#all I see is the hate and pain and suffering of the Dark Side

[ncfan-1]

God, yes. Not for a single moment has Sol’s death ever felt like a triumphant moment to me. It feels inevitable the way the climax of a Greek tragedy is inevitable. He had so many opportunities to save himself from the death that was coming for him and he didn’t take any of them, because taking them would necessitate him doing the thing he could never do, which was truly confront and reckon with his past wrongdoings, which in turn he could not do because he was so crippled by guilt that he couldn’t even look at his wrongdoings long enough to take responsibility for them.

And the other reason it feels inevitable and tragic is because of Osha. Osha, whom it becomes increasingly clear over the course of the show is a powder keg of pressurized negative emotions just waiting for a spark to set it all off, and her finding out that Sol was her mother’s killer and had deceived her about everything for the past sixteen years was that spark. When she kills him, it’s the culmination of her life falling the fuck apart as she’s forced to confront the fact that everything she thought she knew for the past sixteen years was a lie. She looks at him and think: you killed my mother, you lied to me, you let me think I was the problem, you let me love you knowing you had my mother’s blood on your hands. You lied to me and told me my sister was responsible for it all, and you stood there and watched as my grief and my hate and my guilt and self-loathing for not being able to stop loving her even as I hated her so much ate me alive, and all of it was a lie, all of it was for nothing, I spent sixteen years hating my sister for nothing! And maybe we could have reconciled, maybe we could have been a family again, but maybe we won’t be, maybe we never can be anymore, not because she killed our family, but because I’ve said and done things to her that she might never forgive me for, because of the lies you told me about her! And now you try and tell me you love me?! For sixteen years, I would have given anything to hear you say that you loved me, and you never did, but now you can say it, now that I know you have my mother’s blood on your hands? Only now?!

Osha killing Sol is not a moment of triumph. Osha killing Sol is the final destruction of her life as she has known it, her completely succumbing to her rage and grief, and I don’t think her rage or her grief will ever let go of her again. Because if there’s anything we know about Osha, it’s that she cannot let go of anyone she has ever loved. She spent sixteen years loving and hating Mae in equal measure, and hating herself just as much as she hated Mae for not being able to stop loving Mae even in the face of everything she “did,” and now, it’s going to be the same way with Sol. She will love and hate Sol in equal measure, and she will hate herself just as much as she hates him for not being able to stop loving him, even in the face of everything he did to her.

As long as Osha remains on the Dark Side, she will never be free. The Dark Side is like a hall of mirrors that shows you nothing but yourself. There is no healing within it, no truth. The path she is on at the end of the show can only lead her to further pain. I cannot imagine a second season of The Acolyte that did not portray Osha as completely embittered, constantly going back to pick at the sites of her old wounds, just completely fucking miserable, because it’s the natural progression from where she goes at the end of the first season. How is that triumphant? Osha is now a pressurized powder keg of bitterness and self-loathing; how is that triumphant?

And I… actually can buy that Qimir’s interest in Osha might be reciprocated, but omitting the kiss scene (which I guess would have taken place at the end after they got back to the unnamed planet) was definitely the right call, because it would have been so incredibly tonally dissonant with everything that happened in that episode. That last scene with Osha and Qimir feels so incredibly uneasy and ambivalent, because Osha does indeed look completely embittered, and Qimir… Qimir actually does look a bit uneasy, at least to my eyes?

My take is that in getting Osha to agree to be his acolyte, Qimir has sown the wind, and does not yet appreciate that he must reap the whirlwind. I looked at him and thought “My dude, do you really think you’re safe? She killed Sol, who was basically her father, with straightforward determination when she found out what he did. And following that, she embraced the harmfully self-oriented mindset of the Dark Side and agreed to let her sister be completely screwed over and thrown to the wolves to ensure her own escape. These are people whom she has known and loved for so long, and as for you, Osha’s had head colds that have lasted longer than she’s known you, so do you really think you’re safe?”

Like, Osha might turn out to be a lot better at this Dark Side thing than Qimir is prepared to deal with. I could definitely buy the eventual romance, but I feel like it would have been a textbook destructive romance, because that’s the natural place for things to go from here. And as for Qimir, he has 100% bitten off way more than he can chew with Osha.

Osha joining the Dark Side was a triumphant moment.

The writer of the Acylote said that is how we're supposed to feel:

"You want to feel Osha’s triumph. You want to feel her joining forces with The Stranger...Even though they are standing there, looking out at the sunset, ready to conquer the world, the tragedy is we know they don’t."

Note: the tragedy is NOT that a lot of people died, but that the two can't be together (because of Plagueis). (interview here)

Now, if that doesnt absolve villains of their bullshit, I dont know what does.

Let me try inserting some other fictional baddies.

"You want to feel Walter White's triumph. You want to feel him joining forces with the Nazis......Even though they are standing there, looking out at the desert, ready to conquer the world, the tragedy is we know they don’t."

"You want to feel the Frey's triumph. You want to feel them joining forces with the Boltons. ...Even though they are standing there, looking out over the Red Wedding, ready to conquer the world, the tragedy is we know they don’t."

"You want to feel Anakin's triumph. You want to feel him joining forces with Palpatine. ...Even though they are standing there, looking out at the burning Jedi temple, ready to conquer the world, the tragedy is we know they don’t."

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters saying things they'll regret during an argument with you. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

(Part two)

Because if I can't be happy, then neither can you./j✨️

Content: Alcoholism, spoilers for season 2, heavy angst, toxic behavior, cursing, established romantic relationships, potential mentions of cheating, gaslighting/ manipulation, probably ooc idk, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

You hated the cycle she had trapped herself in. It was never-ending and beyond self-destructive. For a while, you tried to get her out of it by attempting to reason with her, show her the light, tell her that everything is going to be okay and to just stop with the senseless fighting. But then the heavy, out of control drinking began, and she became unrecognizable to you.

She barely spent time with you, and when she did, then it was due to an extreme hangover that you had to nurture her through before the next fight began. You were so sick of it. You couldn't take the state she was in anymore. You wanted your girlfriend back but didn't want to suffer anymore as a result of it. And so, you tried one last time to snap her out of it.

"Hey, uhm... can we talk?" You ask nervously whilst peering at her from the doorway into her room. The roaring of the crowd and indistinguishable words of the announcers buzzed over your heads, reminding you of the timelimit you had to do this right. Vi didn't turn to you and instead focused on smearing the black paint over her eyes, a dark gaze glance cast your way at your meek plea. "Make it quick. I got 10 minutes before I have to be out there again."

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the coldness in her tone. It was so odd, so not like her. "Vi... I... I need you to stop this. I understand your pain. I really do, I... get it. But this isn't right. You're practically killing yourself here, and I can't take that anymore-" "-This topic again? I told you to fucking drop it already." She hissed with a shake of your head and something about that made you finally snap. "I care about you Vi! That's why I'm doing all of this shit for you. No one else would do as much as I did. Why can't you see that? What the hell happened to you-" Your voice was cut off by her hand slamming into a nearby wall, anger written all over her face that made you flinch away instinctively.

You had never been scared of her before and this just broke your heart further.

"Shut up! You haven't done shit for me, except for pissing me off and whining and crying about every little thing I do! How about you fuck off and leave me the hell alone instead!? The only person who ever did shit for me is Cait and look how that turned out!" Silence. Deafening silence. Except for Vi's heavy breathing. You were rendered speechless. All the years you've spent with her at her side even as children flashed through your mind, before it all stilled and went cold. Your gaze hardened, and you nodded slowly, turning away wordlessly to do as she asked. You understood now. You were always the second choice in the end.

Vi seemed to only notice that you've left once she heard her name being called from the ring above. And her heart sunk at the realisation that this time, you wouldn't be there to watch her win.

And so she didn't.

》CAITLYN

Zaun was becoming a sensitive and dangerous topic to bring up around her. Even the slightest mention of it made her face harden and earn you a dismissive hand waving all of your protests away. It also didn't help that she was pulling away from you and instead getting closer to a certain red-headed officer of hers. It was frustrating and so exhausting to deal with, on top of all the grief that hung over your heads constantly. It was driving you mad. Nothing you said got through to her.

It wasn't a secret that you disapproved of the war and the alliance with Ambessa. You could look right through her, see with a clear mind that she was up to no good. Whatever she had planned wouldn't bring either nation anything but more plight. This wasn't the right way to go about things. It wasn't humane. The people she hated were no different from you both. But she just couldn't see it the same way, her judgment clouded heavily by her need for revenge on Jinx. A singular person had shifted her perception about a whole group of people... and it was becoming suffocating. You couldn't recognize her anymore.

You were trying to find the right time to finally confront her about it fully, and thankfully, the opportunity came up one evening whilst she was going through paperwork in her office. You were pacing nervously around the room, trying to find the courage to speak your mind, but she beat you to it. "If you have something to say, then say it. I have work to do and can not be disturbed like this." She muttered, eyes focused on the sea of papers before her rather than your stilling form. Very well, she asked for it. "I... want this war to end. This isn't right."

Her hand froze before she hummed and resumed her task. "I thought we had moved on from this topic." She said calmly, not betraying how clearly irritated she was becoming. But you couldn't give up now. You'd go crazy if you did. "Caitlyn. There is no moving on from it if people are going to die as a consequence! How could you ever look away from that? Why can't you see that this is wrong? Why can't you see that Ambessa-" You stepped towards her grand desk with every word, hands coming down to push the paper she was holding away from her face. You just wanted her to finally look at you again after so long. "-Is playing with your mind!" "Enough. Don't you dare say another word."

The Kirammann stood up and towered over you, a strong hand grabbing onto your arm with a sharp shake that surprised you. Had the grief taken over her mind this badly? So much so that she couldn't see how much this was hurting you to lose her? "I demand you see reason and stop sympathizing with those treacherous animals... unless you want me to see you as one of them as well." "You think I'd betray you?" You breathed, and suddenly the realisation that you had lost her for good finally sunk in. You needed to go. Now.

Caitlyn's face sobered up at your question, yet before she could say a thing, her dear officer Nolan stepped in with a report in hand. Seeing the position you two were in, she nervously tilted her head. "Oh, my apologies, am I disturbing you-?" "-Not at all. In fact, I'm the one who's disturbing YOU. My apologies for that." Ripping your arm out of her gloved hand, you pushed past the girl and rushed out of the room.

Your girlfriend watched you disappear down the dark hallway before she straightened up and gave the officer a curt nod to go ahead with her report. But it was hard to listen to a word she was saying when Caitlyn's head was replaying the memory of your teary, heartbroken eyes over and over again.

》JINX

She didn't care about her life anymore. That was clear as day, and unfortunately, your relationship was suffering because of it. You knew that Silco's death had killed her inside, that his absence left her lost and confused. But you were so desperate to keep her together. So much so that you were practically destroying yourself for her well-being. Eventually, this boiled over when she was beginning to pull away from you. You, who had always been there. You, who she always cringed onto and begged to stay with her. You only had eachother now. It was impossible to think about a life without her now.

The unhinged spark in her eye had faded away and was replaced by an empty shell of what it once was. That scared you more than you'd like to admit. "Jinx... what are you thinking of?" You asked her one night whilst you quietly snuk around the dark lanes of your home. She didn't respond at first, and your eyes were focused on the back of her hooded head, wondering if she even heard you. But you know she had, when she came to a sudden stop. "... I... I think we should part ways, sweetheart. This ain't gonna go over well forever." She said in that hauntingly calm voice you've grown to hate. And you'd be lying if you said that you didn't see this coming.

"But why? We've always been together through everything. This isn't any different-" "-But it is! It's over! Jinx is over!" Facing you, you near flinched at her glowing, violet eyes, heart beating against your chest. She would never hurt you. You knew she wouldn't. And yet... you found yourself ever so slightly stepping away. Maybe that's what set her off in hindsight. "You're gonna leave me like everyone else anyway. Might as well beat ya to it-" "-I would never do that! What has gotten into you? You should know better than to think that-" "-You're scared of me, ain't ya?" You pressed your lips together when you realised that her mental state had gotten much worse than you expected.

She was losing it.

"In fact, I bet you're thinking of me the same way Vi does. You'll be so much happier without me. But... actually... what if you're going to backstab me like her one day?" The look on your face must've been horrific enough to sober her scrambled mind then because even she seemed to be unsure of what she's saying. And yes, you knew she wasn't doing well. You knew she was just saying things without thinking them through. But you were sick of it. So tired of it all. She could practically read your mind.

"W-wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I-" "-Okay... you're right. We truly would be better off going our separate ways." You were stepping away from her quicker now, and then you were running, your view becoming blurry and unintelligible. "WAIT NO, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME, I DIDN'T MEAN IT, I-" Jinx screamed after you, her breathing heavy and uneven, but she didn't go after you. She knew she had lost that right the second she opened her mouth.

You disappeared into the lanes, for the first time ever sprinting away from rather than towards her. And like the Jinx she was, she had screwed up another good thing up for herself. Perhaps deservingly this time.

》EKKO

Ekko was extremely busy with his duties lately and practically completely neglecting himself for them. It was very concerning to you and everyone, to say the least. Especially now that a war was practically forming at your front door from Piltover. And you were grateful and thankful for all he did for you. You really were. For that reason alone, you wanted him to take things easy at least sometimes to eat and sleep properly when he can. So, on the request of other members, you went to go looking for him one night before it was time for bed. He was sitting up in the tree, clearly planning to keep watch all night, like he usually did.

But you had come with a mission of your own and refused to leave until he came down to bed with you. "Ekko." You hummed as you finally reached him, a friendly smile on your lips. Balancing a nice basket of baked goods you had made yourself, you stepped towards his form that was beautifully illuminated in the moonlight. Seeing him here made you feel content and relieved since you were barely seeing each other to begin with anymore. Which you have been trying to be understanding about.

"I know what you're here for, and the answer is still no." The young man sighed with a shake of his head and frown. You weren't the first one to come by, that's for sure. "Hey... you know this isn't healthy. We're counting on you to stay strong for us, and you can't be that if you're starving yourself." You say with a slight falter to your smile, yet you tried to keep your tone playful and light. He, on the other hand, did not.

"I already told you that it's a no. Now go to bed and let me work." "But I made you these and-" "-I said, no." He hissed out, and that took you aback. He never raised his voice at you, nor did he ever have an attitude with you either. But the stress was getting to him badly, and so was the lack of sleep. "Why can't you just get that? How many times do I have to say it to get it through your thick skull? The least you could do is go and make yourself somewhat useful by patrolling, instead of wasting your time with this."

Oh, how his words cut you deep. Rationally, you knew that everything was just getting too much for him. But it didn't stop you from feeling hurt anyway, as your lip wobbled, and you slammed the basket on a nearby desk before quickly taking your leave wordlessly. Ekko froze at that and reached out to you, your name on the tip of his tongue, but the guilt stopped him from saying a thing.

"Fuck!" He cursed at himself, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a disappointed sigh. He definitely was losing it... and you unfortunately had to unfairly take the brunt of it.

》SEVIKA

"What did I tell you about running off when I tell you to stay put? You could have fucking died out there and then what?" Sevika was angry at you. Not that you could necessarily blame her since you did nearly get killed by an Enforcer earlier. But you had no real choice in this. You swore you didn't mean for this to happen. It was supposed to just be a quick errand run. You wanted to make her something nice for dinner, spoil her a little as a thank you for all the work she was putting into Zaun. Yet you couldn't explain any of this with the way she didn't let you even say a word now from the anger running in her veins. In fact, you had never seen her this enraged before.

"I am sick and tired of you disobeying what I tell you. I can't always be there and save you from everything, you know? I got better things to do and than to babysit you all the time-" "- I'm not asking you to do that either! I'm a grown adult, I can take care of myself!" You yelled back, absolutely angry now yourself at the way she always infantilized you like this. It always the same conversation and argument over and over again. You were so sick of it. You could handle yourself just fine and have proved this before. Yet she was so hellbent on proving you wrong every time, you couldn't take it anymore!

"I'm your partner, Sev. You're supposed to treat me like an equal." "I would, if you weren't so fucking incompetent. If I wasn't there, you would've been dead. Why can't you get that? Should I spell it out for you more? Dumb it down even more?" You hated when she was being like this. It was rare for a reason, and you despised this side of her. The side that was so prideful and egotistical. And you were trying so hard not to stoop to her level. It didn't help that you were a little injured and struggling to stand as is. "I'm not in the mood for this shit, I'm literally bleeding. Can we argue about this later, please? I just wanted to surprise you with something nice for once, and I get that I was wrong, but you don't have to be so mean about it, damn it!"

The tears in your eyes were betraying you, and the embarrassment of that just made you push past her and disappear into your shared bedroom. You'll just deal with the injury yourself. Sevika stared after you in slight surprise, considering it was rare for you to yell back like that and cry at that... but the sight of the flowers and half prepared food on the kitchen counter made the regret finally set in.

Perhaps you were right after all.

[floatyflowers]

Part two of Dark! Sauron X Celebrimor's Daughter! Reader.

I really want to know about the baby and surely Sauron will bind her with some spell or something so that she doesn't give him away or do anything, Sauron is undoubtedly one of the characters with the most yandere potential.

Part 1

You kept your pregnancy hidden from your father, and it was an easy task as Celebrimbor is focusing all his attention on the rings.

And you stayed most of your days in your chambers surrounded by a few trusted servants who would keep your pregnancy a secret.

Of course, Sauron is the one who manipulated them to ensure you have a safe delivery.

The problem with pregnancy is that it is spiritually painful for an elf woman as it can last from one year up to 108 years, however you are not a full elleth.

You are half-human half-elf, meaning you will take only nine months to give birth, yet it's still a hard experience.

Your mother left you and your father after giving birth, she suffered severe depression.

Apparently, that's one of the reasons why Celebrimbor doesn't trust humans.

You, on the other hand, don't hate your mother for leaving, however, you want your child to grow up with you by their side.

Sauron, took advantage of your state and implanted happy visions in your mind of you, him, and the baby which is a daughter.

Annatar would come to your bed at the end of the day, only to place his hand on your growing bump, feeling satisfaction that his plan is going well.

But deep down, you knew that it was him trying to manipulate you.

However, it brought you a great sense of comfort even if you despised your baby's father.

It's quite unfortunate that your water broke when the orcs decided to attack your land, Eregion.

"Where is my father, Annatar?" you demanded, refusing to give birth in such horrible circumstances.

"Focus on birthing our daughter, and don't worry yourself, my dear"

Sensing your panic, Sauron begins muttering a few words, using magic to calm you down.

However, instead, you block him out and begin weeping.

You would rather you and your child die then face the horrid war.

"I need to speak with my father, now!" you exclaim, holding your stomach in pain.

Sauron decided on invading your mind to order you, using his deep frightening voice.

His true nature has finally shown itself, and it's too scary for you to disobey or even rebel against.

All you could see in your mind is a figure made of fire, speaking to you.

"If our child does not survive, I will ensure that your father and everyone you know face suffering. Tell me, is that a fate you desire for them, my pet?"

The servants watch in confusion as you shake your head at Annatar before starting to push.

"When I return, I expect to see you holding our daughter"

And like that, Sauron takes his leave to see to Adar's army.

Part 3

[archiveikemen]

Jude Jazza Main Story: Preview

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

My sin is— an unfulfilled promise. 

It all started with a single promise I blurted out in the heat of the moment. 

…

Kate: Until my time as the Fairytale Keeper comes to an end, I’ll keep looking for something I can love about you. 

Jude: Remember one thing, Princess. … My “promises” ain’t cheap. 

Jude: If ya break yer promise, I’ll show ya a livin’ hell that’ll make ya wish ya were dead. 

Jude Jazza, a member of Crown and president of a trading company. He was an arrogant, merciless, unforgiving villain. He was… exactly the despicable jerk my first impression and his reputation warned me of. 

…

Kate: If you keep going out of your way to make enemies, incurring the enmity of others, and putting yourself in more danger… you’ll… end up dead, you know? 

Jude: Ha? What’s it to ya if I die from all the grudges against me?

Jude: Don’t go actin’ all righteous and stickin’ yer nose where it don’t belong, idiot. 

Jude: No passin’ out now. Ya still owe me two rounds, mister. 

Amidst the endless cycle of revenge, he laughed in joy. 

He was a cruel man who delighted in the misery of others. There was no way I could ever come to love someone like him. 

But if I didn't fulfil my promise, it would be a breach of our contract— and I would become his prey. 

…

As I desperately tried to find something to love about him, we slowly grew closer— and the promise he wanted to fulfil became apparent. 

Jude: Ain’t laughin’? That’s rare. 

Kate: I’m not going to laugh. While it’s true that you’re narrow-minded, arrogant, cruel, greatly disliked, and a true villain right to the core… 

Jude: Go on. 

Kate: … No matter who they are, I would never laugh at someone’s genuine dream. 

That night, when we shared things about ourselves that we never revealed to other people— I found myself falling into the depths of love. 

… Because I fell in love with him, I realised things I never wanted to… like his true feelings. 

…

Kate: — You really should stop making any more enemies, in order to fulfil the promise. 

Kate: And yet… you’re crossing dangerous bridges on purpose.

Jude: … What ya tryin’ to say?

(The truth is, Jude is…) 

(He’s…) 

Kate: Do you want to give up? 

Jude: …

Jude: So what if I am? 

In this world where no amount of grudges, hatred, or cries can bring back what was lost— you’re more exhausted than anyone from carrying the burden of a promise you can't forget. 

…

Kate: I…! 

Jude: Love’s a curse.

Jude: Sayin’ “I love you” is like sayin’”I’ll  put a curse on you.”

Jude: It hurts when ya lose it, ya hate it when it’s taken from ya, and it’s unforgivable if ya get betrayed.

Jude: And yet, ya can’t resist it once it’s given to ya. Love’s the root of all evil.

Jude: I don’t wanna curse nobody, nor be cursed myself.

There's no saving you from love. It only brings you pain and suffering.

As I was crushed by this undeniable truth, a dark shadow crept up on me. 

…

???: Don’t move. Put your hands up…! 

???: Crown member Jude Jazza, you're under arrest by the order of Her Majesty's private army, 

Ellis: Jude.

Jude: Ellis, stay outta this.

Kate: Why!? 

Ellis: … He’s probably being framed. 

…

Even if you reject my love, even if you push me away, I’ll keep clinging to you. 

But while on the run, you… 

Jude: That’s enough. This time, I’m endin’ our contract. 

Jude: I got nothin’ to do with ya anymore. Don’t care how ya do it, just get outta my sight. 

Kate: What… how could you… you said it yourself that a one-sided cancellation of the contract is invalid! 

Kate: I refuse. I want to be together with you—

Jude: … Kate. 

He touched his fingers to my forehead. 

He was all I could see as he gave me a pained smile. 

Jude: I thought it was stupid of ya to go lookin’ for something to love about me.

Jude: But bein’ genuinely liked without an ulterior motive… doesn't feel so bad. 

Jude: — Good night, Princess. 

…

It was unbelievable how he put me to sleep, ignoring my wishes, and did as he pleased. 

That arrogant, cruel, unforgiving villain. 

And yet, because I was in love with him— 

I wasn't going to forgive him so easily for abandoning me after saying his piece. 

When I woke up, I chased after the 13th fairy… and cast a curse on him. 

An merciless, unbreakable curse called love.  

…

Jude: Of all people, I’ll make sure that ya never feel unhappy. And ya ain’t allowed to leave me, either. 

Jude: That's the price for castin’ this curse on me.

Let’s make a promise— even if it curses you. 

[moongreenlight]

What if your brain tells you that nurse!reader from the previous fic was on the field with the boys as an on call medic and gets taken as a POW and ghost is losing his fucking mind?? - like actual feral behavior

Ohhhhhhhhhmygod. Hi? I’m in your walls. So mad I didn’t see this before because I’ve been SLAVING over a Simon fic all week and this apparently is the motivation I needed to put some more batshit insane things on the internet forever.

We all know that Simon is a fucking machine. Prides himself on his ability to essentially turn off his humanity on the field. But for some reason his nurse!reader is the one thing that interrupts that ability. Even seeing you treating a few rowdy privates gets him worked up. Lingers around the medbay in his free time for no apparent reason just to side eye your patients and glare at them to make sure there’s absolutely no possibility of you getting hurt.

There was probably an occasion where you were treating a soldier who didn’t fare well with pain. Moaning and crying and thrashing while you did something simple like tuck their arm into a sling, and they somehow writhed around enough to hook you in the cheek with their elbow. Nothing serious, but it left an angry red mark on your cheek for so long that he caught it on one of your evening walks around base. Usually after dark so you could both avoid being found out.

And then the next day you see Simon dragging that same soldier to a different nurse’s bed under the armpits. Explaining gruffly that he went unconscious because he couldn’t handle training. (He made the poor bastard run the track in full tactical gear on one of the hottest days of the year for nearly an hour straight. No water. No breaks.)

You were the kindest, softest thing he’d ever come in contact with. Something he never thought he’d be able to find in this lifetime after so much hate and anger and pain. He couldn’t risk losing you, which is why he was so strict on his saying no to you joining the task force on the field. The shit they did was dangerous. Immensely so. And this brought up two main points for Simon.

One; he wouldn’t be able to focus on the task at hand knowing you were out. He slept with one eye open when you were nestled close to his chest and snoring softly in the comfort of your own home that he’d all but booby-trapped home alone style. No fucking way he’d allow you out into hostile territory with only a introductory understanding of self-defense. He’d be on pins and needles the entire mission. Probably get the entire squad killed because he’d constantly be looking over his shoulder for you.

Two; it would rip him to shreds if he lost you. You were the only person he truly saw as an equal. The first time the two of you met, he was probably being angsty and rude because he did something to land himself in the medbay, and when he refused to take off his tact vest so you could listen to his heart and lungs, you all but held him at scalpel-point and threatened him within an inch of his life until he finally submitted. After that he was fucking hooked. Obsessed with the way you could get brutes like him to roll over and show you their belly like obedient dogs. And you were kind to him. Immeasurably kind. Dealt with his mood swings and took the time to get to know him. Suffered through the impossibly long process of him letting his guard down.

So if somehow his orders were ignored, it was almost certain that you’d be given strict orders to keep your involvement under wraps. Price would have enough of an idea of the situation to keep the two of you on opposite schedules in the days leading up to deployment. Minimize the possibility of you letting slip that you’d be coming along to preserve not only the integrity of his team but also his quality of life.

It would seem like a regular day to Simon at first. Loading into the helo before dawn, sitting between Johnny and Gaz and trying to tune them out while they snarked at one another across him. And then Price would come on looking guilty as sin. You could practically smell it coming off him. Leaning both his arms on the open door and signaling the driver to start the engine for a quick take off in case Simon decided to abandon ship in his outrage.

He’d give some spiel about teamwork and the importance of focusing on the mission and whatever other bullshit he thought would keep Simon the most level headed. Spewing on and on until Gaz finally cut him off with a pointed yawn. At which point he’d give the group one last look, lingering the longest on the ghost mask, before stepping aside to reveal you.

Dressed up in a uniform that looked about a size too big. Tailored as best it could be in the short notice. Pants chopped and hemmed to make them a manageable length, belt pulled as tight as it could go around your waist. Strapped into a vest that was loaded with medical supplies instead of weapons. Two pistols holstered on your either side.

Simon was beyond livid. Spouting steam like a cartoon bull. Staggering to stand when the chopper took off and stalking over to the cockpit where Price sat and tried to look casual.

Gave him a fucking earful. Screaming over the roar of the engine into the earpiece on a private channel for the entire two hour long flight. Bitching about paperwork and dead weight and how it’s just another person he’ll need to look after and he doesn’t want to. It’s almost impressive. Price doesn’t get a word in sideways. Gets shut down immediately if he even dares to open his mouth.

And he’s a monster when he finds out you’ve been taken POW. Circled by the enemy team like ravenous wolves finding a wounded deer. Soap and Gaz both have to pin him down when Price breaks the news. Seeing fucking red.

A large part of me thinks he internalizes a lot of the torture he went through in the comics. Letting it sit and fester inside him like the worst kind of poison that it took him years to meticulously extract from his very being and carefully contain into a small vial. Laying dormant in the back of his mind for a moment like this. He had no idea what the enemy wanted with you, so he had to assume the worst.

Storms their base by himself. Sniffs you out through a maze of bunkers and underground tunnels and infinitely many heavily secured doors. And the rest of the force just watches his six. Stands back feeling a little nauseous, but letting him blaze down his war path. Any and everyone who gets in his way is guilty unless they can prove their innocence- and they don’t get the chance. Runs through all his ammo gunning down countless grunts and privates stationed outside the base of planted as decoys. Specifically demanding that Price be the one to give up his weapons and ammo so he can continue on. And it’s the one time that the captain allows him to snarl orders like that.

Price knows that Simon is, in his core, a fighting dog. Rescued by the force and given an opportunity to channel his aggression into a more productive outlet. And now it seems all his hard work and training is coming unraveled. Watching Simon once again snap his jaws and bare his teeth, killing without rhyme or reason to get you back, is jarring to say the least. So in some last-ditch effort to preserve some of the trust that they’d built, he surrenders. Shows his belly. Shrugs off his rifle with no objection other than the way his mouth drew into a tight line.

Simon kicks through heavy metal reinforced doors without the need for a battering ram. Pushes himself well past the point of exhaustion. Fueled purely off the instinctual need to recover you. He can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t drink. Can’t stop.

He’d mow through the first few ranks of soldiers until they finally found someone that looked like they’d have at least a sliver of useful information and beat them within an inch of their life until they gave up the information that would eventually lead him to you.

In all honesty, you were probably taken with the intent to lure them in. Not anticipating your absence would have such an impact. Kept you bound in a guarded room. Roughed up a bit just from your struggle, but they hadn’t had time to interrogate you before they got word that 141 was coming in wild and sideways.

This would send Simon even further into madness. Body aching, bleeding from his knuckles. His knees and shoulders screaming their protest when he broke down the door, sending it crashing into the room. And the first thing he sees is you huddled in a corner blindfolded and bound with handcuffs that were cutting into your wrists from your trying to escape. He’d be an entirely different person. (I am giggling and kicking my feet.)

He wouldn’t even bother wasting time with the rifle. He’d handle what few guards were left with his bare hands. Possessed by some kind of superhuman strength. Catching a second wind the moment he laid eyes on you. He’d rush over, the rest of the boys standing guard in the hallway, and break you free from your restraints.

And as much as I would want him to be sweet and coddle you and coo over you, he’d probably be riding such a high that he wouldn’t be able to. He’d immediately start in on you, but with significantly less ferocity than he had with Price.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish? Think they’d turn you into a martyr for bein’ a medic on the field? Real original fuckin’ concept, yeah?”

He’d pull you in close to him, giving you an incredibly detailed once over. Inspecting your face and neck and arms legs for any further damage, and once he determined after three checks that all your wounds were purely superficial, he’d allow his hands to shake just slightly when he smoothed your hair back off your forehead.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Lots of lovely kisses & an unwarranted upset in the standings

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Oct 2024 Week 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Fourever You (Thai Thurs YT) ep 2 of 16 - Yes yes J&J should be first but I am weak in the face of, well, frankly this man's face:

Pond = greatest piner in a dog’s age. The yearning in that boy��s eyes is obscene, it’s like the most explicit sex that only he can see and we’re just voyeurs.

Thus I continue to adore this stupid show and everything it stands for. No notes. May the fluff continue eternal.

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 5 of 12 - Everyone is so skilled in this show, but War is truly glorious. Considering the pacing, I think we are probably in for some long periods of darkness, suffering, and pain soon. I’m not mad about that prospect, it’s earned and foreshadowed, I just thought I’d lay it out there.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 6 of 12 - More boys from GMMTV with good communication. Who knew? Min has SUCH a white knight complex. NO SINGING. Good demanding kiss, though. Well, Ohm can handle anything. 

Meanwhile, this really is a bodyguard romance under another name. And I kinda wanna rewatch Never Let Me Go as a result.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 4 of 15 - Earn remains best boy and my favorite character. Phun is v jelly, as he should be. AND I like Ohm & N'Mik better in this version. I still prefer the original leads, but I’m enjoying this enough. 

I had no idea how much I missed Gunsmile! It’s so nice to see him on my screen again.

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) ep 12 fin - I hate Diew’s mom. Hate her. So much. She may be my least favorite mom ever in BL. That’s saying a lot. No I don’t think she was redeemed. 

Conclusion

Adapted from the novel Godzilla Next Door by Jiwinil about an introvert who lives mostly in his room, until a loud annoying extrovert moves in next door. This was one of my top picks for 2024 and I’m delighted to say it satisfied expectations. A charmingly serene story of opposites attract, that featured good communication, patience, and genuine affection used to build a solid relationship.(I’m particularly delighted that our musician is a drummer and I don’t have to listen to him sing.) Yes it’s a tad slow but it’s very earnest and leans into the kind of sweetness that Thai BL does best. Doesn’t hurt that this starred an actor (Big) that many of us have been hoping would get a lead for years. I was pleased and comforted. This is not a kind of BL that suits everybody, but it suited me admirably. 8/10 

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - Ozone and the Ice Prince (name still unknown) did their little dance. What an earnest and romantic confession from our Icy man. I literally said “no no no just kiss, no foreheads.” And it was a great crying kiss, my favorite. Honestly, that amount of emotion hadn’t been earned by this pair, but I don’t mind. I could watch a whole show just about them. Also woah! Major nekid on YT?

Thailand......

Risking demonetization for arse…...

I guess we’ve all been there. 

Where was I?

I’m happy with this episode since it was mostly my side couple. But the distribution of main couple and side couple and the focus of each episode is wildly erratic with this show. It’s very odd. (And let's be clear we ordered errotic not erratic.)

Every You Every Me (Thai Mon Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Jade and Chin have lived over a thousand lifetimes. In each one they somehow manage to fall in love with each other. (This pair, TopMick was piloted in a My Universe ep, that was one of the only ones I liked.) Soulmate premise is a mix of Color Rush and La Pluie. Frankly, this isn’t as good as either, but it’s enjoyable in a slow cheerful way. Especially if you like this particular set of tropes. It’s quietly lovely and I like the leads. Sunshine is very very sunshine and our tsundere is a grumpy mysterious nerd. Trigger for domestic abuse. It looks like each episode is gonna be a completely different meet cute with the same pairing. It’s more linked vignettes than any overarching story. So if you don’t like this pair, you won’t like this series.

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 9 of 10 - More sports day. (Everybody’s doing sports days right now.) Random sides kissing. Where did the glasses person come from? Was he introduced and I forgot about it? Oh that’s the evil cousin! Okay… anygay. Sides randomly flip-flop who they like and I don’t know what the fuck is going on. This show. I swear. Ooo caught kissing. And… killed? What a mind fuck of a soap opera. Honestly, I’m fine if he’s dead, I don’t care at this point I just feel jerked around. 

For some reason no eng sub for me for the first half. So I watched with Spanish subs (which is about as good as my Thai, only for different words). What a wild experience.

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - Oh dear. I just can’t imagine ever rooting for this couple. Which means… Why am I watching this? 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

My Damn Business (Korea Sat YT) eps 1-2 of 7 - Oh I love it. Casual flirty westernized-style boss. Reserved reluctant cutie (yes we’ve seen the actor before). Is it disgusting workplace harassment? Oh most certainly. Do I enjoy it anyway? Yep, I’m warped. No defense, but at least it’s something from Korea. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 3 of ? - I like the lead being bullied and pushed to his limit thus turning into a psychopath. It’s gonna be a fun ride if it really goes Devil Judge just teens and actually gay. I wonder if it has the strength of its convictions? 

Our Golden Times (Hong Kong YT) 5 fin? - I guess that is the reunion? What an odd little piece. I’m not entirely sure what I feel about it except that this feels more BL than anything Hong Kong has given us so far (which isn't much). The subs are truly terrible. Since I speak absolutely zero Cantonese I can’t really fix them in my brain. I thought this was the final ep but then a teaser for ep 6 dropped so I we have at least one more. 

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - It was a nice, if entirely unearned reunion. And the leads do kiss beautifully. Trust Taiwan. I am so glad that Orca is back! There was even a little language play flip-flopping just for me. Very cute. Also GREAT kissing. How long have we been waiting for Thailand and Taiwan to kiss? 

Eccentric Romance (Korea Weds Viki) eps 1-2 of 12 - Silkwood’s 2nd Thai/Korean colab. This has been in production since 2022 which is a LONG time in the BL world (worrying). But I like the concept: friends of 10 years who’ve been hiding feelings for each other enter the same university. Plus MURDER. Stars Yoon Jun Won (The Man BLK) and Thai actor Save Saisawat (Ai Long Nhai). I begin to think every The Man BLK member will eventually lead out a BL at this point.

It’s enjoyable in a weird way. Grumpy (hottie with a crush) + sunshine (captain oblivious). I gotta say, since this is the second relationship dual lingo style in our BL rn that it’s ALWAYS weird if the other half doesn't occasionally code switch languages, especially for specific words. In other words, the Korean dude is supposed to at least understand Thai, occasionally he’s should use a Thai world to get a point across. And the Thai dude is there to STUDY KOREAN, he should be slipping in and out of Korean regularly. Bah. 

It's airing but...

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 5 of 10 eps - I never managed to get hold of ep 5. Frankly, it’s going to Netflix (I don’t subscribe) so I might not finish this out of sheer laziness. 

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Gangster and His Boyfriend (Korea ????) 8 eps? - was supposed to air 10/10 Kim Dong Bin (famous trainee & idol reality competitor, yeah that happens) stars as a fallen idol who unexpectedly becomes entangled in a gangster family. Discovers that his friend’s father is responsible for the murder of his entire family years ago. I don't know much about this one, neither does anyone else and I'm not sure where I got that release date so……

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming Oct 2024:

10/17 Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Korea Thurs Gaga) 8 eps - High school student Do Hoe lives with his violent and brutal father who runs a Taekwondo gym in a rural area. One day, cheerful Ju Young arrives, he dreams of going to college for Taekwondo. Joy begins to fill Do Hoe's dark life. An unexpected incident forces them apart, they reunite ten years later.

10/21 Love in the Big City (Korea ????) 8 eps - Okay, this is both a movie (already out) and a series. Neither one is likely BL and I can't imagine it will end happily. I'm giving both a pass but here's your synopsis.

Cynical fun loving student Young pinballs from home, to class, to on night stands. He and Jaehee, his female besie and roommate, frequent nearby bars where they push away their worries about life, love, and money with soju and hookups.

10/23 See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga & Viki) 10 eps? - Zi Xiong, a third-generation heir, attempting to flee from taking over their family business, meets and falls in love with Shao Peng, who works as a hearing-impaired nurse. From the same production house as Kiseki Dear To Me in partnership with Shinehouse Theatre, funded by Taiwan’s BIGART + Japan's Rakuten (Viki). Show includes Lin Chia Yo (Be Loved in House: I Do). Director Chiang Ping Chen’s childhood experiences with his deaf uncle have inspired the drama.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Addicted Heroin

Incidentally he didn’t ask to “be with Ter” he asked if he could flirt/court him. jeeb doesn’t really have a direct translation, but it isn’t “be with.” 

Fourever You

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[obiwanwhat]

I know someone has probably said this better but. There's really so much about Luke & Ahsoka interactions that can be explored. Because honestly they have every reason to resent each other?

Anakin was arguably much more of a father to Ahsoka than he ever was to Luke (even if he was more of an older brother figure to Ahsoka than an actual father figure). He trained her and built her lightsabers and had a dumb nickname for her and made dad jokes and like - everything Luke ever could have wanted out of his dad. She knew him when he was still Anakin Skywalker and not Darth Vader. She knew Padme!! Padme also was kind of her mom! Luke doesn't even know Padme's name until sometime post ROTJ - it's possible Ahsoka was the first person who could have told it to him.

Not only that, but she had the Jedi Order. She was trained by the Order at its peak, raised from infancy in the rituals and knowledge that Luke now must piece together from whispers from ghosts and whatever old texts he can scrounge up from the corners of the galaxy the Empire somehow missed. He is doing all of this on his own with no guidance, no oversight, meanwhile it's knowledge that came to her as easy as breathing.

And she walked away from all of it. Everything Luke has ever wanted - a relationship with his parents, proper Jedi training, the Jedi Order itself - she had without ever asking for it, and she walked away from it without a backward glance. And she's still walking away from it - she's not a Jedi, she won't claim that title, she won't join Luke's new Order. Maybe she shows up from time to time and tells him some stories and shares from knowledge, but she won't train him, and somewhere deep down he knows that he will never be as much of a Jedi as she is even though she doesn't claim that title anymore, and part of the reason because is she won't help him.

And for Ahsoka's part. Anakin returned from the Dark Side for Luke. He couldn't - or wouldn't - return for Ahsoka, who he trained, who knew him and loved him and would have died for him. He tried to kill her and would have if Ezra hadn't saved her. But this boy, who shares nothing with Anakin but a name and half his DNA - he was enough to bring Anakin back. She wasn't, not with everything they shared, not with all the times she'd almost died for him, and he'd saved her, and she'd saved him. How do you not kind of hate someone for that?

And besides, he's trying to bring back the Jedi Order. The Order that cast her aside as soon as it was convenient for them, the Order that allowed Anakin Skywalker to become what he did and was too blind to see a Sith Lord under their noses and that died for those mistakes. And sure, he's trying to do it differently, he's trying to do it better, but what does this boy know of better? What can he know of the sins of the Jedi Order? When he speaks of the Order with stars in his eyes, what can he know of the pain that she suffered? That so many suffered? How can he correct what he doesn't understand?

I just think it would be cool to see more of that explored in canon.

[charliedawn]

What if the nurse was bad ?

I thought…What if Nurse Y/N turned out to be a VILLAIN. 😀

Synopsis: There was the rumour of Nurse Y/N going insane and it influenced the slashers to act…differently.

Jason Voorhees

The first one to lose his mind was Jason. He felt it from the start as you became distant and your thoughts darkened. He tried to help you. You were their hope and their light in darkness. He thought he could help, that you would get better. But nothing he did seem to work, and it only made him feel worse and worse as you started growing distant and more insane as time passed. Soon enough, he became more violent himself and some of the nurses noticed his slow return to his old self. And then, he became YOUR monster. He started protecting you and return to his complete muteness and murderous self…He would attack nurses and no word or anything could stop him…And you would simply watch with a smile on your face. The medical board tried to stop you, but it was no use. You were too far gone. At the end, the slashers were back to their old selves and there was nothing to bring you back from the madness that was slowly taking over you.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms was the second to notice your sudden change. You were being more commanding and your eyes no longer held that same kindness he had grown to love. You seemed so cold. But, he still wanted to believe…Brahms still remained your friend until the very end—even when he saw that there was no turning back for you. At the end, he started returning in the walls and make more victims within the hospital. He would drag nurses or random people in his walls and they would never come back. Your own instability echoed within him and the rage and the loss and the suffering returned.

At the end, he dropped to his knees in front of you—his hands covered in blood after you had told him to kill for you. He looked up at you and his eyes held only one question within their depth.

Why ?

Brahms was scared.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo started spacing out at random times. He would get angry for no reason and destroy furniture. At night, he would hold his head and scream as he felt his thoughts turning dark and murderous. He didn’t know why. He had been happy for a few years in St Louis—free from pain. He had just started accepting that things were going to change and he could be happy…but then, he had sensed this sudden unease and unexpected shift. He looked up at you and his eyes widened as he saw you standing there.

"Darlin’. Please…I…" He wanted to ask for your help and held out his hand…but then you smiled. And it wasn’t your usual cheerful or friendly smile. It was a mocking one. A cruel one.

And that’s when he understood and Bo who had never felt anything but pain and suffering and who thought he couldn’t get any worse…was proven wrong. Because nothing hurt more than being offered hope and being deprived of it. In the end, Bo became more dangerous than ever. His rage had no outlet except through violence, and he took it out on anyone who dared cross you. He would protect you, but deep down, he hated what you had become—and what you were turning him back into.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy had always suspected there was a darker side to you. Sure, you acted like the saint of St. Louis, helping out the slashers, showing compassion, and trying to reform them. But Freddy had been around long enough to know that no one was as pure as they seemed. When your shift started, it didn’t take him by surprise—it just confirmed what he’d been thinking all along.

"Heh, I knew it," he cackled, crossing his arms as he watched you lose that last bit of sanity. His grin widened, eyes gleaming with amusement as you stood over the bloodied remains of yet another victim. "You never really believed in all that goody-two-shoes crap, did ya ?"

You turned to him, a slow smile spreading across your face. "I did…for a while. But now I see…why change you for the better, Freddy, when I can turn you into something so far worse ?"

For once, Freddy didn’t have a snappy comeback. The realization hit him hard, the smirk faltering for a brief moment as he looked into your eyes and saw nothing but malice. You weren’t just playing the game—you had flipped the board, and now you were controlling the pieces.

"You twisted bitch," Freddy finally hissed, though there was a hint of admiration in his voice. He didn’t want to admit it, but seeing you this way made him feel…uneasy. Sure, he liked chaos, liked causing pain, but this was different. You weren’t just embracing the madness—you were becoming it.

You laughed harder and Freddy could see your true colours now. He could see…

And yet, even as the realization set in, Freddy found himself drawn to your darkness. After all, who better to lead him back into his worst impulses than you ? You were the monster now, and Freddy ? Well, he was more than happy to follow your lead, no matter where it took him.

Michael Myers

Michael felt it long before anyone else did. The subtle shift in your demeanor, the distant look in your eyes—it wasn’t something he could easily put into words, not that he ever would. He watched you from the shadows, his protective nature shifting into something more possessive, much darker. As you slipped further into madness, he stopped trying to pull you back. He just…followed.

When the first body showed up, Michael stood silently beside you, his knife gleaming in the dim light. You didn’t flinch or recoil at the sight of the blood, instead offering him a wicked smile that sent a chill down his spine. He understood then—you were no longer the guiding force, the light in his darkness. You had become the very thing that pulled him deeper into it.

From that moment on, anyone who tried to "help" you faced Michael’s blade. He would watch you from across the room, eyes cold and distant, but never leaving your side. You were his now, and nothing—not even your madness—would change that.

Pennywise

Pennywise had always seen the potential for chaos in you, even when you were at your most compassionate. So when you started to change, it didn’t come as a shock to him—it was thrilling. "Oh, my little nurse, finally embracing the madness, are we ?" he’d chuckle, floating around you with a twisted grin. He didn’t resist your transformation; instead, he fed off of it.

"Why stop at a few lives ? You and I, we could rule this world, turn everyone’s worst nightmares into reality," Pennywise teased, his voice dripping with excitement. You laughed along, your eyes gleaming with a newfound hunger for destruction.

Together, you unleashed horrors in the hospital and the world would learn to utter your name in fear. And Pennywise ? He reveled in it, proud to have been right about you all along. He became your partner in terror, following your lead as he fed on souls. All mercy and redemption gone…

But, sometimes he would look at you—really look at you—and his eyes would lose their light for just a second…For just a fleeting second, he would look at you and remember who you used to be: the innocent and loved little nurse who made slashers believe in change. And he would feel a tug in his chest.

…He would even come to regret the old you.

Penny

Penny, unlike his brother, was more confused than delighted by your change. He’d always been the more playful one, the lighthearted monster who didn’t take things too seriously. But as you grew colder, more distant, something inside him shifted too. He followed you around like a lost puppy at first, hoping you’d come back to your old self.

When it became clear that wasn’t happening, Penny grew more frantic, trying to win your approval by any means necessary. "See ? I can be bad too !" he’d shout, laughing maniacally as he tore into the nurses that tried to intervene. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t bring back the warmth in your eyes. And that scared him more than anything.

In the end, Penny followed you out of fear and desperation. He didn’t want to lose you, but he also didn’t understand this new version of you. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up. He looked at his brother one night as they were keeping your door and asked:

"Pennywise…Tell me. Are they really…Are they really gone ?"

Pennywise didn’t answer. He knew that his brother wouldn’t like his answer. So, he remained silent and Penny became sad…

He had really hoped to see you again.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent never said a word, but the change in you spoke volumes to him. He had always admired your gentleness, the way you handled things with care and grace. But now, as he watched you descend into madness, something inside him broke. His art became darker, more grotesque, reflecting the growing corruption in your soul.

Vincent would silently stand in your presence, waiting for your orders. He didn’t resist the shift; instead, he internalized it, letting it fuel his own creative darkness. The sculptures he made of the staff you ordered killed were more terrifying than anything he had ever crafted before. But still, there was a sadness in his eyes as he looked at you. He missed the old you, but he could never bring himself to fight against you.

Esther

Esther’s sharp mind was one of the first to notice your change. She watched you closely, her eyes narrowing as she began to see through the cracks in your facade. At first, she tried to manipulate you back to your old self, using her charm and wit. But as time passed, she realized it was no use.

"You think you’re smarter than me, Y/N ?" she sneered one day, her usual mask of sweetness slipping away. "You think you can out-crazy me ? I’ve been playing this game far longer than you."

In the end, Esther didn’t fight you—she adapted. She started playing her own games, twisting the narrative so that your descent into madness worked in her favor. She would help you orchestrate the chaos, but only because she had plans of her own. Esther always had plans.

Father Paul

Father Paul was devastated. As a man of faith, he had always believed in redemption, in the possibility of salvation for anyone, even the most broken souls. But as he watched you fall deeper into madness, he realized that maybe some people were beyond saving.

He would try to reach you, try to remind you of the good you had once done, but it was no use. "This isn’t you, Y/N," he’d say, his voice trembling with emotion. "You can still come back from this."

But you would just laugh, brushing him off as if his words meant nothing. Father Paul, broken by your transformation, withdrew into himself. He began to question his faith, his purpose. And in the end, he too was consumed by the darkness you had unleashed, unable to reconcile the person you had become with the one he had once believed in.

"…I truly believed you were going to save us."

He whispered—his mouth tainted with fresh blood.

Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman thrived on control. His routines, his polished appearance, his hollow social niceties—all carefully orchestrated to maintain his perfect image. But as he watched you, Nurse Y/N, descend into madness, he felt something shift, a crack forming in the foundation of his meticulously built world.

"You’ve changed," Patrick remarked, his voice cold and detached, as always.

You turned to him, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. "Change, Patrick ? I’d say I’m finally seeing things clearly."

Patrick tilted his head, his expression unreadable. He stared at you with a calculating gaze, as if you were just another piece of his carefully constructed reality that didn’t fit anymore. "Clarity doesn’t look like insanity," he said, though his tone betrayed no emotion.

You laughed softly, your eyes glinting with something dark. "That’s where you’re wrong. You’re always pretending, Patrick. Pretending to feel something. Pretending to fit in. But deep down, you know you’re like me."

Patrick’s gaze never wavered. He took a step closer, his face a mask of indifference, though your words hit closer to the truth than he would admit. "I’m nothing like you," he said flatly, yet there was a hint of intrigue in his voice.

"Oh, but you are," you whispered, stepping toward him. "You’ve been hiding behind that empty suit for so long, playing the role of the perfect man. But inside, you’re empty. Just like me. We’re both killers, Patrick. The only difference is, I’ve stopped pretending."

He blinked, his face as stoic as ever, but inside, something stirred. There was no rage, no fear, only a cold calculation. He didn’t care about your madness or what you had become. But there was a faint pull, the idea of relinquishing the last shred of his humanity that kept him tethered to this charade of normalcy. He was intrigued by your boldness, by how freely you had let go.

But he remained still, expressionless. "I don’t pretend," he said quietly. "I just don’t care."

You laughed again, this time louder, more manic. "And that’s what makes you dangerous, Patrick. You don’t care. You’ve never cared. But soon enough, you’ll realize how liberating that can be."

Patrick stared at you for a moment longer, no emotion flickering behind his eyes. "Liberating ?" he repeated, as if the word were foreign to him.

"Yes," you said with a smirk, turning away. "Because when you stop pretending, when you embrace what you really are, there’s nothing left to hold you back."

He didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. He’d long since stopped feeling the need to explain himself. Whatever you were becoming, whatever madness had claimed you, it didn’t concern him. You were spiraling out of control, and he would remain steady, detached. Yet, as he watched you walk away, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Because, in the end, chaos or control—it made no difference to him.

Norman Bates

Norman was never the same after witnessing the shift in you. At first, he felt a glimmer of hope in your kindness, a belief that maybe you could help him escape the shadows of his past. But that hope quickly faded as you transformed into something darker. The gentle demeanor he had grown to trust turned icy, and the warmth of your presence became a cold specter haunting him.

"Y/N ?" he ventured one night, his voice trembling. You stood amidst a room filled with remnants of your darker whims, the glint of madness shining in your eyes.

"What happened to you ?" he asked, genuinely confused and hurt. The memory of the compassion you once offered felt like a distant dream.

You tilted your head, a smile playing on your lips, but it lacked warmth. "Oh, Norman, don’t you see ? I’ve always been this way. You just never noticed until now."

Norman's heart sank as he realized that the person he trusted most had turned into a reflection of the very darkness he fought against. "But I thought we could—"

You interrupted, your voice sharp. "Could what ? Change ? Adapt ? Look at what you’ve become, Norman. You’re still clinging to that fragile sense of normalcy. But we both know it’s a façade. You are a monster. You will always be a monster."

In that moment, the realization hit him hard. He had thought you were a beacon, a chance for redemption, but instead, you were leading him down a path of destruction. And as he watched you revel in the chaos you created, he felt his own sanity begin to slip. In the end, he would become your puppet, lost to the madness you had decided to embrace.

BONUS

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, heart pounding as the vivid nightmare clung to your mind. It felt so real—the madness, the blood, the slashers losing control, becoming monsters all over again. You clutched the blanket, eyes darting around the darkened room, disoriented and shaking.

The scream you had let out echoed in the silence of the night, and before you could fully gather your bearings, the door burst open. Jason was the first to appear, his imposing figure standing in the doorway—his machete raised and at the ready. He looked around frantically for any sign of danger—but found none. He moved quickly to your side, his large hand resting awkwardly on your shoulder, trying to offer comfort in the only way he knew how.

Brahms was next, peeking from behind Jason, his eyes wide with worry. He didn't say anything—just stared, his usual playful demeanor replaced with deep concern. He slowly made his way to your side, almost afraid to get too close but desperate to offer comfort. He knelt beside you, his hand shaking slightly as he reached out to touch your arm, his eyes searching yours, as if pleading for reassurance that you were okay.

Michael entered quietly, his presence felt more than seen in the dim light. He didn't rush to you immediately, his pace slow and deliberate. He observed you carefully, and then pulled out his notebook from his pocket, writing something down before showing you: What happened ?

He sat at the edge of the bed, his silent and comforting company grounding you in the moment.

Bo Sinclair appeared not long after, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern, as if he'd been dragged out of a deep sleep but couldn’t help but care. "Darlin', you alright ?" His Southern accent soft, the usual sharpness in his tone dulled by the worry in his eyes. He stood there for a moment, arms crossed, before moving to your side, brushing his hand over your hair. "Was it a nightmare ?"

Vincent slipped in quietly behind his brother, standing in the shadows. He didn’t make a sound, but his presence alone was soothing, as if he was there simply to watch over you in case you needed anything. He gave a small nod, acknowledging that he was there for you.

Freddy was last, strutting in with his usual cocky grin, but even he paused when he saw your trembling form. "Nightmares, huh ? Not my work this time, I swear," he quipped, though his voice lacked its usual venom. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the others crowd around you, before adding, "What kinda monster dreams are getting to you now ?"

But there was a strange softness in his voice, an unspoken understanding. He might have been a nightmare in the past, but seeing you like this—it wasn’t his domain. He wasn't your tormentor. Not anymore.

Jason stayed close, holding your hand gently, as if afraid to hurt you but wanting to let you know he was there. Brahms crawled up on the bed beside you, still staring at you with wide eyes, his head tilting as he kept trying to make sense of your distress. Michael’s calm, steady presence, coupled with the note in his notebook, reminded you that they were all here to protect you. Bo's hand never left your hair, his brother Vincent still watching from the corner, always there but never imposing.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, the warmth of their concern slowly easing the tension in your chest. You could see the lingering fear in their eyes—the slashers who had been transformed from nightmares themselves into...your friends.

"I’m okay," you whispered, though your voice still trembled slightly.

But Freddy, of course, wasn’t one to let it go so easily. "You sure about that, sweetheart ? Looked like hell got a hold of you."

You offered a weak smile, shaking your head. "It was just a bad dream."

Jason squeezed your hand a little tighter, as if to remind you that whatever had happened in your nightmare, this was reality now. And in this reality, they were here for you.

Michael scribbled on his notebook again, holding it up: You’re safe.

And, for the first time since waking up, you believed it. Surrounded by the once fearsome killers, you felt safe. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath…Yes. You were safe. Everything was alright. You would make sure of it…

[itskattkm]

Day & Night

Mabel (Finestkind) x G!P Reader

Warnings: life crisis, bruises, smut, bad writing because of translation

A/N: hello my dears. Here a Mabel short story. Maybe making a part two. The requests I had got are in work :) So this is my first try of some spice in English and I could cry in pain. The translation is so bad. And I need to stop changing perspective so often. It’s getting confusing right? Hope you guys can still enjoy

Part 2, Part 3

I remembered as if it was yesterday when I kept an eye on Mabel after she was beaten up by these damn dealers. I didn't know much but what I knew was that things didn't go as they should. So before Charlie took Mabel's car to take care of some things, I got the call to watch out for Mabel until he would be back.

I leaned against the wall when I looked through the small slit in her cardboard at the window. The sun seemed to go down. I sighed softly. What situation did I find myself in again? How many times had I asked myself this when it came to Mabel. For a very long time I thought that we were friends... although I knew deep inside that we never were. I was just like a lost puppy... someone who would follow her wherever she wanted to go. Someone who would do anything to pray for her. Someone whose feelings were obviously not reciprocated. Someone... who was self-evident.

I looked over my shoulder back at her. As if frozen, she sat at the end of her bed and stared at the dark floor. I could feel her pain... her fear. What should you say to someone who was beaten up by dealers a few hours ago? Was there anything right to say?

As I knew Mabel, it was probably raging in her thoughts. Accusations. Shame. Disappointment. She hated the life she came from. I never knew anyone who had longed for a different life like me. At that time, I thought this was something that had connected us. Or did I just try to look longing for things that weren't there? For things that would connect us in any way?

I turned around and walked to the small dining table to take one of the chairs. When I now picked up one of the older wooden chairs and placed it in front of Mabel to sit im front of her, I got her attention. But I only got this because I had made noises that weren't there before.

I slowly sat down opposite her, looking down at the pack full of swabs and the alcohol bottle. I took out one of the swabs and moistened it with the alcohol.

I carefully lifted Mabel's chin with my hand. My eyes were now on her lips. The laceration on her lip had opened again. I didn't know if my attempt to take care of her injury made sense. Whether it did anything at all. But I couldn't stand here any further, wait for Charlie's return and drown in silence.

"You fumble too much on it... it opens again and again" I whispered gently before I dabbing her wound and only got a soft hiss from Mabel when she consumed herself because of the burning.

Again, a sigh escaped me. I threw the cotton wool aside. I wondered how long I would have to suffer. Would it ever be over?

"Thank you..."

The words and the me making me feel goosebumps tone in her voice brought me back. I looked with a mix of worry and sadness in her dark eyes, slightly smeared eyelashes ink emphasized her aura. Her left eye was decorated with yellow bruised spots that slowly turned purple.

I lost myself in the darkness of her eyes. Asked me if she could ever see how much was hidden in my eyes? Every time I looked at her, I had the feeling that I knew what was going on in her. How she felt.

My heart was bleeding and although I knew that my presence and the attempt to sit or just be there for her would not change anything , I couldn’t help it. I hesitantly raised my hand and fixed her bangs, with an almost trembling hand I tried to wipe a strand to the side to see her face better. I didn't want to hurt her. I was afraid of getting so close to her at all.

Now I could admire her injured face in full costume. Why is my heart bleeding all the more to see her in such a state? Why did I find her even more beautiful? Why couldn't these feelings disappear?

The burning of my eyes brought me back from a so-called trance. I didn't smell any of these feelings. Never.

"You are very strong... never forget that," I whispered because I didn't know what else to say. Her eyes pierced me. This time I didn't know what I could see in it. Gratitude? Security? Or maybe it was nothing at all?

But they seemed so gentle. So gently that I had to fight with the urge to somehow tell her my feelings.

Almost a year passed after this incident.

Mabel and Charlie have been still a couple. Charlie and Tom had now built a new bussines with the Finestkind. The crew still had hard jobs... yet they were independent and very important... not on the criminal path.

It was again one of those nights when I sat on the scaffolding of the bridge and just watched as the sea and the sky became one in the dark.

Never before had I felt so lost. So lost from my path.

It was the stormy days when I was here at the pier and watched the raging sea. It should remind me that I was alive... that there had to be a reason for all this. That there was a story for me that I didn't know anything about yet, but when would all this come? When would I feel free. When would I feel important?

"It's one of those days again?"

a voice too familiar to me spoke.

I looked to the side, Mabel slowly approached the terrain and looked out into the distance in which the lights of the Finestkind could already be seen.

Then my heart sank. I knew she was here to pick up Charlie. It wasn't a prescribed path that should lead her to me... No... but to Charlie.

I looked at the ship.

"I guess" I said because I didn't know if Mabel was really interested in how I was doing and what I was doing. Most of the time I was the one who asked and listened, I mean… I cared.

"How's it going with college?" I asked her

Mabel nodded and had this beautiful wide smile on her lips as she looked out to the ship. From the side I could she her dimples and beautiful side profile.

"It was definitely the right decision," she said.

I smiled because of her happiness. Of her her joy...

"I'm happy about that," I said and looked back at the ship. As it got more and more windy, Mabel had hooked her arm in mine and laughed slightly "you have to stop being up here in this weather. It's dangerous"

I grinned. Was this a concern? Was she really interested? This sentence warmed my heart in so many ways. The fact that she knew how many times I was here... that alone gave me hope.

"But at those times it looks the most beautiful out here!" I shouted when a stronger gust of wind hit us.

Mabel shook her head "you really have to stop falling for the things that could kill you"

I looked at her thoughtfully.

What did she mean by that?

Suddenly the horn of the finestkind sounded. Mabel grabbed my arm more firmly and pulled me with her to leave the scaffolding of the bridge together.

When we arrived downstairs and watched the boys docking, my heart began to race. As soon as Charlie had left the ship, Mabels loosened her grip around my arm and she landed in his. He put his arms around her narrow waist and kissed her for a long time.

How much I wish I could have been Charlie. How much I wanted to give her my love and everything else in the world... how much I wanted this from her. The other boys greeted me with hugs. Tom laughed dry

"Y/N if you continue like this you will become our lighthouse" a laugh escaped me and I boxed into his shoulder.

"Beauty and death at the same time... I say," Mabel joked. I grinned and gradually began to understand. "What do you think... are we still going to the bar?" Charlie asked.

More months passed after that day. It was a day like almost any other.

I didn't go to the community college like Mabel, but I had studied online. In the summer season, Mabel actually began to spent most of her time with me on the grounds of the bridge. We learned together. Waited until the boys would come back.

It became our thing. Now I knew that Mabel came here not only because of Charlie... but also because of me.

"How are things going?" I asked her because she was exceptionally quiet today. She looked into the distance and said "I'm not sure..."

I knew this look. Pain. Longing. So I counted one and one together. Things between her and Charlie seemed to have changed.

The boys haven't come back for a long time now. They were on a almost one month long "trip" if I could call it that.

I followed her gaze, a fisherman to date, I indeed imagined that difficult.

"Do you have time tonight?" Mabel asked me with this self-confident strong tone. I looked back at my laptop

"Probably why?"

"I could use some help..."

She began to pack her things and looked down at me. The wind blew slightly through her hair, she looked at me with a grin to which I could never say no.

"So?" She Hacked after I was just staring at her. I shook my head slightly to wake up.

"Yes... yes, of course. When should I come over?" I asked her

"I'll come to you... in about an hour..."

I nodded and watched her go down.

Maybe we were friends after all.

Later in the evening I was just cooking food.

One hour became two... and two almost three. It has now been 11 o'clock at night. I was tired and would still have to do some tasks.

Just when I was about to change, it suddenly knocked on my door. Confused about the late time, I went to the door and opened it. Immediately Mabel entered my apartment slightly out of breath with a wide grin.

Confused, I locked the door behind her and looked after her. She put her shoulder bag on my dining table and said

"Sorry, I'm late..."

I laughed dryly and looked at the clock

"Three hours..."

Mabel continued to grin as if she was in a “that interested me at least now mode”. She took off her leather jacket and looked at me "it's not a bad thing"

I walked past her to drink a glass of water in the kitchen "it's not like I would have liked to have done something else instead of waiting here and worrying a little".

Mabel followed every movement of Y/N with a cheeky yet gentle smile.

"You were worried?" She asked in a teasing tone. Surprised by the sound, I looked at her nervously "of course... it's dark outside and you didn't even send me a text"

Mabel laughed slightly as she walked closer to Y/N "You could have texted me too..." she whispered and looked at her urgently.

Y/N felt a heat in herself that was difficult to control. In order not to respond to Mabel's last words, I said nervously "you wanted my help... what exactly?"

Mabel came closer and held the eye contact for unusually long "did I want that?" She whispered.

Slightly confused, I looked at her and didn't quite understand. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what.

Suddenly Mable slowly put her hand around my waist and said "I meant rather... that I need you tonight"

The place where she touched me sent a wave of goose bumps to the rest of my body. Were those signals? Did I understand the situation I was in right now?

She got closer and closer to me and I didn't even think about moving at all. Her eyes moved back and forth between my eyes and lips. Her face was only centimeters away when her lips slightly brushed mine.

"How much do you want me y/n?" She whispered.

My heart beated hard against my chest.

As if attracted by a siren, I lean in. Next, I felt her soft lips on mine.

The lips that I wanted to feel for so long. To taste.

Mabel grabbed my neck and kissed me back deeper as she slowly led us into my bedroom.

There she pushed me down on the edge of my bed before she made herself comfortable on my lap and started kissing on my neck. Her hips moved into mine. My member immediately started to get hard. This seemed to please her because she rubbed herself more and more firmly on it as she held my neck tightly and kissed me passionately.

I was breathing heavily. Held her hip that was moving back and forth in my hands when I began to breathe heavily. I kissed her back hungry. My lips brushed hers over and over again when I tried to hold back.

"Don't hold back... show me" she whispered seductive. I pressed my nails into the fabric of her hotpants before kissing her hard and then bit on her lower lip to pull it slightly. Mabel gasped slight in surprise of the intense feeling and was overwhelmed by the fact how good y/n felt.

She kept grinding on y/n lap. She felt the big and hard bump in y/n pants and wanted to feel it so bad... wanted to touch it so bad. So she opened y/n pants and observed how rapid the breathing of y/n became.

Both looked down when Mabel freed y/n hard cock. Suddenly it felt like time had stopped. Very slowly she took him in her hand became aware of the size and felt the warmth he radiated. Y/N swallowed hard when she could watch Mabel hold her hard cock in her hand. Her hand was warm and it just felt so good. Both raised their heads and their eyes met. Mable's gaze wandered between Y/N's eyes and lips.

Y/n put her hand around the back of Mabel's head and pulled her closer. She kissed her slowly, breathed heavily and groped herself slowly with her tongue. Mabel escaped a slight moan when she returned this kiss and her tongue hit y/n. She grabbed her cock more firmly and began to move her hand up and down very slowly. Y/n felt all the pleasure coming over search. These touches. That's all she had always longed for.

Mabel observes satisfied the effective she exercised on y/n when she breathed heavily into her neck and tried to hold back her moans.

But she felt and could see how harder y/n always became. She wondered if the pain was with pleasure. She looked down at the pink tip as she slowed down her firm movements and stroked her thumb over her tip. Mabel herself felt an unbearably good pulsation inside of her when she saw some white liquid coming out of y/n cock.

Her heart was racing like crazy. Oh how much her body screamed for y/n. The things she wanted to do with her. She slowly began to kiss her neck. Her tongue strokes slightly over y/n pulse. She now moved her hand a little faster. But didn't want to take y/n too far because she wanted to feel her inside of herself.

She breathed heavily against y/n neck as she started to grind on her thighs while she gave you a probably long-awaited handjob.

"Do you have condoms?" Asked Mabel with a raspy voice. Y/n held tight Mabel’s waist. She breathed heavily when she said "Night table... top... top drawer"

Mabel nodded and reached for y/n jaw before she kissed her deeply and her tongue explored her mouth. She had some condoms herself, of course, but she preferred to use y/n... especially since this was a size that was clearly not comparable to that of Charlie and that in a good sense.

When her lips loosened, she let go of her hard limb. She began to take off y/n sweatshirt and shortly afterwards y/n helped Mabel get rid of her clothes.

Mabel slowly pressed y/n into the mattress so that she was laying on her back.

Mabel leaned over her as she began to kiss her passionately and rubbed her wet middle over the erection of y/n.

Y/n moaned and turned around so that Mabel was now under her. She kissed her jaw, throat and neck before she slightly bit into it and made Mabel escape moan.

She places herself between Mabel's legs. Their naked bodies touched each other and y/n struggled with an almost painful erection. She felt Mabel's warm and moist vagina. With her tip, she brushed Mabel's clit and breathed heavily as Mabel's grip solidified around y/n shoulders.

With full passion, y/n looked into Mabel's dark eyes before she bent over her chest and began to kiss her left breast. Mabel's grip demanded herself in y/n hair when she arched her back in pleasure and moaned. Y/n took time to taste her warm and gentle skin. In a teasing way she brushed her lips above the sensitive skin of Mabel's breast before teasing her nipple.

"Y/n..."

Gasped Mabel heavy. A shiver hit down y/n spine. How long did she want to hear Mabel call her. Taste and touch her body. She slowly kissed her nipples. And moved her tongue around it in circle movements. Everything y/n did robbed Mabel of her mind.

Mabel stretched out her arm and opened the top drawer of the bedside table to look for the condom.

That was a signal for y/n that Mabel wanted more and needed it. With hot and wet kisses y/n covered Mabel's neck and whispered Husky "don't be so impatient Mabel..."

Mabel shivered and chuckled slight before locking eyes with y/n and whispered seductive "just do what I'm telling you to do...".

She caressed y/n stomach... moving her hand slowly down to your hard cock "...please"

She added.

You nodded and let her put the condom on your hard cock.

You shivered when her hands touched you again and rolled over the condom in the most sensual way you could have imagine.

You spread her legs more before burying your face in the crook of her neck. Slowly you penetrated into her. Her walls are tighter than you could ever have imagined.

Some sounds left Mabel as you continue to slowly go deeper. You had reached for the lacquer when Mabel pressed her nails into your back and moaned as you extended her further. After a few moments, you both breathed harder. Mabel put her legs around your hip and whispered "deeper".

You did her that favor and fill her completely with your length in the next moment.

A loud moan caught her and for you it was like music. You finally got what you wanted. What you had longed for. Mabel. In your arms. Connected to each other. You would never be able to let her go again. She was what kept you alive... what motivated you every day even if it was so hard.

I held her hip tightly as I began to move slowly. Mabel's breathing became more and more intense. She moaned almost evenly and called my name.

I began to bump harder, had a firm grip around her thigh when I breathed heavily against her lips. She stretched out her head. Put her arms around my neck to be able to kiss me. Her tongue brushed my lips as she whispered “...y/n”.

I felt how she became more and more tighter with excitement. I felt a soft end with every new and faster push that made her moan more. I knew... that I had found the spot... and it wouldn't be long before she would have her orgasm.

"Y/n!" She shouted, totally intoxicated. Your body was shaking. With every push, she came closer to the feeling of pure satisfaction.

I kissed her hard before I buried my face back in her neck and whispered "your mine now..."

[charliemwrites]

Chapter 4

Content: Threats/Expectation of Torture, Dub-Con, Consensual Non-Consent Elements, Hurt/Comfort

The lines are getting thinner. Day by day, touch by touch. The parts of you that buck and bray against captivity begin to settle into the dangerous clutches of this isn’t so bad.

It’s exhausting to resist, especially when every part of you isn’t unilaterally aligned. The boundary between deep, dark desire and actual circumstance is narrowing into something you can’t discern anymore. Blurring into a strange delirium. Mornings with Ghost’s fingers inside you and afternoons warming Johnny’s cock. Meals prepared by hands that have snuffed as many lives as your own. A voice that once menaced you now lulls you to sleep.

Every interaction is a double-edged blade of seduction and condemnation. You moan at the tug of a collar you’re not free to remove. Johnny leans into the same hand that just bruised his wrist. A dozen scenarios that walk the line, never tipping either of you towards or away from Ghost.

It's things like Johnny waking in the dead of night, screaming. You know what’s going on even half-asleep; the same dream-memories lock you into burning paralysis. He’s clutching at his shoulder, fingers of the same arm spasming. Coughing on phantom smoke, seeing a night sky polluted by columns of flame instead of the ceiling.

“Kit! Kit!” he rasps, painful and terrified.

“Johnny, I’m here,” you call back, heart pounding. “Johnny, wake up! It’s over, we’re okay!”

You tug fruitlessly at the collar, at the chain. It’s useless, you know it is, but you can’t just sit there and watch him suffer again. Hate Ghost and this house and your own compliance with the same fire that nearly engulfed you and Johnny.

A shadow moves at the edge of your vision. Ghost.

You beg him to let you go to Johnny, to let you help. He ignores you for the moment, kneeling at Johnny’s side and rolling him onto his back. Speaks him back to reality, voice low and gravelly, reminding of details he has no right to know – how long you both spent in the hospital, the day of your mutual discharge, the months you two spent in physical therapy.

You want to cry, want to scream, want to be there with them. But Johnny’s finally calming down and you won’t ruin it all by losing your threadbare composure.

The first thing he asks when he’s got his breath, mumbling and fuzzy, “Where’s Kit?”

Ghost crosses back to you, unlocks the chain. You scramble to Johnny’s side in an instant, practically crashing into his chest as he reaches for you. He breathes deep when you gather him in, pressing his wet face to your neck.

“I’m here, I’m okay,” you whisper, shaky hands squeezing at his sore shoulder.

His own trembling, clammy hands paw your shirt up, press to the scarring on your hip. Assuring himself it’s healed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, “I never should have gone in—”

“You were doing your job,” you interrupt. Unwilling to relive the memory again or let him torture himself with it. “And I did mine.”

The cushion shifts behind you. Thick arms circle you and Johnny, guide you back against a sturdy body. Like this, Ghost feels more solid than the ground. You want to hate him. Could – should – blame him for Johnny suffering alone and resent that he comforted him first. You find yourself leaning into his strength and warmth instead.

“Not your fault the intel was bad, pup,” Ghost murmurs, carding fingers through Johnny’s sweaty mohawk.

Eventually, you and Johnny start to doze. Snuggling in with sleepy sighs and the reassurance of the other’s presence. You (or maybe Johnny) might even whine a bit when Ghost shifts as if to leave, clinging onto his sleeve. Either way, you wake the next morning to Johnny sandwiched between you two. For a man who doesn’t even let you see his face, it’s unexpectedly… intimate.

Johnny spends most of the next day in a mood about it – ends up forced to cum scraping his cock against the laces of Ghost’s boots by lunchtime.

And that should be the tipping point, right? Or at least one of them. The awful decadent violating addictive things he does to you two.

You stray too far one morning, thought you heard something in the basement, and he puts you on your knees in the living room. Forces your thighs apart with his boots imprinting the tender skin of your thighs. Grinds the tread against your crotch until you’re squirming and teary. It’s uncomfortable… but also makes you whimper for more, body on fire and apologizing into his thigh just for a bit of relief.

Johnny mouths off for the third time in an hour – was already warned twice. Ghost makes you edge Johnny for two hours, fingers in his hole and tongue flicking over his cock.

“Been gagging for the kitten to do this to you for a while, eh, mutt?” Ghost coos, pinning Johnny’s wrists above his head. “I know it’s one of your favorite fantasies.”

And then when Johnny seems like he’s at the breaking point, Ghost makes you milk his prostate until he loses his voice entirely.

And that’s just when Ghost is in a good mood.

He comes down one morning visibly irritable. Eyes dark, shoulders tense. All his movements are short and quick, almost aggressive. When you try to ask him if something is wrong at breakfast, he grunts at you to shut up and eat. And when Johnny makes a snippy comment about “bad manners,” Ghost forces his jaw open and lifts his mask just enough to spit in his mouth.

Then he storms out the door without another word. Johnny’s left flushed, awkwardly pressing the heel of his hand against the bulge in his joggers.

Ghost returns hours later and doesn’t seem any less moody. In fact, he seems worse now. You and Johnny exchange glances. He’s already cooking up mischief, you can see it from across the room. Never did learn when to leave well enough alone. All it takes is for you to subtly shake your head at his little smirk. That might as well be a greenlight.

“Well then, Ghost?” he drawls.

Ghost, who’s been aimlessly (peacefully) flipping through channels, stops. Not that he was fidgety before, but at the smarmy note in Johnny’s voice, he gets stony. You grimace and shoot Johnny another staying look. Mouthy little bastard you may be, you’ve always had a good sense for when to shut your stupid mouth. Your serial killer kidnapper being in a shit mood is one of those times.

“Ya done sulking yet? Gonna tell us who pissed in yer cornflakes?” Johnny continues, lounging against the wall with his first arms folded behind his head. “You gonna pack your shit in or keep being a bellend?”

You feel the exact moment that Ghost’s patience snaps. The room goes cold.

He drops the tv remote onto the cushion next to him, cracks his neck, and exhales deeply. Then stands and lopes across the room. Not to Johnny.

To you.

“Ghost—” you yelp, scrambling back. Don’t get far. He snags two thick fingers around the collar and jerks you away from the wall.

“Hey!” Johnny shouts. “Hey, yeah radge bastard! I’m the one that pissed you off.”

Struggling is no use, you know that. Still, you jerk and squirm, heart pounding. Draw your fist back, only to have it caught in an iron grip. It’s going to bruise, your bones ache.

“Fucking do it,” Ghost growls, lower and rougher than you’ve ever heard. Beyond the balaclava, his gaze is burning coal. “See what happens, kitten.”

When he releases your arm, you can’t bring yourself to follow through. All your strength is just in keeping your spine straight. The unspoken threat – his sharp-toothed, blood-hungry encouragement – leeches all but survival from your body.

No praise comes for choosing the wise path this time. You tremble in its absence.

The chain slithers away. Even if you thought running would do any good, you can’t collect your legs to try. Ghost doesn’t ask (or demand) that you do. Hand still hooked in your collar, he starts dragging you along, crawling on hands and knees at his side.

Johnny is still protesting, volume and desperation rising like a tide, flooding the room with impotent panic. You can’t make out individual pleas, the crashing waves of your own fear too loud in your ears. Ghost’s silence is roiling, violent.

You get halfway down the hall before realizing your destination. The inconspicuous white door looms ahead, sinister. You can’t swallow the scream that tears from your throat.

“No, no, Ghost you promised!” you cry, bucking and thrashing.

You manage to slip his hold and fall back, twisting and scrambling to escape. Just stumble halfway to your feet, about to cross the threshold back to the den. See Johnny’s huge, regretful eyes and blanched face, mouth parted as he strains towards you.

Then cruel arms circle your waist and yank.

“No!” you shriek, kicking at air. Ghost doesn’t even grunt with the effort of hauling you down the hall. “No, Ghost, please!”

The locks are open you realize as cool air rushes past. Your efforts double, but he easily drags you down a set of wooden stairs. All you do is earn a threatening hand around your hitching throat. You sob as shadows swarm, hiccupping that he promised over and over.

Your feet brush cold, flat concrete.

The basement.

He drops you onto something hard, flat, and wooden a few feet above the ground. Your legs hang over the edge, feet swinging. A table. Ghost’s black silhouette blots out the meager light daring to peek in from the hallway.

“G-Ghost,” you choke out.

You expect to be shoved down, tied prone and helpless. Wait for the bite of a blade, the prick of a needle, the cold kiss of a gun. Brace yourself for it, scrabbling for any of the stoic demeanor you once armed yourself in.

You nearly scream again at the touch of warm hands. Not a tight grip around your throat, or a brutal fist to your face, or even strong fingers breaking yours. It’s the firm (but not painful) press of a palm over your mouth and its twin spanning your hip.

“Take a deep breath.”

You peer through watery eyes, trying to find his. With the light behind him, even his gaze is obscured. All you have his voice. Low as it is, he seems… calmer than you expect.

You obey.

“Another.”

You breathe in slowly, exhale evenly.

“Good.” Relief makes you so dizzy that your eyes flutter. Ghost shakes you a bit. “Listen, little one.”

You blink up at him, take another breath, and nod for him to continue.

“I need to get some frustration out and the pup needs to learn a lesson.” He sweeps his thumb over the curve of your hip. You shiver, confused and still frightened, but still trained to react to his touch. “You just need to put on a good show, yeah?”

You try to speak, but his hand doesn’t move, so you settle for making a questioning noise.

“I’m going to torture you,” he explains, as casual as telling you what’s for dinner. “And you’re going to convince the mutt that you hate it.”

His hand slips from your hip to your groin, rocking meaningfully. Tentative understanding dawns with a golden ray of hope.

“The alternative is that Soap takes your place,” Ghost muses in your silence, mistaking it for reluctance. “I won’t be nearly as… humane with him.”

You protest wordlessly, shaking your head.

“No?” he mocks. “You’ll be good for me, then? Let me use you to teach that brat a lesson?”

You nod. Guilt gnaws at you for getting off (literally) so easy when Johnny is up there out of his mind on fear and his own guilt.

That sentiment doesn’t last long.

Ghost rips your clothes away with a growl, leaving them in tatters beneath you. You yelp, genuinely shocked. He moved so fast. There’s nothing teasing or seductive about him, not this time. None of the patience or measure from every previous encounter.

Sharp teeth scrape your jaw, beneath your ear, over your collarbones. Harsh fingers pinch and twist your pebbled nipples until you arch with a shout. He forces his big body between your thighs, grinding your quickly warming groin against unforgiving denim and the bulge hidden beneath.

“Stop, stop!” you cry, half-meaning it, head spinning. “Ghost, please!”

He doesn’t. If anything, your pathetic pleas spur him on.

Your underwear is discarded with another tear of fabric, exposing you to cool air and a mean man.

Ghost’s mouth closes around you, sucking hard, tongue flicking. You scream. High-pitched, wounded. Would jackknife right off the table if not for the merciless pin of your hips. Sounds claw up your throat and leap from your parted lips. You’re not in control of them, not with the way he’s slurping, growling, just the faintest hint of teeth to keep your voice octaves too high.

“No, no, please stop!” you keen.

He shoves two fingers in your gaping mouth, gags you on them until you’re coughing and gasping wetly. Awful, desperate sounds. You throb.

Those fingers circle your hole.

“Don’t!” you wail. “Please, Ghost, not that. I can’t—”

You shriek as one finger pushes inside. Nothing slow or gentle about it, a firm and unrelenting push. He doesn’t wait for you to recover or catch your breath. That single finger pumps in and out of your uncertain body, mechanical. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels dangerous. You squeeze your eyes shut and beg again for him to stop.

In answer, he pulls away long enough to spit directly on your twitching, sensitive hole. Then wedges the second finger alongside the first. This time your scream ends on a sob as his fingers pet your walls. It’s not quite painful, but it feels like it should be. It’s too much. Your body doesn’t sing, it screams for him.

Ghost has already mapped out all the places that make you shake and cry and beg. He seals his mouth around you again, and you’re gone. Bawling and kicking at air, he forces you over the edge faster than anyone ever as.

He works you through it, sticky wetness dripping down to ease the stretch of a third thick finger. Worse still, he doesn’t even slow, keeps going like you haven’t cum at all.

“It hurts!” you sob. “Please, it hurts, I can’t!”

He uses his free hand to toy with your nipples again, adding another layer of overwhelming sensation that melts your brain. The overstimulation almost burns, you can’t tell if it’s ice-cold or white-hot. Just know that your nerves are shot, and yet you’re still rocking into his touch just that slightest damning bit. Because it’s not just too much, it’s not enough. You’re stuffed with his fingers, but you ache for more, for…

“Please, Ghost,” you breathe, hushed and desperate. “Please, fuck me.”

He pulls away with a filthy pop. “Fuck you?” he repeats. There’s a malicious smirk in his voice.

“Please,” you confirm, “please, I want it. D-don’t you want to…?”

He doesn’t answer – not with words. A noise thunders from his chest that raises goosebumps, freezes your blood, and burns through you like wildfire. You don’t know if you’re afraid or aroused, can’t tell if you want to run or bare your throat. It wouldn’t matter regardless. Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore.

You yelp as Ghost slides his fingers out agonizingly slow, pressing against your walls the entire way. His shifts, tugging your ass to the edge of the table and bowing up over you. Sharp teeth nip at the edge of your collar as the blunt head of his cock rubs against your aching entrance. Anticipation and trepidation chase each other through your veins, leave you shaking so hard you’re surprised the table isn’t rattling.

“Relax,” Ghost rumbles in your ear, “or don’t. Won’t make a difference to me.”

There’s nothing gentle or gradual about it, no consideration for his own size or your body’s limits. Just a hot, unrelenting press. You keen as your poor, oversensitive hole yields beneath the onslaught. It burns, you can’t breathe, he doesn’t let you adjust even once the flared head is tucked snuggly inside. Just keeps cramming his fat cock deeper and deeper.

You’re lightheaded when he bottoms out an eternity later. It feels like all the air has been forced from your lungs, like there isn’t room for anything but Ghost. And then he rocks back and slams home again.

This time, the table does rattle.

You grip desperately at the sides, nails scraping. He fucks into you viciously, teeth glinting in a half-feral snarl. There’s no consideration for your pleasure, but he still sends your eyes rolling back with every thrust. You’re too gone, dumb on ecstasy, probably drooling.

A rough hand shoves your thigh back, bending your knee to your chest. His cock rams into your g-spot and your voice breaks on the wail that follows. He shortens his thrusts, half pulling out before plunging back inside, ruthlessly abusing that bundle of nerves, snarling as your walls flutter and spasm.

“No, no, no, not again,” you babble but it’s too late.

The pleasure rapidly overflows into a mind-numbing orgasm, whiting out everything but the exquisite torture of Ghost pounding you through it. This time you can’t even muster the ability to plead or squirm. Even your body seems to surrender to his will, going limp and pliant through waves of overstimulation.

“Not yet,” he growls. “One more, and then you can pass out.”

He snakes his free hand down between your bodies. Tears stream down your temples. Helpless, wordless cries spill from your raw throat, high and sharp. Another orgasm builds frighteningly fast, crackling along your shot nerves until you blow like fuse. Blinding ecstasy cracks up your spine, envelopes your mind, and leaves everything dark.

You wake in the bathtub.

It’s a slow, reluctant crawl back to consciousness. The lights have been dimmed to something soft and warm, filtering through a curtain of curling steam. Like this, the bathroom is a dreamlike blur, all hazy lines and twilight shadow. Water laps at your collarbones, not quite scalding, just the way you like. It’s quiet save for the gentle swish of movement along the surface, and slow breathing by your head. Someone is drawing a cloth gently along your heavy body.

A low, gravelly voice coos, “Back with us, kitten?”

You roll your head, blink syrupy slow at the dark specter of Ghost knelt at your side. His sleeves have been drawn up past his elbows.  One arm supports your neck and head, protecting you from the cold, harsh side of the tub. The other disappears beneath the surface of the water, working slowly back and forth. A reaper paying dues.

“Maybe,” you hum.

He makes an amused noise. Not quite a chuckle, but close.

“You can sleep again soon,” he replies. “I think the pup has suffered for long enough, though.”

You jolt, the cotton candy haze dissolving into bitter ash.

Poor Johnny, thinking Ghost was doing something awful to you. Hearing your screams and cries and begging, only for Ghost to bring you up some indeterminate time later, unconscious. Guilt threatens to swallow you whole.

“Easy now, precious,” Ghost soothes, a hand between your shoulders as you sit up. “Take it slow. I wasn’t gentle with you.”

That becomes evident as you abandon the weightless solace of the hot water. Aches immediately bloom throughout your body, concentrated around your hips and thighs. Your lower spine is sore, a muscle in your thigh feels strained, and your hole…

“Christ,” you whimper, nearly slipping.

Ghost catches you, scoops you out of the tub altogether, and waits for you to steady your fawn-weak legs on the bathmat. You lean into him heavily, soaking wet patches like blood into his sweatshirt. You’ve paid your way like this – imaginary cuts at Johnny’s expense.

You can’t look at Ghost’s egregiously fond gaze without nausea bubbling in your empty stomach. A yawning pit grows there, hollowing you out. You can’t face the mirror either.

Ghost doesn’t interrupt your flagellation. Buffs you down with a towel in silence, polishing the monument he’s built to his own deprivation. Couldn’t have shaped it without the raw material there though, could he? Statues don’t form without a block of unformed marble, can’t make granite of limestone.

He dresses you in one of his hoodies and fresh underwear before returning you downstairs.

The state you find Johnny in breaks your heart. Tear-streaked, puffy-eyed, lips bitten bloody. His hair is tangled and disarrayed, bruised hands limp in his thighs. Though his head is leaned back against the wall, there’s no ease in his body. His jaw is so tight you worry for his teeth, brows furrowed tight. A crumpled ball of tension and regret.

“Johnny,” you say, voice splintering. The shards rain down, popping the bubble of bleak silence suffocating the den.

His eyes fly open. You dart to him, throwing yourself into his arms before he can process what he’s seeing. Press yourself close and tight, eyes stinging at the exhausted tremble in his body. Johnny’s never been anything but fire and stone to you. Warmth and heat and energy, strength and support even with the cracks.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you warble. “I’m so sorry.”

He nudges you back to scan you with glassy eyes, like he’s seeing a miracle right in front of him.

“You… you’re okay,” he rasps, voice shredded to wisps.

You nod, bowing your head in shame. “He – we…” You can’t find the words to explain, don’t even know how to begin. His hands keep drifting over your arms and hands, eyes flicking from your face to your neck to your bare legs.

Ghost chimes in. “Told the kitten to put on a show or you would suffer.”

You want to wipe away Johnny’s half-dry tears, offer the comfort he’s been deprived of. Cowardice grips your arm, suspends it in midair, whispers poisonous doubts about your welcome.

But Johnny presses his cry-flushed cheek into your palm, shuddering through a dry sob. He leans his weight into you, and despite the fatigue, you stay the pillar you’ve always tried to be for him.

“You both need water,” Ghost rumbles, and turns for the kitchen.

Left alone, Johnny doesn’t emerge from the safety he’s found in the hollow of your throat. You cradle him with all the tenderness you can muster, sifting gentle hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” you whisper finally.

He lets out a sigh and hugs you closer. “Nothin’ to apologize for, Kit. Not mad at ya for protectin’ me. ‘Specially when I put you down there in the first place.”

“I don’t blame you for anything. I wouldn’t have blamed you even if he had…” You shake your head. “Well, regardless, it’s on Ghost for losing his temper.”

He doesn’t respond. You’re not surprised, but your chest squeezes. Johnny’s a proud man, but he’s got a guilt complex a kilometer wide – especially for people he cares deeply for. He’ll be haunted by this for a while.

“I’m just glad you’re alright, luv. Don’t care about a damn other thing.”

You tilt your chin to press kisses to the crown of his head – until he finally peeks out for you to trail more down his ruined face. The kiss starts gentle, warmth and love and reassurance pouring into him from your mouth. Johnny shudders in a breath, cups your jaw. His control slips, mouth parting on desperation and relief, lapping comfort from the edges of your teeth and curl of your tongue.

You only part when Ghost returns, nudging the two of you with his knee. He doesn’t insist on separating you far, though. Just enough to bestow you and Johnny with full glasses of water. You sip in measured doses while Johnny chugs to the bottom in a few noisy mouthfuls.

As he does, you note the awful marks on his hands. Bruised and bloodied knuckles, blisters forming on his palms. Your eyes dart to the wall – sure enough, red stamps like smashed grapes, centered around the wall anchor for the chain. You follow the trail back to his collar, spot the angry skin peaking past. At least there isn’t blood.

Ghost notices too.

“We’ll have to take it off for the night.”

To your surprise, something like reluctance flickers across Johnny’s face. There and gone again, but definitely there. You say nothing; you’d have the same reaction.

Ghost disappears again – this time you hear him rummaging in one of the cabinets. While you and Johnny wait, you exchange chaste, gentle kisses while you burrow into his side.

He returns with a first-aid kit. You’re surprised when offers you a roll of bandages. “A hand for each of us.”

You hum in agreement, get to work dabbing the split skin with antibacterial.

“Can I jus’ ask why, Ghost?”

Ghost doesn’t even glance up. “Why what, pup?”

“Why take it out on Kit? Why not just give me a thrashing and call it a day?”

You frown. Don’t like this line of questioning, or the guilt still staining his words. But Ghost answers without hesitation.

“Because you told me, yeah? Your worst fear is the kitty suffering for you again,” he explains. “No better way to punish you.”

That’s no shock to you; the sentiment is mutual. It’s been damn near written on both your faces since you woke up here, and Ghost isn’t a stupid man. He had you made long before then, you’re sure.

But Johnny’s sudden silence strikes you like a cord out of key. No mutters of annoyance or even snarky comebacks this time. Just a silence that drags your gaze from the careful winding of gauze.

He’s not looking at you, though. He’s staring at Ghost, abject horror graying his skin.

“Riley?”

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[princess-dirt]

Number 1 Miquella defender.

Seriously tho (TL:DR), I'm seeing a lot of people online dismissing his character as pure evil, and it's insane to see. Although most of this is my fault for thinking the average gamer thinks about anything deeper than brainrot memes. DLC spoilers btw.

In a universe where there are like a dozen characters guilty of dozens of war crimes and genocide, calling the queer coded femboy pure evil for letting 2 people die and sacrificing himself to End Racism, War, and Genocide is a wild take.

I don't think I'd mind as much, but Ranni's ending and the Frenzied Flame endings are the two most beloved endings by the community. Like, it's ok for Ranni to kill her brother, but Miquella stealing his half brother's body after we kill him is too far.

It's ok to kill everyone because it means Melina gets to live. But Miquella making himself a god to save his sister from a life of constant horrible pain means he is power-hungry and evil.

And this isn't mentioning the whole "trecherous twink" and "Miquelester" memes that are rooted in homophobia.

But that part has a lot to do with misinformation being spread about Miquella's powers. People believing biased people who already decided to hate Miquella making up his powers or taking every bit of dialog or text to the absolute extremes.

The most obvious example being Mogh and how Miquella charmed him. I've seen delusional people go as far as to say Miquella mind controlled Mogh into starting a genocide and a blood cult. This despite the fact that it's entirely possible that Mogh started this process before Miquella was even born yet. Mogh was ambitious and wanted to be Consort to the next God. By all lore, even with the DLC, Mogh wasn't forced into anything. The line of text about the bloody bed chamber is also taken to the furthest extreme despite sexual violence and sec in general being devoid from all fromsoft games.

Even in Dark Souls, where cross breeding is canon and maidens being experimented on is also canon, actual sexual violence can only be inferred, and even then it's fringe theories. In reality, Miquella dies quite early as Mogh puts him in the cacoon and the "bloody bedchamer" is literal as in Mogh lives inside Miquella's blood. Making Miquella's corpse quite literally a bloody bedchamber.

But even if the incest happens. Yes, Mogh beats the rapist and kidnapper allegations, but nothing says he was forced into this. Miquella's power operates by making others not think negatively about him. While it can be argued that the use of the power is coercion, that is not the debate being had, and everything in the dlc shows us that his power can not force anyone to do anything. He can just convince people more easily.

Mogh is a tragic character like Morgott yes, but he is still a horrible person. The Tarnished (the player) kills him as easily as every other boss in the game. Miquella tricking Mogh and using the Tarnished killing him to steal his body is a bad thing.

I won't argue that Miquella's plan has some victims. Even if Radahn made a vow to be his Consort, Miquella still needed him dead to join him in the Land of Shadows. Radahn suffered even if he accepts Miquella by his own free will at the end.

As Ansbach says, taking Mogh's body is a horrible thing to do. Even if Ansbach is a murder cultist and heavily biased, he is right that it was still wrong to do. Ansbach even finds himself taking neither side and instead asking the Tarnished to make a new order. (It's just ironic that Ansbach describes what Miquella wants for the world)

Miquella sacrificing so much of himself is sad. We hear St Trina who is Miquella and likely Miquella's sense of Love personified, beg us to kill Miquella. Not because Miquella is evil, not because St Trina felt betrayed, but because Miquella can't love himself anymore and can accept the prison that is godhood.

And we see Miquella abandon his doubts right before he abandons his love and Trina, hiding them away from danger. We know even after sacrificing every bit of himself, he was still scared facing the Gates of Divinity. He leaves behind even his fear.

He does this all to fix the countless sins of his Mother and extended family and heal himself and his sister's curses.

It's not a coincidence Miquella's first action as a God is removing his own curse and taking the form as an adult. Showing despite everything, his goals remain the same. But of course, as the current or soon to be Elden lord ourselves, we stop him before he ever gets a chance to try fixing the world.

Some Tarnished even go out of their way to the Haligtree, slaughtering refugees from war, and killing Malenia, his sister, in cold blood. And I think this level of moral complexity and lack of clear right and wrong in the world of Elden Ring is tripping up so many people.

They see Mogh be a victim as a child and be tricked by Miquella and cannot fathom how he could still be evil. The genocide he is committing and his blood cult of murderous knights and "medics" are ignored.

Ranni can be forgiven because she is hot. Maliketh is never held at fault for what Marika does or did despite him only ever defending her and helping her. He is just super cool. We are the Tarnished so even when we chose the evil endings, there is still justification for it.

But the femboy who is very strongly queer coded can't be forgiven or understood. And another part of it is Griffith. Griffith is another morally complex feminine prince type character. Miyazaki is famously a massive berserk fanboy so characters like Prince Gwyndolin and Prince Lothric were often compared. But Miquella got the comparison the worst. Berserk spoilers btw.

And Griffith is objectionably a horrible person even before the Eclipse and when he stops being Griffith and becomes Femto. His moral complexity and the many nuances of his character often get forgotten because of the Eclipse, because of his horrible actions. Griffith being SA'd, self harming, having an unhealthy often one sided toxic love, and having so much self doubt that he nearly breaks down several times is forgotten about. They label him as pure evil and any deeper discussions about him as a character are lost.

And Miquella, as soon as he got the Griffith comparison because of his looks was destined for a similar fate when it is revealed he is an antagonist in the DLC. Griffith is pure evil, Miquella has a ton of similarities and thematic parallels to Griffith, so obviously, Miquella is pure evil. The classic no media literacy response.

I am yelling into he void I know, but I love writing and I love Miquella as a character so much. I think deep analysis and reflection is valuable even if it's just me talking to myself.

[harkonnen-darkness]

◈ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 ◈

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen X f! Reader

Warnings: Blood -> period/menstruation-kink, manipulation, twisted thoughts - Feyd beeing Feyd! Maybe his kind of aftercare…? ;)

His blue eyes had been on your dagger, gleaming in the candlelight, for several minutes now. Feyd had admired your weapons from the start, had been amazed, but also astonished that a female could handle them well. More like just fine. His eyes kept switching back and forth between you and the sharp blade. He desired both - you, his queen, his property. And he coveted material things that could cause serious injury. Could end in death. Feyd remembered the dreams he sometimes had. Rarely, but they remained fixed in his memory. How he slowly cut into your flesh, not even deeply. He just wanted to see your dark red liquid, which tasted sweet to him. How it would cover you and decorate you like the pretty jewelry. You were beautiful either way - but covered in your own blood? Priceless. Precious.

You slept peacefully on his chest. His calm breathing had lulled you to sleep. He even thought he saw a faint smile on your face as he looked at you again. Both bodies naked from the previous lovemaking. Still tasting your blood on his tongue, mixed with your nectar. He was happy to give you a little relief when you were in pain during your menstruation. It didn't disgust him a bit, quite the opposite.

The Na-Baron's hands gripped your body even tighter and he pulled you a little higher, so that he could smell your perfume on your neck. A scent that only a queen could have. His eyes darted back to your weapon as if of their own accord, his fingers began to tremble. He hated it when he lost control of his body. All because of you! He hated you for triggering feelings in him that he had always loathed and considered weak. Another reason why he wanted to hurt you. Not only because you would look beautiful (and his feelings for you would probably rise to unimagined heights), but also because he wanted to make himself suffer. Pure punishment. He had loved his harpies, but in a completely different way to the way he loved you now.

His warm fingers gripped the cold weapon. The handle was elegantly decorated, slightly smaller, well suited to women's hands. Feyd examined the dagger in his hand a little more closely before running the flat of it over your back. He was surprised that the cold steel didn't wake you up. You continued to sleep peacefully. His other arm wrapped around your body. He would never let go. He would hold you just as tightly in his hands, if your body turned cold and rotted. He knew it wouldn't change the way he felt about you.

But when you moved a little and the Harkonnen heard a soft sigh from you, reality caught up with him. If he would do it (now), he would lose you. You would either die or leave him. Could he force you to stay? But then you wouldn't feel comfortable, right? But that was exactly what he wanted - for you to feel comfortable and safe at his side. Feyd thoughtfully put the dagger back on your bedside table, blinking a few times, stroking his hand up and down your back. He licked over an fresh love bite, trying to be satisfied with the little metallic taste.

At that moment, you moved again, your tired eyes opened and looked up at him. He could see confusion in them, which made him grin superiorly. ❝You can't forbid me this. Sleep again.❞, he growled and pressed a kiss on your forehead. You only heard his words muffled, your eyes falling shut again as he continued his hand movements on your back. Happy that you trusted him.

Feyd laid down on the side with you, facing away from the knife. He watched you for a while longer, smiling, knowing that you were his and would be his forever.

• I don't want to sound mean, but I would appreciate a comment. There's nothing here and the fun of writing is slowly fading… 💔

[ellecdc]

Dude, I don't know why I am asking this. But do you think poly moonwater will choose to be child free? I do think so. I mean, regulus past story and remus fury problem, I don't think they'll want kids at all

But if reader accidentally gets pregnant. Do you think they gonna keep their distance an arm lenght? I mean, I remember in the book remus trying to leave nymphadora who's pregnant at that moment (or is it after she gave birth? Can't really remember) by trying to help Harry looking for the idk the name of it, voldemort collections?

oooouuuu this is a fun question! thanks for asking; and I think that happened before teddy lupin was born and they were searching for Voldemort's horcruxes! - also, in regards to canon, I think the reason remus felt willing to take off was because he truly was sort of all alone: no parents, no siblings, no family, no friends. Plus society constantly shitting on him, plus there being a war etc etc, he felt very desperate and didn't feel like he could handle being responsible for nymphadora and a child

But of course since WE DON'T LIVE IN A WOLD WITH VOLDEMORT OVER HERE 🙃🙃🙃🙃 I think this is a valid question

(my answer is going to be SFW until the page break below - I will put warnings ahead of time for minors)

My answer would be yes, I agree that Regulus and Remus would perhaps wish to be childfree. Like you said, Remus feels like society views him as a stain and he wouldn't want to pass that legacy onto a child (biologically his or not), and he also wouldn't want to put a child through the pain of seeing their father suffer through every lunar cycle. Regulus had a horrific childhood and would be very scared to be anything like his mother or father, and I kind of see him as this guy who really doesn't know what to do with kids...he never had a childhood really, and never was around other kids until he was at Hogwarts, and by then he was right traumatized soooo yes I agree, he would be worried about having children.

As for our darling reader finding out she was pregnant? I have some thoughts on that.

I think Regulus has a deep rooted sense of duty and loyalty to his people, and ultimately, Remus and reader would be his people. Even if he hated the idea of reader being pregnant/having his child, I think he would shove that down so deep and just completely take on this role he never really wanted but hey, he's here now and he's going to do what he has to do. It was why he ended up in Slytherin (duty/loyalty to his family), and it was why he took the dark mark (duty/loyalty to his family). He took the mark because he believed that to be his role, his job in life - and if reader ended up pregnant, well, that was his duty then.

I think Remus would be a wild card. Remus never had a proper childhood either; he had to grow up really fast as he was bitten at only 4 years old. This means for as long as he can remember, he's been a werewolf. He didn't get to attend school (due to injuries/pains, scars, unexplained absences etc), he never had siblings, and he couldn't play with the village kids. So not only does he not necessarily know what to do with kids, I think he'd still have some of those "the kid would be better off without me, I can't curse another life to me and my lycanthropy) BUT I think he'd have been around Harry and loved that kid so damn much, and he'd have his friends and loved ones to help him come to terms with it.

This could be a cute fic request.

now.....as for the NSFW stuff (18+, minors don't look down here)

I have this headcanon that pureblood's have a breeding kink....they were literally bred, born, and raised to carry on the bloodline and produce heirs - so I don't think Regulus was fucking innocent in that conception LOL he would have been very excited thinking about spilling inside of reader and getting her knocked up.

in a similar vein, I also believe that there is a primal side of Remus with his lycanthropy which would ALSO support a breeding kink - truly fucks like an animal tbh and gets so turned on at the thought of filling reader up

okay sorry for being a dirty horn dog thanks byeeeee

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ seeking the light ⦒ ✧.*

NANAMI KENTO X FEM! READER SYNOPSIS: Nanami receives his final wish before passing, with you by his side in Kuantan, Malaysia. CONTENT: character death. SMUT MDNI. S2E18. hurt/comfort, unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), body worship (lots), missionary, slow sex, light choking, pet names (darling). briefly mentions haibara, gojo. A/N: nanami girlies, hope you guys are recovering (i am still struggling rn)... sending you all hugs and a care package. « 3.3 k words | masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »

A body moves on its own accord in its nature to protect. For Nanami, it comes with a cost this time. Even now, at his final breath, even when his numbed, scorched body pleads otherwise, fractured beyond repairable, Nanami chooses someone else’s life over his. There isn’t a doubt about this choice in his mind. All this fighting, all this suffering, this sacrifice—it was for someone worthwhile. For a generation with bright futures ahead of them, not meant for battles like these.

Nanami doesn’t see his act as a virtuous gesture. After all, this is his job, and protecting children is his duty. Perhaps part of him thinks he a coward to stand compliantly and let Mahito end his life, taking the easy way out.

His only regret—not being able to say goodbye to you. Even when all that remains is a silver of consciousness, you are his last memory. He thinks about how you are praying and waiting for his safe return at home, hating himself for not being able to give you the simplest things in life.

“Nanamin…”

In his hazy mist, he hears Itadori’s voice. Lost of vigor, echoing through the isolated platform of Shibuya station with the two of them burrowed deep in this mess. Poor child, he’s about to cry. That’s not a good look on a young man like him.

“Itadori-kun… You’ve got it from here.”

His eyelids are forced to close as the pain becomes unbearable, embracing the cold blackness behind his eyes.

But in that darkness, Nanami isn’t alone.

Rays of light catches up to him, scorching the path ahead of him: burning, igniting, freeing. It illuminates a straight road that leads him into the end of darkness. Nanami had never seen this road in his life, but when he did just now, for some reason, an overwhelming urge makes him walk down this path.

As he tries to walk, something behind his ear cries out his name, asking him to close his eyes once more. Something in him obliges to do so.

.

..

…

“Kento?” Someone calls out.

There are sounds of children giggling away, adults conversing casually in another language accompanied by tunes from local street performances. And most prominently, Nanami hears the waves, rhythmically resonates when it crashes against the shore. He blinks open his eyes.

Light sharply enters his sight, wincing, shielding his face with a risen hand. A shadowed figure stands in front of his sight, slowly becoming apparent as his eyes adjust to the light.

And it’s you, clutching a smile on your face. Your hair catches sun streaks in beachy strands, cheeks sparkle with sand speckles that illuminates your face in some kind of holy light. The clouds, voices and shore freeze when you giggle in your own little world.

“Darling...?” He speaks hollowly as if this is just a memory, fearing that it is, that means it’s all over for real. “Where—am I?”

The world moves again, sounds beginning to rise up into murmured chatter, and his gaze raises in line with the horizon where the sky meets the sea, looking into the deep blue beyond.

“By the beach, sleepyhead. The book’s no good?” You giggle once more, but this time the world doesn’t stop with you.

Nanami has a finger prop up a page in an opened book. He finds himself wearing a tropical button up and pants sitting on an inflatable chair with sand between his toes. “I guess not.”

He doesn’t remember when he got here or how he got here. But Nanami knows exactly where this place is. A famous beach in the east coast of Kuantan, Malaysia—Teluk Cempedak. He saw this view on a magazine once and told himself he would travel here on his day off. That was two years ago. So this is what it looks like in person?

“Did I sleep for long?” He asks.

“Long enough for me to get the both of us something to eat.” You say as you pass an ice cream cone to him. He turns to grab it, and when he does, Nanami’s neck snaps to the seat next to him. A monkey sits comfortably by his side with its grin stretched wide, surprising him so much he drops the ice cream onto the hot sand.

Nanami hears a few tiny click of shutters as both the monkey and you giggle in unison. The camera lens point directly at him.

“You got me. Very funny now.” Nanami sighs, but behind that irritated frown, there is a smile that he reserves only in your presence.

On cue, the monkey reaches over you as you try to enjoy your ice cream, snatches it off your hands, and escapes across the beach.

The two of you stand in shock for a moment, staring at each other, before bursting into quiet smirks and giggles. When the laughter subsides, Nanami brings you close, landing a kiss on your soft lips. He sees his own reflection in the glaze of your eyes, and he realises he haven’t seen himself so carefree in a long time, especially not since he went to Shibuya.

“So, does that mean you won’t make me delete the photos?”

“Since I’m in a good mood, I’ll let you keep it this time.” He says, then corrects himself as you light up. “As long as Gojo doesn’t get his hands on it.”

“What’s he going to do with a picture or two?” You play with your phone, nervously fumbling the screen.

“Knowing that guy, blackmail. Probably.”

“Well… please don’t get mad at me.”

That is when something dings in his pocket consecutively. He reaches for his phone, and he sees the name Gojo Satoru on his screen, spamming rows of laughing emojis.

“I’m sorry! Gojo already saved it. I can’t unsend it anymore.” You whisper, retreating with your head hang low.

Nanami sighs again, but this time with forgiveness. It doesn’t matter to Nanami anyway. Small things doesn’t matter when he’s with you. He kisses your lips to reassure you. “That’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not really upset.”

And it is at this moment, you can hear a roar of music in the background. Some local nostalgic tune, even if he had never heard this song before. Nanami’s feet taps to the beat of rhythm, and an idea surfaces in his head.

“My lady.” He stands to lean his torso into you, mesmerizingly gentleman. “May I have this dance?”

You hesitate at first, an onslaught of eyes staring at his bold gesture in the middle of a fairly crowded beach. Nanami looks up at you, his drooping eyelids and focused gaze only makes him ever the more persuasive. His charms can’t be denied. Reluctantly, you reach for his hand.

Nanami immediately pulls you in to a dance. Jiving through the sand forming love trails with your bare feet, letting the humid wind sweep and sway through the air. He spins you with a raised hand, and when you do, you notice the many pair of eyes on you, momentarily embarrassed.

“They’re watching, Kento…” You whisper.

“Let them watch.” He whispers back into your ear.

It starts with lively children weaving through the crowd to find the lone couple dancing. They punch their fists clumsily in the air, people cheering and awwing, and suddenly, more people joins, forming a circle. Dancing without any concern of the world. A conga line forms, and the crowd livens in cheers and chants when the two of you leaves the dance circle.

“Look what you’ve done.” You say.

“You know I am only charming when I’m not at work.”

He picks up his phone, finding almost ten texts from Gojo with his face Photoshopped in different memes. You laugh at some of them, even though Nanami seem annoyed. He powers down his phone before you get to see more, in case it gives you any ideas.  

“That’s it. No more work texts on vacation. This trip is about us, and I’ll make sure you have a great time.”

And so he did. He took you to the best curry mee in town, and you had a sip of your teh tarik while overlooking onto the tide. He teases you with a tired loving smile over how you gawk at your food as you eat the kampung delicacies. Something you two would never have eaten in Japan, or Denmark, when he brings you home to meet his grandfather—and shows you that he intends to marry you.

But that’s not just all of his plans. Kuantan has much bigger delights than just the countryside; you took a taxi to all these places that Nanami briefly saw in a magazine. He tries painting batiks (and finds out it’s harder than it looks), walking and admiring local vendors, shop displays until it’s time for dinner again and you had the loveliest Nyonya style seafood that fuses between two cultures.

As the sun sets, there is one final spot Nanami wants to take you. You see the big Kuantan sign as you take a high speed elevator all the way to the top of the Skydeck. And it’s just you and him alone in the breeze of the night, watching streets light up with traffic, illuminating into the same horizon as before.

“Thank you for making my last day memorable.” He speaks into the deep dark sky, not a moon or star in sight.

And at that moment, you know he realises that none of this is real. That his body—or whatever’s left of it—is still back at Shibuya. But for whatever reason, even when he knows he’s already dead, Nanami is smiling. His blond hair reminds you of the moon hanging high in the sky, shining brighter than any spark of light on the streets.

“Mm-hm.” You reply, no other words needed.

Nanami’s arms come around your waist, pulling you close to him, until your bodies connect as one. He leans his head on top of yours, and breathes in your scent, your bashful reciprocation, and all of you that he will most definitely miss.

“Hey.” Nanami says, barely louder than a cricket. “I have one last request.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to taste you one last time.”

The two of you scramble through the linoleum flooring, giggling through the hotel lobby as you share private jokes between each other without a care for the world. Passerbys wonder: ‘I wonder if they’re on a honeymoon’. And it doesn’t matter if it’s the beginning or many nights, or the end of them, your love for each other remains just as passionate.

When Nanami touches the key pass against his door, you try to push him in while he’s distracted, but he smirks at your boldness, but ultimately he turns you around to kiss you instead. He likes how you try even if it always ends with him turning the tables on you, kissing you while his whole body pins you against the hard wall.

He kisses you with the same fervour as he did the first night you spent together in the bedroom, and even after many years together, that doesn’t change.

Nanami helps you out of your clothes, one article at a time, savouring the look of you with each piece undressed, until you lay stark naked in front of him. He removes his glasses to place them against a bedside table, then he gets to work.

Guiding you to plop your hips onto the edge of the bed, Nanami positions himself on his knees to face you. He nudges your legs to open first, and he can’t help but fall in love again with how beautiful you look down there. His instinct is to put your bud in his mouth, and a cold rush of shiver frights you on your lower body. Your fingers curl slightly in reaction to his forwardness.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Nanami smirks, kissing on your clit a few more times before his tongue peeks out, tasting at your delicate bud. He does that for a few minutes, varying the intensity and speed to edge you until it fizzes your lower body. Occasionally, if he thinks you sound cute, he’ll impress you by pressing down his tongue on your clit that makes your fingers curl and uncurl over and over. “You like this?” Nanami asks innocently.

Oh, he knows that you do. But of course, Nanami likes hearing you confess his charms from your own mouth.

“Kento…” You lower your voice. “I love everything you do. That goes without saying.”  

He hums, satisfied by your obedience.

“Now do th-that thing you always d-do, please…”

“As you wish, darling.”

Nanami loves to satisfy you, loves to obey you and make him yours. He takes your bud in his mouth, his tongue inside, circling along your clit while his middle finger dips in your wet coated slit. Long finger curls to meet your g-spot with ease, moving only his last knuckle on his hand so he can repeatedly rap at your sensitive spot until your whole body feels drowned in your own pleasure.

“Oh god…”

His tongue darts out in quick succession, letting the needy bud smack against the tip of his tongue until it grows swollen and sensitive to the touch. Nanami wonders if you are enjoying yourself until he hears a weak noise, back arching, cunt pulsing as the pleasure lightly tips you off the edge like a gentle ripple.

“H-Hey, that’s enough.” You say through huffed breaths.

“Five more minutes.” Nanami says, his breath just as uneasy.

You hesitate. “One.”

“Fine by me.”

Every passing of his tongue on you can’t seem to satiate him, he laps at your taste over and over again. Until foams of saliva bubble over your wet clit and you are soaking under his finger. His chin coats wet with you, with how delicious you are, but he doesn’t mind one bit of the mess. Taking his time is his priority.

“Nnh.” Just like he promised, almost sixty seconds later, he parts himself away through a throaty huff, withdrawing himself to lick his lips clean and wiping streaks of drool from his face with the back of his wrist.

Nanami moves in quickly for another kiss on your lips, and you respond with equal enthusiasm. He shuffles you backwards to accommodate him to enter the bed, lips bound together through the awkward motions. Naturally, you prop your legs on top of his thighs, and you feel his length taking advantage of you without obstructions, closing the distance until his tip meets you at your entrance.

He guides your torso flat against the bed through the firm pad of his palm, pressing them up form your pelvis all the way to your belly, your chest, your collarbone…

He stops moving. “How hard do you want it this time?”

“Hard.”

“As you wish, my darling.”

His left hand continues upwards to find your neck, curling around the circumference of your neck. Some pressure is applied, and you roll your eyes back. Gentle at first, until you’re comfortable with his hand, he settles his tip inside of you. Quiet grunts leave his body as he puts you in missionary, overcome by the need to probe at you further until he feels all of himself buried.

But he restrains, for your sake. Nanami knows, with his size, bottoming out in one go only hurts you more. So he takes his time when he does so, easing himself in and fucks you with the intent to make eternal love, letting him continue this dreamlike state that will soon come to an end.

“You’re gorgeous…” He grunts, simply gazing at you, into your heart and into your soul. You do the same, admiring all his worn-out features relax like creased fabric undoing in the presence of you.

Nanami blinks away a watery glimmer between the speckles of his eyes, hoping you didn’t see it even though you did, and moves again.

Throughout the whole time, he only wants to stare at you, think of you through the burning sensation in his body that continues to remind him his time is almost up. But that doesn’t deter him, in fact, it only makes him want to take as long as the both of you need with no urge to climax hastily.

Each part of this is an experience, one final pleasure before the curse of reality hits them. You, in front of him, probably isn’t real. But it feels so real. It feels like Nanami has been granted his final wish. You, and this lovely scenery.

Soft, sensual pulses throb below you in a flowing state, crashing like the low tide on the evening beach, just like the view outside your fancy hotel window. Until the orgasm comes, in due time, through the labour of his efforts. How Nanami comes down to kiss you in gratitude as come spills inside of you, and the both of you grin into the kiss.

As you snuggle under the sheets next to Nanami, he brings his arm around your belly, grazing, pressing, worshipping—that this is the last time his hands will feel the warm plush again.

“I don’t want this night to over.” You mumble weakly.

He pulls you in with a hand that weighs a thousand of thoughts in his mind.

“I know, darling. I know.”

He sees himself in your eyes for the final time. Looking through the clearness, Nanami’s real body, burned and bruised on one half. Yet you still look at him with eyes that would stay by his side forever.

But this is not your time yet.

You blink back the tears, a rainfall along your cheek. He brushes it away with a look of yearning.

“Promise me you’ll have a good life, darling.”

You nod, unable to say anything else, knowing the tears will return if you do. Between you two, no words are needed. He can read you, and you can read him without any words uttered. Reaching for his jaw at first, you graze your fingers along Nanami’s cheek, and rests his eyes to a close. He mouths something inaudibly in his sleep before he departs.

You do the same, but he can’t see you.

...

..

.

Nanami opens his eyes in the middle of nowhere. He fell asleep at a bus stop sitting afloat above the sea’s surface. He sees now, the same path as before, ablaze above the sea levels, leading into the horizon where the sun falls into evening glory. At the start of the road, stands a figure.

Yooo, Nanamin. There you are!

The blinding lights on the path dims when the figure takes big, energised strides towards Nanami. Upon closer inspection, it’s a man in uniform. He has a distinct lean of someone he used to know a long time ago.

“Haibara?” Nanami asks.

Long time no see, bud. You don’t have to suffer anymore.

What is this feeling? Overwhelming pain, or relief when meeting a long, lost friend? There is so much Nanami wants to say he doesn’t know where to begin.

That he should have been stronger ten years ago, should have rescued Haibara in a battle beyond both their abilities even though he was just a kid. How he spent the rest of his life repenting, dedicating himself to protect the children who didn’t deserve to be in war. How he tried and failed and made it here…

… but none of that matters anymore after death.

Nanami jumps into his arms, bringing Haibara into his tight embrace. He hugs back. Nanami closes his eyes when he feels a sting behind his cheeks, then opens it again with newfound determination. Haibara bellows a laugh, pointing at Nanami’s reddened eyes which he fails to rub away.

Let’s head on to the other side, shall we?

Nanami nods. And they walk forward, side by side, towards the end of the path. He knows it’s all going to be all okay.

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. ITINERARY: > Teluk Cempedak > Lunch (Hoi Yin Restaurant) > Dessert (Kula Cakes - not mentioned) > Natural Batik Village (batik painting) > Kuantan 188 Skydeck taglist (open): @valsthea @kennedyswhore @emilzke @daydreamrot @navstuffs @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or use in ai & other machine learning programs.

[halsteadlover]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

*Gif and pic not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: your life is amazing. You have everything you wished for, a caring and beautiful husband, a satisfying job, an amazing house. What if in a matter of seconds, your incredible fairy tale is about to take a tragic twist?

• Warnings: angst, mention of car crash, blood, wounds, curse words, death.

• Word count: 7580.

• A/N: Please don’t kill me. Y’ALL BETTER EAT THIS FIC UP BECAUSE I PUT MY BLOOD AND SWEAT AND TEARS (always pretty please). I hope you’ll like this piece I know I was heartbroken writing it. Drop a like, a comment and reblog if you want, it’d be amazing and so helpful. I apologize for any mistake or grammar error. Thank you so much as always for your support, looking forward for your opinion. ❤️

“Baby!”.

“Y/n!”.

“You hear me? Please answer me”.

“Please hold on, everything will be okay I promise. Please… Don't leave me.”

What was going on?

Why did you feel so weak?

Where was Spencer?

Your breathing was heavy, cold shivers ran through your body but despite this you couldn't move a single muscle even if you could feel your body waving to an unknown motion, like you were floating.

Am I moving?

You felt your eyelids fighting not to stay closed even if you tried with every fiber of your body to fight against that tiredness that wanted so badly to suck you into the darkness.

You were so afraid.

You managed to slightly open your eyes, only for a fraction of a second, and all you saw was a blinding white light that forced you to close your eyes right after. It was so strong you couldn't open them again.

What it was?

Was it heaven?

Were you dead?

“Please baby hold on, if you hear me please fight, I know you’re so strong. I’m begging you… Stay with me…”

Spencer?

Yes, there was no doubt that it was him even if his voice carried in the distance, each word fading further and further. You wanted so badly to answer him, to shout you were okay, that you could hear him, that you were there with him.

But were you really okay?

No, I’m not.

And the more you fought against the darkness, the more it sucked you into its heavy vortex.

You fought, you really tried, but you didn't have the strength. You were too weak, too tired.

You just wanted to rest for a bit.

God please let me okay.

You eventually gave up, stopped fighting and let yourself be lulled by that darkness.

It was so peaceful.

There wasn’t any more pain. Any suffering.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Five hours earlier

“I really don't feel like going to work this morning,” your husband kept complaining. You were both still in your bedroom, you were sitting while Spencer was lying next to you, his arm around your hips and his head on your lap.

“Hotch will kill you if you take a day off without warning,” you giggled, running your fingers through his fluffy hair. “I also wish you could stay here love, I feel so lonely here without you. But unfortunately you can’t.”

Spencer huffed, holding you even tighter. “I know I'm so sorry baby, I hate leaving you alone. I'm always so worried.”

“Oh yeah I know, the three thousand texts you send me always asking me if I'm okay prove it.” You teased him and even though you couldn't see him you knew full well he rolled his eyes.

“Ah, ah, keep making fun of me,” he retorted. “Is it really weird I want to keep you safe?”.

“No baby, I was joking. You know very well I love you're so protective of me and besides, I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He kept caressing your side, leaving a kiss on it at the level of your scar, a gesture that made your heart melt. He looked up at you and smiled before propping himself up on his elbows, resting his free hand on your face and pressing his lips on yours. A flock of butterflies exploded in your stomach.

It didn't matter how long you two were together, you felt the same butterflies, the same feeling as in the early days, he still managed to make your heart skip a beat with just a kiss.

God I love this man so much.

“What will I do without you?” Spencer pouted, already missing you before he even got out of bed and got dressed. “I just hope we won’t have any case.”

Spencer had left for work, but not before recommending you to call and text him if you needed anything. You reassured him, telling him not to worry, that everything would be fine and of course you wouldn't hesitate to call him.

You settled on the couch and spent the morning watching episodes of your favorite TV show which, although you loved it, was getting tiresome.

Three weeks earlier you had been injured on duty while chasing a serial killer who had shot you as he tried to escape.

You were fine but Spencer, being his overprotective self, refused to let you do anything that involved physical effort and prevented you in any way from returning back to work before the five weeks of rest recommended by the doctor. And it didn't help that Hotch agreed with him.

Spencer did nothing but text you all morning when he could, asking how you were as if you were in a hospital bed. You reassured him, sending him selfies of you lying on the couch, asking him how things were going at the unit.

You loved Spencer so much, you loved the way he always protected you, the way he was so thoughtful of you, the way he always put you first in any moment and situation.

The morning was rather boring so you decided to keep yourself busy with cooking something for lunch, that you wanted to bring to Spencer too since you missed him and didn't want to wait until the evening to see him again. But you also wanted to see the rest of the team again. You hated to say it, but you missed those assholes.

As you packed your and Spencer's lunch, your phone vibrated on the table.

From: Spence 💍, 12.47 AM Is it weird I miss you so terribly? I'll never get used to not seeing you here.

You smiled like an idiot, knowing how much Spencer wasn't a fan of technology but despite this being committed to use it since you couldn't live without it.

To: Spence 💍, 12:50 AM Have I ever told you I’m so madly in love with you Doctor Reid? I miss you so much more xx

You placed your phone on the table and continued putting away your lunch. When you finished, you grabbed some clean cutlery and paper napkins and then looked at your phone, noticing he didn’t answer your text yet.

You left the house after making sure you locked the door, you went to your car, pulling your phone out of your purse to send an audio message to Spencer.

“Baby don’t eat anything because I'm coming with your favorite food. It's a little burnt I have to admit, but in my defense I was distracted watching TV,” you let out a small laugh. “If you know what's best for you, you'll better say it's delicious or you'll sleep on the couch tonight. I love you so much, see you soon!”.

You got into your car and placed the two lunch boxes on the passenger seat. While driving, you were careful not to brake suddenly to avoid all the food spilling into your car.

You stopped at a red light and you took you phone to see if Spencer had texted you back but he didn’t.

The light turned green after almost thirty seconds and you placed your phone in your purse again before starting to drive again. You were at an intersection and you just drove few meters before your saw out of the corner of your eye a car speeding towards you.

You turned your head towards it and tried to brake but you weren't very fast.

Everything happened quickly.

A sudden, deafening thud made your ears ring and time seemed to stop for an instant.

You didn't have time to react, to even let out a scream or do anything else before that car hit you full force on the side.

If someone had asked you to describe what had happened in that moment, you wouldn’t have been able to do it because you didn’t even know what had happened in the first place, having lost consciousness before you could realize you had just been involved in a car crash.

Spencer was unaware in the meantime his whole life was about to undergo something he’d never, ever want to face, something he continually lived in fear of happening.

He and the rest of the team were in the meeting room, investigating on a case of a serial killer that the police in a nearby town had asked for help with. It was a simple case, so it wasn't even necessary for the whole team to go there.

“Reid focus.” Hotch had warned him several times when during the morning he caught him on his cell phone, the small smile shadowed his lips making it obvious who he was talking to. So he had put his cell phone in his pocket although his mind always went towards you.

He wondered what you were doing although knowing you, you were probably watching some TV show and the thought of you lying on the sofa, curled up under the blanket made him smile, earning you a small pat on the back of the head from Morgan.

“Focus pretty boy, I know you miss your beautiful wife but we have a case to solve.”

This had started a series of jokes and teasing towards Reid who in response would gave everyone the middle finger.

The truth was that he missed you deeply, he missed looking up and seeing you sitting at your desk filling out some case report with your pen between your lips and the wedding ring shining on your finger, he missed flirting with you in a not-so-subtle way and being made fun of by the whole team, even Hotch. He missed traveling from city to city and working with you to catch ruthless killers, he missed seeing you sitting in your chair around the meeting room table.

He couldn't wait for those two more weeks to pass, although the worry you still hadn't fully recovered didn't leave his mind.

His phone suddenly started ringing and he muttered an 'excuse me' before taking it out of his pocket and reading your name on the screen.

He moved away from the others so he could answer the call.

“Hi baby! What...-” He started but stopped immediately after when a voice that didn't belong to you interrupted him, making the smile he had on his lips instantly disappear.

“Do you happen to know Y/n Y/Ln? We found this number among the emergency contacts.”

Spencer frowned, his heart already eating wildly and anxiety twisting his guts. “Y-yes. She’s my wife… What's going on? Who am I talking to? Where’s she? Is she okay?”.

“I'm sorry to inform you that your wife was involved in a car accident, she’s in serious conditions…”

Spencer froze in place, the man's words echoing in his head while he couldn't process them.

What the fuck?

“C-can you repeat that?” He stammered, hoping it was just a misunderstanding, that the man had gotten the wrong person. “There must be a mistake m-my wife… She’s… She’s at home…”

“I’m very sorry sir…”

Spencer Reid, who had always been a quiet, calm and collected person, completely lost his mind.

After getting the address of the car crash site he ran at lightning speed out of the unit, ignoring the voices of Derek and the rest of the team who called him worriedly.

His mind wasn't focused on anyone else but you and as he sped through the streets he couldn't help but think about what the hell had happened.

You were supposed to be home, on the couch watching TV. Why did you went out? Why didn't you text him?

His stomach clenched with anxiety, an emotion he wasn't familiar with but since he'd met you he often seemed to feel because of the constant and devastating fear something bad might happen to you.

He wasn't good with feelings, everyone knew it, but thanks to you he had learned to give voice to what he felt, he had learned to embrace those sensations and emotions he struggled to show from an early age and that for so long he wanted to suppress.

A lump kept pressing on his throat, almost suffocating him. He continued to murmur and hope you were okay but when he arrived at the scene his heart almost stopped again.

The car crash scene was a disaster.

Various passers-by had gathered in shock from a distance to watch curiously as the fire fighters and paramedics worked on those piles of scrap metal that were the cars.

They were completely destroyed and no one believed the two drivers had made it given the catastrophic impact.

Various emotions had passed through Reid, emotions that he could group into one word: dying. That’s how he felt, dying.

He pushed through the crowd of people, pushing them aside and ignoring those who complained in response. After identifying himself with the cops he ran towards the wreckage where the rescuers and firefighters had just pulled you out of the destroyed car.

“Let me go! That's my wife right there!” He continued to exclaim loudly while two cops struggled to restrain him. His gaze was fixed on you, on your unconscious body while the rescuers carried you on the stretcher.

“Sir you need to let the paramedics do their job! I know it's a horrible situation but this will only hinder them!”.

Spencer was a guy who didn't like conflicts but at that precise moment he was willing to kill those cops with his bare hands.

He snorted loudly, pulling out his badge. “I'm an FBI agent and if you don't let me go to my wife right now I will make your life a living hell and have your badges on my desk before tomorrow.”

It only happened very few times he’d threatened someone, and most of them were to extort information or to make a killer to confess, but the way his wild and desperate eyes were glaring at the two cops, made them understand he wasn't bluffing at all.

They eventually let him pass and he ran towards you.

You lay unconscious on the stretcher, your body covered in your own blood. You had an oxygen mask on your face, a collar around your neck to stabilize it and Spencer had to rely on all the strength he had in his body not to collapse there in front of everyone.

He couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe it was true.

He grabbed your hand with his, the diamond of your ring pressing against his palm. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, not wanting to let his emotions overwhelm him. He couldn't be weak, not now, not when you needed him.

“Baby!”.

He called your name, desperation clear in his voice. His eyes scanned your face, always beautiful as the sun even if dotted with scratches and bruises.

“Y/n!”.

He called your name again, with even more urgency and desperation, hoping that hearing his voice would wake you up.

“You hear me? Please answer me.”

“Sir we have to go to the hospital immediately. We have no time to waste.” The paramedic's voice brought him back to reality and Spencer nodded, never taking his eyes off you.

“Please hold on, everything will be okay I promise. Please… Don’t leave me,” he whispered to you before turning to the paramedics. “I’m coming with you.”

The journey to the hospital was the longest and most painful ride Reid had ever made in his entire life.

He never let go of your hand, occasionally kissing your knuckles as he carefully watched every little movement the paramedics made.

At a certain point his heart rekindled with hope when he saw your eyelids move and open slightly.

“Y/n baby! Can you hear me? Y/n!” He exclaimed but his hope faded when he saw your eyelids close a second later and you lose consciousness again.

“Please baby hold on, if you hear me please fight,” His eyes filled with tears but he tried to fight them back, this wasn’t the time to cry. “I know you’re so strong, I’m begging you… Stay with me… I'm here, I'm here, and I’m not leaving you. Everything will be fine, you’ll be okay.”

You had a cardiac arrest on the way to the hospital but they managed to revive you and needless to say, this freaked out Spencer even more than he already was.

You died in front of him.

For a few moments your heart had stopped beating and the terror Spencer felt was a sensation he had never felt before. Maybe only when something happened to you during the job. He had always told you that you’d give him a heart attack sooner or later.

When the ambulance arrived at the hospital, Spencer barely had time to say anything before the doctors rushed you to the OR, leaving him helpless.

He passed his hands on his face, then fingers in his hair as he tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

He had heard the police say the driver that hit you had lost control of his car after feeling dizzy, failing to stop at the red light and hitting you while you had just started driving again after the green light.

You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It had all been a stupid twist of fate and now you had to fight to live.

Spencer didn't believe in fate, he didn't believe there was some superior being or entity, he believed in science, in empirical data, in theories proven by hypotheses and theses, but then why did this happen? Why was the love of his life fighting between life and death?

Why did it seem like someone or something wanted to snatch his happiness away when he was finally happy?

He walked back and forth across the floor of the waiting room for what seemed an infinite amount of time, almost digging a ditch in the wake of his footsteps.

He had called Hotch, told him about the car crash and that you were in surgery and he reassured him the whole team would be there in no time.

It wasn't until after you ended the call with Hotch that Spencer saw your last messages, including the audio text you'd sent him.

His fingers were shaking and he sat down, fearing his knees would give out sooner or later.

His eyes filled with tears again as they read the message and the chasm inside his heart opened even more. But it was when he listened to your audio message the air was completely sucked out of his lungs and it became difficult to continue breathing.

“Baby don’t eat anything because I'm coming with your favorite food. It's a little burnt I have to admit, but in my defense I was distracted watching TV,” He heard you giggle while in the background he heard the car door open and close shortly after, a sign that you had just gotten into the car. “If you know what's best for you, you'll better say it's delicious or you'll sleep on the couch tonight. I love you so much, see you soon!”.

Your audio cut out and Spencer only realized he was crying when tears fell from his eyes onto his phone screen.

He was completely devastated.

It was his fault.

You went out because you were going to bring him food.

He couldn't process what was happening, he couldn't conceive it.

How did you go from hugging in bed that morning to you in the OR? For what kind of fucked up reason did this happen to you? Among the many people who could’ve been at that damned intersection, why did it have to be you?

Spencer knew it wasn't right to hope it happened to someone else but he didn’t care, fuck, he wished it’d happened to himself.

For the first time in his whole life Spencer prayed.

He prayed with every fiber of his being to whoever was up there to make you survive, he prayed to be able to see you again, hug you, kiss you again. He prayed to hear your laugh again, your awful jokes, to see your smile and your eyes shining when you saw him, he prayed to be able to sleep with you again, to wake up in the morning and smell the scent of your skin and hair, of feeling your fingers run through his messy hair while you were watching a movie and he had his head resting on your lap.

He prayed to still have time with you. He prayed to start a family with you even though the thought of it terrified him because he had no idea how to be a parent, but at the same time knowing there was no other person he’d want to do it if not you. He begged to tease you when the first wrinkles would appear on your beautiful face but to console you at the same time saying you were still the most beautiful and breathtaking woman he had ever met in his life.

He prayed to see your hair turn white, to see your children have kids of their own, he prayed to hold your hand until the end of your days.

He couldn't imagine a place on the planet where you didn't exist, where you weren't with him.

You two just got married, you had just started your life together, it couldn't all just vanish like that, in the blink of an eye, it just couldn't end.

You were strong. This was one of the many qualities Spencer admired about you, you were much stronger than you wanted to show and if there was anyone who could overcome that obstacle it was you.

The rest of the BAU had arrived after about fifteen minutes, both with worried and heartbroken expressions on their faces except Penelope, who was crying almost as many tears as she had.

“Reid!”.

JJ's voice made Spencer snap his head up from his phone, not realizing he had been mesmerized by looking at the picture he had as his background. It was a photo of you he took during a picnic during one of your first dates after you got together, Spencer had told a horrible joke and you had burst out laughing.

Spencer was so hypnotized by you, by the sound of your laugh, by your smile, by the small wrinkles at the corners of your eyes that he couldn't resist taking a photo and since then it had become his wallpaper and one of his favorite photos of you ever.

Everyone could notice the swelling of Spencer's eyes, evidence of the crying.

“Come here pretty boy.”

Morgan was the first to approach Spencer, pulling him in a brotherly hug, squeezing him with all the strength he had in his body, as if wanting to convey to him some of that strength he knew he tremendously needed.

“She's gonna make it okay? We know Y/n, that woman is a force of nature. She’ll make it.” He whispered in his ear, trying to hold back his emotions.

Everyone tried to appear as strong as possible but the truth was they too felt a boulder pressing on their stomach. Before being Spencer's wife, his partner, you were a colleague, a friend to all of them.

Nobody said anything else.

There were no need for words, everyone knew it’d be of no use.

They all tried to comfort each other, Emily was holding Garcia's hand the entire time, JJ and Morgan were sitting next to Spencer while Hotch and Rossi were standing not far from the others, all silently praying for you wellbeing.

Reid's body was sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by his friends and colleagues, yet his mind was completely elsewhere. His thoughts ran and ran, without stopping, so fast he didn't know which ones to listen to first.

Spencer and the team spent hours sitting in the waiting room, waiting for some doctor to come and update them on your health. He hoped the longer they took it meant there was a better chance of you getting through the surgery.

When he saw a doctor approaching where they were sitting, it was as if a vision manifested in front of him. His heart was beating wildly, so loudly he thought everyone around him could hear it while anxiety twisted his stomach so much he feared he’d throw up on the doctor's feet.

“Are you Y/n Y/Ln's family?” the doctor asked.

“I'm her husband. How is she? Please tell me she's okay. When can I see her?” Spencer blathered once he jumped up and approached doctor - he read the card - Miller.

He looked skeptically at the rest of the team, and then Spencer spoke. “It’s okay, we’re all colleagues, a family. How is Y/n? She made it right?”.

Spencer observed the micro-expressions on Dr. Miller's face. He noticed how his eyebrows furrowed slightly, how his chest rose slightly and fell, how his lips pressed together, how his neck stiffened and his posture tensed.

He knew that expression, unfortunately he knew it too well because of the job he did. It was the same expression with which he looked at the victims’ families when he was about to give them the worst and most devastating news of their lives.

Spencer saw that but decided to ignore it, he decided not to listen to his guts.

“The patient suffered much more serious damage than we imagined…”

“And what are you doing here? Go help her!” Spencer exclaimed, abruptly interrupting the doctor.

“Due to the violent trauma and along with broken bones, the ruptured spleen, the liver damage as well as the amount of blood she lost, she had also suffered a dissection of the ascending aorta.”

Spencer's heart stopped.

“W-what? What does that mean doctor?” It was Penelope who asked.

“It’s the tearing of the aorta’s wall, the largest vessel in our body. It has weakened due to the trauma and it’s no longer able to pump blood towards the other blood vessels and consequently the entire body can’t receive enough blood. Trying to repair it’s practically impossible, as her heart has already stopped once, she’s too weak to face a surgery, and the dissection further aggravates the situation. She would die on the OR table before we can even get to the aorta,” Dr. Miller explained, trying to be as clear as possible.

“Dissection of the ascending aorta is unfortunately one of the most serious vascular conditions and… There is no easy way to say it, we have done everything we can but she does't have much time left. It's a matter of hours…”

A deafening silence fell in the waiting room.

Almost everyone put their hands to their mouths to try to cover the gasps and sobs, Hotch stared at his shoes while shaking his head in disbelief. No one could believe what they had just heard.

Spencer couldn't hear a word Dr. Miller said. His brain refused to process them, because it couldn't be true, there must have been some misunderstanding.

Maybe he had confused patient, maybe he had talked to the wrong family.

“No, no, no!” Spencer exclaimed loudly. Morgan put a hand on his shoulder but he shook it violently. “Don’t touch me!” Then he went on to point a finger at Dr. Miller.

“Say it again.”

“Sir…”

“Reid…” Rossi whispered.

“Say it again!” He shouted, his voice shaking. “Say it! Because there is no way on earth I just heard my wife is fucking dying! Say it again!”.

Spencer's voice cracked at the end and he burst into tears, bending to the ground as he felt his legs gave out.

Dr. Miller looked at Spencer with sadness while he was in the throes of disbelief and despair. Nobody dared to say anything, they too had to process that mourning, but they all knew that Spencer needed time more than anyone.

How do you react calmly when someone tells you that your partner, the love of your life, is about to die?

And it wasn't just any person, someone he just met, but you. You were dying.

Doctor Miller knelt in front of Spencer, placing a hand on his shoulder as he continued to cry all the tears he had in his body. “I'm so sorry, if there had been anything, anything we could’ve done to save her we would’ve done please trust me. I can't even imagine what you're going through right now but she's in the ICU now and she's awake, we gave her morphine so she doesn't feel any pain. Go and say goodbye to her, okay?”.

The world was collapsing on him, everything was disintegrating around him and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

How the fuck did this happen? How the fuck was that possible?

He couldn't believe it, he couldn't process what was happening.

It shouldn't have happened, not to you, you didn't deserve it.

He was terrified, more than he had ever been in his entire life, not even when he had been kidnapped and tortured by a ruthless killer.

Images after images of moments with you continued to flood his mind while a sense of anguish gripped his stomach, so strong he couldn't stop crying.

He cried.

Everyone cried with him in that waiting room, hugging each other.

All his dreams had been shattered, they had all vanished in the blink of an eye, flown away like a grain of sand in the sea.

Where did his ‘forever’ go?

His forever was in the ICU and was about to die. The only person he had ever loved, the only person who had ever understood him without trying to fix him, the only person who had ever made him happy, who had made him understand the meaning of the word love, who had made him believe that even if he came from a dysfunctional family that didn't mean the same fate would happen to him, the only person for whom he lived, breathed, for whom he committed himself every single day to fight his demons and ghosts was about to walk away forever.

How do you survive something like that?

What would he have done without you?

Spencer couldn't live without you.

He couldn't even imagine waking up in the morning and not finding you. He couldn't imagine coming home at night and knowing you’d be dead. He couldn’t imagine going in the kitchen and not smelling your food. He couldn’t imagine watch a romantic movie and not seeing you cry your eyes out.

No, no, no, fuck, that couldn't be true.

One by one they all came to you to say goodbye but no one spoke to each other. Spencer didn’t have the strength to walk into that room, he hoped till the last minute it was just a nightmare and he’d soon wake up.

There was only desperation and so many, many tears. Even Hotchner, always so serious and impeccable, couldn't stop the tears when he left your room, moving away from the others so as not to be seen.

The last one was him.

When it was Spencer's turn he was terrified.

His fingers trembled as they were about to open the door. He didn't have the courage to enter that room, look you in the eyes, say goodbye to his love.

With what strength would he have hugged you knowing it would be the last time? How would he be able to say goodbye? How would he be able to tell you he loved you knowing it was the last time? How could he let you go?

Every step he took was heavy, leaving a piece of his tormented soul behind each one.

Seeing you was like a punch in the stomach, like every time his eyes rested on you but that time what he felt wasn't happiness but only sadness, desperation, anguish and helplessness.

Oh my everlasting love. You didn't deserve all of this.

You lay in bed, a nasal cannula supplying you with oxygen, electrodes connecting your body to monitors that marked a low blood pressure and a below-normal heart rate.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to rely on what little strength he had to not collapse to the floor and burst into desperate tears again. But the shine of his eyes, their swelling and redness showed how intensely he had cried in the last few hours.

You looked at him and he felt breathless.

How will I live without those eyes?

“Hi baby.”

His voice trembled, smiling slightly as he moved closer to you. He couldn't conceive the idea that the last time he had seen you was that same morning and you were fine, while at that moment you were on a hospital bed dying.

He pulled up a chair and sat next to you. He took one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers and leaving a kiss on the back of it. All it took was for your skin to come in contact with his for him to burst into inconsolable and suffocating tears again.

He wrapped his arms around your hips, his head resting on your abdomen as you stroked his hair. It was a projection from that same morning but the difference was that this time would be the last.

He would no longer hug you, he would no longer be lulled by the warmth of your arms, feel your fingers run through his messy and tangled hair.

Silence reigned in the room, interrupted only by Spencer's sobs as he continued to cry desperately. He held you like he had never done before, as if in that way he hoped you would stay.

“It's okay…” you barely whispered, weakened and groggy from the morphine.

You felt… Apathetic.

You couldn't describe the emotions you felt at that moment, ever since the doctor told you didn’t have much time you felt anesthetized.

It was as if you were seeing everything from an external perspective, as if it wasn't really you lying on the bed, as if it wasn't you who was going to die in a few hours.

Not a tear had rolled down yours, not even when the rest of your team had come to say their final goodbyes.

You didn't want to feel like this, you didn't want to be apathetic, so numb. You wanted to feel anger, pain, helplessness, anguish, anxiety, anything, you wanted to cry, scream, but the more you tried, the more you couldn't.

“Don’t leave me please…” Spencer's sobs interrupted him. He continued to cling to you, to hold onto you as if his life depended on it.

“Baby, look at me.” Your voice was hoarse, thick with sleep and tiredness.

“No, no, no, I know what you want to tell me… No…” He held you even tighter than before. “You can't leave me…”

He turned his head towards you, his vision completely blurred with tears, his face wet. He brought his hands to your face, caressed your cheeks, your hair and tried as much as possible to imprint every detail of your skin in his memory.

“You're so beautiful baby,” he whispered, “It's not fair…”

“I know,” you whispered back weakly, “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But it's so unpredictable, isn't it?”.

“No, life sucks.”

You placed a hand on his still on your face, closing your eyes for a moment and enjoying the feeling of warmth that only he could give you.

“I know everything seems bad right now, I know you'll think this long after I'm gone but it's not like that love, life doesn't suck. It’s the most beautiful gift we could ever have...” you murmured with no small effort, your breathing heavy and difficult.

He shook his head. “Bullshit. You are my life, baby...” He cried. “I can't live without you. I can't... I can't go home and not find you there, I can't sleep without you next to me, I can't go to work and look up and not find you sitting there at your desk… I can’t…”

“Of course you can you’re the strongest person I know baby, even if you don't recognize it. You’ll be happy again...” You placed a hand on his cheek, drying with your fingers his tears that never stopped coming out. “Promise me one thing.”

“No, no, no, I can't, don't do this to me please… Don't make me promise something I can't keep baby…”

“Spencer, please. I can't leave knowing you won't be happy, please, I need to know you’ll at least try... Promise me...”

A solitary tear rolled down your face, even though you didn't even realize it at the time.

He shook his head, looking down as he continued to cry. He sat down on the bed next to you, pulling you into a hug you tried to return with the little strength you had left.

He left a long kiss on your head, inhaling deeply that beautiful scent he’d never be able to smell again in his life. He rested his cheek on you, letting your hair tickle his skin.

“I can't… I can't…” he repeated, feeling the air disappear more and more from his lungs. “You’re the first person who made me understand what it means to be happy baby… I don’t how to do it without you… D-don't… You can't ask me… I’m begging you…”

You slightly pulled away from him, cupping your hands on his face and smiling slightly through the tears you hadn't even realized you were shedding.

You were crying.

“I wouldn't ask you if I knew you couldn't Spence. I know it’ll be hard but life is beautiful baby, so damn beautiful and deserves to be lived to the full. Plus, I'm not really leaving okay? My body may no longer be here but my soul will always be with you, I’ll always be here when you need me, I will never leave you.” You spoke softly, your breathing heavy with each word. You placed a hand at his heart level which was beating wildly at that moment.

He shook his head again, still crying as desperation enveloped him more and more. “But I-I want you here…”

“Shh, listen to me love, please…” You stopped due to a cough. Spencer rushed to get you a glass of water from the bedside table, helping you drink and stroking your back in the meantime. “Thanks baby.”

Despite the morphine you still felt a weight on your chest, your lungs couldn't expand and everything hurt.

But it wasn't physical pain.

It was your soul that was hurting.

“Listen to me…” You started speaking feebly again, looking Spencer in his eyes, losing yourself in those two beautiful wells. “I need to know you’ll move on baby, that you’ll find someone you’ll love again and who will love you so deeply like I did, with whom you’ll build a beautiful family, with whom you’ll have children, a beautiful house and a dog if you want. This doesn’t mean you’ll forget about me, I’ll always be by your side at every step you take, I promise you, I’ll watch over you and if you need anything you just have to talk to me... Maybe not in front of other people or they’ll think you’re crazy.”

He chuckled through his tears and your heart skipped a beat. “That’s it. That’s the beautiful smile I always want to see, God you make me so happy.”

“There will be no one after you baby.”

“Spence please…-”

“No, no, you can't ask me that,” he murmured, his tone of voice so melancholy and sorrowful it made your gut wrench. “When I married you I never thought for a second there could be an ‘after you’, never, even though I knew the risks we both ran because of our jobs. There will never be anyone after you Y/n, there will never be anyone who can ever make me happy like you do, there will never be anyone I will ever love as much as I love you. It… It wouldn't be right...” He let out a deep sigh “It wouldn't be right for her, for... For the children because I wouldn't love them as much as I love you, because I would look at them and only think I could’ve had all that with you and I don't want that…”

He stroked your hair, looking at you with so much love it made your heart melt.

You didn’t want your time to end. You wanted to be with him, forever.

“Spencer… I-I'm terrified…” You managed to murmur before bursting into desperate, heartbreaking tears. Spencer hugged you while you sobbed into his sweater.

“I know… I know…”

Terrified didn't even come close to describing how you felt at that moment.

I'm dying.

Soon I won't be here anymore.

You couldn't conceive it, realize it, you couldn't accept it. But then again, how could you? Who would ever accept a death sentence?

You weren't ready.

You didn't want to leave Spencer, God, you had so many dreams to achieve together and it wasn't fucking right, it wasn't.

You just wanted to bring lunch and eat with your beloved husband, spend some time with him, why did this have to happen to you? What did you do wrong? You hadn't died from a bullet three weeks earlier but you were about to die for wanting to see your husband.

Why didn't you just stay home? If you had done it you would’ve been fine, you would’ve just had to wait for Spencer to come home that evening so you could hug him again. If you had done it you would’ve slept in the same bed, together that night, perhaps after making love, the next morning you would’ve woken up with his scent and his warmth, you would’ve had breakfast together.

You both cried until you couldn't breathe, holding on to each other as if you were both each other's lifelines.

You felt weak, every moment that passed breathing was like a punch in the stomach even though the oxygen flow had been turned up to maximum.

Hours passed and every minute that passed the fear paralyzed you more and more.

Spencer stayed next to you the entire time, hugging you and tightly holding your hand. You’d think he had shed all the tears he had in his body but instead he had never stopped, he continued to cling to you, to hold you in the hope that a miracle would happen.

He didn't believe in miracles, he thought there was a reason for everything, but in that moment he prayed for one to happen with every fiber of his being.

Your eyelids felt heavy and you struggled to keep your eyes open.

You were tired, so fucking tired, just wanting to rest for a bit but knowing if you definitely close your eyes you wouldn’t be able to open them again.

“Do you think heaven exists?” You whispered in a small, thin voice. Spencer kissed your forehead, continuing to stroke your hair as his salty tears kept running down his cheeks.

“Of course it exists, all the angels are just waiting for you. I'm pretty sure you’ll be the most beautiful angel of all, dressed in white and with the light surrounding you.”

You giggled, only to be interrupted by yet another cough. You were so grateful to have Spencer, that even though he didn't believe in an afterlife, in heaven, in angels, still tried to make you feel better.

“I'm so tired baby…” you murmured, closing your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again.

He held you tighter, feeling more tears streak down his face. “I know my love, but you can rest, I’ll always be here I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

“Spencer, you are the greatest and most beautiful love I have ever had in life, you made me the happiest I've ever been and I want to thank you for everything, for everything you have done for me, for teaching me the truth meaning of love…” You took a deep breath. “I will love you forever, I hope you know that, in this world and wherever else I’ll go. I know we’ll meet again, even if not in this life, we’ll meet in next one.”

He shook his head in despair as he continued to sob and cry. He wasn't ready to say goodbye, he wasn't ready to let you go, but who he was kidding, he never would be.

“I love you so much my darling, I will always love you until my last breath.”

He kissed your forehead softly again, pressing his lips to your skin longer than expected as he tried to make the most of those last moments with you.

“You’re the best and most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me. I love you, always and forever,” he kept whispered, hugging you. But you couldn't hug him back.

You had closed your eyes and fallen asleep, in the arms of the person you loved most in the world where you always wished your last moments would be.

The room was filled with sounds from the monitor connected to your heart, which had started to slow down.

Your heartbeat had slowed.

More and more.

Until it stopped and all that was left was a flat line.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @kmc1989, @klovesreading, @firetruckstuckley

Spencer Reid tag list: @blorp-bee, @s1lverhand, @novabckly, @thebejeweledwatercat

Click here to be added to the tag list ❤️

Main Masterlist

Spencer Reid Masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

Side blog -> @halsteadloverslibrary

Ask link 💭

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 19

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

EXTRA WARNING. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXTREME GORE AND VIOLENCE. DO NOT READ IF SENSITIVE TO THESE DESCRIPTIONS.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You kick with your good foot. The man deflects it easily. He chuckles. It’s like sand, gritty and dry. He hits your other foot so you shriek again and a surge of bile floods your throat. You swallow it back as you continue to thrash. 

The man crawls up your body as he wrestles with you. He grabs your wrists as you fight to resist him. He’s much too strong. As you bounce on the stiff mattress, a wash of futility overcomes you. It’s exactly like before, when it was another man on top of you. 

He chuckles as he brings your hands together and traps your arms in his grip. With his other hand, he reaches to his belt. He pulls free the snap on a sheath and slides free the long blade. You whine as you open and close your fingers desperately. 

“Please, you don’t have to do this. Please. I don’t know him. I’m not... not his. Please, just let me go,” you beg through your teeth. 

He’s only amused by your pleas. He twirls the knife in his hand and admires the groove in the silver. His dark eyes flick down to you and he smirks. 

“That man doesn’t know what suffering is,” he taunts. “You want to have some real fun...” 

He lowers the knife and traces across your collarbone. Your heart pounds and your breath clouds painfully in your chest. He hooks it under the left strap of your night gown and slices through. He does the same on the other side. 

He turns the knife the draws a slow line toward your throat. The skin splits around the metal and you cry out. He cackles and flicks it so it digs in a little deep. You kick the bed, huffing and howling with each throb of your injured foot. 

Adrenaline floods through you as you tug on your hands and write. This can’t happen. It can’t. You survived this far, you won’t go down without a fight. Even if it is a losing one. 

You manage to wrench a hand free. He slips and the knife cuts across your shoulder. You whine but ignore the gash. You twist and bite down on his sleeve. You pinch until you feel the firm muscle of his forearm. Tighter and tighter until you taste iron. 

The crack across your cheek has you reeling. You fall back against the bed and throw your hand out. You grab onto the blade of the knife, the metal searing your skin as blood seeps out around it. You squeeze and throw all your body weigh in the opposite direction. 

You dislodge the knife from his grip and it hits the bed. You don’t hesitate. You grab it with your other hand and swipe at him. It deflects off his body arm but leaves a tear in his sleeve. You swing again and let out a beastly snarl. You miss and he hits your hand so the blade flies from your grasp. 

You don’t care. You hit him. Over and over. Even if it doesn’t hurt. Even if it hurts you more. 

“Noooooo!” You shout, “no! Get off!!! Fuck off! Fuck you!!” 

You’re like an animal. All pain, all fear dissolves and there’s only one thing left. Survival.  

Your vision clears you see his grin. You hate him. You hurl your fist at him but before he can smack it away, he lurches backward. He flies off of you and hits the wall with a startling force. 

Another rasping breath blows through the room. Deep pants through nostrils as the soldier stands glaring at the intruder. His fists ball up as he steps closer to the dark-haired man. You dizzily sit up and watch as it all happens at a speed slower than reality. 

The other man raises himself on his knees but doesn’t make it further. The soldier, the captain, whoever, whatever he is, grabs him by the scruff and smashes his face into the walk. Bone mulches as the dark-haired man croaks and spits up crimson and ivory. 

The captain drags him by his neck as he searches the room. He finds the knife on the floor and throws the man onto his back. He plants his foot on his chest and looks at the blade. He turns his head to glance at you. His eyes are dilated and dull. 

He drops his chin to consider the man on the floor. He slips his foot off of him and falls to his knees. He straddles the man, knees on his arms to keep him from resisting, and he traces along the man’s hairline. The man roars and gnashes his teeth. 

The soldier continues the path around the man’s face until he’s sliced around cheekbone, jaw, and temples. He stabs the knife into the floor so it stands on its own. He runs his fingertips along the blood incision and you watch in horror as he peels the skin away from the bone. As he skins him with his hands alone, you cover your mouth and wretch. You can’t look away. 

You see every nasty detail. When the man has no face, his eyes are plucked out next with thumbs, crushed in fists, thrown down like gobs of chewed gum. Blood pours into his hair and down his neck. His breath is sickly and wet. 

Then the soldier strips him of his clothing. He shreds it with the knife but he destroys the man’s body with his hands. He breaks every finger, bending them back until they meet his hand. He twists his joints around until the crack and snap, he buries his nails into the skin until he can wrap his grip around his ribs and tear them out. 

The man’s blood stains the soldier. You see it slicken his black clothing, shining, stinking as the body of the intruder gurgles on the floor. The soldier doesn’t stop. Not even when he’s dead.  

You sit and watch him splitting sinew from bone, his eyes narrowed, almost hypnotised by the undoing of his enemy. You can’t take anymore. The smell of it, the sound, you can even taste it.  

You slide to the edge of the bed and stand. You whimper at the horrible pulsing in your foot. You hobble across the floor as the soldier is distracted in his work. You steel yourself and touch his shoulder. He winces as you lean on him but he doesn’t stop. 

His hands are red but with his blood as much as the man he murdered. He has cuts on his knuckles, a splintered bone juts out by his thumb. He doesn’t feel any of it. 

“You’re hurt,” you point and gulp back a wave of nausea. “Please, stop.” You bring your hand up to his chin and he finally stills. He lets you turn his head and he looks up at you. “If you don’t clean that, it will get worse.” 

He raises his hands and examines them. You tormented shoulder throbs and your foot radiates with heat. You gently touch his thick fingers.  

“Safe,” you say to him. “Like you said.” 

He stares at your hold on him then softly moves his hands to take yours instead. He stands as his pupils shrink. His eyes wander to your shoulder and the blood dripping down your chest. 

“We both need to clean up,” you look down. “Don’t we?”