a group of people, his eyes steady and fixed on you, you could only decipher that as a look of craving for something he'd been wanting for a long time.

If you hadn't been looking at the Alexandrian walls, you would've missed it. For a split second you saw a flash of dark clothing, even darker hair, and you darted from your position behind the thickets.

Thankfully it wasn't as dark as that one night. 

The sun had dipped down below the trees and out of sight, but it left just enough light for the sky to be a dark blue. The full moon made it even brighter, and soon you were in one of the houses right outside Alexandria. 

You stood in the living room and waited. You'd already checked the house for walkers before this, not keen on the idea of a growling monstrosity of green and purple flesh ruining whatever might happen there when Daryl arrived. 

If he arrived. 

You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't coming. The heavy front door was open just a few inches, you'd wanted to be able to see him approach the house, to take him by surprise, maybe giving him the same fright he'd given you countless times.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy. You felt that feeling again, like you were in danger, the feeling you might get being stalked by a large cat. 

There was a breeze behind you, and you recognized it as a draft from the back window being opened. 

Although it was happening behind you, your mind raced as you played out the scene. His hands bracing against the walls on either side of the window, his first leg dipping over like a spider emerging from its tunnel. 

The tap of a boot meeting the wood floor under the window, so light and careful you almost didn't hear it. A second foot, he was in the house, only across the room from you. You held your breath as the footsteps drew near, slow, deliberate, you could tell just by the timing of his steps he was approaching you like a leopard closing in on a wounded deer. Confident, patient, nearly sadistic.

The feeling of his breath on your bare shoulder sent chills through your body and goosebumps down your arms. It was cold and barely there, you felt like if you turned around you'd be met with an empty house.

His fingers were just as light as his breath, tracing the thin dress strap over your shoulder, down and to the middle of your spine. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Daryl could be this confident in this way. He acted like every antagonist in a romance novel, dark and self-assured with every move he made. 

You felt yourself relaxing as you leaned your back against his chest, feeling the leather of his vest on your skin, as well as the buttons on his black shirt. 

The feeling of his hand snaking over your shoulder and up to your neck succeeded in sending every last drop of blood in your body down between your legs. You were fully prepared for the best slow, deep, mind-blowing sex of your life, but that quickly changed when his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

It wasn't a firm and sexy squeeze, it was a ‘wait that's actually way too tight’ squeeze. 

Your eyes shot back open but you tried to keep your cool, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab at his wrist.

Apparently, Daryl didn't like that. 

He suddenly had your back pressed against the wall of the living room with movements so quick and precise it made your head spin. You looked up at his face, lit with a dim blue light from the windows, searching for any signs that would be cause for panic. 

He decided to give you that reason you were looking for, and wrapped his hand around your neck again.

For once, Daryl wasn't fighting some internal battle on if he should kill you or not. 

He'd made the decision as soon as he crept in the window and saw you standing in the living room, facing the front door and biting at your nails. 

That decision wasn't final, though, you had the power in your hands to change his mind. 

Hopefully you'd be as lucky as you always were. 

He looked down at your face as he kept his one handed grip on your throat, burning the image in his mind. Your eyes were wide and full of this otherworldly beautiful fear, so much uncertainty it made his already hard cock twitch. 

Your hands were still on his wrist, as if it gave you some sort of control, something he found endearing. You still trusted him, you still thought you had a chance to regain the control you thought you had this whole time.

“This what you wanted?” He breathed, looking from your eyes to your lips. Your face had turned a shade darker from his grip, your lips turning a pretty hue of red. “Wanted me to hunt you down, and then what? Huh?”

He watched for your reaction, waiting to see how you'd play the hand you'd been dealt, and to his pleasant surprise you managed to nod. 

Daryl's hand loosened just enough to send the blood back to your head and you sucked in a deep breath, before letting out a trembling whimper. 

His lips twitched into a soft smirk, and he dipped his head down to press his lips against yours. You kissed him hungrily, swallowing the growl from his throat as your bare knee pressed against the aching bulge in his jeans. You moved it in firm circles, and he decided that earned a returned gesture.

He used his knee to roughly spread your thighs before giving you the same treatment. The whine that drew from your lips, and the way your eyes rolled back in your head, had him letting out a deep groan. He ground his knee up between your legs, long enough to feel the wetness seeping from your panties and through his jeans. 

You didn't get a chance to tell him about the bed you'd cleaned upstairs for this. Which was unfortunate, given you'd gone out of your way to do so, not that he would've cared anyway. 

He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, fingers finding the zipper of your dress and unceremoniously pulling it down to your ass. Your heavy breathing fueled his desire and he grabbed a fistful of your hair before yanking your dress down with his other hand so fast it burned. 

With the grip he had in your hair he forcefully guided you onto the floor, releasing you only to settle between your thighs and slide his hands up your bare chest to his favorite part of you. 

You got that look on your face again. Lust blown pupils, breathing softly through your mouth. You still hadn't figured it out yet, that you could very easily be in danger. 

This time he used both hands. 

A yelp got choked from your throat as he squeezed, allowing himself a few seconds to please himself. The white of your eyes turned a light pink at the edges, a few beads of tears forming there as well, the sight making his dick throb. 

He released your neck and you gasped, sucking down lungfuls of air as your head spun. You felt like you were on a carousel the way you got so dizzy. 

While you regained your bearings he unbuckled his belt and took out his dick, his right hand wasting no time in giving himself relief. You took the opportunity to slide off your panties, and when he saw the glistening of your wet folds in the deep blue lighting he growled. The sinful sound earned a whimper from you, and he refocused on your face to see a pitiful look of impatience.

Daryl switched to stroking himself with his left hand, and guided the tip up through your slick folds. He savored the way you looked then, biting your bottom lip as you prepared yourself. 

Instead of giving the satisfaction he pulled his tip back and carried on fucking his hand. As soon as your eyes opened and you went to protest, his free hand went right back to your neck.

He loved the way you looked then, desperate and pathetic, so full of frustration it leaked out through tears in your eyes. He squeezed hard, completely cutting off blood and air to your brain, tugging his dick faster as you squirmed.

Daryl lifted up his knee to pin one of your thighs to the floor in an effort to keep you still. He took his hand away from his cock and spit in his palm, wasting no time in getting back to touching himself. 

He could've easily come right there. If he wanted to, he could keep squeezing just a few more moments, and your squirming would've stopped. He could spill his load on your stomach and effortlessly slip into his cleanup routine, but aside from the fact that part of him didn't really want to kill you, the way you orgasmed had him fucking frozen.

He hadn't even touched you, but you came. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together and the leg he didn't have pinned down wrapped around his waist, your hips rolling in a desperate attempt to get friction against your clit. He relaxed his hand from your throat and you let out this bubbly whimpering sound that made his hips instinctively jerk forward. 

Daryl watched you, holding his breath without realizing it. She just came from you chokin’ her. The words repeated over and over in his mind as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm. 

He had to snatch his hand away from his dick to keep his own orgasm at bay. Not yet, not a chance in hell, not after you just did that. You deserved something for showing him the hottest thing he never would've thought possible.

His body went on autopilot. He slid down from your body, planting kisses in a trail from your neck to your naval, down to your thighs, then back up again. He buried his face between your legs, not giving you a moment's notice or time to recover. He swirled his tongue around your clit, grazing his teeth against it before sucking it between his lips.

You bucked against him like a wild horse, the stimulation so much your body didn't know how to react. It was desperate, finally getting some stimulation, but you'd just had a world shattering orgasm only seconds before. He wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled you down against his mouth again, his grip tight to keep you from squirming away again. 

The only control you had was your ability to choose what to do with your hands. Your fingers wrapped around clumps of his hair, winding up so tight it made his scalp burn. 

He growled in response and took your clit between his teeth, holding it there as a stern warning, only letting it go when you stopped pulling so damn hard.

If he had the power to freeze time for everything but the two of you, he would've eaten your pussy for hours. But he settled on just long enough to pull another orgasm from you, sliding the tip of his tongue from your throbbing clit to the new trail of slick cum dripping out of you. 

Daryl didn't give you time to recover from that one either. As soon as your cry faded out he flipped you on your back, ignoring the yelp of protest you made when your hip bones dug into the hard floor beneath you. 

The only warning he gave you before shoving his cock into you was a quick slide of his swollen tip between your puffy folds. Just right enough to lubricate the head, and then he drove it in.

The way you groaned in pain from the stretch almost made him cum right there. He stilled inside you, not for you to adjust but for him to fall back away from the edge. The benefit to you was just lucky. 

“Fuck.” It was the first time in a while that he'd spoken, and it was solely due to the way your hot plush walls squeezed his dick like a fist. 

He should've known you'd feel like that, he hadn't seen you with a man the entire time he'd known you. His chest shuddered with his ragged breaths, and once he was ready he put both hands flat on your upper back. He put his weight there, keeping him upright so he could lift his hips and fuck his dick into you with all his weight.

Your arms slid out in front of you, your hands grasping for something, anything, you needed something to hold onto.

He wouldn't grant you that kindness either. He rested his knees back on the floor on either side of your thighs and grabbed your arms, bending them painfully behind you. When he held your wrists together at the base of your spine he started fucking you again. 

Each rough snap of his hips drove a whiney moan from you. He liked that a lot, it sounded similar to a different type of crying, and he slowed down to keep his dick from getting friction burns. While you used the opportunity to squirm under him in an attempt to get more comfortable he spit on his fingers, letting it drip onto the base of his cock before changing positions once again.

He moved your arms up over your head and laid down on top of you, the weight of him pressing down on your back pushing all the air from your lungs. 

Your check rubbed against the floor as he started thrusting again, this time settling on a new pace, rough and fast despite the fact he barely drew his dick out. If he wasnt fucking you so roughly, the feeling of his head resting against yours would’ve given you butterflies. You became acutely aware of the closeness, there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies, and every grunt and groan he made had his lips brushing up against the side of your ear.

He used his hips to grind his dick inside you, the new motion drawing filthy gasps and whines from you from the way his tip seemed to roll and dig into each and every crevice inside you. You'd never felt anything like that before, so used to the normal thrusting. He only pulled back about an inch, rolling his hips in a way that had you shamelessly moaning. 

Daryl moved your hair from the back of your neck, pushing it up and away before leaning down to dig his teeth into the skin right at the base of your neck. He bit hard, something you didn't expect, and you cried out in pain, your body jerking under him. 

It was hard for you to breathe with his full weight on your back. The heat of his body gave you uncomfortable hot flashes, adding to the sweat you'd already made. Your hair stuck to your forehead and you made an attempt to push it off, which was made difficult when he changed paces once again.

He started drawing out further now, but he'd just drive back in harder, faster, causing your body to grind roughly against the wood floor. The skin over your hip bones started to burn as well as your nipples, something you found almost agonizing but shamefully pleasurable at the same time. 

He fucked you like that until you came for the third time, now around his dick. He pushed himself off your back and used his hands on your shoulders to keep you pinned down, watching as he breathed through his mouth at the way his cock disappeared inside you. 

You were lucky he felt like a new position. 

He waited until you stopped writhing under him from your orgasm before grabbing your thigh to turn you on your back. 

Relief washed over you as the pain in your hip bones faded, only to have that relief taken from you when he grabbed your waist and yanked you up and off the floor. 

Your feet didn't even touch the ground, your body swaying as you tried to get a sense of gravity, Daryl's hands tight on your sides as he took you to the couch. 

All you could do at that point was relax and let him move your body for you, your hands shaking against your chest as he sat you on the arm of the couch. You let him push you down on your back, your ass and legs dangling over the arm for a few dizzying seconds before he grabbed your legs and held them around his waist. 

Daryl pushed his dick back in your abused pussy and groaned, gripping your thighs tighter so he could pull you closer to him.

Your back arched almost uncomfortably, your hips angled up against his pelvis, the only part of your back that touched the cushions of the couch ended up being your shoulders. You were thankful you could at least breathe now. 

Daryl was skilled at taking small bits of relief like that away. 

He leaned down and bit your already sore nipple so hard and so suddenly you nearly shouted. Your hands instinctively went to grab his hair for support, but he leaned back and your fingers fell from his face. 

He was proud of the new angle. Your pelvis tilted up and him fucking down into you sent him as deep as possible, and soon he began fucking you rough enough that it bordered closely on too painful. 

Lucky for you, you liked it. Your walls burned pleasurably from the dragging of his dick, and he started speaking again. 

“Look at you, dirty little whore.” He teased as he looked down at your abused body with a grin. Your nipples and hips were red from him fucking you into the floor, your neck equally as red from the force of his hands. 

Your sweet, sweet pretty face, twisted up in a mix of pleasure and pain, your cheeks red, your lips swollen, streaks of black makeup running down your face. The sight made him seriously consider picking up drawing, because that look was, without a doubt, the best thing he'd seen in his entire life. 

“Daryl,” You finally plucked the courage to speak to him and he raised a brow, impressed, he'd gotten used to you taking it so well without any complaints. “Too much.” Your voice broke as you whined, another orgasm bringing you to shambles. 

He snorted as he watched you come around his dick yet again, your words asking for mercy but your body clearly asking him otherwise. 

“You can take a little more, yeah?” Even he was becoming spent, his heart banging in his chest so hard he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his hands down your sweaty chest to your breasts, his dick twitching inside you at the way you cried when he pinched that same sore nipple. 

“I don't know,” Another wave of shivers overcame you, eliciting exhausted, long and shaky whines. Your body couldn't process going a little under two years with little to no sexual activity, and then suddenly being mind numbingly overstimulated with the most exhilarating sex you'd ever had in your life. Each time you thought you'd gotten used to it he'd pull the rug out from under you, either by causing pain or giving you more pleasure that you knew what to do with. 

As if on cue you felt his flattened hand smack the side of your face, demanding your focus. Your eyes struggled to find him, your vision fuzzy and wobbly, but when you looked up and saw him your heart fluttered. 

“Look at me. C'mon.” He didn't want you passing out on him, that took all the fun away. 

Despite the obvious fact he had a clear disregard for your comfort or discomfort, the way he was looking down at you sent butterflies through your stomach and chest. His pupils were so blown with lust that you couldn't see the pretty color of his eyes, and his eyelids were heavy with the approach of his orgasm. His lips, glistening from the way his tongue had darted out to wet them, parted as he huffed in ragged breaths. 

You could tell if he had a picture of you like this, he'd be reacting the same way with just his hand. The thought had a moan bubbling past your lips. 

“C'mon.” His hips snapped forward roughly, jerking in a break from his steady aggressive rhythm. You cried out from that, your hands finding the sides of his dangling belt to grab onto like the reins of a horse.

He'd held back his orgasm as long as he could, but the sight of you shaking and trembling under him, exhausted and overstimulated, he couldn't last much longer. Your face twisted in discomfort as he fucked you faster again, your hips suddenly doing their best to wiggle up and away from the frenzy of his dick. 

You'd managed to get a few short moments of relief, sliding backwards until his dick nearly slid out.

His upper lip curled in disbelief, and he shook his head, scoffing at you. “Don't be a baby, you can take it.” You were yanked back down on his dick, the sensation of being forced back into overstimulation had you moaning in distress. 

You nodded your head feverishly, setting your jaw as you looked up at the ceiling, trying your best to keep it together. But each time his hips would ram into yours it made his crotch slam against your clit, and it got too much, your breathing sped up as the panic of overstimulation set in. You really tried then, actually tried to wiggle away, and to your surprise, and much needed relief, he stilled his hips. 

You were expecting him to maybe find a better way to restrain you, or put you in a position you couldn't move from, but he just used the moment to catch his breath before his demeanor changed completely.

“Hey, hey, shh.” The sweetness in his tone made you whimper, your eyes falling closed as he comforted you. It felt so fucking good, you found yourself willing to do anything and everything to feel that tenderness some more. “Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” He cooed as your breathing slowed and your fingers stopped shaking.

Daryl released your thighs and with unexpected ease, he slipped his hands under the arch in your back, picking you up and moving so he could sit down on the couch, keeping you stuck on his cock the entire time. 

The new position of being on top sent a fresh wave of pleasure flipping in the bottom of your stomach, the tip of his dick pressed right at the end of your walls.

It wasn't painful like you'd felt before when your cervix was accidentally hit too hard, quite the opposite, the feeling of pressure was so strangely good you found yourself pushing down with all your weight, desperate to feel more. 

Daryl tossed his head back with a grunt at the feeling, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting it. His hands took their place on your hips, his fingers digging deep into the soft skin there. 

He'd only switched to this position because his legs were getting unsteady, but the way you looked above him was something he didn't expect to enjoy as much as he did. 

He took a second to catch his breath before he planted his boots firmly on the floor, pressing his back against the couch, and when he was perfectly leveraged he used his hands to keep your waist hovering above him, using the angle to fuck his dick up into you so hard you immediately came again. 

The way you came for the fourth time made his jaw drop. 

He watched you through heavy lidded eyes, taking in every second of it as he breathed through his open mouth. The way your face tensed up in twisted concentration, and then the way it dropped as you fell apart, your mouth falling open with a guttural moan that put every single goddamn porn video he'd seen to shame. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your mouth hung open in such a beautiful ‘O’, he broke. 

He let go of your waist so your full weight would slam down on his cock and he came, his head tilted back against the couch, his dark hair falling away from his face. 

You watched his face the same way he'd watched yours, rolling your hips down against him as you drew out every wave of the strongest orgasm you'd ever had. He looked fucking beautiful. You'd do everything in your power to get him like this again, but this time with your camera. 

His orgasm literally shook him. He clenched the skin over your hips in a tight grip, using it to keep you as tight as possible against him. In those few seconds his mind went blank, almost devolving him into an animal. Those instincts wanted to keep you there on top of him, so he did, rolling his pelvis to fuck his cum deeper into you. 

Daryl held you there until way after he came down from his high, only releasing his grip on your skin when he felt his dick grow soft. 

You couldn't move off him if you tried. Your legs felt like you'd lost all muscle mass, same with your arms. Your body slumped forward and you fell against his chest, your nipples burning as they rubbed against his shirt and vest. 

His arms wrapped around your torso, squeezing your body tight against his, his hips giving a few last weak rolls up against you. 

It took you both a while to catch your breath, the mouth breathing leaving the two of you uncomfortably thirsty. 

He made the first move when he realized you couldn't, and he slid your body off of his into the seat beside him. He sat there for a few more seconds before he carefully put his tender dick back in his pants. 

His belt buckle clinked noisily as he fastened it, his fingers shaky and inaccurate.  He watched as you slowly rose to your feet and grabbed your panties, the rising and falling of his chest gradually slowing. 

The sight of you struggling to climb into your dress had him feeling a smug sense of satisfaction. He chewed on the skin around his thumb, watching you slip your feet into your boots before you leaned against the wall next to the front door. 

You looked at it and faltered, realizing that the two of you had been pretty loud. When you looked back to him with a concerned expression you were just met with an uncaring smirk, the man now on his feet and wiping the sweat from his face with the top of his shirt. He grabbed his crossbow from the floor and flung it over his shoulder before leading you back home.

@ophelialaufey

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || homicidal liu & jane the killer || maid!reader || (𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au)

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: threesome, dom!jane, dom!liu, knife play + blood play combo, overstimulation, ownership kink lowkey, breeding

Being at the Trenderman mansion was odd.

Not because of its residents, but because of what they allowed you to do.

After your encounter with Helen you never saw him or any sign of him, minus the news channel blowing up after he went on a manic killing spree. With nothing left to clean due to how pristine the mansion was, you were left to your own devices. For the remainder of your weekend you wondered around the mansion aimlessly, admiring all of the freshly polished wood and satisfying forest smell at every turn. The only place you found real comfort in was the library, which was giant in comparison to anything you had ever seen. When you were particularly bored you’d wonder there, curling up in a nook by the window to read to pass time. Truthfully you were enjoying the tiny break, but your body was yearning for some sort of satisfaction. You weren’t sure if it was supernatural or not, but your sex drive was high enough to please all of the mansions residents.

It was Sunday night, Ben and Toby scheduled to pick you up the following day. You were in the last clothing item you had clean, a skimpy silk lavender night gown. The mansion was cooler at night, goosebumps trailing across your bare skin as you headed towards the library. It was the dead of night, most of the mansions residents out and about. You pushed open the doors of the library, the overwhelming smell of cigarettes invading your nostrils. You were surprised to see two shadows sitting in your reading nook. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Jane the Killer and Homidical Liu, talking amongst themselves as they shared a cigarette.

Jeff was not kind when it came to the descriptions of Jane or Liu. To Jeff, Jane was the psycho bitch who deserved her fate, while Liu was the moronic brother who he deemed to need therapy. You found this ironic coming from Jeff, but never vocalized any form of protest. Yet the stories he told made them out to be the worst of the worst, killers that would slice and dice you mercilessly at the first sight of you. You swallowed, realizing your gawking had alerted them of your presence. “There you are! There’s our little bookworm!” Jane cheered, rising to her feet. You couldn’t help but notice the way her hips swayed when she walked, a smile spreading across her lips. She approached you with ease, your body tense and eyes wide as she threw her arms around you. As you inhaled you could smell her perfume, the sweet scent of chocolate and cherries swirling around your nostrils. Jane noted your tenseness but pretended she didn’t notice, looping her arm through yours.

“I’m Jane and this is Liu. But since you live with Jeff i’m sure you know who we are,” She said, gesturing to each of them as she spoke. Her voice was smooth like butter as she walked you over to Liu. The brunette seemed intrigued by your appearance. “So it’s true, you really are human,” He commented. Jane joined him by his side, not failing to elbow him. “Be nice,” Jane hissed. Liu rolled his green eyes, placing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling. “So uh, are you two together or..?” You began to ask, your voice trailing off. Jane chuckled at your joke, Liu exhaling his cigarette smoke. “Oh no baby I don’t swing that way. I like pretty girls like you,” She laughed. You felt heat dash across your cheeks, her enchanting obsidian eyes staring at you. “You ever smoke a cigarette before?” Liu asked, his voice gruff. You awkwardly scratched the back of your neck. “Well uh maybe, one or two times I think..” You said honestly. Jane reached out and grabbed your arm, plopping you in between the two of them.

“Why don’t you give it a shot?” Jane cooed. Unsurely you took the cigarette from Liu, placing in between your lips. As you inhaled you noticed Jane’s soft hand placing itself on your thigh, while Liu scooted closer toward you. The tobacco swirled around your lungs, your eyes watering as you coughed. Liu chuckled at your reaction, watching as Jane took the cigarette away from there. “You’ll learn kid. Don’t worry, there’s a lot of things Jane and I can teach you,” Liu said. Jane smoked the cigarette with ease, your body melting under the touch of Liu pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “L-Like what?” You sputtered, your heart pounding. Jane placed the cigarette in a nearby ash tray, giving you a seductive smile. “You have such a pretty mouth baby, I think putting it to good use will teach you a few things,” Jane mused. Her words sent a chill down your spine. You were practically trembling under their touch. “What’s wrong kid?” Liu asked, grabbing your chin to force you to look at him. His emerald eyes were full of dominance, peering down at you curiously. “Well J-Jeff said-” You started, Jane quick to cut you off.

“Oh honey is that it? Did Jeff say bad things about us?” Jane asked in a sweet tone. You nodded quickly, Jane and Liu exchanging glances. “We’re not scary, are we Liu? Why don’t you show her how loving we can be?” Jane suggested. Liu hopped off of the bench, immediately falling to his knees. Jane made her way behind you, guiding you to lay against her chest. Liu’s skin was comfortingly warm, while Jane’s was cool and soft. The two made your heart pound and cunt throb, the idea of Jeff’s worst enemies getting you off liberating and terrifying at the same time. Your thighs were shaking with fear, Liu’s warm chapped lips pressing soft kisses onto your inner thighs. Jane pulled the straps of your night slip down, gently rubbing your exposed skin. “You caught us on a good night, Sully would’ve eaten you alive by now,” Jane whispered. She pulled your night gown down until your bare breast were exposed, your nipples becoming hard under the cool night air. “S-Sully?” You sputtered. Liu’s hands slithered under your gown, yanking down your thong. “Liu’s counterpart. Don’t worry baby we’re gonna take real good care of you," Jane cooed.

Her soft hands traveled to your breast, toying with your nipples as Liu's hot breath fanned over your cunt. You whined at the sensation, goosebumps traveling across your skin as Liu licked a stripe up your cunt. "Oh there she is, theres the good little whore everyones been talking about," Jane chuckled, twisting your nipples harshly. You whined as Liu attached his lips to your clit, violently sucking at the bud. One of your hands tangled itself in his hair, the other gripping onto Jane's thigh for support. "You know we've been waiting for your arrival, precious thing," Jane whispered. You whimpered as Liu lapped at your folds as if he were a starved man. "You see we're not above pissing Jeff off for fun," Jane snickered. You watched wide eyed as Jane took out her knife, handing it to Liu. "Now having his sex slave marked with our initials? That sounds like great fun to me. I'd focus on my voice honey, this may sting," Jane told you. You screwed your eyes shut as Liu brought the tip of the blade to your inner thigh, the sharp slicing of your skin making you cry out in pain. "Shh baby you're doing so good. Your reward will make this all the worthwhile," Jane cooed, watching in satisfaction as Liu finished carving an L.

Jane took the liberty of sliding her hand down to your aching cunt, circling your abandoned clit. You groaned as Liu began to carve the letter J, licking the blood from the other cuts. "Well would you look at that Liu, I think she likes it," Jane chuckled darkly. With your blood still fresh on his tongue Liu pulled away from nursing your wound, finishing Jane's initial. "What a dirty little whore, I knew there was a reason everyone loves her so much," Liu replied, his cock beginning to ache in his jeans. Slowly you blinked your eyes open as you whimpered, thin beads of blood forming from the fresh cuts. They still stung as Liu continued to lap at them, causing you to curse. Your body was confused, Jane playing with your cunt while Liu cut you making your head spin. "I hope you didn't go too deep Liu, poor slut already looks dazed," Jane commented. Liu wiped his chin, the clinking of his belt sending a chill down your spine. "We better get on with it then. Wanna see what the hype is all about," He said, pulling down his jeans. Jane rearranged you, making you lay down as the two of them undressed. She took off her panties, hovering over your face. You couldn't quite understand why your body craved what it did, but you wanted nothing more than for the pale killer to ride your face until sunrise.

Eagerly you stuck out your tongue, gasping as Liu abruptly shoved his cock inside of you. He bottomed out quickly, your mouth in the shape of an O as Jane sat on your face. You tried to focus on lapping at her folds, her juices addicting and thighs squeezing your head. "Surprised she still has such a tight cunt after being the community's gloryhole," Liu panted, harshly gripping your waist. You tried your hardest to please Jane, having never eaten pussy before. You tried to do what you thought would feel good, listening to her sinful noises to ensure she was feeling the best possible. "Yes well her tongue can certainly make up for whatever aspects she may lack," Jane agreed, grinding her hips down and onto your face. With shaky hands you grabbed her thighs, trying to balance yourself as Liu began to fuck you. His thrust were anything but slow, the brunette immediately seizing the opportunity to spite Jeff by fucking you. "Think I can get her pregnant? Take Jeff's play thing off the market?" Liu asked Jane, your walls fluttering around his cock at the thought. Your moans vibrated against Jane's folds, causing her to lean forward in an attempt to support herself.

"Sounds like a wonderful plan Liu. You sick twisted bastard," Jane moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as she rode your face. You struggled to be able to focus, both of them overwhelming you. You could hardly keep up with Liu abusing your cunt, purposefully giving you the roughest fuck he could provide. He wanted to send you home with puffy folds and the inability to walk, with his and Jane's markings showing everyone it was their doing. Jane wanted to use you to the fullest extent, grabbing your breast and toying with your nipples as your tongue teased her entrance. This was your first time pleasing a girl and you couldn't get enough. Jane was coming close to her orgasm first, her moans becoming more jagged and uncontrolled. "Fuck, she's fucking good at this. You think we can keep her?" Jane asked, the cord in her stomach tightening. Liu grinned as he put your legs over his shoulders, somehow fucking deeper into your core.

“I’d like to, i’d get a chance to breed this cunt every day,” Liu replied. He brought his thumb to your clit, drawing circles around the bud as he plowed into you. Jane bit her bottom lip, her thighs squeezing your head as she came closer to her orgasm. “Gonna c-cum,” She warned, her head tilting back as she came on your face. Feeling her cunt flutter around your tongue was addicting, your hands keeping her locked into place. You didn’t stop assaulting her cunt through out her orgasm, the pale killer at a loss for words. “Overstimulating Jane kid? My my you are crazy slut,” Liu chuckled. Jane licked her lips, her sinful noises uncontrollable. She shoved Liu’s hand away from your clit, replacing it with her tongue. Your moans became even louder, Liu’s cock continuing to abuse your cunt as it pleased. The cord in your stomach was tightening, your thighs beginning to tremble as your head began to spin.

“Look at that Jane, got her nice and tremblin’ for us,” Liu snickered. The pale killer grinned at the sight, deciding to graze your clit with her teeth. The sensation sent you over the edge, your body shaking as you came on Liu’s cock. His hips began to stutter, your name falling from his lips as he came deep inside of your cunt. On auto pilot you continued to lap at Jane’s folds, determined to make her cum one last time. She braced herself on your thighs, her sinful noises echoing throughout the library as she came again. She slowly lifted off of your face, her thighs shaky and heart racing. You were dazed to say the very least, watching Liu slowly pull out of you. You could feel his warm cum drip down your cunt, both him and Jane admiring the sight. She licked her lips, settling in between your thighs. “Oh no baby, it looks like you wasted all of Liu’s cum,” She said mockingly. With two fingers she gathered what she could, shoving it back inside of you, causing you to whine.

She hovered over your abused folds, your core throbbing as her sinister eyes met yours.

“Whadda say I get you cleaned up so Liu can give you more? Maybe this time you’ll keep it where it’s supposed to be.”

[cherry-smokes]

Winnebago

You and Steve are desperately pining over each other, all it takes is a near death experience and some eavesdropping to finally do something about it before it's too late. Steve Harrington x reader hurt/comfort Warnings: talks of blood, yearning and also this is my first blurb so proceed with caution.

Gruesome. Gnarly. Wrong. Just so wrong. Words flash through your mind, harsh and biting unlike your gentle hands as you tend to his wounds. It’s just not fair.

Steve, the most gentle man you know, shouldn’t have been torn to shreds by those things. You swear you could see the light flowing out of him along with his blood as you wrapped whatever shred of clothing it was that Nancy handed you around his waist.

You figure you should thank her for that. For her help. For granting you all the god given gift that is her mind. You swear you would if you could bear to look at her without feeling sick. It feels so ridiculous to be caught up with unrequited love in times like these. You've never felt more like a teenage girl in your life. When you aren't worried about keeping the gaggle of children you've essentially adopted at this point alive you're worried about Steve being dragged into what you can only consider the pits of hell. It's never ending. First it's the tunnels, then the Russians and now the fucking bats. He doesn't deserve that, he deserves the Winnebago.

The six kids, all probably with the same head of hair and freckles that mirror his. Warm soft eyes, that killer smile. You shouldn't have eavesdropped on his conversation with Nancy, you know that. As you cradled Max's head on your shoulder, ignoring the way her headphones dug into the bone there, you couldn't help but tune out Kate Bush and listen to what they said.

"Except for the six kids part- that sounds like...a total nightmare"

"If only I had some practice"

"I'm sure...it would be easier with some help."

Too caught up in trying to figure out if the sharp stinging pain you felt was coming from your stomach, chest or throat, you missed the way Steve glanced at you through the rear view mirror.

You miss the way he looks at you now. The RV is empty, everyone has retreated outside to prepare themselves for battle. Children all forced into a colosseum of horrors they should have never had to endure. For a moment, he doesn't think about that. He thinks about you. Your gentle hands. You've always been that way with him. He fears every day that he takes it for granted. He wasn't used to gentleness. Not from his father, not from his peers, not even from Nancy.

He looks at your hands, bloody and cracked. He thinks it's unfair. It's cruel that those hands that have only ever given out care and provided warmth have to be exposed to anything other than that. He thinks he would reach into the sun, melt his hands to the bone if it meant he could give you an ounce of its warmth.

"How is that, is it too tight?"

You gently lay your hands around the bandages you've wrapped around him as you ask the question, avoiding his gaze.

Steve shakes his head, soft strands of hair falling onto his face.

"No...that's good. It's a lot better than before, thank you"

He looks at your face as you start picking up the remnants of your care. Bloodied gauze pads you struggle to keep in your hands as they shake. He can't help but reach out for them.

"Hey, what is it-what's wrong?"

You finally look at him. His heart aches a terrible thing as he sees the glassy look in your eyes.

Your voice is soft, if he wasn't so close he probably wouldn't even hear you as you whisper.

"You scared me so bad."

You sound like a child when you say it. Unable to find more complex words to describe how you felt when all you could hear as you ran to him was screaming. When you saw him overwhelmed by those viscous, ravenous creatures.

Steve's hands move desperately to your face. Trying to wipe any ounce of distress away from it like he can't bear to see you look so sad a second longer.

"I know-I know I'm sorry. I'm okay, I'm here right?"

"I just-" Your words get caught in your throat. They come out thick with emotion and Steve's brows furrow together like his in pain. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way it makes your chest shake.

"I have this horrible feeling...that we aren't going to be as lucky this time"

"Don't- Don't say that."

Your hands reach up to cradle his own on your face. You try to burn the feeling of him into your memory. Just in case this is the last time you'll be able to feel them. Just in case you're about to ruin everything. You pull his hands away and hold them out in front of you, taking his face in. Bloody, grimy and bruised yet he looks just as beautiful as he always does.

"I heard what you said to Nancy earlier."

His heart sinks a little bit. He isn't sure why. He can't tell if he's embarrassed that you heard it, that you might think it's some stupid pipe dream you would never want any part of. Worse, he thinks about you wanting that. Wanting it with him, and something horrible happening that would tear that possibility away.

"Oh."

"I think if anyone deserves that Winnebago, the road trip...the family. I think it's you. Anyone would be lucky to get that with you."

There's that warmth again. Spreading across his chest and up to his cheeks as he flushes. He opens his mouth, he begs his brain to come up with anything to say but he can't. Not when the sun is setting behind you and he swears the way the light shines into the RV makes you look like an angel.

"I know...that you want that with someone. And I'm so sorry if this just ruins everything and you can't ever look at me the same after this but...I don't want to die-"

"I'm not going to let that happen-"

He doesn't just mean something happening to you. He wouldn't let anything ruin you two. Steve thinks he would wallow in pain and misery forever as long as he got to keep you. He wishes he had words to explain that to you, wishes he had been better in English so he could formulate poems and novels about how he feels about you.

"What if we can't stop it? I wouldn't be at peace if you didn't know. If something happens to me-and if there is a 'better place' out there...I hope I wake up in a Winnebago. On the shore somewhere sunny and warm. I hope you're there...and I hope you're surrounded by kids that look just like us."

He grabs desperately at your face. One of his hands reaching up to brush your hair out of your face.

"Why can't we have that in this life?"

You swear you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. You can feel the blood rushing through your veins and even so close to the possibility of death you've never felt more alive.

"Is that what you want?"

"Angel that's all I want"

You kiss his palms as he rests his forehead against yours. You pray to whatever force is out there that you have done enough good in this life to be granted a moment of peace in the sun when this is all over.

[cybersunnie]

BILLY THE KID x F!READER listened to bite the hand by boygenius and am thinking thoughts of angsty sex with billy. (17+)

you didn't want to call it quits with billy.

you knew the type of man he was, the type of life he had, but you loved him dearly, wholeheartedly. he got into brawls before, but it doubled when you became his girl. it got so bad that it happened almost nightly. he'd show up at your doorstep with bruised knuckles, and you'd learn it was because someone spoke ill of you, and billy being billy, he couldn't just sit there and not do anything about it.

"honey, it's not gonna happen again," billy rushed to say, words bleeding together, a sense of urgency in his voice. he may be an outlaw, a killer, to many in the public, but right now, he was just a man, soul-bared and eyes pleading. "i swear, it won't."

you wanted to believe him. "you said that last time."

billy stayed silent, tongue-tied.

"i'm doing this for you," you whispered. were you? or were you just afraid? "i don't want you getting hurt 'cause of me, billy—i bring nothing but trouble."

your words stumped him. trouble? you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

"we can talk about this more in the morning, yeah?" billy prodded as he tried to buy some time. when you seemed unsure, he cradled your face, palms rough with callouses, but his touch gentle. "c'mon, let's sleep on it, okay? let's go to bed."

oh, how were you supposed to deny him?

once your back hit the mattress, he kissed you—soft and desperate—his strong arms wrapped around you in fear you would run off, but like always, you melted into him. as he stripped you of your clothing, billy whispered to you, to the gods above, about how much he loved you.

"i love you, baby," he breathed, smoothing the goosebumps on your skin with his large hands. "i love you so much."

he spoke the words so softly that it ached your heart. you couldn't love him how he wanted you to. the worst part was that billy didn't care—as long as he had you, nothing else mattered.

he peppered you with kisses, lips dragging across every inch of your body, each one a silent plead for you to stay with him. you felt overwhelmed, undeserving. you didn't deserve him. billy held you tightly, his hands molded into your flesh where they belonged. and he fucked you nice and slow, too, his face tucked away in the crook of your neck, his hands holding yours. he fucked you as if it was his last time, trying to remember how you feel wrapped around him, all snug and warm.

"stay," billy whispered, pressing a kiss on your neck before leaning back. you swore, even in the shadows, you saw tears in his eyes. "i'll do better, baby, i promise."

you didn't say anything back. if you did, you would utter, "i'll stay.” a lie, and you couldn't lie to him. so you captured his lips with yours and gave him a kiss that said everything you needed: a goodbye. billy must have understood because he only kissed back you harder.

author's note: you might be thinking: sunnie, this doesn't match the song AT ALL!! and all i have to say is..... yeah, you right. but i'm so tempted to write a proper fic with this concept, like i'm gonna stay up all night writing.

— NOT PROOFREAD : 01.14.2024

[hitomisuzuya]

NSFW Yandere!Fatui! Scaramouche x Fatui!fem! reader. Headcanons. Smut. Scara falling in love. Totally self indulgent. Obsessive and possessive behavior. Mind break. Choking.

a/n: Good evening, everyone. Requests should be open in about 6 days❤️ Please enjoy.

Tagging @xxventiswindblumexx @kichikichiko

Scaramouche had a lot of pride.

So when he first saw you, it shook him up. Rattled him to his very core.

The first thing he noticed about you was your height. You were shorter than him. It annoyed him.

The second was your scent. All it took was for a soft breeze to ruffle against your hair for you scent to assault his senses. You smelt so good it disgusted him, like lavender and jasmine.

The third was sound of your voice. It was like soothing honey, sweet in his ears. A pleasant sound in his ear drums. He hated that he liked it.

And then there was that thing you did that drove him instantly crazy. Whenever you thinking or trying to concentrate, you would always mess with your lower lip somehow, commonly biting it to help you think.

He hated that he noticed you always seemed to do it around him, especially when he spoke. It was like you were flustered. He didn't know when he started to enjoy making you flustered.

Your smile was what shook him up the most. It was gentle and accepting, without any pity. Scaramouche had never seen anyone smile like that. Much less at him.

He supposed his obsession started when you stood up to him for the first time.

But he couldn't be sure because now he was always looking for ways to have your attention. Having you transferred onto his squad. By now he was sure you noticed some things disappearing from your quarters. Some clothes, some books, other miscellaneous items. He did that when he felt you weren't giving him enough attention.

It would force you to seek him out and give him attention. It was a common habit he used because he wanted your attention all the time.

He hated that he always wanted you around him every second of the day.

But he didn't hold it against himself much. You were a pest, a nuisance bothering him. But he needed to see you, smell you, to find some way to brush up against you accidentally on purpose and then snap at you that you should watch where you are going because you bumped into him.

Especially to hear your voice. Which is what he enjoyed hearing the most when you stood up to him the first time.

Scaramouche had been knocking around his subordinates out of frustration. Stupid people problems, not his.

But you. You had the nerve to go around tending to their wounds. He didn't understand you at all. "Quit it, they don't deserve the treatment. Stupidity is undeserving of your disgusting consideration."

"Stop barking, Scara. You are the one saying everyone always runs their mouth around you and yet you run yours just as much like a petulant brat."

You'd called him Scara. A pet name. He hated pet names. But he would love it if you called him pet names. He hated that too.

Call him Master instead.

Bruises of possession were starting to form on your skin. Now he was taking advantage of your obvious feelings for him. He liked to use them as a weapon against you just so he could kiss you and taste you. But it never went beyond that. Scara was one to take intimacy slowly. It was a deep thing for him and he was already reeling around you.

Things have an interesting way of backfiring on Scaramouche.

The first time is when he slipped up and admitted his feelings for you indirectly in front of his subordinates. You were patching them up again.

"I thought I told you to cut that out. I am starting to think you are deaf. If you keep coddling them like that, they are going to fall in love with you like dedicated dogs, drooling all over you."

He said that like he wasn't drooling over you already. He actually wiped his mouth a little. "I don't understand you. You are disgustingly kind and considerate. You are a filthy killer for the Fatui with enough power to make you a Harbinger, but you don't seem interested. Why? You would have even more power to fling around like you do."

"I don't want to hear you running your mouth about dogs when you are the one barking again, Scara. Admit to me that you are jealous. It will make it easier and less painful to watch."

Your response gave him such a thrill. He wanted to grab you and kiss you. Fuck you into knowing your place.

"Shut your mouth, slut." He thought he saw your eyes light up in an aroused way. Oh? Really?

Scaramouche needed to mark you up a little more after that. He needed everyone to see his obsessive possession for you bleed onto your skin a little more, deeper and darker than the last.

People were already starting to talk. They were saying you were his personal fuck toy, one specially kept by the Harbinger. And in a way, they were right, you were going to be his fuck toy.

The second backfire was worse than the first.

You'd walked on him while he had a fit of sexual frustration. He'd thinking so many lewd things about you.

Scaramouche was thinking how what you would look like while he made you fall apart tongue fucking you, begging, crying, and whining for him to let you cum, riding his tongue, your thighs squeezing desperately on the either side of his head.

At that point his hand wasn't enough.

But there you were, handing yourself to him on a silver platter for him to finally take.

You were all he ever thought about.

Scaramouche knew your mind was very fragile and broken just like his. It was time to break your mind into a thousand little fragments, shattering easily underneath his feet while he fucked you.

He would remold you to better suit him.

"Strip! Get over here and help me. Hurry up, slut, I don't have any patience left!"

You did just as you were told. What a good girl he already had.

Scaramouche was harsh with his degradation.

He pinned you down on the bed, one hang squeezing your thigh tight enough to bruise while he fingered you. You could only moan and buck your hips into his fingers.

And he never shut up. He knew you enjoyed the sound of his voice. And that he knew you liked being degraded, he used both of those qualities against you purely for his own benefit. And for your pleasure too, of course.

"You were so eager to open your legs like a whore for me. I bet you would done that on the first day we met and believe me I wanted to. Don't you know that I have been obsessively stalking you for months, you stupid fucking slut?!"

You screamed and babbled incoherent sentences.

Break break break. Shatter shatter shatter. The fragments of your mind cracked easily for him.

Scaramouche was laying into you harder than he intended, fucking the frustration he felt with the fact that you'd forced him to take possession on a whim, a snap decision of passion that he couldn't control.

You were just that fucking irresistible that he couldn't fight it anymore. He was amazed that he held out as long as he did.

Scaramouche was dizzy and even more obsessed when you let him wrap his hand around your pretty throat and squeeze. You trusted him that much. Instantly. Even begging for more when he let go.

"Harder, Scara, it makes me see stars! I'm close! Please let me cum!" You pleaded.

"Call me Master, slut! And then I will give you the privilege of cumming on my cock like the slut that you are!"

With every thrust and harsh word, his grip on your body increased. He wanted to swallow you whole, his fingers shattering your mind and molding you to him as he blew the fragments into dust in the wind.

You stopped hearing yourself after you started screaming his name. You'd so tired of always thinking and overthinking. Your mind was a blissful blank quiet. You did call him Master. The more you screamed it while you orgasmed the tighter his possessive grip on you got.

Quiet quiet.

"That's right, slut. Stop thinking and serve your purpose as my cock sleeve. It's your purpose now! You learned your place quickly!"

You were all his now.

It's what you always wanted.

[xrollingmyeyesx]

⌯ Smut Drabble 18+

↝🌸 pairing: Recom!Quaritch x Fem!Human!Reader

↝🌸 warnings: dubious consent (until the end), unedited, mentions of rough sex, p in v, recom!miles deserves its own warning lol

Masterlist

↝🌸 notes: This is unedited random stuff in my drafts, I feel really bad about not getting stuff out. Sorry it is short, I will try to get more stuff out. The chronic part of chronic illness is killer. Love y’all bunches 🤍🍯

I don’t really like Miles Quaritch but

Recom Miles Quaritch is feral for human women after changing into his new Avatar body. He probably tries getting off with his fellow recombinant women, but he thinks they just don’t feel the same. He definitely craves the softness of human women, the delicate curves and supple skin. He definitely prefers their rounded breasts, nipples pink and pert and filling his hands.

Recom Miles Quaritch definitely follows you, one of the only human women who has expressed interest in the recoms, around the compound, whole time thinkin’ you don’t notice his hulking blue form around every corner.

Recom Miles Quaritch who scents you when you walk past, greedy eyes following the sway of your hips with each step in the pretty heels you always wear. Recom Miles Quaritch definitely touches himself thinking about you in just those heels, the little red soles thrown behind his pointed ears as he gets to finally sate his craving.

Recom Miles Quaritch who gets hard just from hearing your voice. He hears you mumble, “Yes, Please,” to the line server at dinner one night and has to leave hungry because of the rising need.

Recom Miles Quaritch who can’t stop imagining sinking his new and improved canine teeth into the soft, supple flesh of your ass. Who imagines leaving little purple marks and red splotches on two rounded cheeks.

Recom Miles Quaritch who can’t stay away, who sneaks into your room at the Hell’s Gate barracks and waits, like a predator stalking prey, for you to get home from work. Recom Miles Quaritch who waits till you enter the kitchen to jump, to press your full chest to the cold metal of the kitchen counter top, maneuvering your hands above your head.

Recom Miles Quaritch who pulls your hear, who moans against the shell of your ear as you gasp underneath his heavy weight.

“Fuck, I can’t help it baby, been craving ya’ all day.”

Recom Miles Quaritch who can’t take you slowly, who barely eases his swollen head into your cunt before slamming home with a satisfied grunt. Recom Miles Quaritch who ruts like an animal, who isn’t in control of his baser, alien instincts yet. He doesn’t slow for your benefit, doesn’t slow to account for new size and your much, much smaller one.

Recom Miles Quaritch who swallows your moans, who slots his mouth over yours to quiet your cries as he claims you in the middle of your own barracks. Recom Miles Quaritch who craves the soft “unh, unh” sound you make with each thrust home.

Recom Miles Quaritch who comes fast, whose new body doesn’t have the experience his consciousness does. Like a school boy, Recom Miles Quaritch comes before he’s ready, with a pained grunt and warm seed heating your belly, spilling out from you around his length and pooling on the counter below.

Recom Miles Quaritch who cleans you up after, but of course has to use his mouth. Who needs a wash cloth when he can just slide his tongue in between your puffy folds, sucking at that little bundle until you’re grasping at him, eyes rolled back in your head and begging him to let you finish.

Recom Miles Quaritch who makes you come with his mouth than once before he really cleans you up. He might be an asshole, but he never leaves a woman unsatisfied.

Recom Miles Quaritch who secretly likes cuddles after sex, who drags you to his bed and holds you hostage until you convince him to shower.

Recom Miles Quaritch who always checks your color, who never lets you pass yellow and whispers soft words to you the rest of the night.

[sanjiafterhours]

Punk Hazard fashion evaluation

(not considering the fillers)

(1) Robin had the best fits in the whole arc. Both her flowy tops are a hit, even her floral inner top was so cute too. The cherry red top fit she wears while leaving punk hazard failed a bit because of the pants, looked like generic millennial style. But both her coats were stylish and unique, and there were lots of variations in her wardrobe 9/10.

Robin's cutie bear coat deserves a separate mention. Gives very aquarius vibe, it's unique quirky and unisex but she also looks good. That's very aquarian, and she's on point with her zodiac!

(2) Sanji : i love his orange S coat i think the palette really complements his beautiful hair without overpowering it. Meanwhile his gray shirt this arc was super elegant in color, it brought out his features very well. All fits coordinated and compliments his features sexy and immaculate i love him 12/10

(3) Luffy : PH Luffy has a very bright and youthful style. I loved the dominance of red and complementing pink hues in his fit the whole arc. His PH style was like him : bright upbeat and vivid. But with each fit the sandals stayed and that makes him an icon idk anyway 8/10 Plus +

I know it's not a fit, but Momonosuke wrapped around luffy is a vibe and it gave paris fashion week 💯

Killer Fit mentions :

Zoro's mint coat was pretty, the palette complements with his usual clothing and his hair! Love the soft brown contrast with his otherwise all green/mint fit, the brown matches his shoes and swords well! Overall very harmonious

[cloudss-space]

i humbly request misaki in the midst of all the ronin fics (lovely btw!) misaki x reader where misaki is coming back from a mission to them and reader’s shared home…. 🫶 thank you for all your hard work!!!

Baking gone... right?

( killer chat ) misaki x reader ... fluff ...

author's note: hello hello and merry christams ! tis the season and for this ask i did a bit of a holiday special, enjoy <3 I also ended up only using they/them for misaki as that is easier for me. trigger warning:

mention of guns / murder

The city is alive with an unnatural hum, its veins pulsing with desperation and betrayal. Misaki stands on the edge of a crumbling rooftop. The wind pulls at their dark hair like ghostly fingers. Their silhouette is sharp against the dull glow of distant neon. Their rifle feels like a cold weight in their hands, a grim reminder of the choice they've made. For their parents. For the debt that strangled their family like a noose. For survival.

The target is a shadow framed by the dim light of an office window. They move slowly and methodically, unaware of the unseen eyes that track them with the precision of a predator. Misaki's breath is steady, a practiced calm that belies the storm raging within. They do not think of morality or the life they are about to take; such thoughts are a luxury they cannot afford. Their thoughts are fixed on the faces of their loved ones, the fear etched into their parents' features when they spoke of collectors, threats and the possibility of losing everything.

The rifle's scope brings the world into unnerving clarity, the target's face suddenly too close, too human. Misaki's finger hovers over the trigger. Their body is tense with anticipation. They know this person is not innocent. They've built their fortune on the suffering of others, pulling strings that wrapped tighter around the necks of people like Misaki's family. It doesn't make the act easier, but it makes it bearable.

The city holds its breath as Misaki's finger finally presses down. The shot rings out, sharp and final, cutting through the night like a scream. The target crumples, a puppet whose strings have been severed, and the world exhales again, but this time it feels heavier. Misaki lowers the rifle, their hands trembling despite their resolve. The job is done. The debt, perhaps, will be erased. But at what cost?

They slip away into the shadows, their movements quick and silent, their heart pounding in their chest like a trapped bird. The streets blur around them as they navigate the labyrinthine alleyways. Their thoughts are a chaotic whirl of relief, guilt, and the aching need to see you. They need to feel your touch, your warmth, to remind themselves that they are still human despite the blood on their hands.

When they reach the apartment, their body is clearly tired from the night. The key feels foreign in their fingers as they unlock the door, stepping inside to the familiar warmth of your shared home. It smells faintly of lavender and rain, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of gunpowder clinging to their clothes.

They stand in the doorway, breathing shallowly, shoulders slumped, as though the very act of existing is too much. And then they see you—waiting, your face lighting up the moment you notice them. They don't feel they deserve this light, but it pulls them in like a lifeline.

When the door opens, you are immediately engulfed by their presence. Misaki's scent is unmistakable: gunpowder and rain, a heady mix that clings to their clothes and skin. Their breath is warm, their face flushed with the adrenaline of the hunt, their lips curling into a small, tired smile.

"Miss me?" they whisper, their voice low and roughened by the cold, yet soft in its affection. They don't wait for an answer; they never do. Their lips press against your cheek, your jaw, your neck—gentle, eager, frantic. Each kiss feels like a promise, like they're trying to erase the distance that the mission carved between you.

Their hands are firm yet careful, pulling you closer, grounding you in their touch. You melt into them, the tension in your body dissolving as they press their forehead against yours, their dark hair falling like silk against your skin. Their eyes—soft and tired but full of something that burns just for you—lock onto yours.

"I'm here," they say, their voice a quiet reassurance, a reminder that they always come back. Their lips meet yours in a slow, deep kiss, surrender and claim in one powerful move. Their hands find your back and the heat of their palms is felt through your shirt, igniting a warmth that spreads through your chest.

The world outside fades—the cold, the city, the weight of their mission—none of it matters anymore. There is only Misaki, their presence filling the room, their touch erasing every doubt, every fear. They pull back just enough to look at you, their gaze soft and steady, their expression laced with something raw and vulnerable.

"You're my safe place," they whisper, and there's a weight to their words that makes your heart ache. They have seen and done so much, but here, in your arms, they let it all fall away.

They guide you to the couch, their arms still wrapped around you, as if letting go would mean losing something precious. You sink into the cushions, and they follow, curling against you like a cat seeking warmth. Their kisses never stop, soft presses of their lips against your temple, your hairline, the tip of your nose. Each one is a declaration of love, an unspoken "I love you" in every touch.

Their fingers tangle in your hair, their thumb brushing your cheek in slow, soothing circles. Their tension eases as their body releases the weight of the day. They nuzzle into the crook of your neck, their breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the faint tremor of their exhale, like they're finally letting themselves breathe.

"You're everything to me," they murmur, the words muffled against your collarbone, but the sincerity in their voice is unmistakable. They kiss you again, soft and lingering, their lips tasting of rain and something bittersweet.

Time slows, the moments stretching out like golden threads, weaving a tapestry of warmth and belonging. The apartment feels smaller now, cozier, the walls closing in just enough to make the space intimate, sacred.

Misaki's voice is a quiet hum as they tell you about the mission, their words laced with exhaustion but also relief that it's over and that they're here with you. Their hands are constantly moving, brushing against your skin, holding you close and anchoring them in your presence.

You trace your fingers along their arm, over the muscles that still carry the tension of their task, over the soft fabric of their jacket. They shiver slightly under your touch, leaning into you, their eyes fluttering shut.

"Don't ever let me go," they say, their voice barely audible, but carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken things. You tighten your hold on them, your lips pressing against their hair in silent reassurance.

Misaki stirs after a minute, the lingering traces of their kisses still on your skin like a soft, comforting haze. Their dark lashes flutter open, revealing eyes that are playful and full of life. They shift slightly, wrapping their arms tighter around you as they let out a small, satisfied sigh, nuzzling into your neck for one last moment of closeness before lifting their head to meet your gaze.

"Okay, okay," they say, their voice teasingly laced with lilt, "I've kissed you enough for now. But it's the holiday season, so let's do something cute. The words tumble out, their mischievous energy palpable, and you feel a smile tug at the corners of your lips, drawn in by their warmth.

Misaki sits up, their messy hair catching the faint glow of the holiday lights strung across the living room. Their excitement is palpable as they tug at your hands, leading you into the kitchen. "Cookies," they announce, their tone definitive. "We're making cookies. Festive ones. But, you know, our style."

You follow them, their enthusiasm infectious, and soon the kitchen is alive with the soft clatter of bowls and utensils, the hum of the oven warming up, and the faint scent of vanilla and sugar. Misaki pulls out ingredients with a rush, their movements quick and uncoordinated but full of charm.

"I have ideas," they say, their voice low with conspiratorial glee. They hold up a bag of frosting tubes like a weapon arsenal, their expression so serious it's comical. "And by 'ideas,' I mean meme cookies. Obviously."

You raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "Meme cookies?" you repeat, watching as they grin like a mischievous child who's just gotten away with something.

"Oh, you'll see," they reply cryptically, already spreading flour across the counter. They hand you a rolling pin, their fingers brushing yours in a way that makes your heart flutter, and together, you begin rolling out the dough.

The kitchen quickly becomes a delightful mess of scattered flour, sticky dough, and half-filled bowls of icing in various colours. Misaki hums holiday songs under their breath, occasionally breaking into an off-key rendition of lyrics they clearly don't know, and you laugh.

"Behold!" they exclaim, holding up a cookie like it's a masterpiece. It's a mess, with icing dripping off the sides, but they're so proud that it's impossible to say anything but, "It's perfect."

Misaki beams at your words, leaning over to smear a bit of frosting onto your cheek with a cheeky grin. "Perfectly cursed", they retort, laughing as you swipe some frosting onto their nose in retaliation.

The two of you work side by side, creating increasingly absurd cookies, each one more ridiculous than the last. The holiday season fades into the background; the only thing that matters is the shared laughter, the playful teasing, and the way Misaki occasionally leans over to steal a quick kiss, their lips sticky with frosting but sweet nonetheless.

The kitchen smells of vanilla and sugar, warm and inviting, with the faintest hint of burned edges—evidence of a learning curve you know too well. Misaki stands at the counter, their dark hair pulled back messily, flour dusting their sleeves and a streak of icing smudged across their cheek. They've been at this for hours, as the chaos strewn across the counters attests: spilled sugar, bowls of half-mixed icing and cookie cutters in shapes that seem oddly specific.

On the cooling rack, an army of absurd creations awaits. The first one you notice is a bold, green cookie shaped into the unmistakable face of Pepe the Frog. The icing is uneven, the lines of his doleful expression wobbling as if drawn by a hand more accustomed to precision than playfulness. It's charming, though, in its imperfection, the work of someone who's trying to make you smile.

Next to Pepe is a cookie shaped like the iconic crewmate from Among Us. The icing is a glossy red, with a tiny, painstakingly detailed visor made of shimmering blue. Misaki's drawing of a tiny, exaggerated knife sticking out of its back is a tribute to their mischievous sense of humour.

There are others too, including one that looks vaguely like a Shiba Inu, with orange icing that is uneven but unmistakable as a homage to Doge. Another cookie resembles the grinning face of the Troll meme, its expression so ridiculous you can't suppress your giggle. Misaki notices and turns to you, their smile sheepish but proud, their eyes glinting with a mix of embarrassment and affection.

"I thought you'd like them," they say, their voice soft and hesitant, as if unsure whether this effort has hit its mark. You step closer, reaching out to pluck one of the cookies off the rack—the Troll face—and take a bite. The sweetness of sugar and butter melts on your tongue, but it's the care behind the gesture that truly fills you with warmth.

"These are ridiculous," you say, a mouthful of crumbs, your grin wide and unguarded. Misaki snorts, crossing their arms but failing to hide the smile that tugs at their lips.

They lean against the counter, watching you inspect the rest of their creations. There's a cookie shaped like the "Crying Cat" meme, its eyes two uneven pools of blue icing, and another that looks like the Galaxy Brain meme, though its swirled purple and pink design suggests they gave up halfway through.

"How'd you even come up with this?" you ask, waving a cookie shaped like Wojak in their direction. Misaki shrugs, the corner of their mouth quirking up in a smirk.

"I wanted to make you laugh," they admit, their voice quiet but steady. "You've been stressed, and I thought—well, cookies are supposed to help, right? Even if they look... like this." They gesture at the chaos, their hands fluttering as if to encompass the absurdity of their creations.

You set the cookie down and close the space between you, slipping your arms around their waist. They freeze for a moment, surprised by your sudden closeness, but then they relax, their arms wrapping around you in return.

"They're perfect," you murmur, your voice muffled against their shoulder. Misaki's laugh is soft, almost disbelieving, but it's accompanied by the way they tighten their hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Perfectly cursed," they tease, their tone light and warm, reflecting the contentment that settles between you like a blanket.

You pull back just enough to meet their gaze, your fingers brushing away the streak of icing on their cheek. Their eyes meet yours, steady and tender, and their expression softens in a way that makes your heart ache with affection.

"Thank you," you say, the weight of your words palpable. Misaki nods, their smile small but genuine, and they lean in to press their lips to yours, a kiss that tastes faintly of sugar and something sweeter.

The two of you spend the rest of the evening sampling the cookies, laughing at their absurdity and debating which meme was the most cursed. Misaki insists the Among Us one is the funniest, while you're partial to the lopsided Crying Cat.

By the time the the early morning comes in, the kitchen is a mess, the cookies are half-eaten, and the air is filled with the sound of your laughter. Misaki pulls you onto the couch, their arms wrapping around you as they bury their face in your hair, their breath warm against your skin.

"You're worth all the chaos," they murmur, their voice soft but steady. You smile, leaning into them, your heart full, knowing that even in their most ridiculous gestures, Misaki's love shines through.

You shake your head, smiling as you reach for a cookie. It's misshapen and covered in garish frosting, but it tastes perfect—a mix of sweetness and laughter, chaos and love. Misaki watches you eat, their expression softening, and they lean closer, pressing a frosting-laden kiss to your temple.

"Best holiday ever," they murmur, and you know they're right.

Misaki turns to you, a sheepish grin tugging at their lips. There's a smudge of chocolate on their cheek, and their sleeves are rolled up unevenly, revealing forearms speckled with tiny traces of batter. They're holding a spatula like it's a weapon, as if preparing to fight off whatever judgment you might bring. Their eyes meet yours, revealing a hint of worry beneath their usual calm exterior.

"I didn't burn it," they declare triumphantly, waving the spatula like a flag of victory. Their voice conveys relief, tempered by the realisation of how close they came to disaster. You raise a brow, glancing at the slightly charred edges of a few cookies resting on the cooling rack.

"I almost didn't burn it," you tease, your voice light but affectionate. Misaki groans, tossing the spatula onto the counter dramatically before leaning back against the edge. Their cheeks are slightly flushed, a mix of exertion and embarrassment, and it makes your chest ache with fondness.

"I swear," they begin, gesturing vaguely at the oven as if it betrayed them. "This thing has a vendetta against me. I followed the recipe exactly, and it still tried to catch fire."

Your laughter bubbles up, filling the room with the warmth of the oven. Misaki huffs, their pout exaggerated, but the corners of their mouth twitch upward in response to your joy. They reach for a towel to wipe their hands, their movements careful, as if even they can't believe they survived their baking adventure unscathed.

"Did you have the fire extinguisher ready?" you ask, stepping closer to survey the damage—or lack thereof. Misaki raises a finger, as if to make a point, but their expression falters and they glance toward the corner where the extinguisher sits, untouched.

"Well, let's just say I trusted my instincts," they admit, a mischievous glint returning to their eyes. You shake your head, laughing, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out to swipe the chocolate smudge from their cheek. Your fingers linger for a moment, the gesture tender and reassuring.

"Your instincts were lucky this time," you say, your tone softening. Misaki's grin widens and they lean into your touch just slightly, their eyes holding yours like they're memorising the way you look in this moment.

They step aside, revealing the finished cookies arranged in chaotic clusters on a tray. Among the creations are meme-inspired disasters: a lopsided Pepe, a slightly melted Among Us crewmate, and a crying cat whose tears have merged into one large, mournful streak. Despite their imperfections, they radiate charm, evidence of Misaki's earnest effort to make you smile.

"I wanted it to be special," they say confidently, their voice revealing a rare vulnerability. "For you."

Their sincerity envelops you like a blanket, instantly dispelling any annoyance you might have felt about the potential kitchen disaster. You step closer, your arms around their waist, and they laugh, surprised, before pulling you into their warmth.

"It is special," you murmur, your cheek pressed against their shoulder. "Because it's you."

They hold you tightly, their hands splayed across your back, grounding themselves in your presence. The mess in the kitchen fades into the background; the steady rhythm of their breathing and the quiet hum of contentment fills the space between you.

When you pull away, their smile is softer, their eyes shining with affection. Misaki tilts her head, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before grabbing one of the cookies. They hold it up like a trophy, their grin returning in full force.

"Try it," they urge, their excitement palpable. You bite into the cookie, the sweetness coating your tongue, and though the edges are a little crunchy, it's perfect because of the love that went into it.

Misaki watches your reaction intently, their own tension melting away as you give them a thumbs-up. They grab a cookie, bite into it with a proud nod, as if they've conquered a mountain instead of narrowly avoiding a kitchen fire.

The next hour is spent sampling their creations, laughing at their chaotic designs and cleaning up the disaster they've left in their wake. By the time the last tray is stacked away, the kitchen is spotless, the air filled with the lingering scent of sugar, and your hearts are full.

Misaki pulls you into their arms one last time, their lips brushing against your temple as they whisper, "Thanks for not judging me too hard."

You laugh, burying your face in their chest. "Thanks for not burning the place down."

Their laughter joins yours, a sound so warm and genuine it feels like sunlight breaking through a storm. Surrounded by the remnants of their effort and the love that fills every corner of your shared space, you know that no matter how messy things get, there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

[loveandmurders]

hiii i was soo happy to read an amber freeman fic cuz theres not a lot so thank you, do you think you could write for her again? like pre-ghostface amber and reader fluff?

Hello darling! It's true Amber deserves more love, so I hope you'll enjoy this <3

LIFE USED TO BE SO SOFT (Amber Freeman x gender neutral reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, fluff.

It was Halloween, and you were really excited about it. Your girlfriend, Amber, too. And you both couldn’t wait for tonight fun.

You had planned quite a lot of stuff to do together, like each year, because it was your favourite holiday to both of you. First you had spotted a party near your house which was happening in a so-called “haunted house”. You thought it could be very fun to spend some time there, and you hoped for good music and some drinks. 

Then, when you would both be tired of this, you planned a little walk hand in hand, especially into the cemetery of the town. You knew you wouldn’t be the only one there, but it was alright, you could always hide in the darkness and make out until you would be on your own once again. You would try very hard to not get too heated on anyone’s tomb, because it wouldn’t be very respectful… But sometimes love and desire were making you do crazy stuff, and it wouldn’t be your fault, right? 

And finally, to finish off the night, you were going to watch movies together, in bed, with your favourite snacks and soda, all cuddled up against each other. Of course, the first movie you were going to watch was Stab, because Amber was absolutely obsessed with it, and especially of Billy Loomis and Stuart Matcher. You often teased her about it, but you didn’t mind. You were yourself completely obsessed with the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, so you couldn’t really say anything about it.

Amber had pleaded with you so you could both dress up as Ghostface, and hence incarnate Billy and Stu. After a lot of kisses and sweet words, she convinced you to let go of your idea to dress as Tiffany Valentine/Charles Lee Ray to put on the robe and mask of Ghostface. You had never seen her that excited before and it totally made your heart melt with happiness and cuteness. Amber could be so adorable when she was like that, like a puppy.

At least, you wouldn’t need to care about any kind of makeup or hairstyles or anything. You just put sport clothes underneath, to be able to run and freely move around, and to not get too cold either. You didn’t really know where Amber found those costumes but you didn’t really care. The mask was surprisingly comfortable, and you could see and breathe without troubles. Even better, you could move around without fearing to lose the mask. You were a little bit surprised when Amber showed you how to switch the voice changer. It felt like it was a real Ghostface costume. You asked her how much she paid for those, but she chuckled.

“A killer needs to keep their secret” she replied with a little wink and you playfully rolled your eyes at her antics.

“I’m gonna start to be afraid of you, if you keep talking that way” you teased back and she wrapped her arms around your waist, softly nuzzling her nose against yours, her eyes shining with love for you.

“Nah, you know I love you too much to hurt you” she whispered and it sounded a lot like a promise.

“I love you too, always and forever” you replied which made her brightly smile at you.

You loved how passionate she was. She was so fierce too. And you found this so attractive. Actually, you met at the cinema during a horror movie projection. You were sitting next to each other and you quickly realised you were both having the same reaction, and rooting for the slasher on screen. You invited her to have a drink at the end of the movie and she happily agreed. You got along so well, and then everything between the two of you happened so naturally. You were made for each other and you were both certain of this. She was a very caring girlfriend to you.

You played around with the voice changer and you had to admit it was really fun! No one could guess it was the two of you that way. And you did feel like you were truly one of the characters of Stab.

Amber also gave you a knife to finish the costumes off. They were real knives and it worried you. You didn’t want to walk around with a weapon in your hands. You knew that the cops were always on edge with Halloween and you didn’t want to hurt someone or yourself by accident. She tried to tell you it was alright, but you refused and bought retractable knives for the two of you. Amber seemed very disappointed but she finally agreed. 

You truly hoped she took the knife you got her, and not the real one. You noticed that sometimes she seemed to not make the difference between reality and fiction. Sometimes, she was so engrossed with her Stab’s obsession, that she didn’t seem to realise that real people died. It was a little bit scary, but you still loved her with everything you had.

As usual, Halloween evening went by so fast. You screamed, you laughed, you danced, you kissed your girlfriend in dark corners, you scared people off, and you playfully threatened others for candies.

Under the full moon, you walked in the darkest streets you could find, so you could be on your own with Amber. You heard in the distance some excited screams and loud music. You really loved this atmosphere. 

Amber never let go of your hand. Not because she was afraid - it seemed like nothing could scare her - but because she wanted to make sure you were truly there, with her. Sometimes, she thought you were too good to be real. But you didn’t know about such thoughts.

You finally removed the mask, so you could enjoy the fresh air on your face. She looked up at you and you smiled down at her. You were so happy to have her in your life. Things seemed so perfect and you hoped that nothing would ever happen to the two of you. You wished to never wake up from this beautiful dream.

“Enjoyed yourself, baby?” you asked “Ready to go watch some movie together now? My feet start to hurt” you added. You just wanted to go back home now. She turned on the voice changer of the mask she was still wearing.

“It’s all a movie. Life’s one great big movie.” she hummed and you playfully rolled your eyes at her, like you often did.

“Only you can’t pick the genre” you ended the quote and she happily squealed next to you. She squeezed your hand.

“You remember it so well!” she praised and you laughed.

“I don’t know how many times you made me watch that movie, but it’s certain that I know all the lines by heart now. Hope you are proud of you” you teased as you wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She snuggled against your side and let her head fall on your shoulder as she trusted you to bring her back home.

“I love you” she hummed as she removed the mask

“I love you too” you kissed her cheek and she hugged your side even more closely. 

She stayed quiet after that. You were never too sure what she was thinking then, but you weren’t too worried. Your girlfriend was a good person, just a little bit obsessed that was it. Even though you sometimes wondered when she said stuff like “Billy and Stu must have had so much fun. I mean the real ones. They understood everything so well.”

But you loved her too much to believe she could kill anyone. Especially not you.

[goose-duck]

♡Our World♡ (pt. 3)

Killer x Reader

In this part reader takes Killer shopping :D

Killer from One Piece but he's in our world and meets u

Pt 2 Pt 4

~~~~~~

I woke up still in Killer’s strong arms. It's now late morning, around 11:30. I look up at him and stufy his face…it's beautiful. He has a sharper facial structure but his sleeping face looks so soft. I raise my hand up to his face, gently brushing some of his hair out of his face and smiling at him. He's real…he's really here…and in my bed…wow…how did I even manage this? I guess the universe said I deserve something good for once. How kind, thanks universe.

He starts to stir awake after feeling me move his hair. I smile up at him as he opens his eyes, “good morning…” he's a little groggy and confused but smiles at me too, “good morning.” He shifts a bit, letting me go and sitting up in the bed. “How'd you sleep?” I ask while following him in sitting up and stretching. I feel his eyes on me as my shirt lifts a bit when I stretch. He then pokes my stomach and I let out a small shocked noise and give him a playful glare. “I slept well.” He says, giggling under his breath at the sound I'd made when he poked me. I reach over to poke him back but instead of the reaction I wanted he just smiled softly at me. I groaned and gave him an annoyed look before getting out of bed. He soon follows, getting out of the bed and following me out to the kitchen.

In the kitchen he gives me an awkward look, remembering my severe lack of food. I look back at him, realizing he probably doesn't want to eat the crap I've grown to get used to. I give him an award smile before speaking, “uh…I don't really have food…I'm sure you remember…I uh…hm…uhhhh…you're already dressed. Give me a few minutes, I'll go get dressed and we can go buy food….and buy you some more clothes since I don't think you want to wear those the whole time you're here. He nods, “okay, I'll wait here then.” He leans against a wall in the kitchen and watches as I leave to my room to get changed. 

I decide not to bother with trying to look good, it doesn't really matter, just a quick shopping trip. I throw on some decent clothes and stare at myself in the mirror for a few seconds, I can only sigh when I see my hair, not willing to even brush it right now…maybe later…I should shower later…that's always so much work…I sigh again at the realization it's been even longer than usual since I've properly taken care of myself. My joy for life has slowly been dying, I haven't really talked with anyone in a long time, I've just been alone…suppose it takes the fun out of being alone when it's not a choice. 

I leave my room, putting a smile on my face which becomes more genuine when I see Killer still leaning against the kitchen wall. “hey..” I say a little sadly due to my earlier thoughts. He seems to notice this but choses not to comment on it, just nodding at me instead. I notice he has his helmet on and give him an awkward look, “uh…I don't think you can wear that to the store…” I understand it makes him more comfortable, however society won't be too comfortable seeing a big buff guy in a helmet. He rocks his head to the side a bit confused but takes it off anyway, trusting me. I still have some masks from the mask mandate a few years ago so I go grab one and hand it to him, “wear this instead. You'll scare less people…not that I think you're scary…but…I think you understand.c” he nods, “yeah, I get what you're saying.” he puts the mask on, it covers the lower half of his face while his bangs cover the upper half.

I start walking towards the door and he follows behind me. I slip my shoes on, I'd intentionally tied them loosely when I first wore them so I could do this…sure they fall off sometimes but at least putting them on takes a few seconds less. Killer puts his shoes on and gives me a nod, silently telling me he's ready to go. 

I push open the door and step out onto the front steps and feel extremely dizzy…I stop suddenly and hold my head. Killer gives me a worried look from behind his shaggy blonde hair and reaches a hand out for me. Before he can touch me I move away a bit and plop down on the ground a bit roughly. He pulls his hand back and knees down, “what's wrong..?” He asks, confused and concerned. I can only groan in response. This seems to worry him a bit more, prompting him to check if I'm sick but putting the back of his hand on my forehead. I gently grab his hand in both of mine and hold it in my lap, trying to collect myself, closing my eyes and breathing, using his hand to keep me connected to the world while I can't. He sits on the ground with me, allowing me to do what I need to as he quickly understands this isn't the first time I've dealt with this.

After a few minutes I sigh and open my eyes. Looking down at his hand I rub it with one of my thumbs before letting go and standing up. “Sorry about that…” I awkwardly apologize even though I know I shouldn't, it wasn't my fault. “Don't apologize. Are you okay?” He kindly asks, still giving me that worried look and resting his hand against my lower back. “Yeah, I'm fine.” I give him a soft smile, “let's go?” I ask, just wanting to go get food and clothes for him and forget this happened. He nods at me, noticing immediately that I didn't want to talk about my health at this time.

I walk over to my car and unlock it, getting in the driver's seat and waiting for Killer. He soon gets in the passenger seat and puts his seatbelt on, remembering what I'd taught him yesterday. He nods at me once the seatbelt is secure and I start driving. On the way to the store I asks me about a few things, such as street lights, things about my car and other cars and a few other bits of information one might want to have while in an alternate universe.

Eventually we get to the store. I wanted to park close to the entrance but there were no spots so we ended up parked pretty far away. I'm annoyed by this and it shows. After I park I sit in the car for a second before unbuckling my seatbelt, Killer doing the same soon after. Before I can get out he puts a hand on my shoulder, “Are you sure you're okay?” He asks me, not wanting to make me do something I don't want to just for his comfort. I nod at him, putting my hand over his, “yeah, just…having a bad day…it's not your fault…just…health stuff…” he nods at me in an understanding way. I don't know if he has personal experience, either with himself or someone else but he seems to get what I'm talking about without further explanation.He takes his hand off my shoulder and I get out of the car and start walking over to the store, him following close behind like a body guard. 

Once in the store I go straight for the food, picking up some breakfast foods and some other things likes fruits and vegetables. I skip getting drinks because most of what I actually already own is drinks so I don't need more. I also buy some sweets, just some cookies and a cake mix to make with Killer later if he's interested…or if I even remember I bought it. Killer follows me around holding the basket for me. I'd handed it to him right after I picked it up and he didn't question it, how convenient for me. 

I then walk over to wear the clothes are. “Grab whatever you want, okay?” I tell him and he nods in response, handing me the basket of food items. The basket is heavier than he makes it look and I struggle to hold it, opting to set it on the floor and just keep a close eye on it. Killing gives me a confused look when he sees I'm not strong enough to hold the basket of foods, there's an undertone of concern but after seeing my earlier health struggles he decides it's probably related to that and just heads for the clothes. 

While standing around intensly watching my floor food a man comes up to me and strikes up a painfully awkward conversation as I shoot down everything he says. He starts to get too close for my liking so I push my basket away with my foot and glare at him. He doesn't seem to get the message so I directly tell him I'm not interested in talking to him. This seems to piss him off. It gives me a weird thrill to know I've upset him, I still however feel this deep-rooted worry that he'll hurt me in some way. He starts making a ruckus that gets Killer’s attention but seeing the look on my face, one of mischief he decides not intervene yet, instead just watching closely. The man sees the look on my face and goes to slap me, luckily for me he's rather scrawny so I just grab his wrist. It's a little scary but I like the adrenaline flowing through my veins, I don't have energy often but adrenaline gives me some for a while and I take full advantage of it, even if it does nothing but get me in trouble.

The man pulls his arm away from me and I give him a conniving little grin, “didn't like that? Don't try to hit me then.” I smirk at him, knowing i’ll be fine as I'd noticed Killer watching us. I trust Killer will step in if I need him to and he trusts me to handle this situation. I like feeling trusted, even if all he's trusting is me to not let my joy of causing trouble get out of hand. It's clear Killer is keeping a close eye on the man’s actions, he has no trust this guy won't do something, but he trusts me to handle it. I like someone who doesn't just take me for my health problems but can see I find joy in things like this. This behaviour shouldn't be encouraged, however if it's going to be there it should be put to good use. It seems Killer understands this, probably from having to deal with Kid in his world.

The man tries to attack me again so I use my palm and push up against the bottom of his nose, making it bleed and making him stumble back confused. Killer decides now is the time to stop this, walking over with an armful of clothes. He looks at me, “lets go.” he then picks up the basket and begins to walk away, not waiting for me to follow but expecting me to do it, hoping I'm mature enough to know when I should stop. I take one look back at the guy with blood now dripping from his nose then speed walk after Killer, not wanting to lose him in the large store. Once I ketch up to him he gives a look, the same one I'd imagine he’s given Kid many times when he's caused trouble. His look then morphs into relief when he sees I followed him as he'd hoped.

Killer slows down a bit to allow me to take the lead. I walk over to the cashier and start putting things on their convairbelt thingy. Killer just watches me to this before putting his clothes down too. I take the now empty basket and put it on the stack nearby. I then come back and pull my card out of my back pocket. I didn't bring my whole wallet, just the card, it's much easier…mostly because I need to clean out my wallet, it's full of receipts. The price of everything is about $350 and I look stunned for a second before inserting my card and putting in my pin. My pool digital wallet…it's so dead…I'm not in dept yet but I have a solid $12 left. Child me would be excited, but now I'm just sad.

The cashier had bagged our things so we can just pick them up. I take the lighter bags while Killer takes the heavier ones, he gives me a soft look as he watches me try to carry everything. He takes the bags from me and snickers at me as I give him an offended look. “let me hold those for you.” he says, causing me to give him a slightly more dramatic offended face, “let me carry one?” I ask, wanting to feel helpful. He laughs under his breath, “alright.” he hands me the lightest bag. I side eye him but take it anyway, beginning the trick back to my car parked so far away. Killer doesn't seem to mind the walk but I suppose he's used to having to walk everywhere while I sit at a desk watching cameras all day.

I pop the trunk and put my one bag in and tell killer to put his bags in too. He puts everything in the trunk then backs away from the car a bit, looking at the popped trunk. “what?” I give him a look, not understanding why he's so interested in it. He just shakes his head, “need any help?” I shake my head, “nah, I've got this.” I grab the edge of the trunk and slam it shut. “see, I'm so strong!” I giggle at my own shenanigans. He smiles at me under his mask and pats me on the head, “very strong, Y/N.” he then gets in the car and waits for me to join him. I quickly get in, a bit more pep in my step, ready to get home and spend more time with the masked man…well, I suppose he's not masked when we're at home…or uh…my home.

Once we get back to my house Killer doesn't let me take any of the bags, not believing I can walk up stairs and hold anything. I call him rude but don't fight him on it, instead giggling. Once in the door killer seems hesitant to walk on my hardwood floors with his shoes on. I give him a confused look not understanding at first before I pick up on his thoughts, “it's okay, you can just take your shoes off after you set everything down…uhhh…put the food on the dining room table for now and put your clothes in your room. He does exactly that, putting the food on the table and taking his clothes my room.. my room? Isn't he supposed to be in the guest room? Is it that ugly? Eh…I don't really care, sleeping with him last night was nice, he's warm…I am not warm. 

He comes back and takes his shoes off, watching as I kick my shoes off yet again. I walk into the dining room kitchen combo and start putting the food where it's supposed to go. Killer takes off the mask I gave him and leaves it on the counter by the back door. He doesn't help me put the food away, but I didn't ask and I didn't want help anyway. We just chat while I do this. 

About half way through I get dizzy from walking back and fourth and just stop in the middle of the kitchen holding a peach. I squeeze the peach a bit, trying to get a grip on myself as my vision blurs. Killer stops me, quickly taking the peach from me and setting it down on the counter. He then takes my hand and gives me a worries look. I squeeze his hand and start breathing a little heavier before leaning against him. He puts a hand on my back to further support me as I start to sink down a bit, trying to safely get myself to teh floor. He helps me get down and sits on the floor with me. I lean against him completely, almost in his lap, prompting him to actually put me in his lap, making me easier to hold onto. I lean against him, I'm in pain, my head has this intense ache, it's unbreable, it's not pain but it's so sickening I can't handle it. Killer rubs my back and continues to let me squeeze his hand as hard as I want.

After a few minutes my body untenses and I relax againt him, causing him to look down at me. The smile etched in his face shakes a bit, he's worried, his mouth refuses to show it but his eyes clearly show his concern. I try to look up at him but I start to get dizzy again when I move my head so I stop and drop my head back to where it was. I feel something against the top of my head, it's him, his mouth, his lips, he's trying to comfort me, giving me a soft kiss on the top of my head. I wonder if his lipstick is in my hair now or if it'd all rubbed off last night. I let out a soft hum, telling him quietly that I'm okay. He hums back, a silent acknowledgment that I'm still there with him and conscious.

After a few minutes I start to move a bit, the dizziness subsiding enough I can look up at him. As he feels me move he removes his head from on top of mine, he looks down at me and I look up at him, his smile softens a little and my flat expression lights up a bit at the sight of his face. He gently squeezes my hand, “gonna be okay?” he asks softly as if his voice would hurt me if it were any louder than a whisper. I nod at him, laying my head against his chest a again for just a moment, giving the middle of his chest a quick kiss of appreciation before sighing and pulling away. “I'm okay, Killer…” I say, giving him a slightly tired look. He responds with a small nod and a soft, “okay.” he begins to rub the palm of my hand like he had last night and I look down at his hand holding mine, I smile a bit more. “thank you.” I say softly. He lets out a huff but nods.

A few minutes of sitting in comfortable silence later and my energy is back for now. I get up from his lap and with some help from him I'm standing again. This time he doesn't wait for me to ask, he just starts helping me move groceries, “tell me where things go and I'll put them there, you should sit and relax.” I do as he tells me to and sit down at the dining room table and start directing him on where the food goes, asking him to keep the box of waffles out so we can have breakfast after. He does exactly as I tell him and soon enough all the food save for the waffles is put away.

I stand up to make the waffles and he gently pushes me back down, “I'll do it, don't worry.” he tells me. I give a questioning look, wondering if he’ll know what to do with the frozen waffles. He looks back at me after opening the box of waffles realizing he's never seen premade waffles before, “uh…these are waffles..?” “yeah?” “how do I..?” “you see that thing?” I point at the toaster and he nods at me, “yeah?” “put one in each slit and push down on the bit in the front.” he nods and does as I say and gives me a look like that's the weirdest thing he's ever done in his life. I just give him a smile in response to his confusion. 

He jumps a bit when the waffles pop up. He goes to grab them and I throw a nearby napkin at him. He quickly stops and looks at me like I'm crazy. “unplug it first.” “what?” i point at the wire and he looks at it, “pull it.” he unplugs the toaster successfully, I clap, it comes off a little sarcastic but I'm trying to be nice. He realizes something else, “where are the plates?” I make a dumb face, “oh.” “well?” “the cabinet above you.” he opens the cupboard and grabs two plates. He puts two waffles on each plate. He remembers where he put the syrup so he goes and grabs it, putting some on his and setting his plate on the table. He then puts my plate in front of me and hands me the syrup so I can put as much as I want on. I decide to drown my waffles…as per my usual. He looks at me like I've just murdered his captain, I look back at him like a little dastard knowing that bothered him. He sighs and gives a soft look, “waffle murderer.” he jokes. I start laughing as he hands me a knife and fork and sits down in front of his waffles.

We both eat silently, I figure he's usually quiet when he eats but I'm just being sure I don't choke…I'm really good at getting hurt I've noticed, choking included. After we both finish our waffles he takes our dishes over to the sink and sets the in the sink, giving my dish pile a glare, “do you ever wash your dishes?” I look away from him and pretend I didn't hear him. He sighs and starts doing the dishes. I suddenly turn around looking a bit shocked he's doing my dishes for me, “what are you doing?” “the dishes you won't do.” I give an awkward laugh, “oh, right…sorry..” he gives me a bit of a sad look, “you don't need to apologize for everything, it's okay…this stuff wouldn't be effecting anyone other than yourself if I weren't here…” he softly says. I think about that for a bit, “I think I'm apologizing to myself..? Like, I feel like I've done something wrong even when I haven't exactly…does that make sense?” I question to both myself and him. He nods, “yeah, it does..” he looks a bit sadly at the dishes before snapping out of it and continuing with his washing.

As he does this I go on my phone and play some games. He soon finishes up the dishes and looks over at me, “what's that?” “a phone.” “what's it do?” “more than I can be bothered to list off.” “I get the feeling you couldn't be bothered to read off a list of two things.” “you're right, however this thing actually does too much for me to say it all.” I giggle a bit and he does too. He comes over and sits beside me at the table once again, “how about you show me then?” I nod, “alright..” I start telling him about different things my phone does and I show him some games, even teaching him how to play Minecraft a little bit. He seems to be intrigued by this, enjoying learning about my phone.

Eventually I ask him if he wants to take a picture together and he gets really excited, only rich people get to take pictures in his universe, he finds it extremely cool that anyone can just do that whenever here. He's excited to have his first picture taken. I pull him in and snap a selfie with him. I quickly bring up the photos app and show him the picture, he seems very happy with it, asking if there's a way he can have one to keep. I nod and print off the picture for him and hand it to him. He smiles softly at it and puts a hand on my head, rubbing it at bit, “it's beautiful…” “hm?” “this picture…I won't ever lose it…” “I can print some smaller versions and put them in lockets so we both have ones if you'd like?” “yeah, that'd be nice…” he continues to softly smile at the photo while I print off some smaller versions and put them in two heart lockets. I hand him the sliver one and put the gold one on myself. He gently holds the small locket, smiling at it, “thank you…” “of course” I smile back at him and put a hand over the one holding his locket. He looks at my hand, letting go of the locket and taking my hand into his own, bringing it to his lips and kissing my knuckles.

“you're very sweet…I'm happy you're the person I met when I came to this world…”

“I'm happy I met you too…it's only been two days, but I feel so much more alive than before…”

“like I'm your reason to live or something?”

“yeah…maybe…some sort of hope…that I can be alive…and that all the work i put into living, it's not all for nothing…”

“it's for you..”

“it's for you.”

[symphonic-scream]

More Akechi twins 15 years later. And. Other stuff

Thinking about the 15 years later outfits for the twins

Makoto, looking much softer and happier in a big crewneck sweater, with the logo for the diner on the front over their heart. Dark casual pants, big enough that they bunch up just a little, and they still stand around with their hands in their pockets. A light blue watch, wedding band a sparkling silver, and no more cap. They have no reason to hide anymore

Goro, free for the first time in years, has to wear Makoto's clothes for the first day until they can go shopping for him. And, he ends up following their lead this time. A softer collared shirt, black, under a tan crew neck sweater, sleeves rolled up. Black watch, a fancy one that tracks heart rate. More form fitting slacks, corduroy maybe? Yeah, hell yeah, corduroy black slacks. He goes for simple, plain black socks. Makoto wears fun ones that their kids picked out

Goro's hair is long enough that it usually goes up in a little ponytail. He starts this when he's in the facility cause it was bothering him. Makoto smiled when they saw it at their monthly visitation. "You look softer like that. More like my brother, less like a Prince."

"...I'll keep it up, then. You have to dress for the job you want, right, Koto?"

There's still an inn in Inaba, with a hot spring. Spending their birthday there is the first time Goro sees Makoto's surgery scars. "Hey. You actually did it,"

"Mm, didn't I tell you?" Makoto runs a hand down their front, patting their toned tum. "Best decision I ever made."

"Well, now we match in that regard. Flat siblings." Goro is more thin than muscle, not unhealthly so, but. Makoto is notably toned. "Let's head into the springs, your friends are waiting to wish us a another good year."

"...first, Brother promise." They haven't done one of these since Makoto thought they were just a trans guy. They were only 16 then. "Let's spend this next year together, okay?"

"Got it."

Haru has one photo she'll hold dear forever. It's Makoto and Goro, asleep on the couch, heads leaned together, a documentary on money laundering playing still. On their laps? Nonoka and Keima. Nonoka sitting on her uncle, drooling onto her brother's head. Keima is curled into his Papa, little face tucked into their sweater

Haru: hey, love, wake up

Makoto: hhmmoh? Haru? What time is it?

Haru: time to take the little ones to bed. I've got Nonoka, can you take Keima?

Makoto glances down, and smiles softly at their son sleeping against them

Makoto: yeah. I'll, wake Goro afterwards. Make sure he gets to bed too

Haru: mm, how considerate of you. Don't take too long, I want to spend time with you, okay? Maybe a bath?

Makoto: mm, as long as I get to pamper you silly, baby. Kiss?

Haru: kiss

They share a soft one, each with a slumbering five-year- old in their arms

Goro: ugh, thanks. My neck would've been killer stiff,

Makoto: I know, mine too. Sleep well

Goro: don't stay up too late boning your wife, Koto

Makoto: yeah yeah, go be a lonely grump or whatever. Night

Goro: night

Makoto is still silly affectionate. It hasn't tamped down at all, it may have even gotten stronger? They're constantly trying to touch Haru even a little, giving tons of hugs, little kisses, leaning their heads together, swinging her around

Makoto always makes sure they're strong enough to carry their wife. It's what Haru deserves, they claim

When the twins were newborns, Makoto kept rushing out of bed at the slightest whimper or cry so Haru could sleep longer. They'd heat up a bottle while swaying around the kitchen, humming softly to whichever twin had woken up hungry. They'd change them without a word, kissing their little heads once they'd put them back into the cribs in the nursery

Makoto: i love being a parent. Being able to show so much love to someone, to feel so much love? It's amazing. It sucks sometimes, sure, but I'd rather be here than where I was before. At your side, with our kids, this is where I belong

And Haru just bursts into tears, still a little off from hormones, and she tugs them into a big hug, smiling into their shoulder as they pepper kisses to her hair

Keima and Nonoka both have warm red eyes, Keima has a tiny, tiny dash of freckles. Their hair isn't as textured as Haru's, but it's wavy, and that bright auburn/bright pinkish brown. But they have Makoto's nose, and Nonoka has their eye shape, and both have their smart mind. Only, they use it for chaos

And of course we know Hirohide is a mini Makoto, with his little pout, but he's warm, and heavily curious. He loves learning new things, will sit all excited on his Papa's lap for a doc without needing to be sleepy, like his older siblings

All three get early screening for the mental illnesses that ran in their family. Goro is relieved when none of them have BPD or Schizophrenia like him, or bipolar like Goro and Makoto's father apparently had. He would've felt horribly guilty if they had to deal with what he has

Both are why he was put into mental care rather than prison. With his meds and counselling, he's much more tame

Keima and Nonoka don't show any concerning signs, but little Hirohide gets early support for what appears to be ADHD

Haru is also happy her kids won't suffer so much. She remembers the struggle of getting Makoto settled after the very late diagnosis of their later stuff. She's happy they caught Hirohide so young,

Makoto is just, so glad they're all happy kids. They wanted nothing more than that

Goro: so, no meds for your Mini Me yet, right?

Makoto: exactly. We'll see how he develops before making decisions with his doctor. I hope we can get him to 10 before we have to worry about meds with him

Goro: he'd soldier through. He wants to be just like you, anyways. You'd just have to say you take 'em too, and he'd jump to take em

Makoto: true, Haru absolutely adores that part of him. She was a little sad the twins don't look that much like me, y'know

Goro: it's cause she loves you, dumbass.

Makoto: yeah, she loves me,

Goro: bleh,

Makoto and Haru each having an apron. Haru's is a light purple, Makoto's is bright blue.

Haru, when they were first living together for school, slowly teaching Makoto to cook. Makoto standing behind Haru, hugging her waist as she stirs something, softly explaining when to stir, how long it takes, and Makoto listens so attentively. But, their hands are softly running over her tum, and sides, or they're nuzzling into her neck, all affectionate

Haru: are you listening?

Makoto: *parrots back everything she said, hugging her tighter*

Haru: mm, good job.

Makoto: good enough for a kiss?

Haru: *turns off the stove, spins around to kiss them, slow and deep and just-*

Makoto: wow,

Haru: alright, it's done, Love. Ready to eat?

Makoto: ***wow***

Haru: what do I use for you when I wanna say something like good boy, or good girl?

Makoto:

Haru: Mako?

Makoto: sorry, felt really gay for a moment. Uhm. How about just, "Very good"?

Haru: hmmm, that can work. Very good, Mako~

Makoto: *gayass eyes*

Haru: it's like living with a big puppy. Makoto's so touchy these days, it's so different than when we met

Ann: ...are you, complaining?

Haru: NEVER

So, during the 15 years later, theyre both running the diner. They have some staff, like a local college kid they met through Akira (Shinya), a few front end workers, and a few cooks for when they take days to be a family and shit. They've stepped back more, doing weekdays only during school hours

Only, since Hirohide isnt school age yet, sometimes one of them is home. He gets watched by Sojiro most days, along with the RyuAki baby

But two days a week, each parent is off to spend time with him

Cause I've decided Shiho and Ann have their daughter from Queers, Mifuka, the little hurricane

And there's two kids for Ryuji and Akira. An older daughter, baby boy

Daughter would be the age of the twins, for friendship. Mifuka is two years older, so 7

Daughter is Hikari Sakamoto, And baby Kota Sakamoto

Nonoka, Keima, and Hikari all walk to school together. Mifuka would as well, but she's always running ahead. Everything's too slow for her

Goro: you can cook now?

Makoto: yeah, Haru taught me. I prefer cooking with her, but cooking for her? Amazing

Goro: ...oh my god, you're a simp

Makoto: have you seen my wife? Of course I am

Makoto sometimes wakes up, and goes to roll over to hold Haru and finds Hirohide already there. And they just smile, and sandwich their son between his parents, kissing at Haru's sleeping face

Haru: hng?

Makoto: sorry, baby. Just, love you

Haru: mmm,

She tries to nuzzle closer, subconsciously holding Hirohide closer too

When Makoto went to help pack up Goro's room at the facility he was in, they paused at the little wall of photos. He'd kept the sonograms they'd give him of the twins, then of Hiro. And, in neat rows, the yearly photos of the kids. It makes them tear up. Especially when they see he used the plastic frame the facility provided for Makoto and Haru's wedding photo

Goro: hm? Don't cry, dumbass. It's the only stuff I had to look at when I was on lock down. Don't get the wrong idea

Makoto: sure, sure. You totally don't care about me, or seeing my family. I could just leave you here-

Goro: ugh, fine, prick. Let's go meet my nephews and niece, okay? And see the Fluffy one.

Makoto: yeah,

Hirohide: you look like Papa

Goro: your Papa and I are twins

Hirohide: tweens,

Goro: twins, say it like this, *says it super slow*

Hirohide: ...tweens,

Goro: close enough. We're like your big sister and big brother

Hirohide: Woah,

Hirohide: MAMA! UNCLE GOWO IS PAPA'S TWEEN

Makoto pats Goro's shoulder with a laugh. "He's still learning how to talk, don't be too hard on him, okay?"

"...you used to say my name that way. He really is a mini you,"

Haru, laughing openly, takes little Hiro from Goro's lap, rubbing her nose against her son's. He giggles, puts his hands to her mouth, so she does the raspberries, and just

Makoto tilts their head and smiles so lovingly. Goro pats their shoulder this time

Makoto moves around the living room to kiss his head, and Hiro giggles more when his parents share a little kiss

Haru smiles up at their partner one last time, and swoops away with Hiro to put him in the play room for a little bit so she can help Makoto with Goro's things

Goro: where are the other two?

Makoto: it's a school day, they're at school. They walk together with a, friend. You'll know when they're home, trust me

Goro: you let them walk on they're own? Makoto, they're-

Makoto: they're five, and this is how it's done in Inaba. There haven't been any incidents in years, Goro. They're fine

Goro: ...I'm sorry,

Makoto: you're worried, I get it. But, remember who you're talking to. We think in similar ways, my Brother.

And, he can tell them when they get home. The door opens with a bang, before two loud apologies follow

Haru: you're lucky your brother wasn't napping, my little monsters.

Keima: we're sorry Mama!

Nonoka: is he here?

Makoto: shoes off, bags on the hooks. Your uncle doesn't come before your routines, you two

Keima, wiggling out of his jacket: sorry Papa!

Nonoka, running into them for a hug: Papa, I'm sorry

Haru: alright, go wash your hands. Then, uncle Goro time

Makoto gives each a little hair tousle, and each hug Haru before going off too. Haru sighs fondly, and leans into her partner's side.

"Couple of goofs we've raised, huh?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Like. Sad, awkward teen Makoto, with their cap tucked low, hands twisting all nervous as they sit beside Haru, vs this. Older, adult Makoto, smiling so openly, so eager to show affection, so, just, open

Even just, the side by side of the twins. The old Detective Princes posters, of Goro with that fake smile and an inquisitive pose, and Makoto frowning, hands in pockets, all closed off

To them now, sitting on the same couch while watching some doc, talking about it in friendly tones, Makoto more relaxed in their seat, smiling. Goro with his arms crossed, leaning back, watching intensely

Haru takes a while to warm up to having Goro around. She never went to his visitations, just let Makoto have their time with him. So, she's wary he might do something to turn her lovely, happy Makoto back into their repressed teen self

She loses this way of thinking slowly. She even talks to him about it, and they bond over the big thing they have in common; caring for Makoto

Note about Hikari and Kota;

Hikari is Ryuji's bio daughter. They had a surrogate, the same one, for both kids. Kota is Akira's bio son

So Hikari has this dark brown hair, real dark, and Ryuji's big grin. Kota's only a baby, so he's only got tiny little black curls, and his Dad's grey eyes

Ryuji walks around with a baby Bjorn at all times, he loves being a dad. Plays with Kota so much. He runs around and plays Horse or Heroes with Hikari too, so it's rare that what he's wearing is completely cleab

He and Makoto spent a lot of time bonding over that when the twins and Hikari were babies. Play dates would have three babies babbling on the floor, and the two parents sharing photos, stories, and just enjoying being parents

Akira: damn, this is the hottest he's ever been to me

Haru: mm, I know, right? It's so hard not to just, pull Makoto into our room all the time. This has to be some weird biological thing, right?

Akira: or we're horny bastards

Haru: mm. Yeah, probably that

Makoto: I'm glad we're friends

Ryuji: yeah, besides Ann and 'Kira, you're like, my best friend

Makoto: mm. Beside Yusuke and Haru, you're my best friend too

[rosedragonblast]

Kinktober/Voidtober, Part 2

Theme 1: Knifeplay. Ship: Knifecrow. Warning: Kink, blood, aggressive show of affrection.

Daud spins the knife in his hand, looking at how the light plays on it's sharp edge. Corvo always compares Daud to this instrument. Deadly, elegant, durable. Yet, in the right hands, it can be used for many different things. Cooking, carving wood, even healing. Something that is used to cut those wounds into people can also help to tear the fabric into smaller pieces, making it easy to cover the injury. Ironic, if you consider what has become of Daud in those last few months. New promotion, reputation. Even tittle, along with respect among those who usually despised him for his low place of birth on society. Daud feels like a knife that got a new handle, was sharpened and got the respect it deserves. Daud knows he should feel proud and relieved. But he feels more nervous than anything else. He sighs, puts down his pen and goes towards the window. Hearing somebody entering, he doesn't even react, knowing all too well who this is. — Corvo, you can stop trying to scare me. I know you're here. He turns, but sees nothing. His knife is missing. Daud thinks for a second that he is mistaking, but when his own blade touches his neck, royal spymaster has no doubt. — You are such a dick sometimes. — Come on. You love it, — Corvo presses on the blade, making Daud swallow out of nerve and excitement. Corvo slowly drags the blade upwards, almost cutting through the skin. Daud feels a tiny drop of blood going down his neck and carotid artery. He is not afraid for his life. Attano likes to play with Daud like he is a dog. And Daud lets him. His reasons are his own. But this sense of belonging is too great to give up just yet. Theme 2: Assassin. Ship: Emily/Male!Wyman. Wyman is a trustworthy ally. Emily knows about it well. Too well, infact. Many people also know this, and this is quite natural for them to try and get rid of her lover. He doesn't face any murder attempts until today. Good thing that Emily is prepared for it. When a shadow cases slight movements in candle's flame, Wyman already stands guard. Feeling that someone is stalking him through the halls, he prepared his knife when he enters his room. He knows that he is all alone. Guards have been taken care of. He has to face him alone. Or, that is what he thinks. Wyman sees how the assassins charges, pressing him to the door. The noble is no stranger to combat. He fights back, punching a hired killer in the face. This second is enough for him to gain the upper hand. Assassin flips them over, trying to make the last blow. But he freezes, gasping for air. A scarf, tightly wrapping around killer's neck, gives him almost no chance to fight. He gets one single blow to the head before collapsing. A not-so-mysterious figure ties him up, pushin an unconscious knife for hire aside. — I owe you yet again, your majesty. — Wyman gently holds Emily's hand in his, kissing her wrist that is wrapped in a cloth. — Shut up, mister royal, — young Kaldwin laughs and puts her hand on Wyman's cheek, rubbing it against his soft skin. — How did you know it was me? — Only a deadly assassin can go unnoticed by another deadly assassin.

— You think i'm deadly? — The deadliest woman for me, my little sparrow. Emily smiles, winks at Wyman and leans in for a kiss, wrapping her hands around his strong neck, not forgetting to put away an unsuccessful killer in the heavy wooden closet until morning.

[enigmatist17]

Part 1 with Spike's POV

Part 3

-----

He remembers the night he was turned.

Druscilla had been the one to approach the pretty man, tears glistening on a face too pure for this world. Those electric blue eyes watch every word that she speaks, widening in shock when she begins to feed on him, frightened cries dying off as she's taken her fill, sweet lips being stained with their first taste of blood. Angelus had watched every moment as his childe crooned to the dead man, dragging him off into the night towards the town's cemetery.

The sweet boy awoke an eager killer, taking joy in massacring those who had mocked him after dealing with his mother. Those eyes were so bright, holding their brightest shine for Angelus and every word he spoke, eager to please those who had brought him into a new world by painting his old world in blood.

Those eyes are so dark now, despite the smallest shimmer of life that had returned to him.

Angel had been made aware that Spike was in L.A when a contact had called him, talking about a crazy vampire wandering the streets. At first, he wasn't sure who it was, paying his contact before heading into the remains of his former home and office space. A broken window that led into what used to be his home was the only sign someone was inside, and after moving some fallen debris, Angel descended into the burnt room, one hand holding a stake just in case.

Spike doesn't even register him, propped up on the wall underneath the shattered window he'd crawled through like a discarded doll.

His hair is so long, Angel first thinks as he approaches the sleeping man, those wonderful curls framing a face that looks so tired. This is not the man Angel knows, and after there is no reaction to gentle pokes and prods, Spike is gathered into Angel's arms and carried up and out to his car. He's just gotten into the driver's seat when Spike begins to mutter, his voice scratchy from lack of feeding.

William is a bad bad bad boy

William killed, William took and took and took from everyone and anyone, because he was a bad bad bad boy who wanted so much from life.

Spike was a bad man, the bad man who pushed William away and under so no one could see him anymore. Spike snarled, drank, and killed Slayers and innocents, Spike reveled in the dark, blind to everything he destroyed because he didn't, couldn't care.

Angel is dimly aware his steering wheel has snapped with the squeeze of his hands, but right now he drives towards the Hyperion a tick under what the police would call excessive speeding. He knows those words, the way they're forced out between clenched teeth as one hand begins to claw at tattered clothing. He doesn't even realize he's arrived and parked until he's halfway hauling Spike out of the garage and to the reception area, Spike just mutters away in his arms as Angel goes for his room, blank eyes staring out but not seeing as they pass by a startled Wesley. Angel places Spike on the bed when they've finally arrived, wincing at the rough shape of the man before starting on the easy part of removing his boots.

Spike just lies on the bed, vacant eyes staring at a ceiling that may as well have not existed. The worst of his wounds centered on his chest, and Angel knows only too well what he was trying to claw out, one hand gently caressing the side of Spike's face before he returns to the task at hand.

"It tastes like ash, ash in my mouth where it should be gold, ruined ruined ruined. Only ash forever more, all I deserve, all that should be there, ash ash ash for the bad man, the bad men, ash for Spike, and ash for William."

"It will pass." Angel knows Spike can't hear him when he wearily sits on the bed beside him, running a hand through matted hair.

He can see the shimmer in those eyes, and wonders if that's what Buffy saw in his own.

There's a soft whimper at the touch, the blonde desperately pressing close and reaching out for something, someone, anyone.

"Hush now, no need for that." Angel's voice is softer than a feather as he gathers Spike into his arms, lying down to hold the trembling man with a soft hum. It's not long before Spike begins to rub his cheek against his chest, the move usually found with fledgling's within their first few days of being undead, vying for attention, or the promise of safety from a sire as they sorted the beast from rationality. He has to take a moment before purring to Spike, hoping that if he made the other man feel safe, he would rest, rewarded a few moments later with Spike purring in response. Well, it's more of a muted cry, and the protector in Angel has him purring again, wanting to keep the other feeling safe.

Spike falls asleep in his arms, unaware both halves of Angel watch over him.

It's not for long though, Angel reading through a case when Spike begins to mutter as he wakes.

"Spike? It's time to wake up."

Paperwork is set aside as Angel gives the other his full attention, the smaller man moaning a little as he resisted...well, Angel isn't sure, but he's been there, so he stays as sweet as possible.

"Open your eyes."

Spike mutters something before cracking open those familiar eyes, and Angel can see the wonder that William always held before they close just as quickly with a wince. The investigator sighs, and decides to start moving the hand he's had tangled in Spike's hair again, giving a soft purr in hopes of once again calming the other. This seems to do the opposite, Spike pressing against his hand and side as he begins to sob, the sounds heartbreaking to most as Angel slowly continues. Eventually the cries quiet, and Angel tries again to draw the other back to consciousness.

"William?"

The other stills before letting out a low hiss, suddenly jerking from Angel's hold and off the bed before he can catch the other.

"William is wrong, wrong, a bad boy who is wrong! The name is poison on lips, spikes in the head, blood down your chin, wrong wrong wrong!" Spike's rambling stops when his scramble away is hindered by the wall across the room, his body tensing like a snake that was ready to strike. Angel wants nothing more than to go after him, but instead moves so he's sitting on the corner of the bed, watching Spike's head swaying back and forth, awaiting some unseen danger.

"It's not wrong," His voice is gentle, and Spike cocks his head to the side. "Who is right?"

Spike's breathing turned ragged as he pondered the question, and Angel slowly begins to approach the man.

"Spike, but not Spike, William but not William, they are wrong but right and stained in blood, end them both!" The beg goes unheard, Angel crouching down just out of striking distance.

He's not ready for the screaming.

"HELP US, HELP ME! WE ARE THE BLOOD THAT STAINS THE CHILDREN, THE INNOCENT, WE CAUSED THE SCREAMS!"

Angel draws him into a tight hug before Spike has a chance to claw at himself again, tears once again flowing as the man sobs.

"You didn't tell me it burns, the light is burning me from the inside out, we'll die!" He sobbed, and Angel can feel the way Spike curls against him in a way that was so familiar.

"You'll be alright...you'll be alright." The words as mere whispers as Angel presses a few kisses to the top ofnthe sobbing man's head. Spike is strong, so strong in a world that wanted to punish those who laughed in its face, and he always admired him for that.

"Kill us Angelus....please."

"You've come too far, I won't."

"Will you stay?"

It's more of a beg than a question, and he can feel Spike, William, both are fading again.

"I won't leave you, either of you." Angel murmurs, barely registering the claws that break skin as the other falls asleep, giving himself completely to Angel despite everything.

They sit there together as the night turns to day, Angel cradling the men who had to contend with having the pain of lifetimes thrown into every fiber of his being. He knows that pain intimately, but knows he won't let Spike deal with it alone.

So they sit there, Angel promising that Spike won't ever be hurt again.

[iamsherlocked1479]

Chapter 7

“Wake up.” an angry cold voice fills your ears as you begin to regain consciousness from your faint sleep. “I said wake up!” the guard who had been standing watching you raised his hand leaving a sharp burn across your face, you began to feel the warm sensation of blood dripping from the side of your face. “The boss will be here soon.” he said sharply whilst rubbing his fist, he must have hit you harder than he intended.

“What exactly are you gaining from this, kidnapping some girl and holding her hostage. Just so your boss can torture Sherlock some more.” You ask, he did not answer and took his post back at the door. 

You waited impatiently for Moriarty to show his face, occasionally tugging at the tight rope around your wrist, risking the occasional rope burn just to see if you could loosen it even if it by just a thread. The large metal door clunked open and Moriarty came waltzing from behind you, followed by the guard pulling his earphones from his ears and smiling in front of you. His smile dropped as he leaned in for a closer look, his rough cold hands glided over your face smudging the dry sticky blood from your new wound. He turned to his guard and removed his sunglasses revealing a cold deadly look.

“Did you do this?” he spoke deeply

“She wouldn’t wake up sir.” the guard tensed up stepping back slightly

“Then shake her, I promised she wouldn't be hurt. Am I a liar?” he shouted, shaking the guard violently.

“N-no sir.” The guard's voice became shaky and afraid. You watched on feeling some kind of smugness as Moriarty continued to interrogate the guard.

“How long have you worked for me, four? five months?” he asked 

“Two years sir.” he corrected.

Moriarty huffed and stepped back stirring at the gash on the side of your face, he looked back at the guard and scratched his head as he spoke. “You know it's going to be a real shame losing you.” 

“Sir?” the guard questioned

Without any hesitation, Moriarty pulled his pistol from behind him and fired straight at the guard who immediately fell to the ground. He stood over the body and nodded before turning to you 

“I have a job opening if you’re interested.” You couldn’t help but smile at his remark, even though he kidnapped you he had some strange charm about him. What were you thinking first, a high functioning sociopath and now a deranged serial killer. But it wasn’t the same, he wasn’t Sherlock.

“So you do know what a smile is, a little weird that I just killed a guy but we can work with that. I told you Harley, you’re a killer queen.” he smiled. Your smile faded quickly at his remark. He stepped closer and touched your cut frowning at the sight of you pulling away in pain. “I’ll get this sorted.” he stepped away and left you alone. 

Your eyes moved to the body on the floor, was this your fault. He died because you decided to sleep? No, that couldn’t be fair. He deserves it. You sat in the room watching the pool of blood expand across the floor, the sight of blood wasn’t really an issue anymore especially after wandering into the tube to find sherlock coated in the red elixir grasping a harpoon sulking because no cab driver would allow him to even step foot near the car, which of course is completely understandable. But obviously he didn’t see that.

“Your doctor is here.” Moriarty announced, dragging a steel chair opposite you. He gripped damp cloth in one hand while he took your face in the other, his hand was surprisingly soft considering his violent demeanour the warmth of his fingers trailed your cheek wiping the drying blood from your face.

“You know what you’re doing?” you asked, confused for a mafia king who thinks he owns the world he seemed oddly specific with his work.

“I’m annoying as I am and you dont think I've had to clean a punch wound before.” he sighed “y/n i thought we were finally understanding each other.” his tone softened as he put the cloth aside and you watched as his eyes glided across the cut checking for any deeper wounds. He was vulnerable and you couldn’t help but ask.

“Why are you doing this?” his eyes fixed onto yours as he scoffed

“I promised you no harm, i'm not a liar y/n” he smirked

“No in general, why kidnap me? Why torture Sherlock and become a crime lord?” you interrogated him carefully knowing any word could cause his switch to flip.

“Because the rest of the world is so boring!” His sudden energy didnt come to much of a surprise to you as he continued to rant “I walk along the streets watching other people and they just don’t get it, life should be lived they follow their rules, their morals and it's boring. But Sherlock, Sherlock is different, he's smart, he understands, life is too precious to follow rules, grow up, get a career, get married and die. It's all a sham, a scandal, it's a repetitive cycle and it's boring. I’m just here to break that cycle, the wheel as they say.” he calmed down and took a large plaster from a box and peeled off the protective film.

“You can’t rule the world Jim.'' Jim, that's the first time you’d addressed him in a normal manner, and he noticed his eyes locked with yours watching your mood shift, you realised he wasn’t crazy, well he was. But he was lonely, just like Sherlock. “ A boy who understood the world wasn't a sanctuary.” he leaned in closer, so close you could feel his breath exciting his lungs and hitting your face.

“It’s a prison for those who understand it, and the world will crumble once people begin to believe me” He stuck the plaster to your head, roughly pressing it down and smiling at your grimace. His words stuck with you, he was right but also so wrong and it was frightening. His tone switched again, becoming softer like before. “Exactly how I reacted when my father told me, of course that was between the beating and the drinking. Well time to go, people to kill places to be.” he clapped his hands together causing you to jump with his words still echoing in your mind.

—-----------------------------------------

“Sherlock, come on we have a client waiting downstairs.” John stood in the doorway watching Sherlock spin a phone between his fingers.

“It’s been three days and nothing. I have a case I don't need anymore.” Sherlock rested the phone on his temple, tapping the arm of the chair vigorously.

“I don't mean to barge in but I really need your help, it's my wife she’s not answering my calls and she hasn’t been home in two days!” A man bursted into the room. Sherlock's head turned towards the panicked man and his eyes began to do the job for him.

“Your wife has left you Mr?”

“Johnson, what do you mean?”

“Just look at you pft what a mess.” He scoffed 

“Sherlock!” John shouted,

“No no he’s right. I'm a mess, I had a hunch she was cheating on me.” He slumped into John's chair.

“Im sorry thats my-

“Maybe if I had just worked less. No, I'm going to win her back, thank you!” He shook John's hand and left swiftly.

“Humans, what strange creatures.” Sherlock watched the man run down the street

“Uh, Sherlock,” John added. Sherlock turned around and saw the note in John's hand “he just gave it to me, read it.”

0.0877° West, come alone or Y/n dies

“I have to go.” Sherlock headed to the door

“Wait.” John grabbed his arm. “I know how you feel but think rationally here, he’s still dangerous.”

“What do you mean, think rationally? ofcourse i will.” Sherlock stood confused 

“I know how the way you feel about someone can affect your judgement. Don't let that make you make irrational choices.” Sherlock acted shocked almost offended

“John, this is the best case I've had in months. I'll be fine.”

“Sherlock, listen to me! Y/n’s life is on the line, i care about her, Mrs Hudson cares about her, Mary cares about her and i even think you do. Don't let Moriarty get inside your head.”

“I’ll get into his.” He pulled his arm away and straightened the collar of his coat.

He knew exactly where he was going, he had memorised every coordinate coralting with the first half he had been given. He called a taxi and slumped into the back

“London Bridge please.” The drive was short and quick, he went through every possible outcome in his head skimming over the fact you could already be dead, the thrill of the case was an easy way to forget it. He waited on the bridge, watching the tour boats travelling down the river.

“Funny isn’t it how people just seem to forget this bridge exists even with all that history tied to it.” Moriarty approached calmly, watching the boats along the themes.

“I thought you would appear.” Sherlock pulled a handgun from his belt and aimed at him.

“Ooh scary, really you are becoming predictable.” He pointed to Sherlock and thousands of tagrets pointed at him.

“We’ve been here before, where is y/n?” He interrogated

“Quite the fighter isn’t she. I like her, good choice. Still I don't know what drew you to her, could be the looks but you've never really struck me for having a girlfriend Sherlock holmes.”

“Quite frankly, she’s my landlord's niece, now where is she?” He took a step closer.

“Ah, ah ah” Moriarty waved his finger and more lights aimed at Sherlock “there's no way this is all about getting discounted rent Mr Holmes, come on tell me what i'm missing.” He shouted his frustrations

“Where is she?” He demanded again

“Ugh this is just going in circles, you have what y/n told you when you had your little chit chat and the information I gave you to figure out where she is. Figure it out in under four hours and I won't kill her.” Moriarty began to walk away

“I’m going to kill you.” Sherlock followed behind him

“No you won’t” his tone heightened “remember my friends?” The targets stayed on Sherlock as he stopped suddenly. “Turn around please.” Moriarty spun his finger. Sherlock didn’t move and stood stubbornly.

“I’m not your puppet.”

“Oh Sherlock, that's where we differ, I know where I rank in this world. Now be a good boy and turn around. Or it's bye bye Mr holmes.” Moriarty toyed with him, and as instructed he reluctantly turned around. “Good boy, I have to go now.” 

When Sherlock turned around he was gone, like he arrived he left without a trace and now he only had four hours to find you.

————————————————————————

You watched the screen placed in front of you, you watched the way Moriarty played with Sherlock. He was wearing a camera and streaming it on the Tv so you could watch him tournent the man looking for you, fueling his own obsession he had with Sherlock whilst also psychologically terrorising you with the fear of death.

“Did you enjoy the program?” He waltz in from behind

“You said I wouldn’t be hurt.” You stared up at him your eyes beginning to tear up in fear

“White lies provide easy hostages Harley.” he winked and slapped his hands on your shoulders as he leaned in. “shame the killer queen will never get to kill though.”

“You’re crazy.” Moriarty took offence to this, he pushed your chair backwards causing it to fall landing the majority of the impact on your wrists. You shriek in fear and pain as he lifted the chair up placing his finger on your lips

“Shh shh, darling save that pretty little voice of yours for when you’re begging for your life.”

————————————————————————

“So did he tell you where she is?” John's voice sounded panicked through the speaker of Sherlock's phone.

“No, he said we have what he’s given us so far.” Sherlock slumped against the taxi window trying to find the solution to Moriarty’s riddles.

“But the only clues he gave us were coordinates to London bridge and that she was in a white tiled room. This is all just some wild goose chase. Um Sherlock? Hello?” Sherlock didn't reply, he closed his eyes and began analysing everything he could think of that could lead him to you.

He thought of the way your voice sounded through the phone call, echoey so it had to be a large area that ruled out any basements or apartments. Then there were the walls white and tiled, easy to clean, which could suggest an abandoned tube line but that wouldn't explain the traffic.

“That will be £10 mate.”

“Pardon?” Sherlock asked confused

“Sherlock you’ve been sat outside in this taxi for 10 minutes now” john leaned through the window

“Sorry, mind palace, do me a favour, pay the man.” he hopped out of the cab and headed up the stairs pacing once he hit the living room.

“You owe me a tenner.” John followed behind, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. “That came for you” he pointed to a small parcel wrapped neatly in pale paper. Sherlock approached confused.

“I haven’t ordered anything, I'm not allowed after the deep web incident.”

“The what?” John replied Sherlock cautiously opened the package revealing a small book of nursery rhymes the page 11 list circled in bright yellow highlighter. He turned the page and read the lines out loud 

“London Bridge is falling down, Falling down, falling down”

“That's tower bridge, jeez you think someone would at least make a book of nursery rhymes right.” John pointed to the tower bridge drawn falling down within the book.

“That's it, that's where she is.” Sherlock threw the book down and began searching through his own books. He pulled an old book from the shelf and blew the dust that had settled over it. “Here.” he threw the book down open on a page describing crimes from the 1800’s.

“I don't understand?” John asked, turning the pages.

“Look where the bodies were stored.”

“Dead man's hole?”

“Yes, thousands of bodies wash up from the themes so they built a morgue under Tower Bridge. That's where y/n is, come on.”

—----------------------------------------

You watch sherlock rush out of the apartment through the old tv screen, this had to be over soon right? Four days alone with barely enough food and water to keep someone alive was starting to affect you, obviously.

“Look at that, that was pretty quick huh.” Moriarty pulled a chair up besides you and swirled the ice in his drink.

“Why are you doing all this?” you began to pry with the confidence of knowing Sherlock was on his way

“We’ve been through this harley.”

“So you’re just going to give me back just like that? I thought you were beginning to like me. Or was that just the same tactics daddy taught you? Showing a glimpse of hope that you’re not worthless or  just a play thing then making you realise you were right.” you smiled at the sight of his jaw clenching, he jumped up shouting and cursing.

“No, you don't know me, we had one conversation. You don't understand me.” he struck his hand across your face, it was cold and sharp but then the pain flushed across your face with the metallic taste of blood dripping from your lip. he watched the crimson liquid drip from your lip and began to apologise and wipe the blood away. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t me. Well it was i didn't mean it i broke my promise.”

“You showed who you really were” you laughed at the sight of his anxiety, who knew the dangerous jim moriarty had a fear of his own past. For someone who claimed to be like no normal human he was acting pretty human.

“Stop it.” he pulled a gun and pointed it at you “You better really hope Sherlock comes to rescue you soon.” he began to shout as the gun shook in his hands “Because i'm really beginning to lose my patience!”

“Y/n? Where are you?” as if like magic sherlock rushed around the corner gun in hand immediately pointing to Moriarty

“Well, well Sherlock, wonderful of you to join the party. Here we have it, the final problem.”

“I found her,  now let her go. That was the game.” He slowly walked towards you keeping his aim on Moriarty.

“Now where would the fun be in that pretty boy?” Moriarty kept the gun aimed at your head. “Let me offer you a choice, me or her.”

“What?” Sherlock asked

“Me or her, kill one of us. Kill me and she’s safe, well done. Hero sherlock. But if you kill me, where does all your fun go huh?”

“That can't be it.” Sherlock dropped his arm “all this for a choice? Her or you? No, no that can't be it” Sherlock was confused a choice between his fun or his interest.

“What's wrong Sherlock? Surely this is easy, kill me you get the girl.” Moriarty pressed on

“Sherlock.” You cried worrying at the sight of his shaky arm pointing towards you.

“Oh you see now this is an interesting turn of events Harley.” Moriarty removed the gun from your head. “So Sherlock you're really going to miss the fun games I provide huh.” 

“No, I can’t. It- it's not right.” Sherlocks gun switched from you to Moriarty. “All this just to kill one person, no this isn’t right.” 

“Oh but it is Sherlock, a simple game. For a not so simple man.” 

“Sherlock!” John rushed in, immediately pointing his gun at moriarty.

“No not you, you’re boring. Pick Sherlock, come on!”

“Sherlock just kill him” John demanded 

“No it's not that easy, he has to be plotting something.” Sherlock was trying to deduce some kind of answer 

“Come on, shoot me!” Moriarty raised his arms over his head, he was becoming impatient. “Fine” he sighed “I’ll choose myself. Sorry Harley” 

You closed your eyes expecting to feel the sharp pain of a bullet, everything seemed to flash before your eyes. Your short life was about to come to an end.

“No!” Sherlock and John both shouted 

BANG!!

[in-a-brown-study]

watching heroes episode 15 - 16

she's saving you!!!!! why do you want to kill her?????

THERE WAS A DAGGER HIDDEN INSIDE THE SWORD?!!!! cool cool

boy you hesitated too much. well it was expected he wasnt gonna kill him though he's too merciful

yeah well he's missing an arm and severely injured but are you rly just letting him leave? he killed so many innocents. he was even going to kill the woman who took care of his son and was trying to save him. im not saying he can't turn over a new leaf but he rly deserved to die imo

at this point there was a very out of context background music 🤨🤨🤨🤨 and no subtitles for a moment lol

"your gaze looks just like mine" arghhhh okay i need to talk abt this

because bai choufei seems to me someone deeply guided by his emotions, he's cool-headed and didn't even hesitate to kill guanqi. he rly has the potential to be someone great in the jianghu just like he wishes. and while i think this attitude of being too ambitious is.. not 100% good, he is sentimental just like the old madam said and his way of avenging fuzi was killing that madman. just like he said "you (wxs) repaid fuzi's kindness. i avenged his death" we are seeing two sides, who seem complete opposites, clashing. but who's right and who's wrong though? wang xiaoshi going soft and letting a (now crippled) ruthless killer go because he was taught to be merciful and to avoid killing someone who's already down? or bai choufei killing him because he wanted to avenge the death of someone who's showed him kindness and gave him a place to live when he was on his lowest moment?

"in your eyes, we are both just as bad" bcf seeming like the villain here.....not likey. but zhu xiaoyao's injury was purely an accident bc she was the one who got in the way. yet wxs keeps blaming him..? though i do think the "you're a coward" to wxs was UNNECESSARY lol

also another thing bcf said in ep10: "me and wxs are one hot one cool, we complement each other" which.... ugh. also while writing this i realised their clothes look just like yin and yang

i foresee a big fight or something separating them and i do not want that!!!!!! two blades and one scabbard.... bcf ending up like a villain..... ahhhhhhk help

i miss the bromance times.... where are the bromance times...

????!!! noooooo😔😔😔😔

AHHHHH😭😭😭😭😭😭 ywx truly breaks my heart..