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ctrlhope · 5 months ago

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Love Thy Neighbour (m)

synopsis: Jimin is a patient man, at least, he thinks he is. But you test him so much. Can’t you just be good? Be so pretty for him? He knows you want to be. Knows you can be so perfect, just for him.

p.jimin x f.reader

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: wc: 4.5k

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: genre: yandere/dark, smut, dark content

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: content: yandere/dark!jimin, noncon, dubcon, implied non-human!jimin, kidnapping, use of a sex doll, cruel and unusual punishment, mindbreak, fear play, blood, biting, marking, minimal prep, cervix bruising, dehumanization (?), creampie, rough sex, jimin is lovesick and delusional and also a gross perv, lmk if i missed any <33

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! the demons won and i finally decided to post this after it was sitting in my drafts forever <33 i wrote this about a year ago with jimin in mind, but then i posted it to my anime blog instead. if you read it over there… no you didn’t AHSSKSH it’s still probably my favourite thing i’ve ever written tbh <33 im back into the swing of writing so nightlight coming soon!! as always please read the warnings <//3

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni -> dark content

Creak.

Footsteps. Footsteps right in front of you. Right in front of your hiding place.

Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please keep walking. Please. If there’s any god out there please make him keep walking.

Bang.

His fist hits the desk right above your head. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Why the fuck did you even hide? It was dumb. So dumb. You can’t get away. Maybe if you ran, kept running forever you could get away. But you can't. Not anymore. It’s too late for any of that.

“There you are, pretty doll.” His sick smile is all you see as he leans down, face coming into view. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. You know that. You do.

You knew from the moment he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. He was practically buzzing as he rocked on his heels. His speech was weird, manic. He’s never spoken like that before. Not whenever he would come knocking on your door asking for sugar, at least.

You tried to be polite, you really did. You tried to make small talk, to politely excuse yourself, your hands shaking. You tried to close the door on him but it just wouldn’t shut as he kept rambling. His foot was shoved in the way, preventing your escape. His dirty fucking sneakers– god even now you remember them so clearly. You remember so many things you wish you didn’t.

How he fucking smiled when you looked back up at him.

It makes your stomach churn to think about it now.

You remember clearly how he grabbed you. He forced his way inside, slowly backing you against the wall. You remember how he grabbed your wrists, talked about how tiny they were in his hands. Showed you only a moment of warmth before harshly biting into the skin, red rising to the surface, coating his tongue. A sound of pain was retched from your throat, trying to pull away while his grip only got tighter. His hips forced you into the wall, trapping you. Keeping you as prey.

He said you taste delicious.

It fucking echos in your head. Makes you go insane with how it repeats over and over again. Exactly how he said the words. The lilt in his tone, the smile that made him look like he just saw the face of god. How excited he sounded at the first taste of blood.

The way you could tell that he craved more.

Craved everything you had to give.

You didn’t think demons were real before that night. Ghosts, angels– anything that goes bump in the night was just a figment of one's imagination. Maybe hallucinations. But this, this was real. How you wish this was all just some stupid hallucination.

Nothing is paranormal before you face the devil himself.

Nothing is more terrifying than when the devil wants you.

You learned that that night.

He dragged you next door, throwing you to the ground. He looked like a shadow, only a silhouette as he stood in the doorway. The moon casting a glow from behind him. You couldn't see his face, none of it was legible as you scrambled backwards. Trying, trying so desperately to put some space between yourself and the beast.

His shoulders heaved as he panted. Like a fucking monster that just got his kill.

He had.

He closed the doors. Locked them with what felt like a million keys. He started fucking giggling. Giggling like a goddamn lunatic as his demeanour changed completely. He was smiling like an innocent little kid. He was happy. The happiest you had ever seen a person before.

“Ahhh~” He sighed, glee laced in his all too cheery tone. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Speaking, churning in your ears so it's all you can hear. It mocks you. Mocks your very being. Mocks you for trying to live a normal life away from him.

You remember how he clung to you that night as you sobbed. Whining about how you shouldnt be sad, that you were home now. He’d coo, playing with your hair as he tried to ‘soothe’ your trembling body. His arms wrapped around you in a vice. It felt like he was choking the air out of your lungs.

Maybe he was trying, maybe he wanted you dead. You really had no clue. You just wanted to get away– be as far away from him as you could. You’d do anything, you told him as much. Change your name, leave the country. You promised you wouldn’t tell anybody! You would tell him anything if it meant you could leave.

But he kept you in place. Tucked in his arms. His entire body wrapped around yours, keeping you close. Keeping his face nuzzled into your neck. Smelling you. Smelling your fear.

He loves that smell.

If you let him he would breathe it in all the time, treating it as the very thing that keeps him alive. Well, until you die anyway. But he knows that won't be anytime soon! You’re strong. You're tenacious. He knows you are. You’ve dealt with so much in your life, you can deal with him too. He just knows it.

He wonders what all of your other emotions smell like.

Hmm.. What about love? That would be an interesting smell. Maybe it would be sweet like honey? Maybe bitter like chocolate… Humans are so interesting. They're so fun.

You are especially. And he knows you’ll like him too. He’s sure of it as you finally tire yourself out, falling asleep on his beat up mattress. Mmhmm crying for hours must really hurt your soul. Poor thing. He would fix it. Fix you up all nice and pretty. Yeah, he knows just how to. His pretty experiment.

Well, he thinks that’s all you are. A nice human experiment for him to play with. To learn everything about. Learn what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry. Seokjin told him as much. He could keep a little human as a pet, dispose of them when necessary. But… he doesn’t want to let you go! Just the thought makes him want to cry!

You are already better than he ever imagined!

Bang.

The chair blocking your body is thrown back, assaulting the wall with a deafening crash. Your hands come up, covering your ears. Shit Shit Shit! Fuck, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?! Your body forces itself as far as it can into the corner of the desk. All you can hear, all you can think about is the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Why are you so dumb?! You knew you couldn’t win! You never win any of his games!

He squats in front of you, blocking your only means of escape. You hear him, watch him inhale deep before letting out a sick laugh. One that makes you want to cry. One that makes you feel like trying to run– trying to hide is useless. Maybe it is. You don’t see how you could possibly get away.

The pictures covering his walls tell you everything you need to know.

“Found you.” He smiles, crawling towards your body, crawling towards your last bit of safety. He looks like a monster– he is a monster. He can’t be human. He can’t. You refuse to believe it. Your legs kick, they try to get away. They try to be your last line of defence but his face only shows that of an owner looking at a puppy having a fit. He looks so fond of you.

You want to scream.

He grabs your ankle. It hurts. Everything hurts. You should’ve become numb at this point, you wish you had. You feel your body slip out from under the desk, dragged against the hard floor. Pick you up with ease, lay you down in his bed. His gross disgusting bed.

He pouts. He fucking pouts at you. Sits in front of you..

“Don't tell me you’re jealous.” His frowns, tilting his head at you. “I didn't mean to make you! I swear! I just wanted to show you. How much I love you…how good I could make my pretty doll feel.” You could never be jealous. Not of anything involving him.

Especially not involving the putrid fucking sex doll that lays next to you in bed.

How he fucked it last night, making you watch. Made you hold his hand while he thrust into the thing. Made you cup his face as he came inside.

“How I’ve been practicing just for you.” He coos, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to his knees, crawling towards you in the bed. “Humans are just so hard to understand…And I really couldn’t wait for you any longer.”

You don’t hear his words. Your eyes fixated on the doll that looks just like you. Every freckle the same, every mole. Every fucking tiny detail mirrored yours in a lifeless, hollow core made of silicon. Filled up with his cum. You don’t want to think about how many times he’s fucked it. How many times he’s pretended having sex with you while holding it close. How much he had to have spent to get such a thing.

How deep whatever he feels for you runs.

You swear it probably coats his veins. Running under every inch of this skin. Giving it colour. Giving it life. It's all you’re able to think about when he leaves you alone in the apartments. It’s hard for you to swallow. To believe for yourself. You wish it is a lie.

You let him get close. You let him into your bubble for only a second. You allow his face into your neck. Biting your skin, drawing blood once again. He loves the taste. You think he's probably obsessed with it. You wanted to recoil away, disgusted with how he hums, lapping at the skin. But you don’t. You need to let him have this. Even if it's just for a second.

You close your eyes tight. You feel him relax. He thinks you’re giving in. You know he does. You can do this. You can do this. You may have only made this decision a moment ago as you stared at the doll, but you had to do this. You had to do it for yourself. It may be the last chance you get. You can’t stop fighting.

You can do this. You can do this.

The mantra chants over and over again in your head like a prayer. You feel his hand reach up, covering your clothed breast with his palm. Massaging it carelessly, without any thought or respect for you. In his head you’re probably the same as that fucking sex doll.

Your knee shoots up. Right into his crotch. Right where it hurts the most. Your hands shove him with all the strength in your body, getting him off of you. Getting him away for only a moment while he recovers. Maybe. Maybe you can make it out of the door. Or maybe you can make it to the bathroom and lock yourself inside. Maybe you have a chance. Just maybe.

Your body scrambles off of the bed, moving faster than you ever thought was possible. You race towards the door, arm reaching out for the handle. You’re so close. You’re almost there. You’re almost able to get away.

Freedom is within your grasp, it's so close you can taste it. He forgot to lock the door, you know he did. You didn't hear any of them click back in place when he came inside. He was too caught up in the moment with trying to find you. If you make it there then maybe, just maybe you can get outside. Run as fast and as far away as you can. Call the police and escape from him. Spread the wings he’s tried to clip.

You land flat on your face.

Not even your arms are able to cushion your fall.

A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you, dragging you again. Backwards. Back into the cage. Back to him. His chest heaves. His shoulders hunch. He looks dishevelled. Crazed.

He has that fucking smile plastered on his face.

“I love it when you run. It's so pretty.” He giggles, “You know me so well.”

You kick at him, thrash your body as he pulls you closer and closer. “Get the fuck away from me!” You yell, though it falls on deaf ears. All the strength in your body is being used to get away. To try and escape from him. He can’t be human. He’s too strong. Even with your struggle he still lifts you easily, like you’re just some fucking little kid having a temper tantrem.

“I’ve been so patient…” He sighs, placing– rather, forcing you onto the edge of the bed. Your knees on the floor as your torso is pressed against the mattress. Your arms pinned behind your back with one of his hands. Your hips pinned in place with his own. You can feel his cock against you. He’s hard. “I really am patient, you know?”

He hums, gently rocking his hips against you. His entire length pressed against your cunt. Taunting you. Words are not needed for you to know what’s to come. “It’s really too bad you know? I’ve run out.”

The simple statement makes your blood run cold.

“I’ve been so gentle…so caring…” He purrs, forcing his sweatpants down his legs. Just enough for his cock to spring free. Just enough for him to be able to stroke himself. For him to press the fat head where he wants– no, no. Needs to be. “I’ve really been trying my best to be good for you.”

You wish you could see. You wish you could see everything– exactly what he is doing. What he is planning to do to your wrecked frame. If, if everything wasn’t such a surprise then maybe… maybe you could make it a little better. But like this… you’re helpless. You’re trapped. You hate it. You can’t stand it. You wish you still had more tears left to cry. But you know it’s over. You can’t do anything now.

Exactly how he wants it– wants you.

You feel him stop moving, an excited gasp resonating from his throat. His entire presence changes in a flash, giddiness taking him over as the cogs in his brain turn. Making up his own story, his own reality changing all over again. “Unless, you don't want me to be good for you? You want me to take what I want? That’s why you’ve been trying to run and hide?”

His frame towers over yours, his full weight pressing against your back forcing you deeper into the bed as he mumbles into your ear. “All you had to do was say so~”

All you can do is whimper in response. Whimper like a wounded animal that's been forced to accept their fate. Your head is blank, devoid of all thoughts and feelings. There is nothing. Nothing you can do.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe a small part of you does like it. Who knows. You certainly don’t.

He blows gently on your ear, teasing you before he leans back. Your bottoms are forced down, exposing your cunt to the entire room. You can feel him practically buzzing with excitement. With some sick pleasure found deep within his gut.

“So pretty!” He whines, spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your pretty little cunt. You hate that you’re already wet. You hate that the feeling of his cock did it to you just moments before. You hate that he can see it. You hate the way pride bubbles up in his gut. The way you can hear him lick his lips like a starved man.

Hate what the other little voice is saying inside of your head. Hate that even maybe a little bit of your soul wants to feel him. The quiet fucked up voice that you always try to silence in the dead of night when you’re left with your thoughts.

“Mm… I wanna taste you so bad but… I really can’t wait anymore… what am I supposed to do!!” You can practically hear the pout plastered on his lips. “Ah~”

The fat head of his cock finds its way back to your cunt, dragging itself up and down your lips. Milking every last bit of wetness out of your hole. Your nails dig into your own hands— maybe his. It’s hard to tell where you stop and he begins. When he’s this close it’s hard to tell much of anything.

“We have forever together don’t we?” He chuckles, his head stopping at your unprepped little hole. Attempting to push into it with just enough pressure to have you squirm. Have you bite down on the sheet to silence any sounds that might try to come through. He’s too thick. “We can try out all sorts of fun things together~”

His thumb aids as he tries to push the head of his cock inside. Prodding, trying to force his way inside without a care in the world for how it might hurt. How it might feel for you. He’s too big— you’re, you’re too tight. You can’t take it! It won’t fit you just, just–!

“Mmmm!!” A muffled cry breaks free from your throat as the head of his cock buries itself in your cunt. Your ears ring, pain taking over your senses as he lets out a mouth watering, near pornographic moan from above you.

His grip on your wrists tighten, eyes staring at where he’s fucked himself into you. Wow~ it’s so pretty. He never expected a human to feel this good! It’s incredible! Magnificent! And this is just the first inch of him? Oh my… he can only imagine what bottoming out with feel like— how it will feel when his cock is pressed against your cervi—

Wait wait!! He’s getting ahead of himself again. A gasp leaves his throat as he pulls out, a muffled whine leaving your own. Your hole clenches around nothing. What a cute little thing! It’s calling him back in!! He knew you wanted this, he knows all about you huh?

He drags his cock back and forth through your lips again, red mixing in with the pretty white. He dips his cock head over and over again into your entrance, thrusting himself deeper and deeper every time. Stretching you just perfectly around his length.

Hmm, humans like prep right? He figures that this is close enough. His doll doesn’t need it. She just takes him right away— someday you’ll be the same! He just needs to break you in! But until then, he needs to savour this… who knows when you might come around again?

Mmm… you’re too mean to him. Yeah, that’s all it is.

Ah, it’s too bad he’s too lost to notice you’re already falling apart. Your back is arching on its own. Working without permission to give him a better angle. Your hips bucking, leaning back ever so slightly as he presses into your cunt. Urging him just a little deeper. Your pussy is too wet to think about anything, your head in a daze as he teases you, taunts you relentlessly.

You don’t want this— at least you think you don’t. But, it’s so hard to know what you really want when your head gets like this. When it’s actually feeling good. When the pleasure mixes with pain to concoct something dangerous. Something that makes you unsure of anything, really. Maybe you’re dumb, maybe you’re stupid. Yeah. You probably are. But that’s okay. He likes that.

He likes you.

He slides his cock inside of your hole, his hand moving to your ass as thrusts his hips. Forcing his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your walls clenching around every inch that pushes its way inside. God, you’ve never felt so full. You’ve never felt anything like this. Anything like his cock, anything like him.

Whimpers, whines, all sorts of sounds escape your throat as you let him do what he pleases. Give into whatever twisted pleasure is being given to you. It’s hard to stop them when he’s even louder— panting like a fucking dog as he feels you. Feels every inch of you. Makes you two become one.

He fucks into you so hard it hurts. So hard that your entire body is being pushed into the bed, spine curving up to meet him with every demonic thrust of his hips. Every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass, every time the head of his cock meets with your cervix, pain racks through your body. You can’t take it. You feel like you’re going crazy. You feel like you’re the insane one.

The sound of skin against skin penetrating the sound of your ears like some sort of sick, twisted song. A song he plays so well. One you don’t want him to stop. No matter how much it hurts, how it stings you, you just can’t find it in yourself to push him away. His moans feel like a siren’s voice, luring you closer and closer, pushing you so close to the edge.

“Why’s she so mean!” He whines, his thrusts frantic and hurried. Only caring for his own pleasure, only caring about him. “Won’t let me in any deeper doll! Can you believe that?” He groans, pressing his cock so hard against your cervix you nearly scream in pain. Your body thrashes, trying to get away from the sensation.

He shushes you quietly, leaning his torso against your back as he coos. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… we won’t try that today okay? Must be too much for you… poor thing.” His hips relent, slowly rocking into your battered cunt to give you a little bit of a break. To rest before the main event.

You want to cringe at how wet you sound, how messy you’ve become due to his cock and his cock alone. How greedily your pussy takes him, urging him back with every thrust. Wanting it. Wanting him.

You see his arm reach past your head, grabbing onto your mimics hair. Pulling the doll closer. Holding its head so it’s staring right into your eyes. It’s so lifeless. So hollow.

“It’s okay.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Someday you’ll take me just like she can, yeah? You’ll be sooo~ good for me.” His hips start to pick up their pace again, thighs slapping against your ass so hard you might see stars. So hard you actually want to listen to him.

“I had to break her in too, real good.” He pants out, losing himself in the feeling of your tight, warm walls.

You flinch away. You can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at a face that is exactly your own yet so cold and distant. So lost. Used for months on end. Maybe a little sense comes back to you, a small part of reality seeping back into your skull.

He tsks. Fucking tsks and shakes his head in disappointment. “That won’t do… I need my girls to like each other…” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at the thing. The creature with your hair and eyes.

“Kiss it.” His voice changes in a second, morphing into something commanding. Something scary.

Fuck reality. Living in whatever dream you’ve created for yourself is better. Better than facing this. You don’t want to disobey. You want to listen, want him to let you cum. Want to be good. Maybe want his praise, even if it’s just a little.

Your lips meet with the cold, lifeless silicon. Tasting whatever disgusting leftover cum can be found on its lips. He pushes the head against your lips, forcing you to lick your tongue inside. “Adorable!!”

He likes it. He likes it too much. You can tell.

Tell by the way his hips pick up speed, forcing your used hole to take him over and over again. Forcing you to accept him into your body. Forcing you to fall for his cock. Make sure no one else will ever be able to use it. Use you like the way he wants to.

Can tell by the way his cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His pace completely out the window as he searches for nothing but his own release.

Maybe you like it too. Like the way his cum tastes. Like the way he took this, took all of you for himself. All of you flesh as his. The coil tightens in your stomach, white specks start to form behind your eyelids. You’re close, too fucking close you just can’t take it anymore.

A loud moan leaves your lips, muffled by the silicon held against your mouth. Waves of pleasure crashing through your frame like a tidal wave of ecstasy as white paints the inside of your walls. Ears ringing, vision gone white as endorphins fill your brain making you forget— forget everything about this moment. How fucked up it is. How you want more.

Your walls clamp around his cock as it jerks in your cunt, milking every last drop of cum from him. Filling you up until you’re stuffed. Until you can’t think anymore. Until you’re so tired you just want to collapse.

He drops the doll letting you pull your head back to finally be able to breathe again fully. Your frame slumps against the bed. Tired. Drained of everything it has to give.

He slowly pulls out of your abused little hole, watching the way it flutters around nothing. Watching the white mixed with red slowly drip out of it onto the rug. “Humans are such incredible little things…”

He smiles, shallowly dipping a finger inside your walls before popping it in his mouth. Just a little taste. “You did so good doll…” He pets your hair, gives you some sort of comfort after everything he’s done. It’s the least you deserve.

He moves your body into the bed with ease, pulling a blanket over your shaking form. A nap would be good right now. It’s always good to give humans at least one nap a day! Mhmm… and you seem like you could use one.

He moves behind you, wrapping an arm around your body from behind. Pulling you close to his chest. Making no mind to fix your clothes. This is good. This is right. It’s how it’s always supposed to have been!! Ah, and now he has all the time to make you understand that too. He’s so lucky. So lucky to have found such a good human.

“Night night dolly…” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair gently. Coaxing you to sleep. “Let’s have a great day tomorrow too, yeah?”

Right. Tomorrow. Cause this is forever.

You can’t help the small smile that creeps to your lips at the thought. Forever. ♡

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

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takes1 · 5 months ago

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p.2 one night stand aftermath with needy!tsukishima

this boy is gonna get whinyyyy in the next one. sorry i haven't been posting like everyday anymore, i'm either hitting a wall or i'm exiting my manic creative fever

warnings. sfw-ish, conversation/narration about sex. minors DNI

info. fem!reader / smut build-up / flirting / one night stand aftermath / needy!tsukki / timeskip!tsukki / museum setting / miscommunication / 1.6k words / reply to be added to taglist for part 3!

haikyuu collection. part one here.

more links. masterlist. my ao3.

"Are you sure they're not in your bag?"

You did not want to bother somebody at their job because of your nephew's inconvenient tendency to leave his eyeglasses around.

The six-year-old stopped and you watched him search through his little Indiana Jones-themed bag. No glasses. Just the sandwich you packed for him, a coloring book, and pencils to go with it.

"Shit," You sighed under your breath. You had already been in the museum for an hour and a half.

They could've been anywhere. You rubbed the back of your neck and looked at the reclined worker behind the service desk in the lobby.

"We'll... we'll ask if they've seen any, alright?"

"Okay!"

You approached, hoping the man would break the ice first when he noticed you.

All he did was keep tapping away on his phone.

If anything, he shrank lower in his seat when you came up to the counter so you couldn't see him as easily.

"Hi, um- Excuse me, we just wanted to know if you've seen any glasses around- Or if anyone had come by to turn some in."

It was difficult enough to muster the courage to speak. But to make matters worse, the worker peeked out from around his shoe with the rudest 'Go away, I'm busy doing nothing' stare that he could muster.

Pressured frustration built in your chest and you readied yourself to speak louder, be more assertive so he could understand this wasn't a problem that would just go away.

It fizzled at a flash of short, fluffy blond hair.

Your fingers twitched from the memory of how soft it was against your shoulder, between your legs, against your palms.

His eyes widened with recognition. He took his legs back down, a lanky hand setting his headphones to rest around his neck.

You realized you had forgotten his name, so you couldn't express that you knew him so easily-- it left you speechless, grabbing at something to say.

Thankfully, it was a problem for later, because he confirmed that he heard you after all.

"You wear... glasses?" He asked.

His face worked, soaking in every new detail of your natural features he didn't get to see the last time you were together.

"No, I don't," Was all you could say.

You motioned to the child hiding behind your back, clinging to your shirt.

A nearly open-mouthed look.

"Oh!" You covered a small laugh at his unnaturally wide-eyed stare, "He's not mine!"

You held your hand to your heart, then placed it atop your nephew's head and ruffled his hair.

"Just babysitting my nephew. He wouldn't stop asking me to come here,"

The kid leaned all his weight to the side and squinted around, using you as an anchor to hold him up. He couldn't be bothered listening to you.

"He loves the museum."

He spared a glance to the little one rubbing his eyes behind you and, to his own surprise, found sympathy in his heart.

It was a quiet and incredibly uncomfortable search. You remembered his name along the way, thankfully.

It didn't help that it was nearly empty besides your small group making a sloth's pace throughout the vast, never-ending halls. Frequent stops at places you lingered at earlier to read plaques or marvel at figures put some occasional ease on the tension.

Tsukishima walked slow, with his hands in his pockets, and looked at anything but you.

Simply by his wordless agreement to help you, you could tell this job wasn't something he took very seriously. If he didn't already know you inside and out, he would've turned his music up to drown out your plea for help.

His calculated, but somehow yet disinterested gaze stood as strong evidence that he wasn't warm.

You held yourself to silence a shiver.

So, why did he look so heartbroken when you left his bedroom?

A quiet, toneless voice wrenched you out of your inquisitive thoughts.

"You do this often?"

You didn't understand how comfortable you actually were with the quiet until you had to come up with something to respond with. What was he referring to? The museum, or the sex?

"Um-?"

His face was so intense when you tried to look at him for more elaboration. Like you had stepped on the back of his shoe.

You quickly looked down.

"With the kid," He muttered.

"Oh, yeah," You blew a breath of relief, "Yeah yeah, I see him every couple weeks. We usually come here."

He hummed.

It was getting quiet all over again. You felt an obligation to try, now.

"Do...you like working here?" You winced. A dumb question you already knew the answer to.

His response wasn't as cruel as you expected. He even pretended to consider it.

"It pays for my tuition."

A generous nugget of information- your nephew began searching on his own accord around this old, interactive archeological sand table and you lingered next to Tsukishima for a minute.

"Tohoku University?"*

He nodded at your question as you both sifted through the sand in front of you.

"Me, too," You smiled, "Kinesiology major."

There was a small laugh on his lips. He smoothed the display back out when it was obvious there were no glasses here and you continued on your way.

"What, are you some snooty med student?" You scoffed at his perceived pretentiousness.

It wasn't rare to come across people who discriminated based on major when you interacted with so many aspiring nurses and surgeons. You liked the student athletes at your university better.

"No," He shook his head, "I- Just- yeah. It's nothing."

You believed him, but he left you confused and hanging on by a thread by his odd mannerisms and avoidant speech. It was difficult to make any lasting judgement about him.

Regardless, he stuck around and, though not enthusiastically, helped you search for the next twenty minutes.

There was the chance he could've been doing it all to repeat that night. If he gave you any indication that he was interested in a round two, you were prepared to take him up on the offer. But you had a feeling he would've already tried to flirt, or talk more, or just flat out tell you instead of dancing around, exhausting your politeness if it was the case.

Another room, another few minutes spent searching.

When nothing came up again, you got his attention with a frown, "You don't have to keep helping. I know this is pretty dull."

His face grew a bit warm. You both looked away.

"I'm not just gonna leave," He managed to work around your invitation to go away and reference your night together.

At first, you trailed behind him on the way into the next hall, but shook your reaction off and caught up to his side.

"So, why did you?"

He cut the niceties and put it all on the table, but you weren't at all expecting it to be laced in guilt, or shame, on his end.

Maybe if he had a sweeter resting face, or didn't kiss you so fast, or wasn't so handsy in the Uber back to his place, or didn't fuck you on the floor because he couldn't wait to get to his room, or didn't talk to you like he owned you, or didn't tell you to scream his name-- maybe if he just had an ounce of patience at the start, you would've foreseen his cuddly side and stayed a bit longer.

Honesty was probably best.

"I just," There was difficulty in your voice, "I just didn't peg you as the type to want more than-,"

His eyes were narrow and focused, fixated on your glossy lips as you spoke. It forced you to end your sentence short.

A minute passed and you were back to the skeleton displays.

As you watched him across the room, leaned under a bench to help search despite it being well over his paycheck, your heart squeezed.

He was a pretty boy- and kind where it counted, as far as you could tell. The most obvious trait of his was how much he liked you, even at the very start.

The way his face worked when he looked at you; intensity in the form of longing you'd never been the subject of before.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't make you feel pretty special to make a guy like that crumble.

"Found them." He called.

You groaned out a yes, excited you didn't have to pay an arm and a leg for a replacement. You jogged over to watch him wipe off the lenses on his shirt and hand them to your nephew.

"Glasses are expensive," Tsukishima placed his hands on his hips, unaware of how intimidating he was to a small child, "You should keep better track of those."

The kid apologized at a barely-there whisper and quickly clung to you again, embarrassed.

After all the searching, you were both tired and relieved to be able to go back home. Part of you weighed your legs down to this spot, though.

"I- suppose I owe you an apology, too," You admitted.

The double meaning was not lost on him. His chest swelled with a tentative, slow breath and he bit the inside of his cheek.

"You don't have to do that."

You were almost certain he was about to invite you back to his place. Just when you thought you had him, he slips away.

It was risky, but as you watched your nephew sprint over to a display he didn't see earlier, you decided it was more appropriate to try again.

"I'd love to make it up to you," You placed your hands on the back of your hips and tried to emulate the same look you passed to him in the club. Through your lashes, real casual, but unwavering eye contact.

His jaw worked at your not-so-subtle request to be invited back. It gave way to a hand rifling through his short, bouncy curls and red-tinged ears.

He looked over his shoulder to check you weren't being listened to.

A familiar sound was his low, interested mutter, "Are you free tonight?"

taglist.

holy shit tsukki gets so much love on here. thanks for supporting and tuning in! part three will be hornier

@little-stitious-studios @sunshinesx-264

@hrts4hanniehae @lord-hqcifer

@inofish @integers @ushijimaschubbs

@sharkubi @imiqz @yuyunhoo

reply to be added!

masterlist. requests closed.

*the uni mention: idk what the fuck i'm talking about lmao fan wiki failed me i tried to find out where he actually goes to college don't burn me at the stake

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hazelsmirrorball · 1 year ago

Text

Bad idea right? | Charles Leclerc

pairings: Ex! Charles Leclerc x Singer! FemReader Summary: After a drunken night, exes rekindle under the moonlight. Face claim: Olivia Rodrigo Warnings: suggested language, exes, english isn’t my main language so excuse any mistake. authors note: thank you so much for the love on the last one. I really appreciate it a lot.

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y/n new things, bad things coming real soon!

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lilymhe talented girl!

→ y/n i love you!!

username mother is mothering!

username the color red? is this like an Easter egg

→username Charles! this has to be about Charles

username girl what!

username how soon are we taking about?

username omg! this is sour all over again

→ username charles pr team are fighting for his life

username arthur liking? hell is breaking loose

...

Six months. It had been six months since y/n and charles had broken up. Six months since they decided to have no contact with each other, claiming that it was the best. Throughout the six months Y/n hadn’t heard a thing from Charles, the occasional stalk on instagram but that was about it. Both of them were stubborn to break the no contact.

Y/n knew Charles like the palm of her hand, when their relationship had hit the four year milestone she knew the relationship had run its course. It didn’t take her by surprise when he decided to break up a few after their anniversary. The couple didn’t end on bad terms, both deciding that it was a good idea to take a break, Charles was at his peak with F1 and Y/n had finally gotten the record deal she had been desperately searching for. Time would tell if they were actually good for each other.

What did take Y/n by surprise was her phone lighting up the dark room showing the text message Charles had left her. She was supposed to be having fun with her friends, she was out having the time of her life and all of a sudden Charles decided to break their no contact. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system or the euphoric feeling that was creeping up her system due to the party but she found her way pushing past the sweaty bodies. Her left hand gripped on the bottle of alcohol while the right one held onto the phone for dear life.

When she finally reached the exit of the bar, she quickly slipped out sitting on the edge of the sidewalk to process the text message Charles had sent her. Y/n sat her drink next to her while pressing on her phone to unlock it, her eyes quickly landing on the text message.

‘hey :)”

Lowercase hey and a smiley face. What does a lowercase hey and a smiley face mean? The alcohol on the Y/n system was driving her manic. There she was, sitting down on the dirty side walk over analyzing her ex boyfriend’s hey. If she were sober she would’ve been calm and probably would’ve reacted the same way but with the alcohol flowing in her body she wanted that hey to have another meaning. She didn’t know how long she stayed typing on her phone but when she snapped back to reality when her phone started ringing, before picking it up she drank the contents of the drink next to her to gain courage.

“Hey Y/n! I saw you were typing a lot and decided to call you. I guess it’s easier to talk than to write, right?” Charles responded with a small laugh. Y/n awkwardly followed his laugh embarrassment filling her body. She was forever grateful that Charles couldn’t see her.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just didn’t know what to text you. You are really full of surprises, I thought we had said that we weren’t going to contact each other” as soon as the words left Y/n’s mouth she instantly cringed knowing that her choice or words and tone didn’t help her situation. Charles let out a sigh from the line making Y/n let out an inaudible scream hiding her face between her knees.

“I just wanted to see how things were. I was scrolling through instagram and saw that you were in Miami and I just thought it was a weird coincidence that both of us were in Miami at the same time. I’m actually staying at a hotel nearby. I’m all alone and… ” Charles hesitated thinking if it was a good idea to continue his ramble. “I wanted to see if you wanted to join me. Maybe we could catch up. I miss you” Charles slurred being in the same condition as Y/n, it went unnoticed by her.

As the words slipped out of Charles mouth, Y/n took her face from in between her knees looking at the phone this time covering her mouth not believing what Charles was implying. Y/n she hadn't known Charles well enough to know when he wanted her. Maybe it was the picture she had posted on her instagram story or the lack of intimacy he was feeling but Y/n could sense and undertone from the other line.

“I’m out with my friends right now, Charles. I can’t just ditch them.” Y/n sighed as she looked at Charles' contact picture. God, she could feel her body turning into mush. She needed to snap out of it, they were done, she knew that.

“They won’t even notice that you’re gone. Plus, I know for a fact that your friends do it to you all the time.” Charles replied as Y/n played with the end of her shirt thinning her options through.l

“What would we do if I go there? Because I can assure you I’m having fun right now and if I go to your hotel it can’t be to do boring things” Y/n asked innocently while playing with the rim of her cup. Charles let out what she could assume was a needy sigh making her smirk.

“We can do whatever you want, Y/n. But I can assure you, you’ll have the time of your life. So what do you say?” Charles said and Y/n can imagine the small desperate look on his face. She wanted to egg on the feeling waiting a few seconds as she was searching for an answer hearing Charles rough breathing from the other side of the phone.

Y/n could barely hear her thoughts. She knew if she was in Charles' room that she wouldn’t be able to think clearly. It was a good idea to see Charles at these hours of the night. It was a really bad idea right? Maybe tonight wasn’t the best idea. She shouldn’t.

“I don’t know, Charles. I should probably not go” She barely mumbled and Charles waited a few seconds before answering.

“I promise it won’t be a mistake. I’ll send you an uber to pick you up. My room’s 215.”

“Fuck it. It’s fine, I’ll go.’

She wasn’t going to hear the end of this. Her friends were going to talk so much shit when they found out about this. But right now, she shouldn’t care. After six months, she was going to see Charles. Yes, he was her ex. But can’t two people reconnect? Exe’s could be friendly, she didn't see the wrong in that. Y/n only saw him as a friend. This was just going to be a friendly encounter. Two friends having a late night hang out, nothing special.

Y/n regretted a lot of things in her lifetime, but as Y/n found herself in the back of the uber xl just outside of Charles hotel, she started to think. She tried to think of things she had regretted ever since she met Charles and the only things that came to mind were things she didn’t regret doing, one of them being standing outside of Charles' hotel.

She stumbled into the elevator pressing the second floor button while leaning against her side waiting to see the face she had been missing. As the elevator doors opened patiently slowly she watched the door numbers increase as she walked farther in the hallway. When the number she was looking for came into view, she smiled, her hand hovering over it to knock but before she had the chance to do so, the door quickly opened.

There he was. Charles Leclerc, in all his glory. He looked down at her smiling at her with the smile she had fallen deeply for. She could say she had seen hotter men but seeing him with some loose sweatpants laying on his hips made her feel things she couldn’t even explain. God, when she looked at him her brain just said nonsense and she couldn’t even read her thoughts. All she could think of was the things that were going to happen once she entered that room.

“It’s really nice seeing you again, Y/n. You look beautiful.” Charles said, breaking the intense staring between the two pulling Y/n into a tight hug. Y/n responded missing being between his arms. She hid her face on his neck sensing his strong cologne taking her into an intoxicating trance. Charles' hand slowly wandered Y/n’s back landing on her lower back, rubbing it softly. The pair didn’t want to break their loving embrace, both of them desperately needing it but they also didn’t want to make headlines. So after a few minutes Charles pulled away, leaning past the door letting her scoot past him. Y/n eyes scanned the room, noticing the empty bottles of alcohol around the small room made her finally realize that Charles was in the same state as her. Y/n sat on the edge of the bed resting her hand on her knees looking down at the floor. Charles quickly closed the door behind him, while Y/n moved herself side to side on the bed attempting to get comfortable.

“No need to get all flustered, Y/n. It’s me. Now, I’m really glad you came here Y/n. How’s things? How’s your family and your music career? How's it going?” Charles started looking forward, not daring to look at her. Y/n blinked several times, starting to regret her decision of coming in the first place.

“Stop with the small talk and kiss me already, Charlie

At the sound of the nickname that he missed hearing the past few months. And with that Charles softly pushed Y/n back straddling her. He wasted no time attaching their lips together. Hunger. That’s what it felt like kissing each other after six months. None of them wanted to lose each other. Both of them let out a moan against their lips getting used to the touch they had missed. Y/n flipped them over as she looked down at Jason, pulling away. Charles instantly grabbed her waist, probably leaving a finger marked on her waist. A smirk adorned her lips as she noticed Charles unsteady breathing. Charles sent her a loopy smile and all she could think about was that she didn’t regret being here. She only saw him as a friend, tripping and falling into his bed.

No, it wasn’t a bad idea.

…

Y/n let out a groan as she turned to the side searching for her ringing phone. When she finally got a hold of it she noticed Charles' strong grip on her. She hid a smile as Charles parted lips let out little snores, his eye furrowed unintentionally. For a second Y/n forgot the rigging phone in her hand as her eyes wandered on Charles’ bare chest. Her finger traced on top of the bare skin noticing the marks from the night before. Charles’ eyes fluttered open glaring at her playfully. Y/n snapped back to reality moving her phone towards her eyes answering quickly.

“Finally! Where the hell are you, girl?” Y/n’s friend exclaimed loudly as Y/n pulled the phone away trying not to hear her that loud.

“I decided to go to bed early. That’s all.” Y/n responded while hearing her friend letting out a sigh of relief. As she did that Charles let out a chuckle gaining her friends attention.

“Wait, is there someone with you? Y/n” she exclaimed once again before Charles could say anything Y/n covered his mouth.

Even if it wasn’t a bad idea, her friends didn’t have to know she was under Charles Leclerc sheets.

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y/nxcharlesupdates Charles showed up to Y/n's Bad Idea Right release party! Glad to see that they are still supporting each other as friends. Stream Bad Idea Rightl!!

ps. the music video for bad idea is out right now!!!

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username friends? friends don't look at each other like that!

username can't believe y/n is looking at charles like that. do remember that that is the same guys she wrote sour about?

→username I can't blame charles he's still hooked on a bad bitch

username what do you mean out now?!

username who's hairy hand is that?

username y/n is just like us

→ username y/n stand up

username a Charles and y/n the world is healing

username she is glowing

→ username obviously, she's getting that dick everyday

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y/n bad idea right? this friday <3. I had such a fun time making this song with @dan_nigro in miami last year. we wrote it as a joke and we loved it so much that we made it into a full song.

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lilymhe on repeat

→ y/n i love you!!

username real music is back!

username y/n dropped a song about her sex life with Charles now that their exe's on their anniversary day

→username and? another song Charles can say it's about him

username what do you mean out now?!

username If I were Charles I would be so proud

username don't worry y/n! it wasn't a bad idea

→ username charles pr team are fighting for his life

charles_leclerc love the song!

...

thank you for reading!!

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freakyformula · 1 month ago

Text

Wolf in sheep's clothing

Summary: Reader is a mafia boss and Lando is her rival.

Writers comment: Just posting this here, is anyone even interested in a part two?

Warnings: Swearing, explicit details about dying, guns and shit, not proofread

Word count: 1,6k

"Make him talk. If he doesn't, kill him." She tells her right-hand man, Florian.

As she walks out of the room she hears multiple crackling noises followed by screams.

You see, she was notorious for making her rivals suffer once she got her hands on them. This is a trait she'd inherited from her father, the most ruthless Don in the whole country. He had connections to every branch of business, meaning he did as he pleased… When he pleased. No one was safe from his wrath.

Her father's heart was once soft and warm. That was until a particularly cruel rival killed her mother. Her father met her when he was only 15 years old. She made him a better person. But she couldn't save him from his own nature. He was born to be violent and yet he never raised a hand on your mother. But anyone that dared to cross his path, was as good as dead.

His mind was still plagued with guilt. His carelessness killed her mother, according to him. He shouldn't have let her off alone in that car. Their only daughter was 5 at the time.

He didn't even have the heart to tell her the truth about what happened to her mother.

He missed her smile, her light, her scent.

She saw it in his face every day.

And now, he was gone.

All she knew at the moment was that someone broke into the house and kidnapped her beloved father.

She couldn't help thinking back on those fond memories of her parents. Even though her father was a Don, he still took his fatherly obligations very seriously. He would read her a book every night he was home. He would lift her up on his shoulders and pretend to be a raging stallion. She never felt unsafe growing up. Even when her mother died, her fathers embrace gave her the comfort she needed.

She walks along the hallways of her fathers home rapidly. When she walks up the stairs to the first floor of the large house, she notices a plethora of her father's lifeguards around the kitchen island. They're clearly planning something. She walks up behind them, her heels clicking on the marble floor, silencing the guards.

She'd already killed off the poor excuses of lifeguards that, in her eyes, betrayed her father by not keeping him safe.

"Miss." The man in charge addresses her. "We're planning an attack on the Norris family. We think the son, Lando, is behind the kidnapping."

Her and Lando had history. Oh well, not them per se, but rather their fathers. Back in the day, they were business partners. Lando and her had never met. For some reason, their friendship turned sour and they became sworn rivals.

Why, she didn't know and she never bothered asking.

However, now she could've used that information.

She exits the kitchen without a word and go searching for Mario, her father's friend and former bodyguard.

"Mario, I need to ask you something." She says as he kisses her forehead and smiles down at her smaller figure.

"Go ahead, little one."

"What happened between my father and the Norris family?" She asks as he leads her out through his old-fashioned room and out on his own balcony. The scenery on his balcony was fantastic, he had a view over the vineyard and could end the day with a glass of red wine and watch the sun set.

"Your father... After your mother died, he went into what I'd call manic episode. He'd kill everyone in his path in order to find the killer of your mother. Turns out... The signs were there all along, and one day, he cracked the code. He was convinced that the Don of the Norris family, Adam, killed your mother. He sent one of his men after her as she was driving down to the village on her own and rammed her car off a cliff."

She was speechless. No words came to mind.

Mario continues, "So, in revenge, your father killed Adam's whole family. Except for their youngest son, Lando. He managed to escape."

She stood there with her mouth shut, grinding her teeth. She could feel the anger bubbling in her stomach.

"Thank you for your valuable information, Mario."

She walks past her old girl room, struggling to find her old black cargo pants and bulletproof vest. After some diggling she finds what she needs and quickly switches into the more fitting attire.

She bumps into Florian and demands an update on her way back to the kitchen.

"We'll get rid of the body later." Florian simply comments on the man she'd met earlier.

"So he didn't talk.?" She asks of him.

"Not a word." Florian sighs.

The bodyguards are already getting ready when the duo comes into the kitchen. The room is buzzling and guns are thrown and loaded all over. The men look ready for battle with their straight faces.

"George, Max, you're staying here with Miss Y/N just in case." The man in charge orders.

"With all due respect, I'm coming with you." She exclaims, slamming her fist into the counter, making the whole room freeze. The men look at each other.

"I'll keep her safe." Florian fills in.

"All right. You're on your own." The man concludes and turns around, loading bullets into clips.

The team goes through the plan; sneak into the premises without making a sound, bug out the alarm system, take out the guards and find a way into the house. Should be pretty easy, concidering the amount of men stood in the kitchen.

As the day turns into dusk and the men load the cars with all of the guns and equipment needed for the invation, she waits in the car with Florian behind the steering wheel.

The way there was dark and melancoly, not sunny and happy like the road to her childhood home.

When they get close to their destination, they park the cars and sneak closer to the house. One of the men bug out the alarms, as intended, while five others kill off the guards pacing around the house with precision.

She walks behind the leader of the group, and as they get to the door of the house, it barges open.

Clearly, not all alarms were bugged out, because the guards completely overwhelm the group and they struggle to take the advantage again. The bullets whining were loud, and she saw her father's men pierced with bullets next to her. She was used to fighting but this was new. As the men struggled before they took their last breath, she could only look at them before she kept shooting at the enemy. Not a dignified death, this, she thought.

One after another dies off beside her and she looks around for options. The door was still open. Without thinking, Florian grabs her hand and runs inside with her close behind.

They look at each other, out of breath, clueless.

When the sound of footsteps reach their ears, they quickly sneak behind a half-wall and crouch down. Whoever it was, passes them.

She hears some struggling outside on the yard, sounds like the leader of the group is injured. Where were the others, are they all dead?

"Who sent you?" The unknown man asks, followed by a thud and her man grunting.

"Fuck you." He swears.

And then, a single shot. The sound startles her so much the Florian grabs her mouth in order to silence her.

"Come, this way, we need to find safety." Florian says as he grabs her hand.

They navigate their way through the house in order to find a place to lie low. The place was eerily quiet, it almost felt like a ghost house. When they've sneaked their way to the other side of the house, the last obstacle was getting past the main hall.

"Go, go!" Florian whispers as he urges her in the right direction. She runs lightly to the other side of the room and hides behind a glass wall. She could see the door to freedom in front of her as she stood with her back against the glass.

Then, a sharp noice. You peek behind the glass, and see Florian in a pool of blood.

"R-run!" Is the last thing he manages to say before he draws his last breath.

The sight of her dead friend induces a rage in her, and she draws her gun and starts shooting towards the shadow stood in the doorway on the other side of the room. Before she knows it, she's all out of bullets.

"Fuck, fuck." She whispers to herself. The stairs up to the second floor are located on her side. She runs up as fast as she can and quickly accesses her surroundings before she hears a pair of footsteps behind her. Hiding wasn't ideal but concidering she was out of bullets and alone didn't really leave any options.

Quickly, she draws her hunting knife from her right boot and crouches down behind a wall.

She patiently waits for her prey, like a predatory animal.

When she sees the man behind the corner, she's baffled. He's handsome, and rugged.

He looks around and turns his back to her, listening for clues of her whereabouts.

She takes the chance and jumps on him, with her knife against his throat. He roars out and throws her over him. She lands on the floor infront of him and as she's about to get up he grabs her hair. She hears a noice which could only be the noice of a knife being drawn, and feels it against her pulse point.

"Hello, sweetheart." Lando introduces himself.

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yannaryartside · 5 months ago

Text

THE LIE THAT CLAIRE BELIVES

THE CARETAKER WOUND

So, I keep coming back and forth with my opinions on Claire. Yeah, she did many things that will be a no-go for me as a person, sometimes cringe or childless, and could be taken as manipulative as well. I have been rethinking about it after reading this amazing post:

But there was something constantly ominous about how she was presented, not only as a manic pixie dream girl coded woman but also as a helper, described as an "incredibly good person" who sometimes managed to become an enabler. I will use some books about childhood wounds I have been re-reading, trying to do for her what I did for Carmen in this post. A deep character analysis speculating on the character's childhood wounds based on behaviors they display.

Let's go brick by brick. Long post underneath.

PART 1: THE HELPER OF DRUNK, SAD PEOPLE

Quoting from @brokenwinebox post: In the party.

Claire: “In college, people would come back to my house after parties. and I think I got really good at managing sad drunk people.” Carmy: “Yeah, I know that feeling.” Claire: “I know you do.”

That made me pause, because she made it seem like a common occurrence. She doesn't say these people were their friends, and maybe they were. But it becomes weirder when you think they were at that party (with Carmy) with the excuse of helping her broken-hearted friend. Claire said, "She needs me"

Girl, what? I get wanting to be there with your friend, but you are talking to your (you said later) childhood crush, dont you wanna spent time alone with him? The other girl doesn't seem like your best friend or anything, so doesn't she have other friends she could rely on during this hard time? She was throwing a party, so she was surrounded by people who could have cheered her up. Why was your presence so needed in particular?

Even if you say they were really close, when Claire said that other people would come to her house drunk after parties, my question is

Why? why was your house the place to do that? Did they insist? Some people can be dangerous while drunk, even if she described them as "sad."

Why did you feel these people were your responsibility? To be a good friend? Didn't you have to study? I had a heavy reading career in college, and I will read while eating or even in the gym, but it didn't come close to being a medical student. I assume these parties were in college, and I understand partying is a college thing, but having to stay awake and comfort a drunk person for as long as they need is another thing. It demonstrates a disregard for your time and needs; weren't you tired, busy, and probably also drunk? You are accepting people who come to you at their most vulnerable but also their most unpredictable. We all have people in need we want to care for even when they are messed up, but she didn't say "my friends" or even "my girlfriends". She said people (it could be a wording thing, but this dialog is very intentional)

She seems proud of it, giving her limited time to confort people she may not be closed with.

Here is my point about the lie I think she believes. I was reading again How to Do the Work: Recognize Your Patterns, Heal from Your Past, and Create Your Self–by Dr. Nicole LePera, and there was this passage that sounded very familiar:

In the book, Dr. LePera explains "The 7 Inner Child Arquetypes" as behavior tendencies and internal beliefs that one may develop depending on the environment one grows up in. We don't know much about her childhood (I have a theory about it, which I will discuss in another post), but I think this description can apply to her behavior.

The issue here is not to "feel good to take care of people." There are many reasons one may do that, and many of them are altruistic in nature or just love for the person. the key element is the "disregarding of one's own needs." Look at me in the face and tell me that doesn't sound like Claire. She seems proud of how much people would go for her for comfort when she was a student in a very time-demanding career. It was likely very taxing, but she doesn't want to say it was. Not to mention that comforting somebody is emotional labor on its own.

The lie that Claire believes is that she needs to sacrifice (time/energy/emotional labor) to be loved, that only that is her worth as a person, particularly in the role of a caretaker of people in need.

And it also shows in her relationship with Carmy.

PART 2: LOOKING FOR THE LOVE

A scene that always stayed with me was this:

This "I know" seemed childish on my first watch, kinda saying "I know ligfe is not as complicated as you think."

But then I realized she was happy to say the right thing for him to love her. This "I know" is she saying, "I know I am perfect for you, I am catering especially to your needs" after saying, "Nobody is keeping track of shoes," which was kind of nonsensical, to begin with, but it also sounds like something from a Hallmark movie when they try to be profound and prophetic.

I want to bring the Caretaker Archetype to her relationship with Carmy because she also completely disregards her own needs with him. To begin with, when you have a profession with little time outside work, you probably will like it to be a good, stable one. Why are you chasing a guy who gave you a fake number and that you had to "push' for them to be with you? You even joke about the Faks beating him up for giving her a fake number, like wtf. In her interview, Molly Gordon talked about how Claire was pushed in a previous relationship, which gave her the idea pushing was okay, which is an entirely different conversation, but ok.

Regardless of that context, she went for a guy with also a time-demanding job, that you have seen in ages, and that you know it has social issues and comes from a family of addicts, and that family as a very tragic story.

Here is my biggest question:

DOES CLAIRE SEE CARMY AS ANOTHER "DRUNK, SAD PERSON"?

gif from @mporium

He may not be an addict, but he is aware of the substance; they made us watch her purposely giving him the soft drink; he didn't ask for one. Like she is saying, "I know you have this issue; look how good I am at anticipating your needs." Their first date was at a party, the place where she was to rescue a "sad drunk person," as she had done so many times.

Coming back to disregarding her own needs, she didn't establish boundaries or expectations throughout the whole relationship; she said, "I love you," after 2 months of fucking, no dates, and a homemade pasta dinner.

She squished herself into whatever hole Carmy needed her in. I have read in other posts that her profession does not give you much free time. Doesn't she sometimes need time of her own to keep studying, just relaxing?

I am aware they could have just not shown any of it, but when you are writing a romance, it is important to show how each person can satisfy the needs of the other; it is not supposed to be one-sided.

She doesn't discuss her stressful work or mean patients. She does not discuss her dreams; we don't even know her last name.

I think this is why she felt so empty to me: even in her conversations, she seemed to be mirroring him the whole time, looking to say the right thing. She only seemed to address her needs by asking him about the fake number because she felt rejected, and Carmy's pathetic response seemed to be what she needed to hear. For many people, that answer would have been a warning of someone not ready to be in a relationship. But for her, it was okay.

She has to be able to at least suspect his depression and other mental issues. She doesn't know about his fire incidents yet; why does a person look for a partner she has constantly to care for while he can't take care of her besides one dinner (or at least, she doesn't ask)? Because she finds her worth in caring for others while receiving very little in comparison. That is why their dynamic is that Claire is always giving and Carmy is always taking.

That is my theory. That's why many of her actions look both good-intentioned and manipulative because she is doing both. She wants to be loved in a very specific way after providing care and sacrificing a good deal herself. She wants to be loved because she does these things; that's how she earns it.

PART 3: ALWAYS SMILING

Gif de thoughtfulchaos773

She always makes this picture of perfect faces and soft smiles; a part of me wonders if she wants to display exactly that. She is inviting, always a calm and happy person, which is also on brand for someone who may have grown up finding worth in being pleasant to others. It is not like I hate pleasant female characters; I love a cinnamon roll any day, but this could be very performative, especially the way society pressures women to present themselves this way in order to be lovable. For Claire, this is the cherry on top of her masking to be a good caretaker, always available and welcoming.

This may also have a dark side. Why doesn't she recommend that Carmy seek professional help? Nobody wants to be confronted or hear that they are broken. She knows he may react negatively to her suggestion, so she doesn't do it; love is what she is after.

PART 4: CODEPENDENCY

This topic is huge, and I am gonna brush over it.

A person who only feels worth taking care of others will try to make the other person rely on them as much as possible. The party scene becomes dark-toned in this subtext. She brought him to a place where he felt like an outsider, she supported him in using a fake persona (ew), she knew there was gonna be alcohol there, didn't she feel bad that people may pressure him to drink, or she wanted to be his aid on the scenario (giving her the soft drink), she tried to make him fit in, even told him what to say in certain scenarios, especially when she was doing the thing she says she is so good at: taking care of the drunk friend. She kept bringing up in the phone conversation how much the Faks would be angry with him for rejecting her. She kept saying things like, "You could not have done this without me." Idk. Now that I keep thinking of the caregiver archetype, I can't unsee it.

Why did she leave that voicemail? Who says I love you for the first time in a voice message? On the opening day of the fucking restaurant? A very high-stress, demanding job, that day with so many things can go wrong?

Was it because she wanted her voice to comfort him during the most stressful times? The only comfort? Was she so sure that after all she had done for her, how could he not love her back?

PART 5: THE DOCTOR CONTRADICTION

This is to lomg, but to analyze Claire, I cannot ignore this part. I said this before in this post, but when Claire said:

I had to pause. That didn't sound like something a doctor would say. There is a reblog from @ciaonicole85 that I would like to quote:

I'm a healthcare provider, and I don't know anyone in my field who would say that setting a fire is cool. We're typically very respectful when talking about someone's dead family member, especially when suicide is a factor and mental health generally.

Then there is also the mention of discussing her classmate getting a broken arm in kindergarten. Quoting, again, from @brokenwinebox amazing post:

Claire: "When we were like six, she fell off a fence and broke her arm, and it scared the shit out of everybody. Except me, i just like sat there and stared at her arm." Carmy: "Cause you wanted to fix it?" Claire: "I wanted to understand it."

First of all, why is one thing exclusive to the other? She said she wanted to understand it, almost as a priority to fix it. That is weird as fuck. She tried to make that distinction, that point. As @brokenwinebox mentioned, is this supposed to be a clue that she wants to understand more than fix? I think it is.

A little side note here, this line gave me a "I am not like other girls (or people for that matter)" vibe, because she made a point to say that everyone else freaked out but her, as if that made her extra brave or something, destined for what she does now, an emergency doctor, but no, a kid freaking out would be the most normal thing. The brave thing would have been asking for help, like wtf. But coming back to the point.

I am not saying Claire doesn't care about his patients or that she doesn't want to fix them. However, her dialogue displayed carelessness and ominous comments about other people getting hurt/sensible topics.

I don't think it's because she doesn't care but because she is attracted to risk. She mentioned she used to shoplift as a teen (I am not judging, but wtf). That surely will give her an adrenaline rush. She mentioned she likes driving because of the risk of it.

This also makes me think: Does she like Carmy because she thinks dating him can also be risky? Not in a dangerous context or anything, but because of how emotionally unreliable he is. There is a thing as always looking for emotionally unavailable people, and there is a psychological explanation for it, too.

So yeah, those are my thoughts. Maybe s3 will prove me wrong.

Thank you so much for reading.

#let me know what you think #anti claire bear #the bear #sydcarmy #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #carmy the bear #sydney x carmy #the bear meta #the bear fx #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney

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londytellsall · 1 month ago

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mouthwashing is keeping up at night

spoilers for the game (obvi) if you haven’t played it or watched a play thru i HIGHLY recommend it, but pls read the warnings and be safe!

i keep thinking abt how everything could have gone if swansea was able to get daisuke in the cryopod. it was how i thought everything was going to play out near the end of the game, which made his death so much more fucking devestating. but the fact it was done by swansea himself? no way! i refuse to believe it which is why i have this theory: jimmy put daisuke out of his misery, not swansea.

OK HEAR ME OUT, cuz this is all going to sound scrambled. swansea’s speech and his reasons for putting a dying daisuke out of his misery are valid and seem like something swansea would say to daisuke, BUT something bothers me.

after all of this we hear swan say that he basically has no other reason to keep going and said that jimmy could take the pod if he wants to, seemingly too sad to move on after the only person he planned to protect is dead. we see jimmy get the gun and then swan run at jimmy with the axe now manic for some reason? doesn’t make sense to me after he seemed so resolved, but maybe he wasn’t?

i think that whole speech came from jimmy’s imagination still trying to pin the blame of this whole mess on someone else. and the crazy axe murdering swansea was also something that jimmy made up in his mind. in my opinion these were excuses he made so he had a reason to kill swansea. he probably just retrieved the gun from the bed, grabbed swansea, tied him to a chair and executed him, all the while repeating in his head that swansea is a bad person.

i could make an entire separate post about how the angry drunk guy was probably the most merciful and safest out of anyone on that ship, but that’s besides the point.

it’s been proven to us (near the end of the game especially) that we can’t trust what jimmy sees. other than the crazy fits of dream sequence we see from jimmys pov, after we are shown how jimmy kills swansea, the pods are foamless. this man is hallucinating.

then can we talk about the position of the wound? i find it hard to believe that swansea would go for somewhere as brutal as the face of the boy he’s been trying to protect.

TLDR; jimmy probably killed daisuke with the axe. then killed swansea after he made a big fuss about it. he also probably hallucinated the axe murdering swansea as an excuse to kill him.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing swansea #mouthwashing jimmy #yeah sorry #this is a mess #londy yaps

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fortheloveofwonderland · 6 months ago

Text

Midnight | Chapter 21 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary - you and Spencer both make decisions you can’t come back from.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - past sexual abuse of a child, swearing, tears, murder, cheating, brief mention of oral (f receiving), vomit, pregnancy symptoms, double crossing, blood, stab wounds, death of a father, bruises, aggression, use of “whore”.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 21 - Miss Mysterious

The clock on the wall chimed twelve times in quick succession, echoing around the otherwise silent room. Spencer sat on the edge of the coffee table, the SIG still pointed at his father, who hadn’t moved from the armchair.

He didn’t know what he was so hesitant about, he could have easily killed him by now and been out of the house and on his way back to Caesars but something was stopping him.

Did he want an explanation? And even if he got one, nothing in the world could excuse what his dad had done to him or anyone else. His dad was a sick and twisted person who had abused his own son’s trust and ripped little pieces of his soul away every single time he crawled into his bed in the middle of the night.

His fathers actions had affected him in more ways than he’d ever even realised. Of course there was the obvious, his building of walls, his inability to get close to people. It had taken until he was twenty six before he was intimate with a woman for the first time. And he’d shut himself in the bathroom afterwards and cried and it was a long time before sex didn’t make him that emotional.

It had later manifested itself in his dominance in the bedroom. You weren’t the first person he’d treated that way in bed, it had become a pattern for him. He had to take back his power by being in control and never submitting to anyone else in that way again. In doing so he was able to harness his emotions afterwards and not have to indulge in a post-coital sob.

But there were repercussions from his fathers abuse in which he had never really noticed until now. When he’d finally been pushed over the edge to kill, every single man he had ended the life of was simply a surrogate. Each one was around his father’s age, all violent and evil human beings. Each man was a substitute for the real target of his rage. A rage he hadn’t realised had been building for over thirty years until right now.

William Reid was Spencer’s ultimate boogeyman, the monster lurking in every shadow. He was Spencer’s Goliath and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to slay him. He just had to focus and not let himself get dragged down this dark rabbit hole. But it may be too late.

He could still hear the sound of a zipper cutting through his mind in that room that was supposed to be his place of solace. He could see his fathers manic eyes as they loomed over him in the darkness. He could feel those rough hands all over his body and hear his own cries which his father simply ignored.

Daddy, please! You don’t have to do this.

He felt his hand shaking as he held the gun, hot tears pooling behind his eyes. He sniffed them back, not willing to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him cry again. He clenched his jaw firmly, grinding his teeth in a furious fashion and sat forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“You ruined my life.” Spencer croaked, his voice so unlike himself.

“I made you stronger.” William countered, narrowing his eyes on Spencer. “I was teaching you how to be a man.”

“Oh yeah? And how is that?” Spencer’s brows furrowed in angry confusion.

“You were so weak, pathetic, really. You never would have been able to take care of yourself. I was showing you the harsh realities of the world, you needed to learn that to get by in this life you have to be strong, grow a thick skin. I helped you.” William shrugged.

“Helped me?” Spencer spat, hand shaking violently. “You think molesting me helped me?”

“That’s such an ugly word, Spencer.” William rolled his eyes. “But yes.”

“You’re full of shit.” Spencer jumped to his feet, proffering the SIG closer to his dad. “Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night? That you fucking helped me? What about the other’s? Did you help them too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” William shrugged again.

“Cut the crap, dad. I know there were other boys. A sexual predator doesn’t just stop unless someone stops him.”

William slowly pushed himself up with the use of the arms of the chair. He was shorter than Spencer by a few inches, he’d gotten his height from his mother. Thankfully he’d gotten most things from his mom and not this man in front of him.

“Let’s not talk about the others, Spencer.” William smiled at him. “You were the only one I cared about.”

“Fuck you.” Spencer sniffed again as his eyes welled with tears once more. “You didn’t care about me. If you cared about me you wouldn’t have done what you did. I’m your son for fuck sake! You were supposed to keep me safe from monsters, not be one.”

“Of course I cared about you. I love you, Spencer.” William raised one arm and moved to stroke the side of Spencer’s face but Spencer quickly slapped him away with his free hand.

William, although frail looking, was fast and managed to grab Spencer by the wrist and circle his fingers around it. He noticed his dad’s eyes cast down to the silver band on his finger before looking back up to meet his eyes.

“You’re married?” William frowned.

“Yes.” Spencer tugged his arm free of his dad’s hold.

“Does she know what you really are?” A smirk tugged at the older man’s lips.

“She knows I’m a murderer.” Spencer spat, proffering the gun closer again. “I’ve killed multiple men just like you, the scum of the earth who need to pay for their crimes. And she loves me for it. She respects me for it.”

“And let me guess, it's my fault you turned out this way?” William sighed as if he was bored.

“Who else's fault would it be?”

“Your wack job mother, perhaps? How many times did you witness her being violent towards me when you were young?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you didn’t deserve. And seeing my mom lash out from time to time when she didn’t take her meds and having my father sexually abuse me are two very different things!” Spencer raised his voice, spitall flying from his mouth in rage.

“You got all your worst traits from her, you know?” William kept his cool. “Volatile, over dramatic. It’s a shame you didn’t turn out more like me.”

“I’ll never be anything like you.” Spencer straightened his back, tried to rein himself in.

“Oh Spencer, you're already so much more like me than you realise.” William chuckled darkly and it made Spencer’s stomach turn.

“That’s not true.” Spencer shook his head.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” William stepped closer to him and Spencer should have just shot him but he didn’t. He let his father come close to his ear and he closed his eyes when he felt the older man's breath against his face. “I killed Riley Jenkins.”

Spencer stumbled on his feet, feeling his stomach somersaulting wildly and he briefly worried he might throw up. His father was cackling maniacally at the look on his son's face.

“No, that’s not true.” Spencer lowered the gun without meaning to.

“The truth is Riley had more guts than you and he was going to tell his father what I did to him. So I had to kill him.” William didn’t show a hint of remorse for his actions, in fact he looked proud of himself. “So if you kill me, you’re only proving my point that you’re just like me.”

“No.” Spencer’s tears wouldn’t stay contained anymore and they started to fall. “No, I’m nothing like you.”

“Put the gun down and walk away, son. Prove you’re not like me” William smirked at him.

“I…I can’t.” Spencer shook his head frantically.

“Spencer,” William suddenly turned stern. “Put the gun down and walk away.”

“N-no.” Spencer’s lip quivered.

William exhaled loudly and before Spencer knew what was happening, his father advanced on him, managing to free the gun from Spencer’s hand before Spencer even saw him coming. With his other hand he swiftly punched Spencer in the stomach and when his son doubled over in pain from the blow, he grabbed him by the hair, tugged him one way and then shoved him to the floor.

Spencer groaned as he hit the carpet but noted the knife hadn’t dislodged from his waistband. His father stood over him, pointing his own gun down at him and looking at him in frustration.

“I don’t want to kill you, Spencer. But if the choice is between me and you then I will not hesitate in pulling this trigger.” William spat.

Spencer rolled onto his back, making sure the blade stayed concealed from his fathers vision. It was his only way out of this, he needed the element of surprise on his side. He just had to work out how to unsheath it and get one up on his dad before the other man got off a shot.

“You want to kill me, go ahead.” Spencer shrugged, tears still silently rolling down his cheeks. “You’ve already taken everything from me, I kind of wish you’d killed me when I was a kid so I didn’t have to live with the memories of what you did to me. So just do it. Put me out of my misery.”

William swallowed, lifting his arm a little and aiming the muzzle right at Spencer’s skull. His hands were steady, tightly wrapped around the butt of the SIG and looking like he may well actually shoot Spencer and probably sleep easy afterwards.

If Spencer didn’t act fast he was as good as dead. But he refused to let it end this way, at the hands of his abuser. He had to formulate a plan and enact it to perfection or he would die on this shitty carpet, in this crappy house and the last thing he would have seen would be the eyes of the man who molested him.

***

At some point you probably should have stopped to think about Spencer but honestly, he was the furthest thing from your mind. Not even your wedding band could distract from the intense pleasure that Jesse was bestowing upon you, quite frankly you could barely remember your own name.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d imagined what his beard would feel like between your legs and tonight you’d finally been privy to it. The friction from his rough facial hair made the experience even more incredible than any other time you’d ever been eaten out before, and you found yourself grinding against his face to feel more of it.

He made you come with complete ease, as though he wasn’t even trying and when he sat back and wiped his hand over his mouth he was smiling sinfully at you.

“Jesus Christ.” You panted, still slightly writhing on the couch beneath him.

“That’s half the reason I keep the beard.” He chuckled, laying down on top of you.

“What’s the other half?” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“How good it makes me look.” He kissed you again and you tasted yourself on his lips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and using one hand to pop the button on his jeans. You were both still fully dressed, too desperate for each other to think about undressing. But you wanted to see more of him, if this was the last chance you got to be with him, you needed to commit him to memory.

As if reading your mind, whilst you worked on shimming his pants down to his thighs he made quick work of getting his shirt off. You pulled him back closer to you, nestling him between your legs and your hands starting to graze over the tattoo on his peck.

But then your stomach suddenly lurched in a way you’d gotten all too used to recently and suddenly you were shoving him away and jumping to your feet.

Jesse fell back to the couch, staring at the back of your head as you sprinted to the bathroom. He heard the toilet seat being lifted and moments later the sound of you retching reached his ears.

He pulled a face, tucking himself away as he got to his feet, cautiously following in your tracks. He found you kneeling over the toilet seat, head in the basin while you violently vomited.

“Are you ok?” He approached you, sitting down on the edge of the bath and stroking your back.

“Hmm.” You grumbled, sitting back once you expelled yourself and wiping your mouth. “That’s been happening a lot lately. It’s nothing to do with you, I swear.”

“I should hope not.” He laughed, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” You frowned up at him.

“You’re pregnant right?” He frowned back at you.

“No?” You shuffled backwards out of his touch.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry, with the vomiting I just assumed. And I don’t mean this in the completely perverted way it’s going to sound, but I haven’t even seen you shirtless tonight and I can tell your breasts are huge. Bigger than I remember and I remember them pretty well.”

“I…I don’t even know what to say to that.” You glanced down at your chest where your dress was stained with the drink you’d spilled.

“Have you had any other signs? Urinating more regularly? Strange cravings or aversions to things?” He asked with a soft smile.

You felt the colour drain from your face, feeling like you could throw up again. The signs had been there staring you in the face and you’d ignored them. But surely you couldn’t be?

“I, uh, maybe? No. I don’t know.” You pushed yourself up to your feet.

“When was the last time you had a period?” Jesse stood as well.

“Too personal.” You shook your head with a groan.

“Y/N, come on.” He cocked his eyebrow at you.

“I don’t know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “They’ve never been all that reliable and I have been pretty stressed recently. There is no way, I cannot be pregnant.”

“I should probably go.” Jesse smiled sadly at you. “This was a really bad idea, wasn’t it?”

“It certainly wasn’t a good idea.” You felt your eyes welling with tears although you didn’t know why. “I’m so sorry. I wish he didn’t have this hold over me.”

“It’s called love, Y/N.” Jesse tucked your hair behind your ear. “You love him and you shouldn’t apologise for that.”

“Maybe I don’t? I don’t know.” You shook your head.

“Answer me something,” Jesse folded his arms over his still bare chest. “You killed Mary because she was threatening him.”

“That’s not a question.”

“No, I know.” He chuckled lightly. “My question is: would you have done that for anyone else? For example, would you have killed her if she was threatening me?”

“No.” You didn’t hesitate. “No I wouldn’t have.”

“And that’s because you love him.” Jesse shrugged.

“But loving him makes me feel like such an idiot.”

“Now you know how I feel.” He smiled wistfully at you. “I really should go before he comes back. How long are you in town for?”

“Just tonight, I think.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Far to travel?”

“I’m not falling into that trap.” You smirked at him.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He laughed. “Stay safe, Y/N. And if you are pregnant, good luck. For what it’s worth I think you’d make a great mom.”

“Did you forget the part where I confessed to murder?” You frowned at him.

“We all make mistakes.” He started walking backwards towards the door. “Take me for example, I was about to sleep with a married and potentially pregnant woman.”

You followed him out into the living room and smiled to yourself as you got a great eye full of his ass, even if it was inside his jeans, as he bent down to pick up his shirt. You made sure to commit that to memory.

You watched him put the shirt back ok, also trying to memorise every one of those tattoos adorned his body. He sidled closer to you again and cupped your face gently in his hands.

“We can’t keep meeting in bars, Y/N.” He chuckled lightly. “It has to be goodbye this time.”

“I still think you followed me here.” You teased him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

“You wish.” He chuckled, reluctantly letting go of your face.

He took a few steps backwards towards the suite door and you had to force yourself not to follow him. He gave you a sad half-smile as he exhaled heavily and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor.

“See ya, I guess.” You shrugged, once again wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s you’re parting words to me? See ya, I guess?” He chuckled with a shake of his head.

“What do you want me to say?” You laughed.

“What I want you to say and what you can actually say are two very different things.” He rubbed his beard. “So let’s leave it at, see ya, I guess.”

With that he offered you a wave and reached for the door handle, closing it behind himself. And just like he was gone.

You stumbled over to the couch and collapsed onto it, your head spinning with the evening's activities. You’d really fucked up this time. Being with Jesse back in Butte was ok because you and Spencer hadn’t really been married. But now you were married and you’d let yourself get caught up in Jesse once more.

Maybe in a way Spencer deserved it for the way he’d treated you in the past. You’d blindly followed him only for him to treat you like dirt. Sure things had been better lately but you never knew where you stood with him and truthfully, you weren’t sure if you felt safe with him.

And what the fuck happened if Jesse was right and you were actually pregnant? Bringing a baby into this messed up situation, to be raised by two killers? That didn’t even bear thinking about.

He had to be wrong. There was no way you could be. You were on the pill…

…fuck.

You were on the pill. Right up until Spencer had talked you into leaving DC and you’d left your contraceptive behind in your hurry to leave.

Fuck.

***

Jesse McGill took the elevator down to the ground floor and found a quiet area in the lobby before pulling out his cell phone. He ran his hand over his beard with a large sigh, a wave of emotions crashing down around him.

He gnawed frantically on his lip as he pulled up the number he’d received a call from yesterday and then held it to his ear. It was answered on the third ring.

“Did you do it?” The hurried voice came down the line.

“I did what you asked. I saw her but I didn’t see Spencer and she didn’t say where he was.” Jesse sighed, he didn’t feel good about this at all.

“Did you ask her about Mary?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Jesse closed his eyes. He had two options here but he had no idea which was the best one. He could lie and say you wouldn’t tell him anything about what happened to Mary, which wouldn’t be completely unexpected. He could tell the truth, tell them that you confessed to killing her but you wouldn’t give up where the body was buried.

Or, he could go with option number three. He could tell a combination of the truth and a lie.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly wondering how the hell he’d gotten himself into this situation in the first place.

“Well? What did she say?” The voice came again, impatience riddled in their tone.

“Mary’s dead.” Jesse opened his eyes again, making his decision as he spoke. “Spencer killed her.”

“Goddamnit. I knew it!” The other man growled, slamming something loudly and causing an echo down the phone. “Did she say anything else?”

“No. She told me the body was buried somewhere it would never be found. Apparently Mary was blackmailing Spencer and he just-”

“I don’t care why he did it.” The man scoffed. “And she didn’t give you any indication of where they’re living or anything like that?”

“No, I tried, I really tried. But she’s not stupid.” Jesse pushed his back up against the wall, eyes fluttering between people entering and leaving Caesars.

“You know you did the right thing, Jesse? I know you probably don’t feel good about this, but you did the right thing. It’s not her we want, it’s Spencer. I’ll make sure she’s protected.”

“I know, but it feels fucking rotten.” Jesse sighed again. “What happens now?”

“That’s not for you to worry about. We’ve got this from here. Get a room for the night, it’s late, catch a flight home tomorrow. Let me know how much they cost and I’ll ensure you get reimbursed.”

“I don’t care about that.” Jess shook his head. “I liked her and I feel like I’ve betrayed her.”

“You did the right thing.” The voice repeated. “I promise I only want what’s best for her. And that’s to get her away from Spencer. You’ve been a huge help. Thanks again Jesse.”

Jesse hated being a part of this, depised that he’d been dragged into this fucked up mess. He’d meant it when he told you he loved you which only made this harder. But they say if you love someone you have to let them go, if they return they were always yours and if they don’t, they never were.

He knew exactly which one you were.

“Agent Alvez?” Jesse blurted out. He closed his eyes as if it might somehow relieve his guilt before he spoke again. “There is one more thing you should know…”

***

Spencer leant against the wall in the elevator as it made its ascent, staring at the closed metal doors while he tried to piece his night back together.

Everything that happened after his dad shoved him to the floor and took his gun was a blur. His stomach ached, he wouldn’t be surprised if his father had left him with a nasty bruise. His fist had clipped him right in the steadily healing scar from the knife wound you'd inflicted on him months ago.

He remembered the pain, he remembered trying to think of a way to free the knife from the back of his pants. But it was like at some point he blacked out because the next thing he knew he was standing over his fathers dead body covered in blood.

He’d counted forty three stab wounds in his fathers torso, sliced like Swiss cheese and damn near eviscerated. The man who had molested him, his biggest demon was dead. And the most poetically tragic part was that Spencer didn’t remember killing him.

Maybe the haze would clear and over time he’d be able to piece the events back together. It was possible his brain was trying to protect him from the trauma of recollecting the murder of his father, but if it had safeguarded him from the memories of being eight years old, there wouldn’t have been the need to kill William in the first place.

He’d cleaned up the crime scene, the messiest one he’d ever had to face due to the amount of blood that wept from those forty three wounds. He put his fathers body in the trunk of the Impala and found a sweater in the backseat which was lucky given the amount of blood on his hoodie.

He stood in his fathers bathroom and stared at his reflection. His face and neck were splattered in the red sticky substance and his hands were almost entirely covered. He cleaned himself off the best he could and before he knew it he was driving away from the house.

He stumbled through the lobby of Caesars as if he were drunk, his brain felt that kind of intoxicated haze too. He made it up to his floor and slotted his key in the door. In all honesty, after the events of the night, he completely forgot you’d be there. So when he shoved up the door and found you sitting on the couch in the suite, he had to blink a few times as he tried to piece back moments from earlier in the day.

You pushed yourself to your feet, taking a few steps towards Spencer, your brows furrowed at his obvious confusion.

“You ok?” You didn’t come too close, you were wary of him.

“Uh, yeah.” He swallowed before clearing his throat. “Yeah I think so.”

“You’ve been gone for hours.” You rolled your lips between your teeth.

“I have?” He rubbed one of his eyes.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no. Not drunk. Tired, maybe?” He questioned himself. “I should probably…I don’t know, sleep or something.”

He started in your direction and moved past you and as he did so you caught the familiar smell of blood. That coupled with the tiny red drop you’d noticed on the side of his neck confirmed your theory about where he’d been.

“Did you get your phone?” You asked as he passed you.

He turned back to you, squinting a little, clearly confused.

“Uh…” he swallowed again. “Sure.”

“Spencer?” You folded your arms over your chest.

“Yeah?”

“Who’d you kill?”

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose. He should have known you’d see right through him.

“No one. It’s nothing.” He mumbled, opening his eyes again.

“You have blood on your neck. And I’m pretty certain if you took your sweater off your shirt would be covered in blood.” You took another step forward. “Who’d you kill?”

He sighed over dramatically, by way of telling you he didn’t want to be having this conversation. He rubbed his eyes, subsequently helping to clear the daze he’d been in and looked at you curiously, as though it was his first time seeing you. You noticed his eyes flick to your bicep and you followed his gaze, only then realising your mistake.

You involuntarily raised your other hand and placed it over the flashing beacon that had been left behind on your arm, a symbol of your infidelity.

“What have you done to your arm?” He grinded his teeth, loud enough that you could hear it.

“I must have, uh, walked into something I guess.”

“No. Nuh uh.” He shook his head, advancing on you and roughly tugging your hand away from the array of bruises around your bicep. “Try again.”

“I don’t know where they came from.” You whimpered.

“You’re lying.” He spat. “I’ve left enough bruises on you to know they are from someone’s fingers.”

He wrapped his own hand around your arm just lower than where the red mark was adorned on your skin.

“I guess you must have done it then. We did have sex earlier.”

“No.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t me. Who the fuck did this to you?”

“N-no one.” You chewed heavily on your lip, teeth digging deeply into the flesh.

“No one? So you’re just magically producing bruises?” He snarled at you.

“No.” You pouted. “Stop changing the subject. Who’s blood is on you?”

“Who gave you these bruises?” He countered, still holding your arm.

“Who did you kill?”

“Who hurt you?”

You were at a stalemate, glaring at each other wildly, neither one of you wanting to admit the truth to the other. You’d rather he hurt you than admit that you’d cheated on him. And he’d rather die than tell you about what his father had done to him.

He suddenly let go of your arm and huffed loudly, stepping backwards and raking his fingers through his hair.

“What are you keeping from me?” He mumbled as if talking to himself.

“We all have secrets, Spencer.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “You more so than anyone. So you don’t get to be angry at me if I choose not to tell you everything.”

He glared at you, rage filled eyes scrutinising you in a way he’d never looked at you both.

“Who the fuck even are you?” He shook his head. “I don’t even recognise what you’ve become.”

“Me?” You spat. “Whatever I’ve become you turned me into!”

“I made you!” He growled. “And this is how you repay me? Lying to me and keeping secrets?”

“What can I say? I learnt from the best!” Your anger rose rapidly. “I should have known you were lying to me tonight. You butter me up with up sex and leave me here alone while you go out and kill even though I’ve proven to you time and time again that you can trust me! So yeah I went downstairs to the bar and I thought, hey, if my husband doesn’t want to spend time with me, maybe someone else will.”

“You did what?” He snapped, suddenly grabbing you roughly by both arms and pushing you back against the nearest wall. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“What if I did?” You snarled, refusing to show your fear. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Who was he? I’ll fucking kill him!” He slammed you into the wall.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“I cant fucking believe you! How could you do that to me? I married you! And now you’re picking up random men in bars? Have some self respect!” He was really close to your face and the metallic smell was overwhelming.

“Since day one in this relationship you have done whatever you want to do and not given me a second thought. Why should I give your feelings any consideration when you give mine none? You just hate that I’ve grown a fucking back bone!” You fought against him but he was stronger.

“You think cheating on your husband is the same as my trying to protect you from what I’m doing?”

“Project me? Oh please.” You scoffed. “I have killed three people Spencer, I don’t need protecting.”

“Who was he?” He asked again, slamming you into the wall once more. “Or did you even stop to get his name before you spread your legs for him?”

“Fuck you!” You screamed in his face.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you little whore. What kind of man fucks a married woman? A married woman he just picked up in a bar who he doesn’t even know? It actually says more about the man himself than you.”

“Fuck you!” You repeated, louder this time. “Jesse is twice the man you’ll ever be!”

It was a complete slip of the tongue. You didn’t think you meant to implicate Jesse in that way but your rage had taken over.

Spencer suddenly softened and his hands fell from your arms to his sides and he stumbled backwards like you’d punched him in the gut. He blinked at you as you kept yourself pressed against the wall.

“Jesse?” He croaked. “As in that fucking mountain man? He was here? You and him…? You really know how to fucking hurt me, don’t you?”

He fell back to the couch and put his head in his hands. He thought you loved him, he thought he knew you. Maybe it was all an act that he’d fallen for hook, line and sinker. Maybe he’d never really known you, maybe he never would. Maybe you’d been on completely different pages all along.

When had your heart ceased to beat for him, when had it turned numb? He loved you with every fibre of his being but perhaps it was time he let you go.

Because as he looked at you now, he had no idea who you were. Behind your eyes you were a perfect stranger disguised as the woman he loved. You were nothing more than a mysterious effigy of the heart you’d broken.

Miss Mysterious, who are you?

Who's the girl behind those eyes? Just a stranger in disguise?

Miss Mysterious, who could you be?

Where's the ghost of what we had? Did you erase it from your past?

Oh, so I pointed in every direction,

Oh well, looking for answers I'll never know.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

Miss Mysterious, may I ask:

Is your sunshine like my rain? Is your pleasure like my pain?

So delirious, casting your stones,

With the blood fall to my face,

Hoping that you'll lose your aim.

Oh, well it looks so bright with the lights out,

Oh well, I guess our stars forgot how to glow.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

No baby you, you broke my heart,

Now how do I get closure when you're only ever closed off?

Tell me who could take your place?

When these memories are telling me,

That we were not always,

Now don't even try to tell me that I should just relax,

And we're not strangled and over the tracks.

I tried to reach, I stretch out my hand but you turned around instead,

So many nights living inside just to connect with you.

Now I'm trying hard to win this but we've lost all we can lose,

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right?

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone".

Said if you love someone,

Now if you love someone,

Let them go.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective @rebelliousstories

#spencer reid #unsub spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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caitlinsnicket · 1 year ago

Text

deserving more

summary: izzy needs to be taken care of, and you do just that

warnings: low self esteem implied, sad izzy, angst, lots of fluff though

a/n: this is the longest thing i've ever written i've been manic for a whole week i'm going crazy i need him in my pocket (i'm also posting this on ao3 under the same name so,,,

Too long had passed since you got to the front of his cabin door, and even longer your hand hovered its handle. He could shun you, could throw something at your face, could stab you, he could be dead. You didn’t really care, to be honest, you just wanted him to be okay. Feeling yourself get calmer, and ready for whatever Izzy you could get (the angry, the moody, the melancholic, the drunk), your hand finally touched the handle and you opened the door.

He was sitting on his sad excuse for a bed, bottle of liquor halfway empty, hair falling on his forehead in such a way that no light reached his eyes. The whole room was a mess, things on the ground everywhere, and it was difficult for you to find a place to put down the things you brought with you.

“What do you want?” He said after a long sigh, taking another sip from the bottle and muttering something else that you couldn’t understand.

You had to choose your words carefully. You knew how he could be, but given his expression, which made your heart ache, you didn’t think he had any energy left in him.

“I want to help. Just… tell me how.”

Izzy took a sip of his drink, not bothering to look at you while you spoke.

"And how can you help?" The former first mate asked, his tone somewhat rude. Still, no real venom behind his words.

You had to suppress a smile. He had no idea how endearing he could be.

“That’s what I’m asking, dear. Let me help you.” You stepped closer now, and he watched your every move. Izzy rolled his eyes, the drink almost empty already.

"Fine. What can you do then? Sweetie, that is." He rolled his eyes, leaning back on the wall behind him. You chuckled, moving things around with your feet to make a smoother path for him. You didn’t dare look at his leg. You tried to focus on something else.

“Do you have more alcohol in here?” You ask as you take the bottle from his hand and throw it out of the room, not caring if it was smashed. You’d deal with it later.

He scoffed, getting up with difficulty and going up to a cabinet on the far left of his cabin. There, he retrieved another bottle, and struggled to get it open.

“You’re lucky I don’t kill you for that. And I do have more stuff here, you got a problem?” He’s not managing to open it, and it’s such a weak attempt to show strength that it fills you with affection.

You take the new bottle from his hands, gently so as to not startle him, and place it near the things you’ve brought with you. Keeping it for some other time might be a good idea.You try to make your voice soothing, as if he was a wild animal that could run off or bite at any moment.

“As long as I find it here, it’s going out. You stink, how long has it been since you’ve cleaned yourself? Time to get cleaned up.” You go to the tub on the right side of the place, filling it with the hot water you managed to bring, and start arranging things as they should be: the soaps and oils on a little bench beside the tub, a stool not too far away and a towel at arms length. Izzy scoffed again, but he made no attempts to try and take his drink back.

"You think I stink? I took a bath not two days ago. I smell fine." He looked around, anywhere but you, and one might say he was embarrassed.

“You stink because of the booze and the wet leather. And probably the dried tears. Come on, be a good boy and help me get you to the tub.” You reached for him, taking his arms gently in your hands. Izzy groaned and tried to pull away, but he was too weak to escape your grip.

"I don't wanna."

“Shush now. There we go, look at the nice, warm water. I’d leave you to clean yourself, but you can barely stand. Is it okay if I help you with it?” It felt important to you that he knew he had power over himself and his body. He’d already been taken so much, it was the least he could have. Izzy groaned again, but a small part of him was starting to enjoy this, and he finally gave in.

"F-fine."

“There’s my good boy.” You feel a flutter in my chest when his cheeks warm up a little, and reach for his gloves.

"Stop," Izzy said, blushing for a moment before he realized what he had said. The former first mate then covered his face in embarrassment. "I-I didn't mean to - I mean - this doesn't mean anything, alright?!"

“Right.” You extend the word as long as you can, and go back to the task at hand. You pull his hands back down, not looking at his face in an attempt to give him privacy. Still, you get a glimpse of his burning cheeks.

His hands feel warm against yours, the ink on them itching you to caress it with your lips. You try not to stare too much, soon moving to taking his vest out. His breath tickled your cheek, and if you looked up your lips would be inches away from each other. Reluctantly and with a deep breath, you take a step back to be able to look at him.

“I’m serious though. I just want to take care of you right now. We can talk about the meaning of things when you’re sober.” He started to get fussy again, but you pulled him back by his sleeves and started undoing the button on each of them.

"I can handle the meaning of things," Izzy said with a roll of his eyes. "I just want to sleep. I'll be alright, I swear." The former first mate then let his arms go limp as they were pulled back. "Get me clean, and then I'll think about meaning with you."

You don't answer him, instead, you get impossibly close, opening his shirt button by button, trying to ignore your quickened heartbeat.

“This okay?” You look at him this time, consequences be damned.

"Mph - yes - fine." Izzy was a little more than blushing at this point, his eyes darting somewhere else as you undressed him. "I know what you're doing, you know?" As his chest came into view, it became a little harder for you to concentrate on not biting him. You took a deep breath and a feeling of dread crossed you when you realized he noticed it. His cheeks were pink.

“Oh, really? What am I doing? Besides trying to take this off.” You stumble at the last word, his shirt completely off now, revealing his full chest and stomach. You licked your lips subconsciously, darting your eyes to the ceiling for a moment. “Now your pants.”

"You're trying to seduce me," He mumbled as he began to slide his pants down. "I know it's happening right now, and you can't deny it." He struggled a bit, but you didn’t dare to touch him then. He’d probably punch you if you tried.

You averted your eyes once his leg came into view, turning to the other side to give him privacy. Your fingers itched to touch him.

“I can’t seduce you, I know. You only have eyes for the captain. Even after this mess, it’s still him. I get it.” You inspect your shoes, alert to his grunts and movements. Soon, the sound of water splashing told you he was already inside the tub, and you turned back around.

“Then why even try? You know you can’t win, and I know you can’t win.” He sighed, splashing some water on his face, trying to wake up. “Don’t waste your time trying, because it’s never going to happen.” He slid himself up to his mouth in the water, watching you like a hawk.

“You’re worth it.” You say, hoping your voice doesn’t quiver, not looking at him while you take another bottle from your bag. “I’m going to sit behind you now and wash your hair, okay?”.

He ignores your warnings, staring into the distance as you pull a stool to the side of the tub and start organizing your items.

“ I'm really not." He mumbles, his voice hoarse. His expression was still grim, and he tilted his head in your direction to see what you were doing.

You gathered water on your hands, the warmth comfortable on your skin. You gently let it run down Izzy’s head, repeating the movements until his hair was completely wet. He sighed and leaned more to your side, his shoulders visibly relaxing. From your point of view outside of the tub, he looked small, like a hurt animal afraid to be hurt again. You opened up the bottle of hair wash that you stole from Stede’s cabin and started massaging his head very gently.

“I don’t know who told you that, but you are. To me, you are.” Talking about your feelings to him was easier when he wasn’t looking at you. He leaned back more, and you noticed his eyes were closed, the crease on his forehead almost gone.

“I’m a wreck.” He muttered, his hands moving slowly through the water. “How is that attractive?” His voice hesitated a little, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I mean, I was always into hot messes. You fit the description.” You said, a smile making its way to your face. Bubbles emerged from his hair, and you were careful to not let any of it go to his eyes. “Besides, I think you’re attractive even when you stink.” You scrape his scalp with your nails very tenderly, the touch barely happened.

Izzy shuddered, moving his head down slightly to avoid your wandering eyes. Still, you caught a glimpse of his pinkish cheeks and your smile got wider.

"Y-yeah, well - you're the only one then." He then glanced at you, a small smile on his face. "No one else likes me, I swear. The crew and the rest of the world despise me, and I can't blame them for that." The smile didn’t reach his eyes, as if he was making a joke at his own expense.

“You know what they call you? ‘Our Izzy’. They know why you're tough on them. I know why too. We know you care. I'm just the only one with romantic taste around here.” You rinse his hair from the bubbles, watching his chest going up and down as he breathes calmly. He didn’t respond for a while, simply playing with the bubbles in the water. His hair felt soft in your hands.

"I'm... too tough on them sometimes, I swear. I just... I just want to help them." His voice was so low you could barely hear it, a far cry from the man you first met when you boarded the ship. It felt hard to breathe for a moment.

“I know, dear, I know. It's alright.” You feel bold, and you lean down to kiss the crown of his head. He stills for a moment and then relaxes entirely. When you pull away, you get the soap and hold it out to him. “I'll let you wash yourself now, but I'm right here. Just... to talk or help.” I turn my back to him, trying to give him some privacy. There would be time for staring some other time. Hopefully.

Izzy held the soap in his hands, but didn’t use it yet. Instead, he stayed still, enjoying the feeling of the water around him and aching for the feeling of your fingers back on his scalp. He felt so comfortable he forgot what he was supposed to do, until you leaned back on the tub and he heard a thump.

"Right. Sorry..." The former first mate rubbed the soap along his arms, his legs, his back, anywhere that he could easily reach. You heard him groan and cover it up with a cough, probably cleaning his amputated leg. You felt your body boil at the thought of it, considering finishing the job with Blackbeard. After a while, you heard the sound of water splashing around, and then silence. "That felt nice." His voice broke when he said it, as if he was ashamed. You sighed at the bubbling affection on your chest, your first instinct to reach to him and squeeze him to you.

“Would you like me to continue? The water is still warm.” You turn slightly, so you could hear him better in case he whispered.

“I-I mean, if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and as you turned around you realized his eyes were previously closed. He opened them, his gaze glazed and tired. “I don’t want to be a bother. Just… Don’t do anything you’ll, y’know. Regret.” He quickly looked away, always ready for rejection. Expecting it. The only thing he’s ever known, by the looks of it.

The need to kill Ed burned in your veins.

Instead, you get the bottle of oil and put it in your hands, warming it up before you touch his head again, a happy sigh leaving his lips. His hair felt softer than ever as you moved slowly through its strands, leaving no part untouched.

“You’re the one thing I don’t regret.” I say, closer to his face now, studying his features and how the droplets of water dibble down his neck. Next, I inspect his hair, the strands making a stunning gradient of black, gray and white.

Izzy couldn't help but notice you looking at him. He cleared his throat a little, the blush on his face making another appearance.

"Do I... Do I have something in my hair?" He was obviously fishing for a compliment here and hoping you'd just be nice and tell him how good he looked. He didn’t realize how desperate he sounded. You turn your gaze to him, your positioning a little weird to stare at him properly, but comfortable nonetheless.

“No, just… You’re so pretty Izzy.” Your touch turns featherlight now, just touching him for the sake of being close.

Izzy went silent, his face growing even crimson at your compliment. His hands go back to nervously playing in the water.

"I'm... I'm not pretty. Not in the slightest." His voice was almost shaky, and he tried to hide his face so you wouldn't see how much he was blushing. Your smile turns to a smirk, your fingers just brushing his hair back now.

“Well, I say you are. You're pretty and handsome and if you knew the power you have over people... The power you have over me.” You grow breathless, leaning closer to his ear. “You'd conquer the world.” In a whisper, you make him shiver, and he takes a quick glance at you before looking back to the water. His shoulders seem to relax, though.

"If I had that kind of power then I wouldn't be moping about right now." He thinks about the power he actually wanted to have, whose power he wanted to have, and his mind drifted off for a moment. It only took a second to realize that you were still looking at him, and he cleared his throat. "And, just how much do I have... 'power' over you?"

You took a moment to think. This would be it. You know there’s still life after this, and tomorrow will be another day, but it would change things. You look at him again, the tattoo on his cheek and neck, the strand of hair falling over his forehead. You move to stand beside him so you could look at him properly. He deserved to be looked at, to be acknowledged. You take a deep breath.

“I'd kill Blacçbeard for you. And Bonnet too. And anyone else you asked. I'd do anything, Izzy, just so you'd glance at me.” You lean in his direction, pushing the strands of hair away so you could get a clear view of his face. His eyes were the prettiest shade of brown. “That's why I acted like an idiot in the beginning.” You look down at your hands, then get up, feeling his eyes on you. From your bag, you get the clean towel and squeeze it in your hands, feeling its softness. “I wanted you to look at me.”

He looked like he was about to pass out. His heart was pounding in his ears, the urge to kiss you becoming almost irresistible. He knew this wasn't some act of kindness, something that was happening simply because you were a good person. It was something different, and he wasn't sure of what to do with that knowledge. He attempted to speak, but what came out was a mix of a scream and a sigh.

"W-what?"

“You heard me. Now, dry up, I have a surprise for you.” A shy smile makes its way to your face, and you rummage your bag again looking for the final thing you’d use today.

"Yes, ma'am." The former first mate's eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. He made it too easy. "Right. Of course." Izzy then got out of the bath, taking the towel from your hand and drying himself up. He wasn't sure about anything anymore, but at the same time, he didn't mind this at all. As a matter of fact, he kinda liked it. It felt good to be desired like this.

“Tell me when you’re ready” You tell him, holding the softest fabric you’d ever seen in your hands. Also stolen from Stede.

He took a moment to finish up, holding the towel around his waist before calling out to you.

“Okay. I’m ready.” He says, readying himself for your gaze on him. Instead, you hold out your hand to him, a silky white nightgown coming into his view. He stares for a second, completely silent, and you let out a laugh at his reaction. His stomach curls at the sound, wishing nothing more than to hear it again.

“I know it wouldn’t be your first choice, but I found it a while ago and I thought you might need something nice. Soft. You deserve it, Izzy.” As your laugh died down, your voice became softer, as if trying to assure him that he was still safe, and still himself. “Plus, I only wore it a couple of times.”

He remained quiet for another moment before practically ripping it off your hand and mumbling profanities at you and Bonnet. You heard the towel hit the ground, and then the ruffling of fabric.

With shaky hands, he put it on, the fabric feeling comfortable and cool against his skin. He took a look at the mirror on the opposite side of the room, and beamed at how pretty he looked, hair down and shiny clothes on. He felt warm all over, buzzing with life and excitement.

“You can turn around now.” His voice quavering but soft. As you turned around, you saw that his expression was soft too.

He looked like an angel, like a lost prince finally back home, like someone who finally got exactly what they needed to be happy.

“Oh, Izzy.” You hold his right hand to give him balance as you stare, his cheeks a light red color now, even in the dim light. His smile is hesitant, but bright all the same. It takes all your strength to not kiss him right then and there. “You look perfect.”

You supported him as you made your way to his bed, and he seemed grateful as you did so. His eyes were expectant and hopeful, but you pushed your own excitement down to focus on him. You tucked him in, making sure he was comfortable, and sat beside him, intertwining your fingers together. Before you could say anything, he broke the silence.

“You can kiss me, if you want. Or, I don’t know. I don’t mind.” His fingers trace mindless shapes on the back of your hand, and you shiver at it. Still, your heart aches for him and his reaction. You pull his chin up with your fingers, making him look at you.

“Not tonight, love.” His pupils seem to widen at the nickname, and his lips part slightly. “And don’t get me wrong, I really want to. But not tonight. Not now. I’ll earn your affection Izzy, and I’ll do so gladly. And even if you don’t want me like that, I’ll still take care of you.” You caress his cheek then, his beard coarse against your fingertips. You smile at him, moving closer once again and kissing his forehead, your touch so light he could confuse it for a butterfly's.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. If you need anything, I’ll be in the cabin right beside this one. Just knock and I’ll come right away. Goodnight, Izzy.” You kiss his forehead again, taking in his puzzled expression, and you figure out you’ll have time to explain it to him some other day.

You leave the room, but before you close the door, you take a look at him. He stays still for a moment, his hands crossed on his stomach, his face deep in thought. Then, he smiles a little, contained and shy at himself and turns around, his back to you. You close the door, trying not to make noise, and make your way to your own cabin, your heart fluttering with what you could only assume was love.

#imagine #ofmd #our flag means death spoilers #ofmd imagine #ofmd fanfiction #ofmd x reader #izzy hands #izzy hands imagine #izzy hands x reader #israel hands #israel hands x reader #israel hands imagine #izzy ofmd

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quinloki · 7 months ago

Note

you've casually ripped my heart out and took a bite so I raise you

Sun God Nika.

ACES brother.

Warrior of LIBERATION.

meeting the very not liberated "s/o" of his brother (and I mean they gave him candy so now they're auto besties )

I imagine him being torn with helping his friend even if he has to fight ace because something is obviously wrong with him.

This isnt the brother luffy remembers.

his ace would never take someone's freedom like this, he couldn't...He could never...right?

Not after all they talked about

...right?....

But he did and luffy is ridiculously emotionally smart so he knows in his gut this is the truth and he has to do something for his new friend who asked for help in getting free.

hes strong enough now.its not like he has to kill anyone to safely get you both away but why does it hurt so much? Your okay and he isn't wounded..so why?why does he feel so...so...betrayed?

..By ace?...

for not being who he looked up to anymore.

he really wants to cry. He wants to excuse his actions but that would make him just as guilty wouldn't it?

At least your free now. Even if its left his heart beating different....

Sorry for spelling mistakes !

No apologies needed, but allow me to make it Worse.

Imagine escaping Ace and ending up on Luffy’s crew - we’re not going to worry about any other surrounding details, but the important bits are that you don’t know they’re brothers.

Luffy doesn’t know the terrifying person you’re running from is his brother. Couldn’t imagine it in a million years.

Maybe it’s post time skip, post Wano even, before you, Ace and Luffy occupy the same space (I am thinking shadow reader vibes, thatch and Ace are alive, etc.)

All through Alabasta the stars just didn’t align, and at Marineford you realize Luffy’s connection to Ace and maybe that’s why you leave with Crocodile again instead of Luffy when everyone’s going their separate ways.

However it works doesn’t matter.

Its just that moment when Ace finds you, he’s relieved and delighted and the others are going to be so happy you’re alive. And for a second Luffy is almost delirious with joy.

His friend and his brother are friends and now they’ve been reunited \o/

But then Luffy looks at you, and he knows.

Your fear is palpable, but more than that he’s putting the pieces of stories he’s heard over two years ago or more together. The emotions. All the details. Your fear is so obvious and strong even the rest of the crew knows without seeing.

Luffy grabs Ace’s wrist and pulls until Ace lets go of you. He doesn’t understand at first, “Luffy what are you doing?”

But the smile fades and the expression on Luffy’s face is a mix of sorrow and despair.

“They’re afraid of you Ace, can’t you see?”

And in those words is so much more. How could you? What did you do? Why is their fear so terrible? Ace - what happen to you to change you so much?

He hasn’t hurt like this since the day he thought Kuma had slaughtered his crew.

And for that to turn into a fight? Yeah, the drums of Liberation will have an almost manic edge to them after that. They cannot be somber, so instead they’ll be a little more wild, a little more free, a little more loud to drown the pain god bears.

#quin answers #anon asks #yandere #reader insert #x reader #portgas d ace #monkey d luffy

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scarletteye · 10 months ago

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More crazy/obsessed Scaramouche

Like I've said last post, ya'll really like it when these genshin men go feral. So here is another one of my fave crazy Scaramouche moments from my fic Blossom of the Divine on ao3.

Blossom of the Divine, Chapter 9

“Get your hands off me,” you hissed.

He withdrew his hand for a moment, visibly taken aback by your hostility. The gentleness in his eyes slowly died out, becoming replaced by dissatisfaction. It wasn’t long before his entire expression turned grim. That sudden change in his demeanor struck you with fear.

His gaze slowly slid to the side. He looked at Cyno from the corner of his eyes. The darkness in Scaramouche’s expression warned you to be very careful with how you treat this situation. “Oh? You’re awake as well.”

You gaze snapped onto Cyno. Your heartbeat was in your throat; manic and forceful. He was awake. He looked disoriented. Dizzy. There was a certain blankness to his glare that assured you that he wasn’t quite here yet.

“It’s almost funny,” Scaramouche said, now glancing at the Fatui agents that bowed down to him. His tone was full of repressed fury. “I don’t remember ordering you to bring him. I thought I made myself clear.”

His fingers slid onto your neck; gently and carefully as if to not startle you. You shivered under his touch. His hands were cold, yet soft. His fingers gently brushed against your bruised skin, tracing the darkened patterns that painted your neck - evidence of your struggle against a Fatui agent.

“I ordered them to bring you here unharmed. Only you,” his voice turned lower. “Yet it seems that my followers are too stupid to follow simple instructions. Not only did they bring this rat…” He glanced at Cyno. “But they also brought you to me bruised.”

Completely covered in cold sweat and with your heart maniacally beating in your throat, you were unable to come up with anything. No smart remark. No plan. Even if you held a thought, it got lost in your mind as soon as your gaze met Scaramouche’s.

“Who did this to you?” he asked calmly.

“Huh?” you breathed out.

“I asked: who did this to you?” he tried again, this time sounding more commanding.

You felt that the atmosphere was heavy; it was dense enough to be cut by a knife. You knew that every agent around you felt fear as he asked you that question, and you felt fear for them. Despite you not giving him an answer, he noticed you glance at the agents.

“Oh?”

You gulped. His fingers gently grazed your bruised neck, setting fire to your ears and turning them bright red. “There’s no reason for you to be so wary,” he dragged out his words. “You’re not in trouble.”

“The person who did this, however,” he continued, pressing his fingers against the bruise on your neck. You winced, holding your breath as he put pressure on your agitated skin. “I don’t exactly have an excuse for them.”

“I told you,” you squeezed the words out through your teeth, “to get your hands off me.”

You glared right back at him. Even though you were kneeling directly in his mercy, and even though your face was burning red from his touch, your eyes reflected a fire deep within you. Resentment.

Scaramouche tilted his head; his dark strands fell to one side. The corners of his lips twisted upwards. He stared down at you with amusement. He withdrew the hand from your neck, letting out a tch before taking a few steps forth. He faced his agents, leaving your side just long enough to give you space to breathe.

You quietly shivered. Strands of your hair got stuck to your face, and your panicked eyes searched for comfort in Cyno. He looked more awake with each passing minute. He carefully analyzed your surroundings, constantly keeping an eye on Scaramouche as if he feared being caught.

His scarlet eyes met your gaze, narrowing at you as he shook his head.

You raised your brows. You couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell you.

“Stand up,” Scaramouche ordered. The agents followed his instructions, keeping a brave face as they faced their superior. “All of you were there when she was captured. Surely one of you got to witness the moment that she was harmed.”

The agents were silent. Your heartbeat climbed to your ears, nearly deafening you as you recognized static on your skin.

“Need I repeat myself?” Scaramouche hissed. “You.” He called at a random agent. “Tell me what happened when you tried to retrieve her.”

“A battle broke out. Lord,” they quickly added. “But she… she was bruised before that. I think.”

“And who were the first agents to arrive on scene?” his cold gaze scoured the mass.

You tuned your head to look at Cyno again. He was trying to free his arms; his face contorted with pain. He grit his teeth, letting out a low breath before falling motionless. He couldn’t do anything. Not that you expected him to be able to escape in that state, but you still felt immeasurably cold as you watched him lower his head in shame.

You flinched as three agents stepped in front of you. They wore masks like everybody else, and their outfits were disfigured with bandages. Their skin glistened with sweat, and they kept their heads low, visibly scared of Scaramouche.

“Well?” Scaramouche appeared behind you, leaning down so that his lips reach your ear. His whisper filled your stomach with butterflies and sent your skin on fire. You turned tense. It was impossible to breathe with him so close to you. “Which one of them was it?”

Your eyes widened in horror. He was asking you to rat out the girl who gave you that bruise. You could almost feel him glaring at them from over your shoulder. You were unable to voice anything. What were you supposed to do? You didn’t want blood on your hands. He didn’t have to punish them. In fact, if he sent them after you, it was kind of his fault for putting you in harm’s way. For putting Cyno in harm’s way.

There was a constant chill in your spine and a constant storm in your stomach. You were unable to think. Unable to speak. Even if you wanted to tell him, you would never be able to recognize the agent. Even if you wanted to point out his hypocrisy, your voice would only tremble.

He grabbed your chin and slowly turned your head upwards, until your neck strained and until you stared directly at the ceiling. Scaramouche popped into your vision. His eyes were dim. You couldn’t miss the hurt in his voice, or the slight shift of his brows as he frowned at your silence. “You aren’t afraid to call them out, are you?”

“No. I… I just don’t know,” you whispered out.

His eyes turned wider; the tremble in your voice seemingly made him give up on pressuring you. “Don’t sound so worried,” he said. “They are just Dottore’s rats. He has plenty of them left.”

“I don’t know how they looked like,” you admitted. Your heart was manic. You didn’t want them to die. Even if they were Fatui. Even if they worked for Dottore. You didn’t want that kind of blood on your hands. “I’m telling you I don’t know,” you tried again. “She had a mask.”

“She,” Scaramouche repeated. He lowered your head, still keeping a firm grip on your chin as he let you look at the three agents. One of them was a male, the other two female. You couldn’t tell them apart. You knew one of them was Petrushka – the one that attacked you – and that one of them wielded Cryo.

To make matters worse, his hold on you hurt.

You glanced at Cyno, wishing to find some form of comfort in his presence. He glared at you, warning you to keep quiet.

Unfortunately, Scaramouche noticed the slight tilt of your head as your eyes searched for Cyno.

“Does your friend have a better idea?”

You gulped. Cyno glared right back at Scaramouche, unafraid of the fury in his tone.

“Maybe we can address the elephant in the room first, then,” Scaramouche said.

In return, Cyno’s scarlet eyes narrowed, as if he were threatening Scaramouche to stay away from him. It didn’t help in deescalating the situation. It only made Scaramouche’s anger more evident. His glare turned stone cold as he looked down at Cyno, as if he were speaking to a pile of garbage. “And who may you be?”

“Somebody who will end you if you don’t get your hands off her.”

Your eyes widened at Cyno’s words. You felt Scaramouche’s grip on your face tighten. “Really?” he whispered.

“Wait,” you blurted out. You trembled as you slowly raised your head. By the time you were able to see him, your neck hurt. His image was upside down to you, but you still saw his eyes glisten with fury. “We don’t have to do this. Really- I don’t care that I have a bruise-”

“I care,” Scaramouche coldly said. You were taken aback by his tone. “I gave them simple orders. I told them not to harm you. I just don’t understand why they couldn’t simply listen. And now they have to die.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you tried to reason with him.

“And what kind of an example would that set to the others, hm?” he leaned his face closer to yours, challenging you to speak back to him again. His eyes reflected the full force of his anger. The full force of his madness. “I mean. They were already trying to catch you before I gave them orders. They should know where their loyalties lie.”

Cyno interjected. “I told you to get your hands off her.”

Scaramouche’s eyes slowly shifted to Cyno. Your heart sunk as you saw the madness in his glare. The thirst for violence. “Fine. If you don’t want to point fingers at the useless agent who hurt you, then I suppose I’m left with no choice.” He let go of your chin, letting your head sink along with your heart. “I’ll just have to eradicate all of them.”

To your horror, he pointed at Cyno. “Put him with the rest.”

His minions immediately began acting out his orders.

“Wait!” you yelled out. Your heartbeat climbed up to your throat. “It’s not his fault. Please don’t-”

Scaramouche’s agents grabbed Cyno, hoisting him up by his arms; a yelp left his mouth as they dragged him closer to the other three hostages. They were holding him cruelly, holding his wounds as they threw him at the floor as if he were an animal.

“Stop!” you screamed.

Cyno hissed in pain, shutting his eyes tightly as he sunk lower to the ground. Scaramouche stepped forth, wiggling his fingers as he summoned Electro to his palm. A ball of purple energy sparked alive in his hold; its loud crackled made you gasp. It illuminated his purple hair, and painting his eyes with hatred as he looked down at Cyno’s wounded body.

“Stop, stop, stop!” you screamed. You bowed down; your forehead hit the floor. You did not care how desperate you looked. You didn’t even care that you were bowing to him. You didn’t want Cyno to die. “Please stop. Stop this,” you begged. “He has nothing to do with this. P-Petrushka! That was the name of the agent who choked me! I remember now. See? Please don’t harm Cyno. Please.”

The room fell strangely quiet. Even the crackles of Scaramouche’s powers ceased. All you could hear were your shallow breaths. You dared to look up from the floor; you dared to search for Scaramouche’s face.

His expression was stoic. Though, the moment he found your teary gaze, a quiet breath rolled from his lips. “Good girl.”

He reached his arm out towards one of the female agents, seemingly already knowing which one of them was named Petrushka. You caught Cyno’s expression as he stared at you; full of shock and disbelief.

Petrushka dropped to his knees, trembling as if she were standing in an icy storm. Sweat doused her skin. Even with the mask on her face, you could tell that she was terrified.

Electricity crackled around Scaramouche. You held your breath, as you watched him glow with purple. Lighting circled him, erupting from his arms, suffocating the air with static.

Electro flashed around him. Cyno ducked, falling as close to the floor as possible before thunder struck.

A loud boom shook the room. You gasped; electricity surged through the room, nearly taking you off your knees and blinding you as it exploded throughout. Sparks glimmered in the air, showering the floor like snow. A horrid silence enveloped you.

You dared to look at the female agent, finding only char and ashes in her spot. Scaramouche stretched his arm, clenching and unclenching his fingers as if he were just getting warmed up.

Your eyes frantically searched Cyno’s body. He breathed shallowly, full of panic much like yourself, but he was alive. Unharmed by the lighting like you begged of Scaramouche. He listened to you after all.

“Throw the rest of them behind bars,” Scaramouche ordered. “I don’t care what happens to them.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bro casually kidnaps someone and then proceeds to kill anybody who put a scratch on that someone even though he told them to kidnap them for him.... Okay crazy guy <3 Whatever you want

As always you can read the fic on ao3 here.

Even with all of this tho i still feel as if Childe is crazier.

#ao3 writer #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #yandere scaramouche

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