#if it weren't for the horrors it contained

[radarchives]

[creatively-cosmic]

Perhaps in another lifetime, things could have been different.

[dankovskaya]

Ok I watched. The one horror movie on his filmography and that was um. That was um.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Eldritch Horror! Konig with a Witch! Reader who accidentally summoned him and now has no idea how to get rid of the large shadow monster desperate to mate.

You needed a familiar. A bat, or, maybe, a cute black cat that would drag your ingredients from the top shelve and deliver mail. You needed some company, something cute and weak - and you prepared for the ritual, cut a bit of your arm to get the blood out, put some of the tea leaves in the cauldron, waiting for the creature summoned. The book you used for the incantation was just a tad bit weird and old, but almost all witch books are - it's not like you have a lot of options here, unfortunately.

The cauldron went into smoke, then - into boiling. You thought it was a good sign, the magic slowly activating as your powers drained to call for someone cute, someone magical and obedient, someone... There is a tentacle poking out of the cauldron. An octopus familiar, huh...you weren't too disappointed, but it wasn't ideal, either. Maybe if could turn the tentacles in a pretty pink color, or if you could exchange it for something fluffy and adorable or- It's a man. Well, sort off. It's a man, and it sets off your alarms - literally and figuratively. Human-like familiars are almost all demons, and demons as familiar is bad news. You aren't even remotely strong enough to contain someone as strong as him, and with the energy that envelops him as he slowly moves out o the cauldron, too small for his tall, muscular and dangerously beautiful body, you know you're fucked. It's safe to say that you're familiar now. With Konig not being bond by a summoning ritual - he is far too strong for that - you think that the only reason he didn't kill you, a dumb and arrogant witch trying to contain him - is only because he latched on you as his personal breeder. He mated you, the first thing he did after pushing you onto your bed and taking you raw, like the helpless thing you are, and then softly spoke some words in a dead, eldritch language that you don't understand. Then he mated you again and again until you felt nothing but throbbing between your legs and pumps of pleasure as the eggs slowly filled your womb. He brought you some food after - you think it's his way of caring for his mate. He also called you a dumb, arrogant and weak thing, and then something in his language again, that was probably yet another insult.

[snowsinterlude]

overprotective, lovesick, deranged.

(yandere coriolanus x reader)

summary: your ex boyfriend couldn't seem to let you go.

if i can't have you, no one can.

trigger.warning: yandere coriolanus, obslove (obsessive love), stockholm syndrome, drugging (no its not for sexual purposes), pregnancy, marriage, horror, depictions to murder (explicit), dubcon, p in v, cockwarming, extremely toxic behavior, unhinged coriolanus, this fanfic contains extreme toxic behavior and too much blood, if uncomfortable with that content, please, don't read it.

"This might get a little messy, I'm sure.

Heads rolling for the one I adore

This may become a little brutal if I'm honest

But it's any-anything for you my dear, I promise"

overprotective.

coriolanus snow was a man of ambition; one of those who won't quiet down until the moment he had what he wanted. this was something that happened to the women he got involved with too.

lucy gray baird was one of those. the moment your now ex-boyfriend was sent to district 12 you could tell something was wrong. you could not care less, though. he wasn't your boyfriend anymore and in your most honest opinion it was something good.

when he came back you were with a different man; one named valentine, who stayed with you when you saw coriolanus kissing lucy gray. who comforted you during this time and who hugged you everynight when the thunders during rain times echoed so hard that made you feel like being killed by one of those.

valentine, who's head was decapitated in front of you.

coriolanus, who was smiling to you as he opened the 'gift' he had prepared to you.

you, who couldn't help but throw up at the sight of your dead boyfriend. you, who passed out by the sick sight of his decapitated head, his eyes opened by strings of a red line, needled carelessly. the same eyes who used to look at you with so much affection and love, now weren't looking at you at all.

when you woke up, your hands were tightly wrapped up in a tight knot that he learned to do as a peacekeeper. strung up reasons.

"good morning, my love." he smiled, kissing your forehead. you were still in the kitchen, dressed in a white dress, you didn't remember putting it on. you didn't like the fabric nor the color of white- it would always get stained too easily. "you finally woke up."

you didn't had to think much to know that what happened wasn't a dream. it was real. he killed your boyfriend.

you opened your mouth, and the scream you left was enough for him to slap you across the face. once you begun to cry, he kneeled in front of you, hands cupping your face as you shaked.

"it's okay baby, snow's here for you,"" he kissed your face, making you melt into crying as hard as you could, sob after sob making your doll heart heavy. "remember you used to call me snowflake?" he asked, and you nodded cowardly, afraid of saying anything that might make him furious. "i'm still your snowflake."

and he hugged you, caressing your scalp as you ugly cried in front of him, but to him, you would never look ugly.

lovesick.

with your face pressed against the mattress, you stared at the gigantic mirror that covered an entire wall, watching yourself.

it's been three months since valentine died, and two months since snow untied you, carried you like a princess bride and bathed you, always murmuring the waltz that played when you both met.

maybe it wasn't so bad after all. he took extra care of you, never slapped you again- it was a relapse. he took care of the red slap mark in your cheek, apploed ointment on you everyday, prepared your favorite meals and left you to your own peace, let you mourn the death of that pathetic boy you decided to date.

it wasn't his fault, right? no- it was. why the hell were you thinking that the victim was the one to put to blame for their own death? are you dumb?

well, you aren't- but you're starting to become.

why were you smiling at him as he showed you the dress he brought you? why did your heart flutter when he made you desserts? c'mon now, he killed your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend?

he wasn't there to protect you now, was he? why would he be important in anyway? of course, he was the sweetest to you, never questioned when you moaned coryo's name instead of his, he knew how hard it was to you.

for fucks sakes, what were you doing? what were you thinking?

coriolanus entered the room he made to you after three knocks, a tray with golden white details on his hand, with two toasts, less than a dozen pancakes that he knew you liked, a cup of strawberry juice and a small bow of green grapes.

once you ate at least half of it and drink the juice, he was by your side, caressing your hair.

"bunny?" he called, taking you off your own state of blankness.

"yes?"

"do you hate me?" you wanted to say yes. wanted to spit on his face for asking such a dumb question after holding you hostage and killing your boyfriend, you truly wanted to.

but you didn’t. "no," and maybe you didn't hated him at all. maybe that juice with the truth-telling pill didn't had much of an effect on you

"hm." he hummed, lips curling into the pretty smile he had. "it's good to know that."

he put the tray aside, laying by your side. why have you been laying like a sick woman at it's death bed? ah. yeah, he didn’t liked the idea of you going away, he said he didn’t want you to leave him. how cute.

you smiled at the thought. then you had to gather all the senses you had left to scold yourself.

it didn't last long though, the moment his hands found your hips and started grinding on you, you felt aroused. you shouldn't be, this was the man that killed your boyfriend. this was the man who slapped you. this was the man who didn't let you go around the house with the excuse that he didn’t want you to leave him.

but of course, your cunt didn't had the same thought that you did. so, by the amount of teasing and the way his soft, slender fingers found your clit almost immediatly, you couldn't help but moan and grind back, feeling as if you were humiliating yourself.

"s-stop that, coryo. please." you said. "i'm still mourning valentine's death-"

"i'm sorry, dove, but your pussy doesn't seem to agree with that." and he rolled your nightgown up, pulled his pants down and finally his dick was grinding against your wetness, the tip teasing your clit as he didn’t went inside, why he wasn't going inside? you needed him in.

your breath hitched at the thought, your hand gripping the sheets as he slowly thrusted, but never inside of you.

"tell me, dove, do you want it in?" he asked, his index finger teasing your clit.

"n..no, i-i don't-" he chuckled at your own lies, you felt like laughing too, the exact moment he kissed your shoulder you had to close your own lips, aware that you would end up smiling at him.

"i don't think you don't want it. tell me, baby, what do you want exactly?"

your breath hitched, you could feel how harder your nipples were compared to before. you shouldn't be wanting this. and you knew that. but you loved him so much.

"y-you. please, i'm sorry, coryo." what were you sorry about? you didn't do anything wrong other than mourn and cry.

"you're forgiven, baby. now, just let me enter you, okay?" you nodded. you were pathetic, that nod was pathetic, looking at you in the mirror was pathetic, seeing how you surrendered so easily to his touch was pathetic- the fact that you were ovulating was pathetic. the fact he knew you were fertile was psychotic, and mostly pathetic cause it was you who let him know about it when you were both dating.

you slurred a long and low moan out of your mouth, your eyes closed shut the second your walls were slowly stretched by his dick, it wasn't as painful as the first time, but you felt like being ripped apart.

dubiously, you let his dick kiss your uterus like never before. you felt so ridiculous when his dick went further into you, when your warm walls squeezed his dick into you, when your pussy felt like gushing and you cockwarmed him with pleasure, and you fucked him back, moving your hips almost like you didn't want him to see you moving.

"you would look so good pregnant, don't you think, baby?" he asked, his hand going upwards and abandoning your clit to pass on your belly. "you'd be so pretty. more than you are already"

you shook your head, panic taking over you.

"p-please, coryo. don't do it, not inside, please. not inside" of course, he didn’t even cared about your mewls, thrusting harder into you, earning a bunch of moans out of your mouth, your voice echoing as he spread your legs and made you look into the mirror to see the mess you were.

your boobs bouncing out of your nightdress, your pussy beautifully welcoming his dick inside your cunt, his balls slapping against your clit due to the pose, and the more you concentreated on the pleasure, you were closer to cumming.

"yeah, keep squeezing me like that, dove" he said into your year, sucking on your neck. you moaned as an answer "i'm gonna fuck my baby's into you."

you squeezed him too tightly, your pussy gushing around him before finally cumming. too good, too good. were all that you could think of.

"such a pretty girl, baby. you will be such a good mom." he said, finally cumming inside of you, the hot seed flowing inside you and leaking a bit.

you turned to see his face, recieving a kiss that you promptly deepened.

you were doomed.

deranged.

his grandma'am was the one to acompany you to the altar. the entire panem was there or outside waiting to see the marriage of the new president snow.

you smiled at him under the veil, your swollen round belly being the one that claimed attention more than anything. you were in fact a beautiful mom, carrying his twin girls in your heart and stomach.

you still loved him after all, who would know?

not even him expected you to say yes, not in the marriage, not at the proposal, and not at any other situation, specially when he was impregnating you.

"do you, mr. snow, accept mrs. y/n as your wife?" the priest asked, a sweet smile on his elderly lips.

"i do."

"and you, mrs. y/n, accept mr. snow as your husband?" he asked to you, and you smiled, cherry lipstick covering your lips.

"i do."

you caved your own grave, and you knew it. but if you died, you would take him with you.

that's what love is about.

[raekensluver]

dangerous attractions (3)

part one, part two, part three

description: your mysterious new neighbor, spencer reid, turns out to be an agent for the fbi, and you get tangled up in his dangerous life.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: 18+, Minors DNI, mutual pining, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, r is implied as being shorter than spencer.

song rec: reflections by the nbhd- "i never knew somebody like you, somebody."

w.c: 3.1k

an: thank you so much for the love on my recent publishings!!

over the next few weeks, spencer became a constant presence in your life. he would come over every time he got off work, his eyes searching yours for any signs of fear or trauma. his visits grew longer, his smiles more genuine, and the quiet chess games evolved into deep, late-night conversations about everything and nothing at all.

you found yourself drawn to his world—the complex puzzles of human behavior that he solved every day, the quiet strength that allowed him to face such horrors and still come home to a quiet apartment. he spoke rarely of his cases, but the few details he shared painted a picture of a man who cared deeply for the people he was sworn to protect.

his visits grew more frequent, and with each one, the tension between you grew stronger. it was as if the danger had drawn you closer together, the shared experience of fear and adrenaline forging a bond that neither of you could ignore. you began to crave the sound of his footsteps in the hallway, the gentle knock on your door that signaled his arrival.

spencer noticed the change in you, the way you leaned into him when he spoke, the way your eyes searched his for reassurance. he offered comfort without words, his presence a silent promise that you weren't alone. he would sit with you, not saying much, just being there—a steady anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

one evening, as you sat side by side on your couch, the air grew thick with something unspoken. the tension was palpable, a live wire connecting you both. spencer reached for your hand, his touch sending a jolt through your body. your eyes met, and for a moment, you could see the weight of his job, the toll it took on him, the loneliness he carried like an invisible shield.

you leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. "thank you," you murmured, the words feeling inadequate for the comfort he brought.

spencer squeezed your hand gently. "for what?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room.

you tilted your head to look at him, his eyes searching yours. "for being here," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "for… everything."

his gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight of his job, the intensity of his world, seemed to fade away. "you don't have to thank me," he said, his voice gentle. "i just want to make sure you're okay."

you felt a warmth spread through you, his simple words resonating deep within. "i know," you whispered. "but i do. i don't know what i would have done without you."

spencer's eyes searched yours, and you could see the conflict within him—his desire to keep you safe at arm's length and the growing bond that was drawing him closer. "you're strong," he murmured. "you're much stronger than you think."

his words were like a warm embrace, and you found yourself leaning into him, craving the connection that had been building between you. "i'm scared," you admitted, the vulnerability in your voice surprising you.

spencer's gaze never wavered. "i know," he said softly. "but you're not alone."

his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. his touch was tender, a stark contrast to the world he lived in. you leaned into his palm, feeling the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his presence. without thinking, you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his.

for a moment, time stood still. then, with a groan, spencer deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around you. you melted into him, the fear and confusion of the past weeks coalescing into something warm and comforting. his kiss was urgent, hungry, as if he had been holding back for so long, afraid to let himself feel.

you responded in kind, your hands sliding up his chest, tangling in his hair. the world outside the apartment faded away, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a dance of passion and relief. his touch was gentle but firm, his body heat seeping into yours, chasing away the chill that had taken up residence in your bones.

the kiss grew more intense, your breaths mingling as you explored each other's mouths with a desperation that was both thrilling and terrifying. the line between friend and protector had been crossed, and you weren't sure if there was any going back. but in that moment, you didn't care. all that mattered was the feel of his arms around you, the warmth of his embrace.

spencer's hands roamed your body, his touch sending waves of heat through you. you felt his need, his desire, and it matched your own. you had never been so alive, so present in the moment. the chaos of the recent past faded away, replaced by the rhythm of your hearts beating in sync.

his hands found the hem of your shirt, and with trembling fingers, he began to lift it. you helped him, eager to feel his skin against yours. as the fabric was peeled away, you felt a sense of exposure, but also of liberation. there was no room for fear in the face of such raw passion.

his touch was gentle yet firm as he traced the lines of your body, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. you felt the warmth of his breath against your neck, his lips following the path of his fingers. a soft moan escaped your lips, and you knew that you were lost to this feeling, to him.

you straddled him on the couch, your legs wrapping around his waist. your bodies fit together perfectly, as if you had been made for this moment. his hands found your hips, guiding you closer, the heat between you building. the fabric of your clothes seemed to be the only thing separating you, a barrier that was quickly becoming unbearable.

his kisses grew more urgent, his teeth grazing your neck, sending shivers down your spine. your own hands explored his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. you could feel his heart pounding in time with yours, a symphony of need and want.

his fingers deftly unhooked your bra, and with a sigh, you let it fall away. his eyes searched yours for permission, and with a nod, you gave it. he cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing the sensitive peaks. a gasp escaped your lips, and you leaned into his touch, feeling more alive than you had in months.

spencer's mouth found yours again, his kisses deepening as his hands continued to explore. you could feel the tension in his body, the coiled energy of a man who held the weight of the world on his shoulders finally letting go. you mirrored his urgency, needing to feel him, to connect in the most primal way possible.

you reached for the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly with trembling hands. he took over, his movements swift and sure as he undid the last button and shrugged the shirt off, revealing the expanse of his chest. your eyes took in the sight of him, the muscles honed from years of training, the scars that told a silent story of battles won and lost.

spencer flipped you around so that your back was pressed to his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. you gasped as his skin met yours, the heat of his body searing into you, his chest a wall of warmth and strength at your back. his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sending delicious shivers down your spine.

his hands roamed over your body, his fingers deftly sliding under the waistband of your panties. with a gentle tug, he removed the last barrier between you, tossing the fabric aside. you could feel his breath, hot and ragged, against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings, praising your beauty, your strength. his words were a gentle caress, a balm to your frayed nerves.

his fingers found their way to your cunt, the softness of his touch making you gasp. you were wet, slick with desire, and he took note of it with a soft groan, his praise turning into a murmur of wonder. "you're so beautiful," he whispered, his fingertips tracing your folds with a feather-light touch. "so wet for me."

his words sent a shiver through you, and you arched your back, pushing your ass against his hardening cock. he took the hint, sliding a single digit inside you with a gentle pressure that had you moaning his name. "yes," you breathed.

spencer's hand moved with the rhythm of your hips, his finger curling inside you, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back in your head. you could feel your walls tightening around him, desperate for release. "you're so wet," he murmured, his voice a dark promise in your ear. "you want me, don't you?"

you nodded, unable to form words as he added another finger, stretching you deliciously. "yes," you gasped, the sound barely audible. "more."

his strokes grew more deliberate, his thumb finding your clit and beginning to circle it with a firm pressure that had you panting. "you're so perfect," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "so responsive."

your hips began to rock in time with his hand, the tension inside you building. "spencer," you moaned, his name a plea for more. "yes," he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "let me make you feel good."

his fingers worked you with a skill that left you trembling, his touch both gentle and insistent. your body responded to his every command, your slickness dripping down your thighs. "you're so wet for me," he said, his voice thick with lust. "so fucking perfect."

his words were a catalyst, sending you hurtling towards climax. your eyes squeezed shut, your head thrown back, your mouth open in a silent scream as the orgasm crashed over you. your muscles tightened around his fingers, pulsing with the intensity of your release.

spencer held you through it, his arms tight around your waist, his mouth moving from your neck to your ear, whispering sweet nothings that only served to prolong the pleasure. when the tremors finally subsided, you collapsed against him, your breaths coming in gasps.

his hands remained gentle on your body, the urgency of the moment giving way to a tender care. he turned you in his arms, so you faced him, and kissed you softly, the passion of moments ago now a gentle warmth that wrapped around you like a blanket. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

you nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "yes," you whispered, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "more than okay."

spencer's smile grew, his eyes filled with warmth. "good," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "because i've wanted to do this for a long time."

his kiss was gentle, a stark contrast to the passionate maelstrom of moments before. it was as if he was memorizing the taste of you, savoring every second. your hands slid up his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingertips. you felt cherished, protected—like he was trying to erase the fear that had taken up residence in your soul.

spencer laid you back on the couch, his body hovering over yours. the cushions sank beneath your weight, the fabric warm and welcoming. his eyes searched yours, making sure you were ready, that you wanted this as much as he did. your nod was all the invitation he needed.

his hands moved to the button of his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. with a slow, deliberate movement, he unzipped them, the sound of his zipper echoing in the quiet room. he slid the fabric down his legs, revealing his erection, straining against the fabric of his boxers. your eyes widened, taking in the sight of him.

his cock was thick and hard, a testament to his desire for you. you felt a thrill of power, knowing that you had elicited such a response from this man who faced horrors on a daily basis. "spencer," you murmured, your voice thick with want.

his boxers followed the path of his pants, and he positioned himself between your legs. his cock nudged against your entrance, the heat of him making you ache for more. you reached down, wrapping your hand around him, feeling the pulse of his desire. "you're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

you guided him inside you, his thickness stretching you deliciously. he pushed in slowly, giving you time to adjust, his eyes never leaving yours. when he was fully seated, he stilled, his chest heaving with the effort to hold back. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

you nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "yes," you whispered, the single word a declaration of trust. spencer's gaze searched yours, his expression a mix of concern and desire. with a gentle nod, he began to move, his strokes long and slow, as if he was savoring every moment.

you gripped the couch cushions, your body responding to his rhythm, your hips rising to meet his. the friction was exquisite, the fullness of him inside you filling you in a way nothing else ever had. his eyes remained locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

his strokes grew deeper, his pace increasing, as if he couldn't get enough of you. you felt your second orgasm building, a slow burn that started in your core and spread through your body like wildfire. "spencer," you moaned, his name a prayer on your lips.

his eyes searched yours, the concern in them morphing into something more primal, something that told you he needed this just as much as you did. he leaned down, capturing your mouth with his, his tongue delving deep as he thrust harder, faster. you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed with each stroke, the way his breathing grew ragged.

his hand slid down your body, finding your clit once more, his thumb circling it with just the right amount of pressure. the sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more.

spencer's movements grew more urgent, his hips driving into you with a force that had you seeing stars. your moans grew louder, filling the room, echoing off the walls. his own breathing grew ragged, his eyes never leaving yours as he claimed you, as if he was trying to memorize every line of your face in the throes of passion.

his thumb circled your clit, the pressure increasing, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. "spencer," you gasped, your nails digging into his back. "I'm going to—"

"come for me," he murmured, his voice a command that sent you spiraling over the edge. your body arched off the couch, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that left you trembling. he watched you intently, his eyes dark with desire as he felt your cunt pulse around him.

spencer's own release followed quickly, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his warmth filling you completely. his eyes never left yours, the connection between you unbroken even as the world around you spun away. your bodies remained joined, the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through you both.

for a moment, you simply lay there, panting, your hearts racing in sync. the quiet of the room was a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions inside you. spencer's weight was a comfort, a reminder that you weren't alone in this. that despite the chaos that had entered your life, there was still warmth, still passion.

but reality had a way of intruding, and the sudden buzz of his phone on the coffee table was like a cold shower. he pulled away with a groan, his eyes filled with regret. "i have to go," he murmured, his voice thick with reluctance. "work."

you nodded, understanding all too well the demands of his job. "be safe," you whispered, the words carrying a weight that seemed to hang in the air.

spencer kissed you gently, his hand lingering on your cheek before he reluctantly pulled away. with a sigh, he began to gather his clothes, his movements efficient and methodical. you watched him dress, the sight of his muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he buttoned it up. his eyes met yours, the warmth of the moment before replaced by the cool detachment of a man preparing to face the world.

you sat up, feeling the ache of his absence as he stepped away. your own clothes lay scattered around the room, a testament to the passion that had consumed you both. with trembling hands, you began to dress, the fabric of your clothes feeling almost foreign against your sensitive skin. the cotton of your shirt was rough against your nipples, still sensitive from his touch.

spencer watched you, his eyes lingering on your body before he turned away, focusing on his own clothes. you could see the struggle in his movements—the desire to stay, to hold you close, warring with the duty that called him away. it was a dance you were both too familiar with, the push and pull of your newfound intimacy and the cold reality of his work.

once dressed, he turned back to you, his expression one of deep apology. "i'm sorry," he said, his voice low and filled with regret.

you took a deep breath, trying to still the racing of your heart. "it's okay," you assured him, knowing he had no control over the demands of his job. "you have to go."

spencer nodded, his eyes searching yours one last time before he bent down to kiss you—a kiss that was at once gentle and filled with the promise of more to come. it was a kiss that said 'i'll be back' without uttering the words. his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. "i'll check on you later," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

you watched him go, the sound of the door closing behind him like a final punctuation on the intensity of the past few minutes. your body still hummed with the aftermath of pleasure, but your mind was a whirlwind of confusion. what had just happened between you? was this a one-time thing, a product of the fear and tension of the past weeks? or was it the beginning of something more?

[tsukimefuku]

that's spooky af, honey :: jjk characters

They’re not the biggest fans of horror movies, but they might make an exception just for you - feat. Gojo, Toji, Nanami, Higuruma, Kusakabe, Shoko

cw: gender neutral reader, crack, comedy, i’m flexing here so some ooc, and a lot of fluff. roughly proofread. notes etc.: happy spooky season, guys 🎃 Entry for the spookinky event.

⛧ GOJO SATORU

(The Exorcist - 1973)

It was a very hot night. The type of night in which even mosquitoes could drop dead from the heat at any second. It felt like you were in an oven, so surely, it made no sense that your boyfriend, Satoru, kept you in the death grip of his hug like a koala hanging from a tree.

A pretty desperate koala latched with his abdomen to your back.

“Toru, please, I can’t breathe,” you insisted, trying to move his hands from your waist just to get a few inches back of freedom. It backfired, and he tightened all around you. 

“You don’t, babe,” he cooed, nuzzling around the sweaty nape of your neck, “you just need to be here.” 

He sounded cuddly, definitely a little clingy, but you thought it was cute how after you both turned off the classic rendition of The Exorcist, Satoru gripped you and didn’t let go since.

You huffed, accepting defeat. 

“Okay, but I need to at least drink some water and I also need to go to the bathroom,” you told him, shuffling around over the bed sheets.

Satoru didn’t flinch, still gripping on you like you were the last flatscreen on sale during a Black Friday. 

“Satoru.”

Your voice contained a warning (a warning coming mostly from your bladder). 

“Go in the morning! It’s so cozy,” he whined, letting go from you just enough for you to slightly turn back and look at his messy white hair covering his playful blue eyes, which decorated a remarkably adorable pout.

It would be cuter if you weren't on the verge of peeing yourself on the bed. 

“It’s not! Satoru, it’s searing hot, we’re both drenched and I need to pee!” 

Satoru pressed a quick kiss to your lips and rested his mouth over your hair. 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Sir, you’re not the boss of my pee.”

He chuckled softly and made it abundantly clear he wouldn’t let you go willingly.

“Oh, I’m not getting a urinary tract infection because you’re too scared to be in the room alone after a cheesy horror movie!” you protested while chuckling back, starting to wrestle around with him, failing miserably to free yourself from the giant’s grip, “I have to go to the bathroom now!” 

“Then I’ll go with you!” he conceded, finally freeing your waist and jumping himself up off the bed with a grin.

You sighed with a half smile on your face at his antics. 

“Dear Lord Almighty.”

—

⛧ FUSHIGURO TOJI

(Hereditary - 2018)

You had barely managed to get around the second isle in the grocery store before your phone started blowing up with calls. You had left Toji watching a horror movie while Megumi was napping in his own room as you took a quick run to the shop. You had forgotten to buy a few things for dinner earlier that day. 

Your phone had already vibrated a few times, the tell-tale sign you got fired up with quite a few text messages.

“Yes, Toji?” you said while answering the phone, “I left you watching a movie and just came down quick to get some groceries, what’s up?” 

“The movie is finished,” Toji answered in his characteristically nonchalant way, but offered no further explanation. 

“I still have some things to grab around here. How’s Megumi?” 

“He’s fine, I’m in his room. He’s still sleeping.” 

“Oh, good.” 

You had committed to memory the way Toji would every night sit on little Megumi’s end of the bed, and silently look at him before smiling and leaving his room. He never connected the dots of how you would always, somehow, need something from the kitchen during that same time, just to walk by the door and see them both.

However, this was too early for his nightly ritual. Megumi was sure to wake up from his nap soon.

Then, a thought crossed your mind. 

“Toji.” 

“What?” 

“Are you scared? After the movie? That’s why you’ve been texting and calling me like crazy?”

He scoffed on the other side of the line. 

“Of course not, I’m not a little kid.” 

You kept silent for a few moments, and he didn’t say anything else, still lingering on a bated breath. 

“Well, if that’s the case, then I think I’ll just run to the convenience store quickly and get us some-” 

“No! Just come home already,” he complained, and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Only if you ask nicely.” 

Toji groaned.

”Please, babe, come home and let’s eat dinner.” 

“Fine, I’ll be back in ten.” 

—

⛧ NANAMI KENTO

(It - 2017)

A ritual you and Nanami had after you broke your leg — and got prescribed lots of bed rest for that — was watching a different movie every night before sleeping. 

You’d usually doze off shortly after while your husband would keep reading his books by himself, in his own personal nightly routine. He’d make good use of that extra time he was always awake to get a water jug from the kitchen and leave it by your side, just in case you felt thirsty during the night (which, to be fair, you always did).

This time, however, after watching the “It” remake of 2017, you weren't feeling quite sleepy, so you decided to doom scroll on your phone while your husband read. 

You did notice a funny thing, though.

An hour had passed, and he hadn’t moved from the bed.

“Kento,” you called, blocking your phone’s screen and looking at him.

He put his hand over your thigh softly, not to disturb the cast under the knee that was already propped up comfortably by a pillow, and kept reading, holding his book with his other hand.

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“Aren’t you going to get the jug of water for the night?” 

“Soon,” Nanami replied, his eyes making the quickest glance down the dark corridor, so quick you barely noticed, “soon.” 

“Ken, honey, I’m getting thirsty,” you cooed, resting your hand over his.

He looked over to you and put his book with open pages down on the nightstand.

“I apologize, darling,” he replied, leaning over and planting a soft kiss on your lips. “Would you mind if I just finished this chapter?”

His voice sounded so velvety and sweet, honestly, how could you say no?

“No problem,” you replied, and he smiled before sitting back and pulling his book into his hands again. However, once more, his eyes glanced down the dark corridor.

“Kento, I have a quick question, though. I promise not to keep interrupting your reading.” 

“You can interrupt me whenever you want. What is it?” 

“Why do you keep staring down the corridor?”

Nanami was clearly taken aback, even if he attempted to feign nonchalance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.” 

“Oh, come on, you do…” you began, right before the realization dawned on you.

“Kento, did you get spooked from the movie?”

Nanami turned his head to look at you, but his expression was not exactly surprised. He seemed more like a kid who had been caught stealing cookies from the jar before dinner time.

“Excuse me?” 

“Light of my life, you never take this long to get the jug, and also, you are staring at that dark corridor. I’m sure of it.” 

“I will get it, right after I finish the chapter,” he replied with little to no conviction in his voice, “and you’re always fast asleep when I do. How do you know how long I usually take?”

You stared at him, in all his 6 feet tall glory, and bit down a chuckle. 

“I didn’t know you were afraid of clowns,” you said, trying not to grin. 

“Darling, I’m not afraid of clowns,” Kento replied sounding slightly offended while he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, let me go get your water.”

Nanami put his book down, walked towards the room’s door, but didn’t fail to take a second before turning the corridor’s light on prior to walking towards the kitchen. You heard the kitchen’s light being turned on too.

Shortly after, he was back. Nanami put the water jug accompanied by a cup on your nightstand, and laid down.

“Thanks, Ken. Good night, I love you.”

“Good night. I love you too, darling.”

There was still something off, though.

“Ken, why are we sleeping with the night lamp on?”

He pretended to not hear you.

—

⛧ HIGURUMA HIROMI

(The Shining - 1980)

You had noticed it happening for the past hour of the movie you were both watching, The Shining. Hiromi wasn’t someone very vocal about his discomforts, but his body would occasionally betray him. 

With each passing twenty minutes or so, you noticed your fiancée had inched himself closer and closer to you, with the feeble excuse that he wanted to be closer to the popcorn. His hand was diving in the pot, picking a single popcorn at a time, as the rain tapped violently against your windows.

His eyes were glued to the screen, and for a second, you couldn’t quite remember the last time he had blinked ever since the movie started. 

“Hiro,” you whispered at him, “are you enjoying the movie?”

Hiromi simply nodded, not looking away from the screen. 

“Are these actual ghosts or is Jack just going insane?” he asked just below his breath, putting another single unit of popcorn in his mouth. 

“I mean, going from the book, the Overlook Hotel is haunted,” you whispered, “but Kubrick wanted to dive more into that psychological aspect of the horror. Stephen King really hated this movie,” you concluded, shoving a handful of popcorn in yours. 

“Did he? Why?” 

“Mostly because the hotel should be the corrupting factor, Jack wasn’t supposed to be cuckoo crazy from the start like Kubrick made him to be,” you replied with your mouth full.

Hiromi huffed, blinking for the first time in God knows how many minutes. 

“I guess no one is, truly.”

You smiled and laid your head on his shoulder, cozying up against Hiromi’s body warmth. 

“Oh, this one’s good,” you stated, heightening his already sharp attention to the events unfolding in front of him.

This was the scene where Hallorann, the cook, went back to the hotel after Danny managed to ask him for help. By this point, Jack was already roaming through the Overlook with his signature axe and well, what would happen was pretty obvious, but still.

Hallorann came walking down the corridor, his steps against the linoleum floor being the only sound filling the space. The tension grew, Danny’s face in the dark showed up, and you propped yourself for the big jump scare.

However, at the very moment Jack jumped into the frame bearing his axe…

The lights in the entire house went out.

You didn’t get a second to process it, though. Before you knew it, the popcorn bowl flew over, meeting its fateful end on the ground, popcorn spread all over you both and the floor, the blanket you and Hiromi were both under became a crumpled messy ball while falling over. He yanked you over with his arms around you so violently your lungs struggled for a second. To call that a hug would be sugar coating it (a lot).

Hiromi was holding onto you for dear life.

The power took a few seconds to come back, and when it did, you realized he had his eyes sewn shut, opening them softly as light hit his eye lids. 

It took you a few labored breaths to ask, 

“Do you want to watch something els-“ 

“Yes.”

—

⛧ KUSAKABE ATSUYA

(Cabin in the woods - 2011) 

“Get up!” was the only thing you heard before falling off the side of the bed in utter disorientation. Seconds before, you had been sleeping peacefully, and your boyfriend, Kusakabe, should’ve been by your side.

However, as you regained your senses, you saw him standing with his back against the wall beside the bedroom door, in the dark, holding onto his katana. 

“Atsuya, what happened?” you inquired, still half dazed, but adrenaline definitely kicking in from the way he was carrying himself. Alert signs went up in your mind. 

“There’s something in the house,” he whispered urgently, signaling for you to pick up your weapon too.

Your sorcerer instincts came fully awake and you pulled your dagger from the bedside table, walking towards him in a crouch. 

“What grade do you think it is?” you asked, looking up at him. 

Apart from him being like this, though, you didn’t sense anything. Not yet.

Before answering you, he darted himself out of the bedroom — something considerably uncharacteristic for him — and you followed him, alert and confused. 

“The assistants, and the lab, they-“ you heard Kusakabe mumbling to himself as he was walking around the house, “always giving me more work. Them and the teens, no one can do their work right, shit.” 

… What now? 

“Atsu, what are you talking about? Where’s the curse?” you insisted, “what grade is it? What is it like? Should I call Gojo?” 

You were now definitely starting to feel the pain in the back of your neck and the base of your back from falling off the bed. 

“No, we can handle it ourselves, we always have to, no one knows how to do their job and-“ the senseless mumbling ensued, “and the merman…”

Oh, no. You finally realized what was going on.

Irritation instantly hit you, and you walked towards Kusakabe, yanking his katana from his hands, looking very seriously at the sorcerer before chastising him. 

“You gotta be kidding me! You woke me up in the middle of the night and scared me half to death because of a nightmare?!”

He blinked multiple times, shaking his head, and looked back at you. 

“You’re not listening, the merman-“ 

”There is no merman, love of mine,” you replied, sighing and pinching the bridge of your nose, “this was one of the monsters in the movie we watched before going to sleep. The one where there is a lab, and monsters, and young uni students going on a trip, being idiots and getting killed… Don’t you remember?” 

After a few seconds, the realization finally dawned on him, and he put his hand on his forehead. 

“There is no merman?” 

“There is no merman, Atsuya. I promise.”

You had to hold down a laugh before leading a very confused Kusakabe back into the bedroom, tucking him for a — hopefully — calm night of sleep.

—

⛧ IEIRI SHOKO

(The Autopsy of Jane Doe - 2016)

Your girlfriend had the pokerest of poker faces. So you didn’t expect her to be jumping around from fright or anything of the sort.

However, the cigarette she let burn out completely untouched, still hanging from her mouth, betrayed just how scared shitless she was. The entire thing had become one continuous trail of ashes that ended on her lips, and funnily enough, it hadn’t fallen.

Yet.

Discreetly, you picked up the ashtray from the coffee table and hovered it under the cigarette, just in time for the tube of ashes to fall perfectly down in it.

Still, no movements from your girlfriend. 

You waved your hand in front of her face, but she just stood there, sitting down in the exact same position she had been ever since the movie started, like a marble statue.

“Shoko, sweetheart, are you okay?” 

Shoko only hummed what could be interpreted as a “yes” in return, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle. Trying to ease her out of the fear, you tried joking a little. 

“So, this cursed corpse is kind of different from the ones Principal Yaga makes, hm? His are cuter, for sure.”

Another soulless mm-hmm came out, and you wondered if you had maybe taken this horror night a little too far. She did autopsies for a living, after all. Perhaps this was too close to home. 

“Honey? Love?” 

No response. 

“Do I have to call Gojo to pull you out of this?”

This finally elicited a you can’t be serious right now response from her, and it eased your worries, even if just a little.

Picking up the remote, you paused the movie, and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Shoko, would you like to watch something else?”

She sighed, seemingly relieved, and turned her face to yours. 

“I want to watch my actual autopsies videos. Like, ones without curses in them.” 

You chuckled softly before planting a tender kiss on her lips. 

“You’re weird. Of course, love you.”

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[edenesth]

Until Death Claims Us

Pairing: vampire!Hongjoong x human!reader (+ a bit of boyfriend!Seonghwa x girlfriend!reader)

AU: vampire au

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You were a fool to believe you could save him. You should have heeded everyone's warnings to run, but now you found yourself in need of saving—from him, the very embodiment of the devil.

Genre: angst, horror

Rating: Mature (M)

Trigger Warnings: violence, implied sexual assault, emotional abuse, kidnapping, gore and blood, coercion, isolation (being trapped/cut off from loved ones), substance use, death, self-harm, suicidal thoughts

A/N: Happy Halloween, folks! This contains dark themes and is not my typical cutesy little romance fic (been feeling violent lately), you've been warned.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

"You're being such a good girl today," he taunted, pulling back slightly from your neck. The skin was bruised and ruptured from his relentless biting, a trail of blood staining the silk of your robes. "I wasn't expecting this—especially after the little show we put on for your poor loverboy yesterday. What was his name again? Park Seonghwa, wasn't it?"

You lay still beneath him, your gaze fixed on the familiar ceiling you'd come to know all too well during each struggle, each time he took you against your will.

"It's over, Hongjoong," you murmured, and his grin only widened as he licked his bloody fangs, mocking. "Over? For whom? You know you're mine, don't you? I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever, my pet."

A small smile crossed your lips. "Exactly. I'm counting on that. I don't plan on leaving without you either. I won't let you hurt or threaten the people I love again—my boyfriend, my brother, my best friend..."

His eyes narrowed at your words. "What are you—" But before he could finish, the poison you'd ingested began to take hold, creeping through him bit by bit. He gasped, his hand clutching his heart. "Wh-what have you done?"

You chuckled bitterly, a trickle of blood trailing from your nose. "Wolfsbane and monkshood, enough to kill us both within the hour."

He gasped at your words. Vampires were immune to many things, but the herbs you'd named were among the deadliest known to any living thing—even to his kind. His claws flew to your neck, tightening as he growled, "Are you out of your goddamned mind, woman?!"

You smirked humourlessly. "Go ahead. End me now. It'd be a mercy."

Realising the force of his grip on your throat, he released you quickly, a shaky hand brushing your face as he noticed the blood trickling from your nose. If the poison was already taking a toll on him, your mortal body must be suffering a thousand times worse. "Do you really hate me this much?"

You shook your head, pulling your face away from his touch, but he only grasped you again, forcing you to meet his gaze—just as forceful as ever. That was the Kim Hongjoong you knew. "You're joking, right? You took me from my family, my friends, my… my lover, and forced me to stay by your side, to be fed on and used as you pleased. What else could I feel for you?"

He furrowed his brows, the pain in his chest intensifying as he struggled to keep his focus. "But, darling, I did it because I love you. I've told you over and over. If you weren't so stubborn, you could've been my queen. I was going to turn you—"

Tears of disgust welled up in your eyes as memories of this endless nightmare resurfaced. Weeks, months… you'd lost track. Maybe your family would know how long you'd been gone. "Love? You call this love? You don't torture someone you claim to love. You don't even know what that word means, you monster!"

Regret.

Immense, suffocating regret was all you felt. It had consumed you from the moment you'd fallen into Hongjoong's trap, ensnared by his cunning words and dark allure.

It hadn't always been this way.

⸸

"Ow!" you yelped, clutching your scraped knee as you eased yourself into a sitting position, recovering from the clumsy fall. You should have watched where you were going, but your mind had been lost in thought, still sulking over your cancelled plans. Your boyfriend had last-minute work obligations, leaving you disappointed after you'd looked forward to your date all day. Worse still, both your brother and best friend had their own commitments, so you were left to walk home alone, wishing Seonghwa were there to pick you up.

"Hey there, you alright?" a warm voice interrupted, and you looked up to see a stranger standing beside you, his hand extended politely, yet without touching.

And that was how you met him, on a chilly autumn evening. Kim Hongjoong had been so kind, so gentle, as you spilt your frustrations to him. He listened with a soft smile, guiding you to a nearby bus stop, supporting you with a careful hold, and tending to your wound with a small bandage. Before leaving, he draped his coat around your shoulders, leaving you with a comforting warmth.

How sweet of him.

What you didn't know was that as he walked away from you that night, his soft smile faded, replaced by a dark scowl. His fists clenched at his sides, and he cursed himself under his breath. He had planned to drain you right there on that empty street; it was the sweet scent of your blood that had drawn him to you in the first place. But the moment he saw you—eyes wide, vulnerable, and tangled in frustration—something inside him shifted, and he had done something he'd never done before: he spared his prey.

Had it been any other woman, she would have lost her life in an instant. It went against his nature to let a meal walk away unharmed. But you had been different somehow, your innocence tugging at some long-buried part of him he'd rather keep forgotten. "Pathetic," he muttered, disgusted with himself, before casting a glance over his shoulder, watching you as you disappeared from sight, his coat still wrapped around you.

"Another time," he murmured to himself, eyes narrowing with resolve. If he saw you again, he wouldn't hesitate.

Another time, human.

"Babe? What's this?" your beloved's voice called out, and an instant smile lit up your face as you turned to greet him that evening. "Hwa, you're home!" But as you tried to rush to him, a sharp pang in your knee held you back, and his eyes quickly caught the slight wince. In an instant, he was at your side, Hongjoong's coat discarded on the chair beside you.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, worry furrowing his brow as he knelt beside you, inspecting the bandage.

You laughed sheepishly. "I may or may not have tripped over my own foot. But a kind stranger helped me out—he's the one who gave me his coat." You nodded toward the garment that Seonghwa had been eyeing earlier. "He found me by the side of the road, got me to a bus stop, and made sure I was alright before he left."

Guilt flashed across your boyfriend's face as he cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "I'm so sorry I had to cancel, baby. It's my fault you were out there alone. Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head, leaning into his touch. "Not anymore. You're here now, and that's all that matters."

His expression softened as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Well, I'm just relieved someone was there to help. Good thing that man found you."

At the time, you nodded in agreement, warmth spreading through you at the thought. But if you had known then what you knew now, you would have wept, realising that this was only the beginning of a nightmare you could never have anticipated.

⸸

Falling into his orbit had been so easy.

"It's you!" you beamed as you stepped out of your workplace, your face lighting up at the sight of the kind stranger who had offered his coat and helped you just days before. The man smiled, his expression warm and charming as he nodded.

"It is me. I was just passing by and noticed you finishing up your shift," he said. "Heading home now?"

You nodded, stepping closer. "I am! And I actually have your coat all cleaned and ready, but I didn't bring it with me today. I can return it to you next time you pass by."

He chuckled, his gaze unwavering. "Why wait? I'll walk you home now, and you can give it to me there."

Maybe you should have been more cautious about leading a stranger to your doorstep. But he was your saviour, after all—surely you could trust him… right? If only you had thought twice back then, if only.

"Would you like to come in for a bit? It's a little chilly outside; let me just grab your coat real quick," you said, hurrying inside, leaving the door open behind you as you went to find it. Unhurried, the vampire stepped in, his eyes alight with satisfaction. Your scent filled the space, sweet and intoxicating. He took a slow breath, biting back the urge to sink his teeth into you right then. How awfully trusting you were—it made him want to draw this out, savouring the game.

He wandered into your living room, pausing at the wall lined with photos. His gaze darkened slightly as he took in the images of you with another man, holding you close, kissing you in some. Ah, yes, the lover. His lips twisted in a faint sneer, though when you returned with his coat folded neatly in your arms, he met you with a polite smile.

"Let me guess," he said smoothly, pointing to a photo, "this must be the lucky guy who had to cancel on you that night?"

You glanced at the picture and nodded, smiling. "That's him—my boyfriend. He was really grateful you were there to help me out."

Hongjoong's grin widened ever so slightly, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Grateful, is he?" he murmured, his voice silky, almost too smooth.

But you missed the glint of slyness in his tone, sending him off with a wave and a warm smile. Later that night, the vampire clutched the coat to his face, breathing in your scent with a low growl, his grip tightening. He hadn't realised until now how intoxicating the pull was, but he knew one thing for sure: this coat would never leave his grasp again—not until he had you for himself.

Once again, he had spared you.

But this time, it wasn't mercy—it was control. He'd see just how long you would continue to trust him, let him in. And then, he thought with a twisted smirk, he would show you exactly who he was as he drained every drop from you.

If you thought that would be the last time you'd see him, you were sorely mistaken. Almost every evening after that, he would appear outside the cafe just as your shift ended, leaning against the lamppost as though he'd been waiting.

"Want some company on the way home?" he'd ask, his voice always gentle, words wrapped in warmth as he mentioned it was on his way anyway.

And so, you'd let him walk beside you, night after night. He always seemed to know just what to say, as though he could read your mind. Every word was perfectly timed, his soft laughter like music that drew you in before you even realised it. He began to open up about his life, weaving tales of heartbreak and loneliness that tugged at your heart, his voice so sincere that it was easy to believe him.

"They say life is easier with someone who truly understands you," he'd murmur, eyes dark and searching as he glanced your way. He'd mention how it felt to be isolated, misunderstood—and somehow, it felt like he was talking to you, like he was a lost soul just waiting for the right person to come along.

And he'd pause, his gaze softening. "It's rare to find someone who… just gets it, you know?"

You'd nod, heart aching, wanting so badly to be that someone, to fill that void you thought you saw in him.

You had no idea then that he was slowly slipping under your skin, blurring the lines of trust and intuition until you found yourself more invested in him than you ever thought possible. That he wasn't seeking connection or friendship—he was weaving a web, each thread perfectly placed. And all along, his hunger lay just beneath the surface, patiently waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

If only you had known what it meant to be the "friend" of a vampire.

⸸

Then there was that night in the park.

You'd found him sitting alone on a bench, his figure slouched, his head bowed as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. His expression was distant, empty, as he stared down at his hands—hands that seemed unblemished but, if only you'd known, had just left a trail of lives snuffed out too soon. No human could have sensed it, but his hunger for you was unmatched, something primal that no other blood could satisfy, not even the hapless souls he'd claimed just hours before.

But you, blissfully unaware of the darkness around him, only saw someone you thought of as a friend. Someone you might save, if you showed him kindness. Your heart ached at the sight, and you quietly sat beside him, reaching out to take his hand. His fingers were cool against yours, a chill that settled into your skin, but you brushed it off as a sign of the evening's autumn air.

"Everything alright, my friend?" you asked, your voice soft, filled with worry you didn't understand.

He didn't even glance up, yet he squeezed your hand lightly, as though your presence had grounded him. "I… I think I might've done something I'm not exactly proud of," he murmured, his voice trembling just enough to pull at your heart.

You sighed, your thumb tracing small circles on his hand, offering him a gentle squeeze without pressing him to share. "It's okay, Joong. I… I know your life hasn't been easy. Whatever it was, you probably had no choice." You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Nobody's perfect. I just want you to know you'll always have a friend in me."

As you spoke, he finally looked at you, but there was a sharp glint in his eye, a brief, almost predatory gleam that flickered just for a moment. And though you noticed the faint trace of crimson near his collar, you dismissed it as a trick of the streetlight or perhaps a stain from a spill. Why would you have thought any differently?

What you didn't know was that every word, every gesture, was like fuel to his fire. He'd lured you in, time and again, feeding off your kindness, growing closer with each moment, all the while concealing what lay beneath that soft, gentle exterior. And you, too blinded by trust, saw only the broken soul he wanted you to see, never realising just how deeply you'd fallen into his hands.

If you'd known what he was hiding, you'd have run. But then, if he had his way, running wouldn't have saved you.

⸸

Regret. Deep, suffocating regret washed over you as you recalled how blindly you'd trusted a stranger you barely knew, dismissing every warning from those who loved you.

"Babe, I really don't have a good feeling about this guy you've been talking to," Seonghwa murmured one evening, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you washed the dishes. "I know he helped you that night, but his actions lately…"

You'd bitten your lip, drying your hands before turning to embrace him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I know it seems strange, Hwa, but he honestly just feels like someone who needs a friend. Maybe I'll introduce you two someday."

You had brushed off his concerns, convincing yourself you were just being overly cautious. How could you have known then what lurked beneath Hongjoong's warm smile and attentive gaze? The way he listened, the kindness in his eyes—it all felt genuine. But now, those memories were shadowed by the haze of your own naivety.

Thinking back to Seonghwa's concerned eyes and protective arms, the ache in your chest deepened. He had only wanted to shield you, to keep you safe, but you'd shrugged off his worries like scattered autumn leaves that night in the park. How could you have ignored the instincts of those who loved you?

You remembered your brother's warning too. "He knows you have a boyfriend, right? Then why is he still so…" he sighed, catching the frown on your face. "Just be careful around him, noona." His brow had been furrowed, his voice tinged with the protectiveness you’d come to expect from him.

Even your best friend had weighed in. "Gurl, he's hot, single, and lonely? Maybe he could use someone like me as a distraction!" she teased, laughing before her face turned serious. "But honestly, your brother and Hwa are right. You don't know him that well. Stranger danger, babe. You shouldn't be so trusting."

At the time, you'd laughed it all off, buoyed by a sense of invincibility in your own trust and optimism. But now, standing face-to-face with the darkness beneath Hongjoong's charm, the weight of every ignored warning settled heavily on your conscience. He'd played you, twisted your kindness into his own weapon, feeding on your good intentions to serve his own dark needs. If only you had listened.

⸸

"I find myself in a dire situation and in need of your help. If your words are sincere and your care for me as genuine as you've claimed, then please, come to me at once."

You should have heeded their warnings on that fateful day. As you picked up the note outside the cafe, your name scrawled across it, you noticed the handwriting—almost ancient, as if penned with a quill. It was signed by Hongjoong and carried an urgent request for you to come to his residence immediately.

As you read, questions flooded your mind.

First, why had he never exchanged numbers with you? Did he even own a phone? You realise now you've never seen him with one. His communication felt so… archaic. Perhaps he was simply a fan of old-fashioned ways, though the thought brought little comfort.

Then there was the urgency—what could he need you for so desperately? If he'd come all the way to leave the note, why not just speak to you? It struck you then that he'd never entered the cafe, never bought a drink, or even lingered to chat.

And the address… secluded in the middle of nowhere. Why would he live so far from everyone? A shadow of doubt tugged at you, urging you to reach out for advice from those who cared about you. But against your better judgement, you let the image of his pleading, dark eyes linger in your mind. Before you knew it, you were on your way, heart racing with anticipation and dread.

Each step felt heavier than the last, the echoes of your loved ones' warnings circling through your mind. Yet you pushed them aside, drawn by an inexplicable pull to see him again. It was as if you were stepping toward a dark abyss, its presence invisible yet pressing close. The setting sun cast long shadows, stretching as if to hold you back. But the illusion of connection, once so warm and real, propelled you forward.

As you reached his residence—a grand, ancient mansion, the air turned colder, a chill that crept down your spine. You paused at the door, dread settling in your stomach as if the very walls whispered the warnings you'd ignored. Was this a terrible mistake? You took a deep breath, pushed aside your hesitation, and knocked, the sound seeming to dissolve into the gathering twilight.

"You're here, at last, my dear," he murmured, voice dripping with sarcastic satisfaction. He turned, and in an instant, the false warmth vanished, twisting into a grin that revealed razor-sharp fangs.

"I've been waiting. And I'm starving."

⸸

Has it been days... or weeks?

"Wh-what the hell are you doing...?" you choked out, pressing a trembling hand to your neck to staunch the blood trickling from the bite he'd left. You were sprawled across his bed, barely able to move, every ounce of strength drained from you. Above, he stood with your phone in hand, snapping photos of you with a twisted, relished focus—capturing every vulnerable angle as if he were savouring an art piece on display.

"Making a collection to send to your little boyfriend, of course," he said, tone laced with mockery.

Your heart plummeted at the mention of Seonghwa. "N-no..."

Hongjoong smirked, his eyes dark and cold. "Oh, don't worry, darling. He wouldn't dare interfere if he knew what was good for you. And you'll behave yourself too, won't you? Wouldn't want anything happening to your precious family and friends, after all."

It hit you then—the grim reality. Your life as you knew it was over. He was a centuries-old monster, a bloodthirsty fiend who had you completely at his mercy. You were a mortal trapped in his web, no longer a person but a mere vessel to sate his hunger and whims.

Escape was a fleeting dream; you were too weak, too vulnerable. But in the dark corners of your mind, one thought persisted—an escape of a different kind. If you could somehow slip from this existence, you might at least put an end to this misery. Yet a lingering fear held you back: Seonghwa, your family, your friends. Were they still out there, searching for you, hearts heavy with worry? The thought of them stepping into this nightmare in a desperate attempt to find you gnawed at your soul.

You could take any fate for yourself, but the idea of your loved ones in harm's way was a weight you couldn't bear. So you swallowed back the dread, praying that they would find peace, that they would move on, even if you couldn't.

⸸

"Smile, darling. Loverboy has come to see you."

You gasped, a weak cry escaping your lips as his weight pressed you deeper into the mattress. You could barely push back against him, every ounce of strength drained, yet you clung to the disbelief—he couldn't have brought Seonghwa here. Not to witness this, not to see you in this state, drugged and used as Hongjoong's plaything. It had to be another one of his twisted games.

But as you turned your head to the window, horror struck you. There, just outside, stood your boyfriend. His eyes were wide, a mix of shock and agony contorting his face as he registered the scene before him: his first love, his entire world, bare and broken beneath another's hands.

A strangled sob left you as you watched him stumble back, his gaze a shattered mess of disbelief and betrayal. And then, without another glance, he turned and fled. The monster above you let out a dark chuckle, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips before pulling back with a smug, twisted satisfaction.

"And there he goes," he murmured, the words dripping with poison. "That should do it—no more foolish rescue attempts, no more endless searching. Just you and me, my dear. Don't worry; I'll take care of you from now on."

You lay there, his words echoing in your mind, the last remnants of your heart breaking into pieces. Your tears spilt freely, soaking the pillow beneath you as the reality sank in. With your boyfriend now gone, the final shred of hope and sanity within you slipped away. Yet, beneath the ache, something sharper flickered to life—a resolve you hadn't known you could possess.

The emptiness left you with nothing to lose. Hongjoong thought he'd finally won, thought he had you in his grasp forever. But he didn't know the lengths you'd go to escape him, the price you were willing to pay.

As your tears dried, you knew—if this was to be your end, he was going down with you.

⸸

Staring down at the wolfsbane and monkshood you'd collected, carefully wrapped in a small piece of parchment, your hands trembled. This was it. Once you took them, there would be no going back—the amount you'd prepared was enough to kill a bloodsucker within an hour, let alone you, a mere mortal. You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself to swallow the bitter herbs.

But just as you brought the packet closer, footsteps echoed down the hall, deliberate and unhurried. Heart racing, you hurriedly tucked the packet beneath the bed, barely managing to slide it out of sight as Hongjoong sauntered into the room, his gaze settling on you with that ever-present glint of sadistic amusement.

"Aww, look at you," he purred, eyes narrowing with mock sympathy. "Missing loverboy already, hm?" He let the words linger, watching the tension twist in your expression. "I am sorry he might not return the sentiment. Not anymore. Maybe you should just focus on me, darling." He crawled onto the bed, his movements slow and taunting, each slithering inch bringing him closer until his familiar, bone-chilling embrace enveloped you once more. The kind of hold that wrapped around your very spirit, pulling you down like an anchor.

The image of Seonghwa's face, etched with horror, surfaced in your mind, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. How could he have been forced to see you like this? Swallowing hard, you clenched your fists, determined not to give this monster the satisfaction of seeing your tears.

But his lips grazed your neck, chilling as they pressed over the bruised, unhealed bite marks that would likely never get the chance to heal. A shiver raced down your spine. The coldness of him… It was like every hope of escape was slipping further away.

"Joong…" you whispered, voice barely audible. You felt him freeze for a moment at the sound of his name, the way you'd once used it back when you'd believed his act. Back when you'd truly cared for him. The silence stretched, the flicker of tension you'd caught in him melting back into amusement.

"Before I came here... before all of this…" your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to continue, needing to see if there was even a fraction of humanity left in him. "Was there ever one moment where the side you showed me was sincere?"

His eyes darkened, amusement shifting into something almost unreadable. His expression stayed carefully composed, but his grip tightened, as though he sensed the question held more weight than he was prepared to deal with. For a moment, you thought you saw something there—guilt, maybe, or regret? But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that cold, detached gaze.

"Oh, my poor, naive love," he murmured, voice soft but devoid of empathy. "Sincere? That side of me was whatever you wanted it to be. And it did its job beautifully, wouldn't you agree?" His lips curled into a smirk, as though he savoured the pain reflected in your eyes.

With that answer, a profound calm settled over you, solidifying the choice you'd been struggling with. He had no redemption. No humanity. And soon enough, he'd feel what it was like to be powerless, too. The herbs were just beneath the bed, waiting to release you both from this wretched game.

And it would be soon.

⸸

Your own recklessness had led you here; there was no one else to blame. And yet, the thought of Seonghwa tightened painfully around your heart. He had been everything—the one you imagined beside you in every future, the light in all your darkest moments. Now, he was left only with the haunting image of you powerless, taken by the monster who loomed over you.

The vampire had turned your suffering into a twisted show, a grotesque performance designed to break every last bit of faith Seonghwa held for you. How could he possibly still love you after witnessing this? How could anyone?

But perhaps that was for the best. If it meant he'd let go of the desperate need to search for you, you could leave this world knowing no one would mourn your tainted existence. And with that bleak acceptance, your resolve crystallised. Hongjoong had unknowingly given you all the tools you needed, and you were finally ready to use them. The knowledge from his library, the herbs in his greenhouse—all his arrogance had left him exposed.

You'd consumed more than enough of the poison just before his feeding time, driven by a singular determination to end this—no more hesitation.

The venom surged through your veins, dizzying yet invigorating, each heartbeat counting down to your final moments—and his. You focused on that thought as his grip on you began to waver, his dominant presence starting to crumble as the poison took effect.

As your vision began to blur, clarity sharpened in your mind. This wasn't just an escape; it was vengeance. The thought fueled the last remnants of strength in your body.

"Do you feel that, Kim Hongjoong?" you whispered, forcing your voice to hold steady despite nausea clawing at you. "This is the end for you, and I'll die knowing you'll never hurt anyone else again."

He looked down at you, disbelief flickering into grim acceptance, and then, to your surprise, a small grin crept across his lips. He lay down beside you, fingers reaching out to entwine with yours. "You sly little fox… this is why I love you so much. No one else could have done this to me, no matter how they tried. At least we'll be together in the afterlife. I may be dying, but I'll die happy knowing I've won over Park Seonghwa."

The poison surged stronger with every heartbeat, each pulse dragging you deeper into the icy grip of darkness as the final remnants of your strength began to fade. "You're delusional, Kim. You'll have me... only until death claims us."

⸸

"No! No, it can't be!" Seonghwa's voice tore through the night, raw and desperate as he tried to break free from the arms restraining him. His screams cut the air, his cries echoing in the vast, empty silence that had settled around the mansion. But the police officers, your brother, your best friend—everyone held him back from reaching you… or what was left of you.

If only you could have held on just a moment longer. The sirens had drawn near, filling the air with the promise of help, of escape, but they'd come too late. Your boyfriend had done the only thing he could, knowing that a rash attempt to rescue you would have meant his death too. He'd left after seeing you one last time, shattering as he took in the horror of your suffering, knowing you'd endured all this while he searched tirelessly for you.

Now, at last, he was here, hands still reaching out for you, ready to bring you back into his arms—but all that was left was an empty, still form entwined in the lifeless arms of the very monster who'd stolen you from him. His sobs were relentless, tearing from his chest as he stumbled forward, pleading, his body wracked with the pain of a thousand what-ifs.

If only he had fought harder to keep you by his side. If only he hadn't cancelled that night. If only he'd never let you cross paths with Hongjoong. The blame—merciless, relentless—wrapped around him like a noose, each regret tightening its hold.

This ache would follow him, a cycle of blame and guilt that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He would never be the same.

I'll join you soon, my love.

This has got to be one of my personal favourites, I do love me some sadistic shit from time to time. Hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[plushish]

Adam with a reader who’s very witty and quick with comebacks?

just some silly pre-conference banter! | Adam x Reader

headcanon/drabble — how would Adam be like with a reader who is sharp-witted?

content & warnings — NSFW, fem reader, fem pronouns, fingering & cunnilingus, sexual act happening in a public place (workplace).

a/n — this takes place in some sort of office-setting, i dont know what goes on up there in heaven but i like to think its similar to what we've seen so far in hell, so i'm sure conferences aren't unheard of. i wasn't sure what format this idea should take, so it begins like a headcanon list but finishes up with a drabble. it's also rushed and i struggled with it a lot but. we ball!!!!!!

Adam considers himself to be a pretty funny guy, always dishing out 'sick burns' on others, but his pride gets hurt really easily. When it comes to a reader who can keep up with him in comebacks; he's definitely impressed by it, thinks it's hot as fuck, but he'd never openly admit it because it also a ignites a strong sense of competition in him.  

The tension between the two of you is uncomfortably palpable, how you twist him through every conversation and leave him to stammer like a fool just when he thinks he's bested you. Watching him seethe is endlessly entertaining to you, it brings you satisfaction, finding your own sense of pride in seeing that bad boy persona crack little by little.

The two of you will be going back-and-forth every time Sera calls for a conference, taking up half of the allotted time with your back-and-forths, and everyone graced with the luck to have been summoned there just wishes the two of you would fuck already so they didn't have to keep sitting through this.

But he secretly likes it, your flippancy towards his status and identity as First Man, how you're always so quick to shut down his sleazy remarks with an air of arrogance, going toe-to-toe with his own. Cute. 

Until one day, you finally give into him– He somehow manages to get you to fuck him, and for days after, his bragging around the office is incessant: "[Name] cries when she cums!", "Her orgasm face is just the cutest fuckin' thing, I mean could you imagine? Wait, actually don't, don't picture it–"

You start to get fed up, not only annoyed at his oversharing and his ceaseless bragging about things that simply weren't true, but because you hadn't even gotten to cum from the experience. Instead of confronting him, you had a plan in place that would get you what you wanted, so you instead opted to ignore the hushed whisperings around you all day.

...Until a little later, when you're in an empty conference room together, and he's sitting across the table from you. Licking the lid of his yogurt container with a smug look. Mimicking the disappointingly tepid treatment he'd given to you the night before.

"Should we... address what happened, [Name]?" He asks smugly, like it was a topic of business, leaning forward onto the table with his hands clasped together.

"No, I'm good." 

"Noooo?" Adam's voice is as sugary as the extra pumps of syrup he'd overloaded his coffee with this morning in the breakroom. You'd seen that diabetes-inducing horror as it happened. "Why not? I feel like it's something we should talk about."

"Why?" You ask simply. "It happened, and that's it."

That gets him a little annoyed. Confused, too; why weren't you playing along?

"Didn't mean a thing to you, then?"

"Nah."

"Oh please, [Name]," he scoffs. He’s getting offended at the thought now, his wings giving a small flap in indignance. He’s supposed to be the aloof one! You should be begging for it to happen again.

"Don't fuckin' play. My dick gave you the best fuck you've ever had and now you don’t know how to feel."

“The best? At putting me to sleep, maybe. I did get a good nap out of it afterward, so.”

To Adam, the only thing better than your negative attention is your positive attention, and the only thing worse than that is your indifference. He hates feeling desperate, but you bring him to that shameful peak.

“You were on my dick like you had a fuckin' crush,” Adam continues to ramble on, trying to find a weak spot. “Fucking me probably meant a lot to you, huh?” 

"I hump my pillow before bed and it means as much." 

"Your pillow can't plow you like I do."

"No, but at least it actually gets me to cum."

Adam’s dick twitches in his pants. You know exactly what you're doing. Those words, delivered with that cruel flippancy he loves and hates so much, are precisely tailored-- All to drive him over the edge. 

“Then maybe that was just a trial run,” He says after a long, fervent pause. "Maybe you need another taste."

You smirk a little, but only offer more disdain.

"No thanks, I've had enough to decide I'm no longer interested."

"Oh come on," He finally says. He's desperate at another chance now, he needs the validation of making you cum for his pride to be restored.

"Just give me one more shot?"

And so there you are, bottoms down, legs spread, Adam's fingers inside you, sitting on the edge of the table where a meeting is supposed to happen in about 25 minutes.

You're sopping wet. He drags a finger over your cunt before spreading it. "You're so cute, all blushing and shit. Makes me crazy hard."

"Your vocabulary is fucking terrible. Stop talking."

"You like it, though." He grins, teasingly lifting his fingers away from your aching cunt to show you your own wetness. You let out a small whine at the absence. "You sure you want me to stop?"

"Shut up, I said," You grab him by his hair and shove his mouth where you want it, aggressive and impatient. "-and start eating."

Normally Adam is not one to take demands like that. But in this position-- looking up at your stern face from between your legs--he obeys. He kisses at your cunt over and over, sweet little pecks like a first crush. The sensation makes your core tighten around nothing. Adam was not one to take his time; he was teasing you like this on purpose. You weren't having it.

And so pettily, you decide to say: "You can do better than that."

So naively, he does, he takes your dare and you're practically gushing all over the conference table by the time he gets in there and starts eating for real. Desperately suckling your clit between those smirking lips, that mouth that never fucking shuts up.

You cum with a satisfied sigh, as if you'd just had a good stretch rather than an orgasm on his face. He looks up at you expectantly, lips glistening with your aftertaste. Eyes wide and eager, waiting for the praise that is to come, only for you to lean in and whisper:

"Look who has a crush now."

a/n — pls forgive me for taking so long to answer this! i don't think it's exactly what you're looking for but i tried. it's more of an "adam with a reader who he has a sexually-charged, competitive work relationship with" type of deal. you just like to play with him and you know exactly how to make him desperate

[scrompsautobotsrchives]

I’m real

I really can't stop writing about Bee, He's just so friend-shaped!! And he is the best comforter. Warning: Slight angst but ends with fluff. Word count:1.1K

You only just learnt about the word Decepticon a little while ago when Optimus was going through the archives of Cybertron, he then brought up a recording that contained one of them.

"Who's that ??" You frowned, even the menacing look was enough to give you shivers in your spine.

"Starscream, One of Megatron's many allies..."

Even though this Starscream or Megatron was somewhere probably and hopefully far away, You couldn't help but shake the feeling that one of them was behind you.

You began to learn about the Decepticons and what they did to the Autobot's when they captured them, It was something straight out of a horror movie.

"I don't mean to frighten you about this y/n, But they are and always will be a very great risk not only to us... but to your kind as well..." Optimus said sympathetically.

You knew he just wanted to help you just in case the worst came to worst, But the feeling of either Starscream or Megatron behind you plagued your mind for the rest of the day, Even bumblebee could see the shift in you. You weren't as playful when you finished all your tasks in the base, even on the drive home you were practically silent.

"You alright ??..." You heard the radio flick, breaking the long silence.

"I'm alright buddy... I'm alright..." You patted the dashboard gently as you neared your home.

You greeted your dad and soon tried to unwind with your normal routine, but your classic brain and intrusive thoughts, the Decepticons continued to plague up until you brought yourself to bed.

Taking a deep breath as you looked up at the ceiling... "They're not here... They won't be able to get you here..." You whispered to yourself as you soon closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

You soon woke up from a bang, looking at the clock, it was about 1 in the morning, rushing outside to find out what the bang was... you were horrified to find out that it was from bee... he was dead... lying there on the ground, his optics not shining the familiar blue light.

"Bee !!" You rushed out to get to him, but you were knocked out. Soon waking up in an unfamiliar location, tied down with the light above you being the only source of light, you tried to get out of the restraints but it was no use. "Help !!"

"Quiet human" You gasped softly as you saw red optics light up, it was one of them...

"What did you do to bee !!" You yelled at it.

"B-127 was a pain in the neck, I just got rid of the problem" The Decepticon chuckled darkly as he came into the light, Starscream...

"Megatron will be so pleased to meet you" He smirked and dragged his sharp claw along your forearm, you grimaced in slight pain until you began to hear thuds. Another pair of red optics shined through, much taller than Starscream.

"Where is Optimus Prime ??" His voice low and menacing.

"I... I don't know what you were talking about..." You frowned, now scared.

He stormed over to you and got up close and personal to your face, making you look away.

"I will not ask again human !! Where is Optimus Prime!!" He yelled at you.

"I'm not giving him up !!" You yelled back... making it the biggest mistake you'll ever make.

He hummed and began to stand back, Looking at Starscream who just simply nodded to him. "If you won't speak, we will find a way..." He then raised an arm, a tiny robot soon crawled his way out of his arm and began to creep slowly to you, speaking in a language you couldn't understand.

You began to hyperventilate as you frantically tried to get out of the restraints, this little thing was just toying with you at this point. "Get away !!" You screamed as it then began to move onto your torso and crawl right up to your face, Continuing to speak as the red optics pierced through your eyes.

It cackled as it then began to transformed its hand into a sharp tool, It lifted it up, this was it... all you could do was scream. It made a move before everything then turned black, You screamed again when you jolted up, sweating pure bullets as you frantically looked around, you were back in your room. It was all just a bad dream, you slowly curled in on yourself and started to cry, It felt so real... Bee was dead... and you were about to as well.

But a familiar Autobot heard your scream, waking up from his recharge and getting extremely worried, he transformed and rushed out of the garage, he began to walk to your bedroom window, being careful of the plants. He soon spotted you shaking badly, he could see your panic rising.

He tried to attempt to lift the tiny window without breaking it. "What's... wrong...."

You frantically looked up and saw the Blue optics you've come to know and love deeply, Bee was alive. You slowly managed to get out of bed and shuffle to the window, you were shaking so bad as you then began to unlatch the window and open it, You were so spooked. "Bee..." More tears flooded your eyes, as you crawled out of the window to him.

He whirred softly and let you crawl into his arms, Wrapping you in a tight but gentle embrace. Patting your back as gently as he could, You tried to focus on the soft hum of his spark. He was here... He was right here.

Bee soon flicked his radio to play a lullaby, Humans liked lullabies. It worked as you soon slowly but surely started to calm down, and your breathing started to ease. Bee didn't do anything to put you down, slowly rocking from side to side, nuzzling you a little.

"Nightmare..." Was all that you were able to get out... Going into detail would only make you worse than what it already was.

Bee's optics softened, He gently petted you and tried to keep you warm, continuing to rock you as the lullaby continued to play. He soon pressed his chin against your head gently, as if he was trying to place a tiny kiss on your head.

"It's... not real... I'm... real..." He looked at you.

You nodded softly, looking up at the soft optics. Ones that promised to keep you safe and that would never let go of you. "Ok..." You sighed, safe in the arms of your best friend. Bumblebee would keep you close so long as you lived. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to you or him.

Taglist: @callofdudes

[hoe4hotchner]

With blood on his hands | [A.H]

Pairing: UnSub!Hotch x gn!reader CW: Dark. This story contains descriptions of graphic violence, murder, mental illness, grief, and emotional distress. Dark themes, betrayal, loss of control, and fear, kidnapping, physical aggression, helplessness. WC: 5.2k

Please don't request a part 2 unless you have a very specific idea, my brain physically couldn't come up with more plot for this.

           The house was quiet. Too quiet. Bearing signs of life throughout the whole layout of the building, yet the disturbing truth of what had happened made you uneasy.

           It was the same scene they’d encountered twice already - an all-American family, slaughtered in their home, with no apparent struggle, no clear motive. A mother, a father, and their young son, all lying lifeless, their blood staining the carpets, their lives ruthlessly cut short.

           You stood beside Rossi, your hands clad in gloves, and a frown etched upon your face as you surveyed the scene. The scent of blood and suffering hung heavy in the air, choking your senses. You had seen your fair share of horrors, but this was different. This unsub was different.

           "Third one this week," Rossi murmured beside you, his voice gruff with exhaustion and irritation, feeling the weight of the case starting to take its toll. "We need to catch this guy before he strikes again."

           You nodded, eyes scanning the room as your mind worked through the details. This unsub wasn’t just killing; he was destroying. The brutality of the murders suggested rage - deep and personal rage. There was a familiarity to the way everything was laid out that you couldn't put a finger on.

           You stepped over to the nightstand, where the mother’s jewelry lay scattered. Your eyes caught a golden ring, glinting in the light. You reached for it instinctively, feeling a strange pull toward the piece of metal. It was simple but familiar, in a way that made your stomach churn with suspicion.

           Frowning, you held it up to the light, inspecting it. That’s when it hit you like a punch to the gut.

           You knew this ring.

           Your blood ran cold as memories flooded your mind. Years of working alongside him, watching him fiddle with that exact band on long nights at the office, lost in thought as he processed information and clues. You had seen it on his finger countless times.

           Hotch.

           Your heart pounded in your chest, a dizzying sense of disbelief washing over you. There was no way. No possible way. You told yourself it was a mistake, that the stress of the case was playing tricks on your mind.

           But the more you stared at the ring, the more your instincts screamed at you.

           You weren't wrong about this.

           You swallowed hard, slipping the ring back onto the dresser. Rossi hadn’t noticed your reaction, he was busy analyzing the scene with his usual calm efficiency. You forced yourself to stay composed, your mind racing.

           The families. The pattern. A mother, a father, and a young son. Haley and Jack. It was so obvious.

           It all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Hotch's stressor… the deaths of his family. You remembered the way he had shut down after losing them, how the grief had changed him. But never in your worst nightmares could you have imagined this. This was not the man you knew.

           You took a shaky breath, your mind spinning. You couldn’t tell Rossi - not yet - he wouldn't believe you. Wouldn't believe that his oldest friend was capable of this. Not until you were sure. Not until you’d seen Aaron, looked him in the eyes, and confronted him yourself. You owed him that much.

           "Dave," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, "I’m going to head out. I need to check something."

           He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. "You okay? You look pale."

           "I’m fine," you lied, offering a weak smile. "Just need to follow up on a hunch."

           Rossi nodded, distracted by something on the floor, and you took the opportunity to slip away, your heart pounding in your chest. You could barely keep your hands from trembling as you made your way out of the house and into your car. Thankfully you had arrived separately.

           The drive to Aaron’s old house felt like a blur, your mind spinning with possibilities. Every part of you hoped you were wrong. That this was all some horrible mistake, that there was no way the man you had worked with for years could be behind these murders, that this was truly just some twisted dream, and that you'd wake up soon.

           But deep down, you knew.

           This was reality.

           When you pulled up to Aaron’s house, the pit in your stomach deepened. His car was in the driveway, the lights inside the house dim and all the curtains closed. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm. You had to confront him. You had to know the truth.

           You walked up to the door, every step feeling like a death sentence. When you knocked, there was a long pause. Then the door creaked open, revealing Aaron, standing in the doorway. He looked disheveled, his eyes dark and sunken, the weight of grief and something darker pressing down on him.

           "(Y/N)," he said, his voice low and rough. "What are you doing here?"

           You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You stared at him, your heart racing as you noticed the subtle signs - the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed at his sides. And most of all, the unmistakable wedding band missing from his finger.

           "I…" you began, your voice trembling. "I need to talk to you."

           Aaron’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing behind them. He stepped aside, letting you in without a word. You walked into the house, the air thick with tension, your nerves screaming at you to turn around and leave, to get out while you still had the chance. But you couldn’t. Not now.

           As you stepped further into the room, your eyes landed on something that made your stomach drop - on the kitchen counter, barely noticeable, was a small streak of blood. Fresh blood.

           Aaron closed the door behind you, the sound echoing ominously through the quiet house.

           "You shouldn’t have come here," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

           Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, the realization crashing down on you with terrifying certainty. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t just your old colleague. He wasn’t just the man that had been your boss. He was the unsub you were looking for. He was the monster you’d been chasing.

           And now, you were alone with him.

           Hotch stood over the lifeless body sprawled across the floor in his living room, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his knuckles bruised and bloody. The man beneath him had been dead for several minutes now, his face a mangled mess of flesh and bone, barely recognizable.

           Hotch’s fists clenched and unclenched, the blood dripping from his fingers painting the carpet with small, crimson pools. His heart was pounding, not from fear or guilt, but from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He should have felt something - regret, remorse, shame—but there was only emptiness. Nothingness. And rage.

           The rage never left him. It simmered beneath the surface, a constant presence, threatening to consume him whole. After Haley and Jack, everything had spiraled. Their deaths had shattered the last bit of humanity he had clung to. He had tried, God knows he had tried, to be the man everyone needed. The leader. The protector. But after them, something inside him had broken, irreparably so.

           At first, he had managed to keep it hidden. But over time, the mask had slipped, the cracks becoming impossible to cover. The anger had grown, festering like a disease, until it had taken over every part of him. It was easier this way. Easier to stop pretending to be the good guy, the man who saved lives, when all he wanted to do was destroy them.

           Besides the way he had hurt Foyet had felt so good.

           He turned his head, his gaze cold and calculating, as a knock landed on the door.

           The scent of sweat hung thick in the air, and the room was suffocating with the tension of your predicament.

           You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock, taking in the scene before you. The man on the ground, the blood, the violence. And Hotch. Not a single drop could be seen on his clothes. Only his hands bore signs of the crime. Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. You were frozen, paralyzed by the realization of what you were seeing. What he had done.

           Hotch stared at you, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. The look on your face - the fear, the disbelief - only fueled the fire inside him. For a moment, there was silence, an unbearable tension hanging between the two of you.

           Then, he spoke. His voice was low, a growl barely restrained by the thin thread of control he had left within him.

           “You really shouldn’t have come here.” He repeated his previous statement

           You blinked, finally finding your voice. “Aaron... what have you done? This isn't you.”

           Hotch’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with something unrecognizable. He took a step toward you, the cold gleam in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. “I did what needed to be done.”

           You could barely breathe, your mind racing as you tried to process what had happened. This wasn’t the man you knew. The man you had worked with for years, the man you had trusted. The man you had secretly loved. He terrified you now. This was someone else entirely - a predator, who was cold and unfeeling.

           “Aaron, please...” Your voice shook as you took a step back, instinctively retreating from the danger that loomed before you. “You don’t have to do this.”

           His eyes flashed with anger, and in an instant, he was on you, his hand gripping your arm with a force that made you wince. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell me what I have to do. You don't know anything”

           You swallowed hard, trying to remain calm despite the fear coursing through you. “This isn’t you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not a killer.”

           His grip tightened, and you gasped, pain shooting through you as you felt him slightly twisting your arm. “Aren’t I?” His voice was sharp and dangerous. “Do you know what it feels like, to lose everything? Watching them die? Knowing you couldn’t stop it? Knowing that you weren't fast enough?”

           Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away from him, but his hold was unrelenting. “Aaron, please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “This won’t bring them back. What Foyet did was terrible.”

           For a moment, you thought you saw something - some flicker of humanity cross his face. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by cold indifference. He released you, shoving you back roughly. You stumbled, catching yourself against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest.

           Hotch stood there, his eyes burning with fury, his hands still stained with blood. “Don't tell me what's right or wrong. They’re gone and nothing can bring them back,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice void of emotion. “There’s nothing left for me but this.”

           You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There’s more to you than this. You’re better than this, Aaron. I know you are.”

           He laughed, a bitter, cruel sound that sent chills down your spine. “Better? Better for who? For you? For the bureau didn't trust me to be in the field after what happened?” His eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the hatred radiating off him. “Do you really think you know me? The man I am now?”

           You didn’t answer, too afraid of what he might do next. His rage was palpable, an almost physical force that seemed to fill the room, choking you with its intensity.

           He moved toward you again, his eyes wild, his movements erratic. “You think you can save me? Is that it? You always had a savior complex, just like Morgan.” He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You can’t save me. No one can.”

           You trembled under his touch, your heart thrashing in your chest, trying to claw its way out as his fingers dug into your skin. For a moment, you thought he might hurt you, that you might face the same predicament as the lifeless body in his living room. That he might go too far. But then, just as quickly as the anger had flared, it seemed to dissipate, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

           He released you, stepping back, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hands shook as he wiped them on his pants, the blood smearing across the fabric. He looked at you, something dark and broken in his eyes. “You should leave,” he said, his voice hollow as he turned his back to you.

           You swallowed, your throat dry. “Aaron—”

           “Go.” His voice was cold, final. There was no room for argument.

           You hesitated for a moment, torn between the part of you that wanted to stay, to help him, and the part that knew he was too far gone. Finally, with a heavy heart, you turned and walked toward the door, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

           As you reached the doorway, you turned back to look at him one last time. He was standing in the center of the room, staring down at his blood-stained hands, his expression unreadable.

           “Aaron,” you whispered, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

           But he didn’t look back. He didn’t say a word. And as you stepped out into the night, the door closing behind you with a soft click, you knew that the man you had once known was gone.

           The door had barely closed behind you when Hotch’s mind snapped back into a cold calculation. He could still feel the sting of your words in the air, your plea for him to stop. You should leave, he’d told you. But now, as silence wrapped around him, a horrifying realization dawned - you knew of him.

           Who else knew?

           You were the only one who had seen him like this, who knew what he had done. The team… They would never believe it on their own. Not until you told them, he was sure of that. But what evidence did you have to back up your claim?

           His pulse quickened. His anger, momentarily soothed by the violence he'd unleashed, flared again. He couldn’t let you leave. He wouldn’t.

           He moved quickly, his body still humming with adrenaline. You had made it to the end of the driveway when you heard him behind you. His footsteps were heavy and purposeful. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

           "Aaron?" you called over your shoulder, your voice trembling. But there was no response, only the oppressive sound of his approaching footsteps. Fear gripped you.

           Before you could take another step, he was on you. His strong hand wrapped around your wrist like a vice, yanking you back toward him with brutal force. You gasped, struggling against his hold, but it was no use. His grip was unyielding, his expression dark and twisted as he dragged you back into the house, thankful that he and Haley had bought a house in a secluded area.

           "You thought you could just walk away?" His voice was low, a deadly whisper, sending a chill down your spine. "That you could leave me and run straight to the team? Tell them about what I've been doing?"

           You blinked, fear coursing through you as you tried to speak. "No, Aaron, I—"

           "Don’t lie to me!" he snarled, his face inches from yours. "I see it in your eyes. You were going to tell them. Weren’t you?"

           Terror constricted your throat. You wanted to scream, to plead with him, but the words wouldn’t come. His anger was suffocating, his eyes filled with a malice you’d never seen before.

           "I can’t let you do that," he said, his voice eerily calm now, the storm of his fury momentarily quieted by cold calculation. "You’ll ruin everything. This—" He gestured to the leftover blood still staining his hands. "This is who I am now. And you’re not going to stop me."

           Without warning, he yanked you roughly into the storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed you both whole. You stumbled, trying to catch your balance, but Hotch was determined. His large frame loomed over you, his hand still gripping your wrist with bruising force.

           "Please, Aaron, you don’t have to do this," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to reason with him. Tried to pull yourself out of his grip.

           But his expression was unreadable now, lost in the darkness. His fingers tightened around your wrist, and you winced in pain. A high-pitched whimper left your throat as the pain coursed through every single nerve in your body.

           "I do." His voice was cold, devoid of the empathy and warmth you once knew in him. "You’re the only one who knows as far as I can tell. And if I let you walk out of here, it’s over for me."

           Your breath hitched, panic rising in your chest. "Aaron, I won’t tell anyone," you pleaded, desperation leaking into your voice. "I swear, I—"

           "I told you don’t lie to me," he hissed, cutting you off with a deadly glare. "I can’t trust you. Not anymore."

           The air was thick with tension, the weight of his gaze suffocating. You could barely make out the features of his face as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but you could feel the cold determination, it was unmistakable. He had made up his mind. There was no reasoning with him, no turning back.

           Hotch fumbled with something on the wall and soon enough the overhead light bulb flickered on, the dim light barely bright enough to light up his features. Before you could react, Hotch pulled a length of duct tape from a nearby shelf, yanking it free with a sharp sound. Your heart raced, and you instinctively tried to back away, but he was faster. With a cruel efficiency, he shoved you up against the wall, pressing his body against yours to keep you in place.

           “Stop fighting me,” he growled, his breath hot on your neck.

           You struggled, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it was no use. He was stronger, and his anger gave him a terrifying, unnatural strength. The tape wound around your wrists, biting into your skin as he bound you tightly. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized there was no escape.

           When he was finished, he stepped back, watching you with an unnerving calm. Your heart pounded in your chest, panic threatening to overtake you.

           "What are you going to do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

           Hotch tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he considered you. “I’m going to make sure you can’t destroy everything.” His voice was cold, emotionless. “I’ve lost too much already. I won’t lose control again.”

           Without warning, he grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder with brutal force. You screamed, but the sound was muffled by the closet walls. His grip on you was like iron as he carried you out of the building, and into the garage where his car waited patiently.

           You thrashed against him, panic clawing at your throat. But it didn’t matter. His mind was made up, and his body moved with the cold precision of a man who had crossed the line of no return, a man who wasn’t coming back.

           He tossed you into the trunk of his SUV, the metal cold against your back as he slammed the hatch shut, trapping you inside. The darkness closed in around you, and all you could hear was the sound of your own panicked breathing and the engine roaring as Hotch turned the car on.

           You were trapped.

           The engine screeched as Hotch drove with grim determination, the rain streaking the windshield of his SUV. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white at the force of his grip. You still lay in the cramped trunk, the tape burning the skin on your wrists as you struggled to free yourself. Hotch had made a stop after about an hour on the road on the road to gag your screams, he was tired of hearing your begs and pleas for mercy. You lay helpless as the vehicle bumped along the dark, slick road. Every movement jostled your body, sending sharp pains through your limbs, but the terror coursing through you dulled the physical discomfort.

           The man behind the wheel was someone you thought you knew. But this version of Hotch was a stranger.

           His phone buzzed on the dashboard, but he ignored it. You could barely make out the faint sounds through the barrier between you, but you knew it had to be the team. They had to realize by now. But the phone in your pocket still clutched tightly against your side despite the restraints, was your only lifeline. Garcia could trace it if you managed to answer it the next time they tried your number. The team would find you, you were sure of it.

           But Hotch already knew that. And he wasn’t going to let it happen.

           Your heart raced as the SUV took a sharp turn, causing your body to slide slightly across the floor of the trunk. The storm outside was intensifying, and you could feel your anxiety building in the way he drove — focused and determined. He had a plan.

           The car slowed, the rhythmic thud of the rain against the roof of the trunk filling the silence. He pulled off the main road, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Your pulse quickened as the vehicle came to a stop.

           A car door slammed shut, and you heard his heavy footsteps approaching. The trunk popped open, letting in the cool, rain-soaked air. Hotch loomed over you, his face set in a harsh, emotionless mask. Without a word, he reached down, his grip bruising as he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the trunk. You stumbled onto the muddy ground, barely able to keep your balance.

           His fingers moved deftly, reaching into your pocket and yanking out your phone. His lips curled into a dark smirk, his eyes flashing with twisted amusement.

           “You thought the team would save you,” he grinned in a low almost scary voice. “You thought Garcia would trace this… pathetic.” He held up your phone. A flash of lightning struck down in the distance behind him.

           Before you could react, he dropped the phone on the ground and crushed it under his heel before throwing it into the lake you had stopped near. You barely heard it splash into water over the sound of the pounding rain. Hotch calmly walked over to a large rock, grabbing it with both hands. You watched in horror as he smashed his own phone repeatedly, reducing it to a mess of shattered glass and plastic.

           Your only connection to the outside world was now gone.

Hotch turned back to you, his face illuminated by the brief flashes of lightning. His expression was as cold and unfeeling as the storm around you, but there was something darker in his eyes — a satisfaction in watching your hope slip away.

           “You always were smart,” he murmured, stepping closer, towering over you. “Too smart for your own good.”

           Without another word, he shoved you back into the trunk, his strength leaving no room for resistance. You were thrown back into the small, confined space. The rain and the outside world disappeared, leaving you in pitch-black darkness once again.

           The car started again, the engine rumbling as Hotch continued driving. You were no longer sure where you were, feeling like he potentially had driven you in circles to throw you off track, and that uncertainty gnawed at you. There was no doubt in your mind that Hotch had planned this meticulously. He had been covering his tracks, eliminating threats, and now he was eliminating your ability to interfere.

           The drive felt endless, the sound of rain against the roof your only marker of time passing. You tried to shift, to loosen the restraints on your wrists, but every movement sent sharp pain through your limbs. The car’s motion made you nauseous, the fear and discomfort blending into a haze.

           Eventually, the car slowed again. You felt the shift in the vehicle as it came to a stop. The air was suffocating, your breath quickening in panic as you heard the sound of the driver’s door opening for the third time and then the distant crunch of dried leaves under Hotch’s footsteps. Where had he taken you?

           The trunk opened again, and Hotch’s silhouette was backlit by the faintest glimmer of moonlight filtering through the storm clouds looming above. His face was unreadable, but there was no regret, no hesitation in his actions. He reached in and grabbed you roughly by the arm as he pulled you from the trunk once more.

           You were in the middle of nowhere - an abandoned building ahead, its windows dark and some of them were even shattered.

           The perfect place for someone to disappear.

           “We’re going inside,” Hotch growled, his voice harsh and barren of the warmth it once held.

           Your legs buckled beneath you, no strength left to carry your body, but Hotch didn’t care. He hauled you toward the entrance of the building with ease, his grip bruising on your bicep as he pulled you through the door. The interior was pitch black, the only sound was your rapid, panicked breaths and the distant rumble of thunder as the last of the storm was passing you.

           He led you through the building, the air biting at your skin. You could feel the hatred radiating from him - the complete absence of the man you once knew. He stopped in the center of a large, empty room, turning to face you with a dark, predatory gaze.

           “You should’ve stayed out of it,” he hissed, his voice low and dripping with venom. “But you couldn’t help yourself. You just had to know.”

           He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, his fingers gripping your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes bore into yours, cold and merciless.

           “You’ll wish you hadn’t.”

           The BAU team gathered in their conference room, the air filled with a heavy silence. The flickering lights of the monitors and the scattered case files did little to lighten the grim atmosphere. The latest string of killings had left them all feeling drained and frustrated. They knew the pattern - the targeted families of three - but the connection was proving elusive.

           Reid, hunched over his paper files, spoke up. “The pattern is consistent. Every victim family has been targeted in a specific order: the father is always the first to go, followed by the mother, and then the child. We’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. Why does the unsub want the sons to watch their parents get murdered?”

           Morgan, pacing back and forth, nodded grimly. “We’ve checked financial records, phone records, and even personal connections, but nothing’s coming up. It’s like the unsub is just a ghost.” He listed, counting with his fingers as he mentioned each thing.

           Rossi, reviewing photos from the crime scenes, frowned in concentration. “There’s something we’re not seeing. Maybe we need to look at the details of each scene once again, this time more closely. There’s got to be a common thread.”

           Garcia was furiously typing away, her eyes darting between various screens. She was usually the one bringing good news or revelations, but this time her face was a mask of worry. “I’ve cross-referenced all known data, and I’m still coming up empty. It’s like the unsub is erasing every trace of himself.”

           Penelope’s words were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a new piece of evidence popping up on her screen. The team watched in quiet concern as she displayed a series of images on the large television screen behind them. The new evidence came from a tech at the latest crime scene.

           “Look at this,” Garcia said, her voice trembling slightly as she pointed to a photo of a golden wedding ring lying on a dresser. “I’ve run the image through our database. It’s not just any ring. It’s a unique design only a handful made in total, and I found a match.”

           The room fell silent as the team examined the image. Reid’s eyes widened as he recognized the significance too. “That ring… it’s a distinct piece. I’ve seen it before.”

           Rossi’s gaze shifted from the photo to Garcia. “You’re saying this ring could be linked to someone we know?”

           Garcia nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “I cross-referenced it with our records, and it matches the description of a ring worn by someone in our team.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she saw the name displayed on her laptop.

           The realization hit like a thunderclap. The team exchanged worried glances, their earlier frustration giving way to a new kind of dread. Rossi’s face darkened as he leaned in closer.

           Garcia nodded again, her expression serious as she confirmed the words Rossi had been about to ask. “The ring belongs to Hotch.”

           The room erupted into chaos. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock, and Reid’s expression was one of horror. “No way,” Morgan said, his voice filled with disbelief. “Hotch? He’s one of the most dedicated agents we’ve ever worked with.”

           “Is there any chance it could be a coincidence?” Rossi asked, his voice tight with concern. "That it's one of the other owners of similar rings?"

           Garcia shook her head, her face pale. “I don’t think so, they've all been spotted across the country and have rock-solid alibis. The design is too specific. And if Hotch is involved, we need to find him before it’s too late.”

           Reid began to piece together the information, his mind racing. “If Hotch is connected to the unsub, then it’s possible that he’s been orchestrating these murders from within. We need to act fast.”

           The team sprang into action, their earlier determination now transformed into urgency. Rossi and Morgan began to gather additional evidence and check Hotch’s recent whereabouts. Reid and Garcia worked on tracking Hotch’s phone, hoping to pinpoint his location.

           As the team raced against time, their focus sharpened on finding Hotch and uncovering the truth behind his involvement in the killings. Each agent’s heart pounded with the realization that someone they trusted might be the very monster they were hunting. But they were not ready to admit it just yet.

           Meanwhile, the darkness within Hotch continued to grow, his plans advancing while the team desperately tried to uncover the truth.

           The next move was crucial - finding Hotch could be the piece they were missing.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Spooky season needs spooky stuff.. >:3

So can I request the digital circus cast (minus Caine)meeting a Child Spirit Y/n headcanons,who like Kinda possesed/went inside the game to find they’re killer for some reason? They are eerily quiet and like to stare but if talked to very sweet but quick to snap in distrust because..well trust is what got them killed in the first place? They’re a bit bloody..and a eyeball sometimes hangs out?? Like vhs horror stuff

Sorry I’m being so descriptive,I hope you are a nice day!

OOOoo yes time for more spooks!

Also I am having a nice night, thanks! (and I hope you are having a nice day/night too!)

......

Pomni

To make a long story short, you got murdered while wearing the headset, and that tethered your spirit to TADC.

As expected, you lost memories of who you were--except for the knowledge that someone killed you because you trusted them too much, and you believed the answers were inside this very game.

Your character ends up looking like a child's ghost costume: a white bedsheet stained in blood and one of your eyeballs occasionally wanting to pop from its socket.

Caine (who was very much bewildered at your arrival) declares that you're part of an "exclusive Halloween update" and changes up the tent and grounds to have more spooky flair.

But Pomni clearly wants no part of it, and she can tell you don't either.

You're clearly a kid who is (somehow) handling the situation of being stuck in this game better than her, yet when she tries asking you about it....all you do is stare back.

She swears she can hear static noises and whispers she can't decipher--all in all getting a...very creepy vibe from you.

Initially she decides to keep her distance, afraid you were secretly some virus or Abstraction underneath that sheet.

But that changes when you're walking by the rooms one night, and you pass by Pomni's door, hearing her quietly crying.

Although you weren't inclined to get close to anybody here, you were concerned. And since you weren't actually coded into the game, you didn't have to follow any of its rules--and that allowed you to enter her room without a key.

At first you scared the shit out of her, but after realizing it's you, she lets you sit beside her, eventually venting about how badly she missed her real home.

"Everyone keeps telling me "oh this place is so much better" or "get used to it"...but what if I don't wanna do that? I don't care if my old life was bad...I-I can't take anymore of this.." Her sobs grow louder. "I wanna wake up in my own bed knowing my real name!!"

"...I miss home, too," is all you say in response. Yet it's more than enough to calm her down.

For once, you're not trying to brush her off or force her to "cheer up" and accept her reality. You made her feel heard.

"Yeah..me, too....sh-should I thank you for agreeing..?" She sniffles, seeing your subtle nod, before you leave her be, not wanting to get too attached.

Ironically, she was able to sleep a little easier after talking to you.

Jax

From the get-go, he's gonna be real nosy and curious.

Since not even Caine himself expected your arrival and found out that you don't follow the "rules" like everyone else...Jax is gonna try his damnedest to understand you and see what makes you tick.

But he's gonna be disappointed quickly since you don't respond much to him (or anybody in general).

"So...ya like Halloween?"

"........"

"....thought so. Good talk, new kid."

You definitely act like a legit ghost--doing nothing but stare, move things around, and pop up unexpectedly.

Eventually, his curiosity leads to him visiting your room (which has no key), and he discovers many drawings on the walls.

Most depicting a dead person wearing a headset.

What he found most disturbing was a journal that contained his and the others' names..

From what he's gathering...you're suspecting one of them of murdering your real world-self.

But he doesn't get much time to ponder this as you show up, angry at him for intruding.

You make yourself look even bloodier and scarier, with both of your eyeballs hanging from their sockets and staring at him.

"Get out."

Those two simple words put the fear of god in him.

Jax runs out faster than a jackrabbit, colliding with Gangle in the process. Her comedy mask falls off again, but he catches it and looks at her.

"J-Jax..?" She realizes his fur is standing up on all ends, and he looks terrified....even more than he did after realizing the circus was his forever home.

But he just shoves the mask back into her hands and leaves without saying a word.

He never speaks of what he found in your room that day.

Kinger

He thought his eyes were weird...until you came along and periodically had to put your own eyeball back into its socket.

"It's good to know I'm not alone!" He nervously chuckles, only to be met with your eerie silence.

Sometime later, he suggests showing you his insect collection, and it does pique your interest.

You did love all things "creepy" and "crawly".

Yet you're adamant about going to his pillow fortress after he invites you.

It reminds you of the ones you used to build all the time, up until...

Fortunately, Kinger recognizes your reluctance and just brings one of his bug boxes to you so you can look at it.

He could infodump about the various critters for hours, with nothing but nods and quiet "mhms" from you, and he's happy.

In general, he doesn't mind your quiet personality.

Although you still sometimes jumpscare him unintentionally like Gangle often does.

Tbh he's a good father figure and recognizes that you're just a kid who got trapped in this game unfairly.

Even so, you try to keep your distance and looks at him suspiciously if he starts acting too nice.

He was quiet aloof, and you weren't sure how he would act on any given day.

Gangle

After accidentally spooking her (by simply existing in the same room as her), she breaks her comedy mask off.

But immediately she feels guilty for screaming and tries scrambling to fix it, hoping you weren't mad at her.

Yet all you do is stare, not looking angry or anything at all (it's hard for any of the performers to see your expression in general, aside from your hanging eye, but still).

Poor Gangle is just afraid you'd turn into a scarier version of yourself.

When she keeps cutting her ribbon fingers(?) on the ceramic pieces, you come over and clean it up for her, taking it away despite your own hands bleeding.

The implications that you were able to shed blood and nobody else were a little disturbing to her..but she's glad you're not offended by her screaming.

Although she wonders where you're going with her mask..

Later on, you knock on her door and present it fully fixed.

Except...it looks more Halloweenish with an evil smile painted on it, messily glued together.

'Oh god I hope this doesn't turn me evil or anything..' She thinks, putting on a smile as she takes it anyways.

Yet you remain where you are, staring and clearly waiting for her to try it on.

And so she does, and it turns her into a very chaotic Halloween lover, acting even more mischievous than Jax and allowing her to finally get her revenge for all his pranks.

In the end, you gain a decent friendship with her, subtly protecting her from Jax's bullying.

Ragatha

Seeing that you're so distant from the rest of the gang has her worried.

Some of them might consider your loose eyeball creepy, but she's not gonna judge you on that (besides, she's missing an eye altogether so she can't say much anyways).

Howeve,r she's the first to find out how strong your distrust of everyone is.

"[Y/n]? I don't think it's good to be isolating yourself like this. I know you hate being here and Caine's a weirdo..but...we're all in this together. You can trust us-"

"Don't." You warn, putting on a frightening display of anger that sends her tumbling to the ground, sending chills up her spine.

"Trust" became something you didn't take lightly, as the last time you put your trust in someone....you ended up dead, turning into a literal ghost in the machine (that was your gaming system).

Despite this, Ragatha doesn't run away.

Like Pomni, she understands that you're just a kid who's confused and lost.....and clearly had serious trust issues.

But she's determined to help you through that, even if you keep scaring everybody away.

She's got motherly instincts, and she hopes that in due time you'll learn to warm up to her.

Zooble

"A bedsheet worn as a costume? That's a classic."

She's seen weirder things during their time in the circus, so you don't faze her too much.

Only when you snap at Ragatha or somebody who was trying to be nice to you does she raise an eyebrow.

Honestly, they 100% understand that you just wanted to be alone sometimes, and she respects that.

It's suffocating trying to act all cheery and go along with every damn activity Caine tries to get everyone involved in (but lucky for you, he can't make you follow along).

Especially since she believes he made up that stupid "Halloween update" as lazy way to explain your sudden arrival.

The only time you do interact with Zooble is after she yanks Jax by his ears, and they hear this eerie-sounding giggle behind them.

When she turns around, you're just standing there motionless, staring at her.

Somehow, they just know you were smiling underneath that costume, which makes her smile, too.

"Maybe I should pull him out a hat next time, huh?" She jokes after letting him go, and you giggle once more as he hits the ground.

[catnip-plug]

It worked! (Ticci Toby x Reader) NSFW

porn without/minimal plot, genitalia swap, gender swap, established relationship, reader is implied to be female before genitalia swap, Toby has a cunt, Reader has a dick,, is this too weird of an idea,,,,

"Toby, Toby! It worked!"

The bedsheets were tossed aside when he awoke next to you, your blaring shouts quite hard to block out. He sleepily blinked the tiredness out of his eyes and tried to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the blinds.

"What w-worked?" He mumbled groggily, sitting up.

"What you asked of Him, it worked! He made it work, isn't that crazy??" His early morning confusion couldn't dampen your excitement. Toby was getting a vague understanding. Something about him asking the Slenderman for something, weeks ago. He groaned as he moved aside his own bedsheets.

You were practically hopping with energy. "Don't you feel any different? Look!" Swiftly, you pulled your pajama pants down, just below your abdomen. Defying all common sense, a penis, attached to you, sprung out. It stood erect and proud, something on the skinnier side but still a little longer than normal. It twitched as if to give a little introduction. Morning wood. Toby's mouth fell open in pure shock. You... you shouldn't have that. You didn't have that just yesterday. "Crazy, right?" You weren't fazed at all, meeting his incredulous look with a wide grin.

"How do y-you... you have—you huh-have a dick!" Toby said stupidly.

You crawled back on the bed on your knees, approaching the brunet. "Which means you..." Toby knew what you meant, and with twitching hands he lowered his boxers. He didn't need to be perfectly awake to see that his dick was just... gone—even though he was most undoubtedly awake now. There was only his pelvic bone now, still with his happy trail, but now he had a fucking pussy down there. He couldn't believe it had actually worked. He lacked any actual horror that any man would experience if they woke up and saw their penis had just disappeared. Instead in his mind bounced around the word: 'unbelievable'— because he wanted this to happen. You and him had wanted this—discussed this weird fantasy you both had and wished could happen. It was your bright idea for Toby to use his 'favorite proxy' status and connections to plead for the Slenderman to make it work; He was an all powerful, omnipotent being after all. So he did. One lucky day he was able to connect with Him, and he made his desires known. There was no response other than the given fact that He had heard him, and it had stayed that way for many weeks. Toby had actually forgotten about it, until now.

"Let me see," you gasped softly with awe, craning your head to see more of his lower area. Toby sheepishly pulled his boxers down lower, trying to ignore the fact that the sight of you, with a cock, dangling just above his legs made his stomach flip too many times to count. You bit your lip and, with barely contained wonder, ran a finger down his slit, making sure to brush over his new clit at the top. Toby jerked and a shiver sparked down his spine, his eyes widening. That felt, so so weird. So unlike anything he'd ever felt before. "Now you know how I feel," you giggled. You pushed on, running another finger in between his folds, but this time rubbing very softly over his clit in small little circles. A quiet gasp escaped Toby's mouth.

"[Name], wuh-what was... stop th-that," he said, his voice betrayed how ruffled he was.

"It's fine," you reassured. "That's how it's supposed to feel." You could tell the sensation was entirely new to him, making him feel wary. Toby swallowed hard. He trusted you.

You continued, taking things very, very slowly. Out of the corner of your eye you could see his chest rising and falling shallowly, biting his lip harder each time the tip of your finger ghosted his sensitive clit. He supposed that was the equivalent of his tip. Pretty soon, there gathered a significant amount of slick in between his legs. It felt sticky and bothersome, and he could feel the room was getting hotter. That, or his face was getting redder.

"Is this okay?" You asked. You wanted to make sure he was completely comfortable before moving on.

Toby nodded, his heart beating fast against his ribs. Arousal pooled in his belly; he just wanted to be fucked already. But the fear at the unusual and unfamiliar genitalia made him scared at what was to come.

You gathered some slick on your fingers and admired it before bringing it closer to Toby's face so he could see. "D'ya see that? That came from you. That's how much you want it." Toby stared at your shiny fingers and gulped. So fucking hot. Blood began to rush in his ears, his eyes swimming with lust.

Slowly, you pushed your index finger into his entrance just past the first knuckle. Toby inhaled sharply, trying not to overreact. He didn't know if it was possible to cum right now, but he sure felt like it. Just the thought of him having a pussy, and you using it to your pleasure, making him cum all around you. He bit his bottom lip at the thought. Fuck.

"You're pulsing all around me, yknow that?" You teased, a coy smile on your lips.

"Shut u-up," growled Toby. You saw his ears turn red.

Putting in two fingers or more was probably way too much for him right now that he was just getting adjusted, so you stuck with one. You pushed your finger further in and Toby's breathing quickened, gripping the bedsheet underneath him.

"It fuh-feels weird," Toby muttered. Nevermind the fact that he now suddenly had a damn hole where his groin is, but adding a finger inside it felt foreign and intrusive.

You hummed under your breath. "That's okay, it probably does. It'll feel better, I promise." With those words, you began to move your finger in and out at a slow pace, gauging his reaction. Toby's mouth fell slightly open before quickly snapping it shut, furrowing his brows. He fought the urge to let out any sound, but God was it hard. Given his cunt was literally brand-new, his walls were tight and gripped against your digit, and he felt every ridge rubbing against him. It sent sparks up his core. But he still didn't feel satisfied.

"[N-name]," he mumbled. "More..."

You chuckled darkly. "So greedy, huh? What, one isn't enough for you?" You began to scissor his entrance open, trying to get him to open up more for another finger. When you saw it fit, you slid two fingers in, easily done by the copious amounts of slick he was pouring out of him. Toby sucked in a breath, his dark lashes fluttering as he tried to concentrate.

"Fuck, Toby. You look so hot like this, you know that? So fucking hot, spreading your legs wide for me," you murmured. Your own arousal was evident with the pre-cum that was starting to drip from your throbbing cock, but you ignored it. Toby pulsed embarrassingly around you with your words, his face heating up terribly as a result. He unconsciously spread his legs wider, giving you more access. Plus a better view.

You started to thrust two fingers into him with a smile. It was so easy with how wet he was. A moan ripped out of Toby, the feeling of you fingering him so fucking good. He tried so hard to keep quiet but it was just too hard. Each thrust sent a blossom of pleasure to bloom in his stomach and crotch.

"Don't hold back, Toby. I want to hear you. As loud as you can be. Let me hear you." You leaned in as he attempted to choke back another moan and kissed him, slipping your tongue in. He groaned into your mouth, his eyes fluttering closed as you drank in his noises, continuing to finger him. After a moment that felt too short, you pulled away, admiring the way you left Toby's lips red and wet.

"Ahh... hgnn..." he whimpered pathetically, grasping the sheets beneath him. His eyes were screwed shut, his eyebrows twisted up in such a pitiful way you wanted to ravish him right now.

"Look. Don't close your eyes. Do you hear that?" Toby obediently opened his eyes. A wet, squelching sound filled the air, and he recognized it was coming from him. Every time you thrusted your digits in. "That's you." The filthy sound made his entrance throb painfully. "Look. Your boycunt in sucking me in, so pretty..." you cooed, fingering him faster.

"F-fuckk... ahh...!" Toby audibly moaned. Boycunt. Shit. He didn't think he could get more aroused, but here he was. Jesus, he wanted you to fucking pound him already.

Suddenly, you stopped. Pulled your fingers out with a dirty 'pop'. Toby looked at you with the most distraught look on his face. "Wha... what..."

Your hands glided over Toby's slim, pale body, snaking up his torso and over his chest. His nipples perked at your touch, sending goosebumps over his skin, and anticipation flooded through him, his vision hazy and clouded with horniness.

"Do you know how much I want to fuck you right now? You know how hot you look?" You breathed, your lips hovering just over his, warm breath fanning over his mouth. He stared down at your lips with half-lidded eyes, willing you to kiss him. So you dipped your head down and took his mouth in yours, relishing in how warm he was. Toby captured your face in his shaking hands and sloppily lapped at your mouth.

"So pretty... wanna fuck that boypussy... so bad..." you muttered in between short kisses.

"Then do i-it. Just fuck me al-already, God, puh-please, just f-fuck me," he whined when you pulled away. To his disappointment, you shook your head with a smirk.

"It's all about you right now." Trailing down his body, you left a path of kisses on his stomach, all the way down, even inside his thighs. Toby watched you with excitement, cupping your cheek lovingly, and he held his breath as you gently licked his entrance. Carefully, you plunged your tongue in his heat. Toby whimpered above you at the sensation of your wet appendage in him. It was so perfect. Like sweet, sweet candy. You couldn't hold back anymore. You ate him out in the most passionate yet slow and loving way possible, getting his juices all around your mouth and savoring the taste like it was your last meal. His walls pulsed around your tongue like it was begging for more, quivering beneath your power, and he cried and yowled and sobbed above you. If you two had neighbors—good thing the cabin was in the middle of the woods—they would think you were torturing some poor soul.

His moans reverberated off the wooden walls and none of what he was trying to say made sense to you. It was all slurred nonsense; cried and begs for something you couldn't make out. From the way he clenched around you, and the fact that one of his hands was gripping the bedsheets so hard you thought they would rip, you could tell he was getting real close. You made sure to make a show of humming and groaning in his cunt before latching your lips around his clit and sucking hard. That was probably not a good idea for such a sensitive man. Immediately, Toby arched his back, bucking his hips into your warm mouth with the loudest cry you've ever heard come out of his mouth. His wobbly hands found purchase in your hair and his legs snapped closed to keep your head buried between him. There were no words in his head. Nothing cohesive swimming around there. It was just pure fucking bliss. He didn't know what you were doing. It felt overwhelming, but at the same time so amazing that he never ever wanted you to stop.

His orgasm built fast in his abdomen. Rapidly increasing.

"Please- fuuck- PLEASEpleaseplease- hnng, I c-can't, I CAN'T," he cried as he rode your face. Tears bubbled down his cheeks in tiny rivers. They gathered under his chin and dripped down, and no sooner. Just a second later, Toby's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Stars danced in his vision as his orgasm completely overtook his body, the high so intense his jaw dropped slack as you continued to lick and suck everything from his trembling, spasming body, dragging it out just for him. You only stopped when he whined pathetically above you. He just looked so beautiful with his watery eyes, blush blossoming his cheeks, his chest rising up and down so fast, legs wide open and pussy dripping his cum and your spit on full display. You wanted so badly to fuck his brains out right this instant... but the poor boy looked so exhausted. He deserved his rest.

You crawled up to lay down next to Toby gently and gingerly wiped the tears off his cheeks.

"You did so good, yknow that?"

He made a soft noise in his throat, eyes fluttering closed. You grabbed his hand and he squeezed back.

"You did amazing," you cooed, brushing the hair from his forehead and planting a loving kiss right in the middle. You already left the window open so he could cool down, thankfully. Toby shuffled lazily to your side. He smelled like sex, but that was okay.

Suddenly, you jolted next to him. His hand accidently brushed your dick, still out of your pajama pants and still hard. You'd almost forgotten you had that.

A drowsy smile graced Toby's lips as he looked up at you.

"Your t-turn now."

[gremlingottoosilly]

Actress!reader who played one of the victms in Slasher!Konig documentary

You look pretty in red. Surprisingly, Konig knew it even before seeing you in person. Cutting you in person. You look good on that TV of his - your eyes wide open, your lips trembling as you were trying to fight over the actor who played him. Konig calls bullshit immediately - the girl that you were supposed to be playing with didn't fight at all, just fawned over his knife and let him get bored easily while playing with her guts. He didn't even get hard from squeezing her heart in his hands - another surprise that almost made him think something was wrong, and he actually started to become normal. Oh, but you looked so nice on the screen. So defiant and pretty, with a few exploitative shots of your tits like he'd actually bother to undress the victim before killing them. He liked the detail, especially the angry flair in your eyes...and they way you'd eventually submit to his actor, letting him "kill" you. Although seeing another man playing with you like this made him more jealous than what he'd like to admit. Oh, but now he wants to find the director of that shitty documentary and give him something nice, a little gift - for all the unnecessary shots of your pretty face stained with blood and your perfect body all on display.

Oh, but you're even prettier in person. God, Konig can't contain his excitement. You weren't filming on an actual location, of course, so you wanted to check out the forest in question. Maybe get some of the energy for your next role - you didn't know the "based on real events" before your first-ever horror documentary was so literal. You thought it would be kinda like that Annabelle movie - but with maniacs instead. It wasn't. And Konig makes sure you look even prettier, covered in red in person than you did on the screen. He doesn't kill you, of course, his morbid curiosity already satisfied with your role in the movie. Now, he wants to explore something else - something deeper, stronger. Something that would make your flesh sing under his touch...and of course, ripping your panties and burying his tongue between your thighs is just the way to go. You weren't like this on the movie screen, you're not acting now - it's all just for him, something unique for a man who wanted this for so, so long. Let's just hope you're good enough of an actress to play the role of a devoted housewife for a deranged slasher.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Won't go Home without You 🫂

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

RER2!Leon S. Kennedy x reader

♤

This.... this is very sad. I think. Maybe??

《Content》: Canon typical violence, Ex-boyfriend!Leon, neutral ending?? Idk it's tragic, but I don't know if I, personally, would classify it as a sad ending.

The order is here -> 🎂

Even after he'd broken your heart, you go after your ex-lover and unknowingly stumble right into your shared demise.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Shit, shit, shit!" You cursed frantically, running through the dark and messy halls of the Raccoon City Police Department, adrenaline pumping in your veins.

The fear that struck you right in the middle of your chest was enough to make your legs move like they've never moved before.

You thought the horrors outside in the streets were straight from a nightmare, but no one talks about how terrifying hordes of undead are when you're trapped with them with no way out.

The puddles of blood stemming from slaughtered police officers and other personnel almost made you slip more than once on the smooth floors. You had to push down the urge to empty the contents of your stomach so you wouldn't end up like the poor victims that lined the halls.

Rattling the handle of every door you came across you almost cried in relief when one finally opened.

You could hear the moans and groans of the moving dead as you barricaded yourself in the tiny office.

You locked the door, pulled down the blinds and pushed the heavy desk in front of it. There was a second door, one that would connect the room you were currently in to the one next to it.

Considering the other office's door was locked, you only used a sturdy chair to hopefully keep any unwanted visitors out.

With a heaving chest and the adrenaline buzzing in your blood you moved to the furthest corner and slowly sunk down the wall.

You managed to get in a couple of breaths, feeling how your lungs and ribcage expanded before the reality of it all clicked in your brain and the tears started flowing down your cheeks.

You wanted to wail and scream, maybe even hurl your guts out at how nauseating this whole situation was, but you could only manage quiet and pathetic whimpers with your hand firmly pressed against your mouth.

And to think you only got yourself into this whole mess because you were cursed with a heart too big for your body and you still cared about him. He was the entire reason you even stepped foot into this hellhole of a city.

At the thought of him you couldn't quite decipher what you wanted to feel first; did you want to scream at him and curse him to the high heavens for doing this to you or was the last thing you wanted from him to hold you, embrace you and never let go when you'd inevitably die tonight, as pathetic as it sounded.

You didn't know what you'd weep over first, your doom or the shattered pieces of your heart contained within your ribcage that cut into your insides.

Leon had broken your heart, maybe a week ago, just to leave you behind and follow his dream. The fact that you weren't in his dream was enough to sting like disinfectant on a paper cut. Everything the pair of you had built or were planning on building, or so you thought, was ruined by his stupid sense of justice that never really did him any justice at all.

The punch in the gut that you felt when you woke up one morning to all his things gone and his key to your apartment laying on your kitchen counter while he sipped his morning cup of coffee with not a care in the world, was enough to knock the air from your lungs and any words from your throat.

He'd tried to explain it to you; that it'd be better this way, for both of you, and that he was sorry. His reasons were shit, to say the least. It would've hurt less if he'd just said he couldn't stand to look at you anymore.

Leon said he couldn't do long distance, that he needed his partner there with him and that, as a rookie, he wouldn't have time to call you anyway.

But all attempts at bargaining, that you'd literally follow him to the end of the world, were shut down immediately. He left you, stepping on the broken pieces of your heart as he walked out the door.

And he had the nerve to pull you into one last hug and press a gentle kiss to your forehead as if that would, in any way, fix the gaping hole that he'd left in your chest.

The crying burned all of your energy, you couldn't even find it in yourself to flinch when the infected right outside your door were stumbling over each other and torn of limbs like a newborn foal. As your hysteria subsided, the depressing outcome of your fate set in.

You would die tonight. Alone, heartbroken, in a trashed police station that, coincidentally, was the whole reason your lover had broken up with you in the first place.

Never to be found and rotting away until you fell onto the menu of the undead.

Your limbs felt like lead, your head was pounding and any little spark of hope or perseverance was snuffed out. You stood no chance.

Because, unfortunately, the media and every zombie movie ever had lied to you and the undead, were, in fact, not slow and dumb.

They were bloodthirsty, brutal and they would go after what they wanted. You had nothing to defend yourself. There was no way you could outrun them forever.

"Why zombies... why did it have to be zombies?!" You shouted at the sky, cursing whoever sat up there and got a blast out of making your life miserable.

You tugged at your hair as the tears started spilling again. What else as there to do?

You might as well write 'dinner' on your forehead and step out into the halls.

And then, from the corner of your blurred vision, you could see a light. A light that flitted around almost like... a flashlight? You wanted to hit yourself when you felt that faint feeling of hope bubbling up in your chest.

But, unless the infected had learned to use human devices (it wasn't too far off considering most of them were human themselves only a few hours ago), there was someone else out there.

The light was followed by gunshots and finally a door unlocking.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you scrambled off the floor, putting a good distance between you and the connecting door. The light was gone now, you figured its owner had done the same thing you did and barricaded themselves in the room.

But there was clear shuffling to be heard, and you could even make out a faint voice. Your whole body tensed in horror when the handle of the connecting door rattled.

You could've sworn you heard frustrated grumbling from the other side, but you didn't really give a shit when the whole door started shaking and the chair you'd lodged in front of it started to bend. With the limited vision you had, you quickly looked around for anything you could use to defend yourself.

You were about 93% sure that there was an actual person in the next room over but who knows what they're up to. Your gaze landed on a small potted plant.

Not ideal, but you figured a porcelain pot to the face could do a decent amount of damage. Maybe throw some soil in their eyes.

You raised the plant and kept your eyes trained on the door. The chair was cracking and the person seemed to throw their entire weight against the door, accompanied by laboured grunts.

The chair eventually gave out, as did the door, and the person stumbled in. You couldn't see anything, the flashlight that ignited your spark of hope just a few moments ago now burning away your retinas. You squinted, keeping a tight grip on the pot.

"Buttercup?"

Oh, fuck. You knew that voice. You knew that voice better than anything else in the world. This had to be a cruel joke.

"Leon?" You breathed, lowering the plant.

He quickly attached his flashlight to his belt and lowered his gun, making his way over to you in a few long strides.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Leon asked panicked, placing his hands on your arms.

You were frozen, not a single word left your mouth, the pot still in your hands.

You could only watch dumbly as his eyes searched for an answer within yours, a worried crease between his brows.

God, you'd missed him. You'd missed him so much. You could feel your heart, or what was left of it, twisting in your chest.

"I..." you forced out, eyes glistening with tears again. It was all you could muster.

"Why are you here?" He asked again, shaking you slightly. You could see the distress on his face.

".. You." You swallowed.

"Me? What do you mean?" His grip on you tightened, subconsciously you would assume. Your lower lip started trembling and you could feel another stream of hot tears spring from your lashline.

"I was worried.." You admitted with a shaking voice.

"I heard about the Outbreak, and I just wanted to know that you're okay." You cried, sobs racking through your chest.

"I didn't know there'd be fucking zombies!"

Leon was stunned and, suddenly, he regretted every decision he's ever made. He broke up with you, shattered your heart and you came here to check up on him? He could feel bile rising in his throat and his stomach churned.

He left you to keep you safe, to spare you any pain when he'd start his work on the force, and here you were, weeping your heart out, having doomed yourself for him.

"You... You came here because of.. me?" He asked, his own voice trembling.

You only managed to nod.

You must've been a sight. Crying over your ex after having stumbled into Armageddon with a fucking potted plant in your hands.

Leon swallowed thickly, his eyes watering as he took the porcelain pot out of your shaking hands and set it down on the desk you'd previously moved in front of the door.

"Buttercup..." the strained petname tugged uncomfortably on his vocal chords.

You looked up at him, met his eye, and his heart dropped to his stomach.

"Why did you leave me?" You wailed, wiping at your seemingly endless flood of tears.

Leon's jaw clenched and he took in a shuddering breath, trying to stop himself from breaking down.

"To keep you safe. All I wanted... was to keep you safe." He replied, the words getting stuck in his throat.

"This is the shit I wanted to keep from happening! You were supposed to be as far away as possible from all of this. I didn't exactly calculate for walking corpses, but I didn't want you to be in danger because of me. Why would come here?!" He hissed, frustrated.

He was so annoyed. Annoyed at you for being too sweet and kind to leave things as they are and annoyed at himself for not protecting you better.

You were taken aback by his response, wide eyed and speechless. But you could see the clear panic and fear in the ocean of tears in his blue eyes.

"Because I love you, you fucking idiot!" You snapped, your distress being replaced by a raging fire of anger.

The confession stopped him in his tracks and all he could do was stare at you.

"I thought I was gonna marry you! Move into a house with a white picket fence and a big yard. Maybe have a couple of kids along the way and some pets -at least one dog and a fluffy cat- and then you decided to walk out on me to keep me safe?! Do you even hear yourself?"

Everything bubbled over. All of the anger, the heartbreak, the sadness, the distress. And you let it. You didn't care anymore if he got burned.

"Doesn't even fucking matter anymore because I'm gonna die here anyway." You sniffled, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

"Don't... don't say shit like that." He heaved, harshly pointing a finger your way before burying a hand in his hair and tugging at the sandy locks.

"Fuck." He cursed under his breath.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. To keep you away from all the bullshit that comes with being a cop..." he muttered, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes.

"And for the record... leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do. And I regret every second of it. I love you more than life itself, and you weren't just in my future. You were my future. And I ruined it." He sounded hurt and vulnerable as he laid out his heart in front of you.

"Give me chance to make it right. Please." He croaked out, a pleading look in his glistening eyes.

"Leon.."

the tears you'd tried so hard to stop came back in a flood, staining your cheeks. You gently cupped his face, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone before pulling him into a tight hug.

He wasted no time wrapping his arms around you and holding you as if you could vanish any second.

"Don't leave me again.." you begged quietly.

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much." He cried into your shoulder, mumbling apologies and 'I love you's into the fabric of your sweater.

You held each other in that embrace for a while, soaking in your lover while everything else started to fade away.

Leon pulled his face from your shoulder and took your cheeks in his hands, wiping at your tears.

"I'll marry you when all of this is over, I swear it." He sniffled, watching as a sad smile followed by a wet giggle spread across your face.

"I love you." You whispered, sighing when he connected your lips in a passionate kiss.

The desperation Leon poured into the kiss was unlike anything you've ever felt before, and you didn't want it to end.

"I love you more, Buttercup." He pressed his forehead to yours in an intimate manner.

For a minute, it felt like just the two of you in the entire world, ignoring how you managed to mend your relationship in a trashed police office whole outside the gates the world was ending.

"We need to get out of here." He said quietly.

A dreading feeling settled in your stomach, but before you had a chance to respond, the TV mounted in the corner of the room crackled to life.

The room lit up, and you turned your focus to the corner and watched as the broadcast ran over the screen. Your eyes widened as you took in the words.

"They're gonna nuke the city..." you breathed out, swallowing thickly.

"What?" Leon exclaimed, panicked. Without a second thought he tightly grasped your hand and dragged you towards the door.

"We need to go." He said quickly.

"No, Leon, wait." You stopped him from moving the desk out of the way with a hand on his arm.

"Are you insane? We'll get turned to dust if we don't leave now." He urged.

"I... there's no way I'll make it through the night. You need to go without me."

Leon looked at you as if you'd lost your mind, and maybe you had, but it was either just you that died or the both of you.

He still had a chance.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" He hissed, grabbing your arm.

"Listen to me. You still have a chance to get out. I'd just slow you down." You explained, hoping, praying he'd understand.

"No, absolutely not. It's not over tonight. I-I won't go home without you- there is no home without you."

You bit your lip in order to hold back tears.

"Please, Leon. You can still make it." He shook his head, whether to say no to you or the option of leaving you behind again, you didn't know.

"I said I won't leave you again." He stated firmly, grabbing your wrist and tugging you into the corner of the room.

He sunk down onto the floor and pulled you into his arms, intending to never let go. You pushed yourself away from his chest and looked at him.

"What are you doing?" You asked frantically.

"I'm staying." Was all he answered, gently guiding your head back into the crook of his neck.

"It's gonna be alright." He whispered against your temple.

A lie, both of you knew it, but what else could you do. You melted into his embrace and braced yourself for what was to come.

One minute, it was just you in Leon's arms, holding each other lovingly, and the next, there was nothing.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

This was my first time writing for RE2!Leon specifically, so this might be a little ooc!

I give out free hugs and tissues if you need one 🫂🩷

《Leon taglist》: @k-fallingstar @vampkennedy @dmitriene @argreion @allysunny @leonslittlekennedy @angelstargel @entr4p3

Lmk if you wanna be added/removed 😚

More Leon and other works -> 💫

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[macabresymphonies]

(minor TMA spoilers and general TMAGP spoilers) Having so much time to think about incidents in TMAGP due to hiatus made me realize that all of them, to some degree, contain the theme of "sealing your own fate" or "consequences of greed/hubris".

You see, while I do not believe that TMA had a consistent theme every statement was based on, the overall messege seemed to be that horrors are inevitable. Once you've been marked you cannot escape, no amount of therapy or running can release you from it. I think Michael Crew is the best example of that:

"The thing that chased me, you see, it was an arcing branch of the Twisting Deceit, taken shape to follow me. (...) And I knew within that book was something that could not only release me from my pursuer, but chain my being to that rush of wind and vertigo forever." Michael Crew in "The Coming Storm"

You cannot escape it once you've been marked, only bind yourself to different one and this marking is, most often than not, nonconsensual. Jane Prentiss would run around and infect random people, Not!Them didn't need anybody to come to them before it was sealed and Peter Lukas also tended to just disappear random people just to feed. The fears were very predatorial and active and the victims were selected based on their own fears and anxieties. This is not to say there weren't victims who failed due to their own curiosity/hubris/greed, but I think it's telling that few of the most greedy/curious people in the series, Mikaele Salesa and Jurgen Leitner, stayed largely uncorrupted by the fears not cause they avoided interacting with them, but simply avoided getting marked by them.

Now we come to protocol and every incident so far has the main subject of that incident actively engage with the horror and have one or multiple points at which they could stop and leave, but they do not. Daria went to the tattoo shop on her own accord, Harriet wanted her husband back no matter what and even Dr Webber was described to be able to leave the garden whenever he wanted, but, due to hiding from authorities, chose to stay until it was too late for him. Every incident so far seems to have this theme of consent, characters detailing very clearly that consent was given to engage with the abnormality:

"Ah well that’s a tricky one. Sort of? In many ways he stabbed himself on me. By the time he saw the needles we were already very close. Close enough to smell his sweat and cheap aftershave. In fact, he barely had time to be afraid before we embraced. He’s terrified now of course…" Needles in "Introductions"

"The young man's interview was not exceptional as he had no experience in charity work, no driving license nor any demonstrable experience in retail. He claimed however, to know the Hilltop Centre better than anyone and as he was the only applicant in the role I elected to give him a try." Dianne Margolis in "Give and Take"

"I hesitated a moment but before I could consider her strangeness a particularly high tide of color swept down the corridor toward me. I panicked, and before I realized what I was doing I had darted inside the lift and slammed the close-door button." Terrance Stevens in "Running on Empty"

It does not matter some of these are under duress or deception, all of them contain some type of action "confirming" consent. Mind you I do not believe all the victims of of these horrors confirm consent in some way, like people who get killed by Bonzo probably didn't agree to it (though considering he's most likely a hitman, some degree of "you agreed to this by overstepping your boundaries" philosophy could be applied), but subjects of the incident very much pay for consequences of their own actions.

That brings us to OIRA itself, and how every character so far seems to actively dig themselves deeper by their own accord, Gwen wants position of power, Colin wants to figure out the system, Sam wants to know why he wasn't chosen and Alice is in it for the money (for her brother which still counts as consent). This is literally said directly to us in episode 1:

"If you hate working here so completely, you are perfectly within your rights to resign. No one is forcing you to stay here." Lena to Gwen in "First Shift"

All of this, all this horror is happening due to their own accord, curiosity, obligation, greed for knowledge or just for the money, it does not matter, the choice is there, but they delve deeper anyway. We will see how long it holds up, but I will be on the look out for this theme in the future.