#leave me scared and confused !! do it!! i like it!!

[domjaehyun]

there's a stranger in my house (l.jn)

PAIRING. lee jeno x fem!reader 

GENRE. thriller, smut

CONTENTS. major character death, seriously dubious consent that turns noncon (please believe me when i say this), spitting, unprotected sex, fear play, oral (fem receiving), anal play, degradation, praise, biting, marking, ass smacking, mirror sex, non-consensual filming, choking, hair pulling (receiving), manhandling/strength kink, some role play 

WORD COUNT. 3.8k

SUMMARY. something’s not quite right about jeno, and you’re not sure what it is.

PLAYLIST. stranger in my house - tamia

NOTES.  hiii well. i can’t explain myself. important context is the movie “us” by jordan peele but if you haven’t seen it, i try to explain without explaining. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. happy birthday to my dear dear dear friend @renjunfocus!! i hope you all like it and don’t come tell me if you didn’t 💖 but if you enjoyed it, by all means let me know! 

“Jeno, please be safe tonight.” you say worriedly as he adjusts his costume in the mirror. “Halloween is scary; people are always doing something fucked up.”

“I’ll be as safe as possible, baby.” Jeno assures you, turning to face you with that crescent-eyed smile you love. “Plus, I’m literally dressed as a cop; they might think it’s real.” 

“True,” you hum, nibbling your bottom lip worriedly as you take in his appearance. “You look really… really good, Jeno.”

“Oh, yeah? Can I get a kiss for looking this good?” he asks hopefully, and you smile, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips, Jeno chasing after you as you pull back.

“There’s more where that came from when you get back home.” you promise, and he gives you a cute frown before straightening back up and smoothing out his costume one last time.

He pulls you into a hug as he always does before he leaves and when he comes back, and you breathe in deeply, his comforting scent of peppermint body wash, a soft musk, and baby powder enveloping you.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head and slowly retracts from you, a hint of reluctance in his movements.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he bids you goodbye, blowing you a kiss before exiting your bedroom and, you deduce when the front door shuts, your apartment.

You decide to get cozy in bed and wait for him to come home while you read a book you’ve been neglecting recently, but it’s only about thirty pages in before your eyelids start to droop and you find yourself curling up under your covers and drifting off to sleep.

When you wake up, it’s with a start, sitting straight up in bed when you hear the front door shut roughly. You wait for Jeno to make his way into your room, surprise and confusion filling you when he appears and—

“You changed your costume.” you point out, and he looks down at it as if he’s forgotten.

“Some girl spilled her drink on me at the party, so Jaemin loaned me his spare costume.” Jeno answers with a shrug, and you nod.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a grin. 

He chuckles as he draws closer to you. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod encouragingly. “The robber thing is kind of a 180 from the police officer, but it’s really hot… kinda makes me a little flustered.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, and you nod again, slower this time. 

“The ski mask is a good touch; kinda scary, too.” you compliment, and his gaze darkens as he looks down at you.

“Are you scared, then, baby?” he questions, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Hm? The big, scary robber’s making you nervous?”

“Oh, yes, mister robber, sir, please! You can take all my money, just please don’t hurt me!” you plead, clasping your hands together and blinking up at him through your lashes.

“It’s not money I want, sweet girl,” Jeno growls through his ski mask, his voice muffled but still so convincing and deeply unsettling that you feel apprehension creeping up on the back of your neck. “Sit on the windowsill,” he grunts, jerking his chin towards the bay window beside your bed, and you climb to your feet, obediently moving to sit at the edge of the windowsill. The seat is cold on the backs of your thighs, making you wince slightly, and you find yourself drawing back in fear as Jeno stalks towards you and stands before you, practically looming menacingly over you.

He slams his hands down on either side of you loudly and suddenly, making you yelp in panic. “Relax,” he purrs, lowering himself so he’s eye level with you. “So pretty,” he rasps, tilting his head to the side as he watches you, but the compliment fails to warm your cheeks the way it usually does, because this time, it sounds… foreign and unfamiliar to you. It’s a type of observation Jeno’s never demonstrated before, your loving boyfriend usually eyeing you with adoration, love, or fondness in his eyes. Tonight, it’s different. It’s almost… sadistic in its fascination, as if the flashes of fear behind your eyes are fueling him somewhat.

You’re so focused on decoding the entirely unsettling look Jeno’s giving you that you don’t notice one of his hands sneaking up behind your back until his fingers are looping in the locks at the base of your neck and tugging your head back roughly. His eyes darken at the flash of panic and pain across your face before he���s ripping the ski mask off and practically smashing his mouth against yours, kissing you more ferociously than he ever has before. He’s all sharp teeth and forceful tongue, the wet, thick muscle bullying its way into your mouth as you whimper for mercy. His tongue swirls around the inside of your mouth possessively, coating every last bit of it with his saliva like he’s marking his territory.

He pulls back slightly before spitting directly into your mouth just as you go to gasp for air. You promptly choke on his saliva, coughing and spluttering pathetically as tears spring to your eyes. You’ve barely recovered before Jeno stuffs two fingers into your mouth, parting them in a V so your lips are stretched horizontally, and he wags his tongue lewdly in the open space of your parted lips, licking against your tongue with long strokes punctuated by guttural grunts of delight. 

He spits once more, a long drop of saliva landing on your tongue, and you whimper in protest, shaking your head in refusal.

He cups your chin in his hand with a firm, almost too tight grip, staring you down challengingly. “Swallow it. Take my spit in your mouth like the good little slut you are.” 

You blink back tears of confusion and hurt as you do just that, swallowing his spit, and he smiles, pleased as he pats your cheek roughly.

“Good.” he grunts, releasing you and knocking your legs apart with two quick slaps to your inner thighs. He drops to his knees between your thighs and yanks the straps of your satin nightie off your shoulders, tugging the fabric down to reveal your bare breasts. He pinches at one nipple, twisting until you squirm away from his touch. He latches onto your neck, biting roughly and sucking harshly and working his way downward until marks are blooming all over your sensitive, buzzing skin.

When he gets to your breast, he looks up at you, studying your reaction when he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as he can fit. You hiss in surprise and move to push him back slightly, finding yourself overwhelmed by the intense sensations, but he snatches your hands out of the way, linking them together in his larger one before trapping your hands between your legs. He sucks on your nipples roughly, rapidly flicking his tongue over the buds and even nipping at them every once in a while, and you can’t tell if you want to moan or cry.

After what feels like ages of inner turmoil, he releases your breasts from his greedy clutches, your nipple slipping from his lips with a loud, wet, pop sound. He leaves a trail of bite marks down from the underside of your breast to your stomach, where he sinks his teeth into your flesh so roughly that you fear he’s aiming to draw blood. He pulls back when there’s a clear indentation of his teeth on you, marks that are sure to bruise, and spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. 

“Been dying to taste this pussy,” he grunts under his breath, and you swallow thickly, watching him warily as he drags his tongue up your folds forcefully. Spreading your folds apart with two fingers, he prods the thick tip of his tongue against your entrance. You gasp in surprise when he slithers his tongue into you, the muscle fat and long as he moves it around along your inner walls. “Delicious,” he groans, dragging his tongue over your hole and relishing the way your hips jolt.

When two thick fingers push into you without warning, a weak moan falls from your lips at the surprise of the stretch. Jeno grins cockily, and it hits you what’s different: there’s a hollowness to his every emotion, like there’s a lack of… humanity to it.

Something about him is off; he's not acting like the man that loves you. He's touching you with the desperation of a man that's never had you before. He even smells different; like smoke, ash even, and something metallic and dark. What clues you in the most that this is not your boyfriend is that his signature scent, his personal blend of musk, is nowhere to be found. This man smells tangy, sharp, and strong, a heady blend but most importantly enough, not your boyfriend's blend.

This man is not Jeno.

“Um,” you pipe up tentatively, and he takes a minor break from licking at your core to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Who are you?”

With your question, the energy in the room shifts completely; a smile nothing short of sinister appears on his lips, and there’s a wicked glint in his eye that has you clutching at the windowsill.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, and there’s an attempt at tenderness, but it all feels so deceptive, like he’s pantomiming an emotion he’s never experienced. “You don’t recognize me?”

“No,” you say breathlessly. “You’re not Jeno.”

“Smart girl,” he replies before lowering his head to return to eating you out. When you start to close your legs from fear and panic, he growls threateningly, the sound guttural and unnatural, and moves faster than you could’ve thought possible. He pushes the bay window open behind you, the bottom of the window swinging out, and forces you back and down until your torso dangles precariously from your tenth floor apartment unit.

“If you make any wrong moves, I will drop you.” he threatens, and you whimper in terror, the wind chilling your cheeks and rushing through your hair as you dangle, contorted partially upside down, at the mercy of this man who looks just like your boyfriend yet behaves like anything but. “Unless you’ve always wanted to paint the concrete with brain matter, I’d stay still.”

You nod vigorously in understanding, letting your trembling thighs fall apart once more, and he hums appreciatively.

“Like I said,” he remarks as he attaches his lips to your clit, “smart girl.” He sucks roughly at your sensitive bud with lewd moans and wet smacking noises and if he can hear your sniffles and whimpers of fear, he doesn’t comment.

The hand not keeping you in your life-threatening position strokes against your folds, parting them and pushing two fingers back into you, starting to pump them in and out.

“I’ve been waiting for this for too long.” he mumbles against your folds before proceeding to sloppily make out with your core, tongue slurping and licking at every drop of arousal that drips out of your poor hole. “Waited in the shadows, listening to that bastard fuck you every night—”

“Every night?” you gasp, and he chuckles darkly.

“I’ve been watching you both for some time now.” he informs you, fingers moving in and out of you while he speaks as if it’s the most casual conversation in the world. “He was a real fucking soft guy, huh?” 

“Was?!” you squeak in alarm, and he laughs loudly, fingers speeding up cruelly and hooking into your g-spot, making it abundantly clear to you that you’re about to cum, whether you like it or not.

“Oh, he’s not coming back, baby,” he says with an audible grin, malice laced in the pet name he so evilly threw back in your face. “Unless anyone at that Halloween party can perform open heart surgery.”

“Oh, my God,” you whimper, and you’re not sure if it’s from abject horror or your rapidly approaching climax. The unmistakable sounds of his fingers squelching in your arousal fills the inside of the room, loud enough for you to hear it from your precarious pose halfway outside. “Please, you have to stop, I don’t want to cum—”

“Do you think I give a fuck what you want?” he spits back at you, and you flinch at the venom in his voice. “All my life, we’ve been forced to mimic you all up here like puppets while you get to do whatever the fuck you want. Now it’s time to do what I want, and I? I want you to cum all over my fingers and my tongue.”

“Please—” you whisper, and he shushes you, the sound adjacent to something close to loving, but lacking any real sympathy; he must have heard Jeno soothing you at some point and mimicked the sound to the best of his abilities. 

“Cum, baby,” he urges, fingers pistoning in and out of you rapidly before he curls and fucks them directly into your g-spot and brings you to a powerful climax that you wish you could explain away to your guilty conscience. His lips wrapped around your clit, he sucks hard and flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud as you ride out your high against his face. 

When you’ve recovered somewhat, he looks up at you with a wicked grin, lips still glistening with your arousal. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he taunts with a sly grin, and you just sniffle forlornly in response. “Get up, baby—wanna feel that pussy around my cock next.” He pulls you up unceremoniously, shutting the window behind you and guiding you to the bed. He plops you down on the mattress and hovers over you, encroaching on your space bit by bit until you’re lying with your back on the bed and your legs are reluctantly spread to welcome him in. “You scared?”

“Yes,” you whimper, and he pouts at you, not a hint of sympathy in his expression. 

“Good.” he chuckles darkly before lining his thick tip—thicker than Jeno’s—up with your entrance and pushing into you with one fluid motion. You grab roughly at the sheets at the intrusion, gasping out loudly, and he seals his mouth over yours to silence your cry of surprise, tongue pushing into your mouth and licking into it filthily. “Relax, you’re never gonna take it well if you don’t relax.”

How the hell am I meant to relax when you killed my boyfriend and are in my home about to do Lord knows what to me? You think, but you refrain from mouthing off just yet.

He pushes down on your lower abdomen, groaning in delight as he feels the bulge of his length dragging along your inner walls, and you let out a choked-off squeak as he stretches you to your limits and fills you impossibly deep. 

“That’s it, pretty little thing, feel me nice and deep right here,” he growls, starting to move his hips faster to fuck into you at a gradually building pace. His hand slides up your stomach to twist your nipple before continuing up to cup your chin and turn your face towards the mirror by the door. You shake your head vigorously, not wanting to see yourself like this, but he holds fast, practically smushing your cheek into the comforter. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.” he urges, and you whimper in protest. 

Your face looks nothing short of fucked out, and he’s just gotten started; your eyes glassy with unshed tears, a few tear streaks sliding down your cheeks, and your jaw feels permanently dropped open as he fucks into you at a brutal pace. His sinewy arms hold you in place as he bullies his cock into your tight hole and his abdomen tenses with every thrust, tight muscle tensing and flexing in a regrettably attractive way.

He reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone, holding it up and aiming it at you. “Smile, baby; you’re on camera.” You reach to cover your face and chest immediately, crying out in protest when he snatches your hands away. “Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy,” he taunts cruelly. “That loser never filmed you two fucking?” 

“No,” you say pleadingly, and he tuts in disapproval.

“Sight as pretty as this can’t go to waste.” he decides, moving the phone closer to your face. Fresh tears spill forth, and he licks his lips slowly, watching one tear in particular drip down your cheek before leaning down and licking a fat, wet stripe up your cheek where the tear track was. “God, and now you’re crying—it’s like you’re trying to make me cum.”

“No, I’m not, please, I’m not—” you beg, and he shushes you impatiently, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yes, baby, you’re gonna make me cum nice and deep in this tight little pussy—gonna fuck you full of my cum—” he grunts, and you squirm under his hold desperately, fighting to get free. “That’s it, struggle a little bit for me—so fucking hot,” he mutters before bringing his forearm to your throat to press down harshly, constricting your airway. “Not too much, now—don’t want you getting away from me.”

“Please—” you croak out, struggling to breathe. “Can’t—breathe—”

His smile only widens and two things dawn on you: one, he could very well kill you right now, and two, there’s no way in hell you’re going down without a fight.

You reach up and claw at his forearm, scratching as hard and as deep as you can, and to your alarm, he grins widely, even among the wince in his expression.

“Love that little fighter in you.” he growls, pressing down harder, so hard you fear it might bruise. “Can’t wait to break it.”

Your vision starts to cloud, black spots forming in your line of sight, and you can feel your consciousness slipping away from you even as you try desperately to remain awake and free yourself. It all proves to be in vain as you slip away from this world, barely able to hear his faint murmur of “That’s it,” before you pass out completely.

When you come to, your throat is sore and you can’t move your body. Your vision spins as you take in the sight of your bedroom, eyes squinting reflexively as the glare of the television hits your retinas.

You turn your head this way and that only to see, to your horror, that your hands and feet are tied to each bedpost with thick, coarse rope. No matter how hard you tug, there seems to be no breaking free, and panic creeps up your still hoarse throat, hot and thick and dully aching. 

The television catches your attention once more, your mind focusing on it in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you watch whatever’s on, your brain catching up quickly.

“...in what reporters everywhere are calling the ‘Doppelgäng​er Takeover,’ recent news has shown that people are being viciously attacked and some even killed by someone that looks exactly like them. If you see someone behaving not quite right, stay back and do not approach; they are known to be violent and highly dangerous.”

Your breathing hitches and starts to shallow rapidly as you start to hyperventilate, tugging harder and harder on your restraints. 

“They won’t budge,” Jeno’s voice calls out, and you flinch, whipping your head around to find the source of the sound. Jeno emerges from the hallway, now clad in a short sleeved black tank top and dark gray sweats. “You can thank Jeno’s mom for that; she signed him—and therefore me—up for Boy Scout training when we were eight.” He steps further into the room, dark piercing eyes scanning your frame trembling with fear. “Her precious Jeno never quite got the hang of the knots, but me? I mastered them.”

A terrified whimper slips from you before you can stop it, and his lips quirk up into a wickedly delighted smile.

“What should I, um…” you swallow thickly before continuing, “call you?”

“Jeno.” he replies easily, and his keen eyes catch the almost imperceptible grimace that takes to your lips at his answer. 

“What are you going to do with me?” you ask worriedly, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to keep you.” he states plainly, and your body stills entirely, fear igniting in your bloodstream and leaving you close to paralyzed. 

“What about my doppelgänger?” you question, not knowing what answer could possibly make you feel better at this point.

“I got rid of her.” His answer is simple again, and you suck in a breath of surprise. “She’s not as fun as you.”

“Fun?” you croak, and he nods, a gleeful smile on his lips as he nears the bed slowly.

“Doppelgängers are essentially a ‘crude’ copy of the ‘original’ person,” Jeno explains, making one-handed air quotes around the words he spits with disdain, “and only the ‘original’ person has a soul.” 

“So… so that means—”

“I don’t have a soul.” Jeno confirms with a hollow laugh made all the more terrifying now that you know he’s literally hollow spiritually, devoid of humanity. “None of my people do.”

“And you want my soul?” you ask fearfully, and he snorts in amusement, shaking his head.

“You really are cute, you know that?” he chuckles. “I’m not going to take it from you,” he says, waiting until your body slackens with relief to add, “I’m going to break it.”

“What does that mean?” you whimper, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Jeno, what do you mean?”

“I want you to understand that this is your reality now. I don’t want there to be any fight left in you at all. But you people are like that… hopeful,” he spits the word with disgust. “Your spirits are like a fire that won’t go out. Every once in a while, there’s a little,” he pauses to scan your face, eyes brightening with excitement when he catches sight of your eyes, no doubt reading the fear, fury, and desperation you have to save yourself— “ember… that sparks up, and I’m going to be here to snuff yours out every… single… time.” He’s close enough to bring his mouth to your ear, lips grazing the lobe and making you shudder with revulsion. “You’re not going anywhere unless I say so.”

You don’t say anything, setting your jaw firmly and staring straight ahead to ignore him. Maybe he’ll get angry enough and kill you, putting you out of your misery.

“There’s that little fighter,” he remarks with fascination. “I saw a hint of it earlier when I was choking you; that fight to survive, to live—you fucked my arm up pretty badly, I was impressed.” he remarks, extending his arm to show you the deep, angry, red cuts clawed into his forearm he’d wrapped around your throat just hours ago. His other arm emerges from behind his back, and your eyes widen when you see a Hitachi wand in his hand, his thumb already resting on the “on” button. “I am going to have so much fun breaking you.” he rasps with unrestrained excitement as he turns the vibrator up to the highest setting.

well.........congrats for making it to the end!! *insert obligatory "i definitely don't think jeno's like this" part that technically doesn't need to be there considering that wasn't jeno* i hope you liked it and if you didn't.... well sorry ig tune in next time for a lovey dovey fic 💖

[andhumanslovedstories]

Well. Turns out she didn’t win.

I was talking to my mom on the phone this morning after my shift, and she was like, “seriously, how are YOU doing,” and I thought about this patient I worked with last night. Not even my patient, I was just answering his bed alarm while his nurse was dealing with a situation she couldn’t leave. I go to the room, and this guy is trying to get out of bed by crawling over the railings. He’s delirious, he’s confused, he’s super hard to understand, and he’s got that look you get when you’ve been very sick for a long time in a really specific way. Basically the kind of patient where you walk in the room and know that on top of whatever else brought them to the hospital, they’re also withdrawing from meth or fentanyl or both. And he super was, oh my god, this guy was withdrawing hard.

So me and a CNA, god bless her, we get him up to the bathroom like he’s trying to do and then we get him back to bed. He climbs in the wrong way, his head is pressed against the foot of the bed, he’s saying over and over that he wants something to drink, and I say to him, “while the CNA is getting you that drink, can I sit you up and get you more comfortable? Is that okay?”

And he shouts in my face, “NO, IT’S NOT FUCKING OKAY,” with this look of pure anger. It’s genuinely frightening to be stared down by someone and to know that if something goes wrong, they’re gonna try to hurt you. And I’m like “okay cool,” and I step back because he’s a spooked horse ready to kick. The CNA gets that drink, and while she helps him with that, I get him his scheduled meds that will help his withdrawal. When I come back, the patient is back in bed properly, tucked in comfortable, as the CNA holds a carton of milk so he can drink it through a straw.

That patient stayed agitated for the whole time I worked with him, but he never got violent. And he never looked at me again that way he had. He stayed pissed, but we got him to be pissed at the situation, not us, and then we worked to fix the situation.

I think about all the ways that could have gone. Stuff like that happens all the time where the margin between violent and not violent is so thin, and so determined by the smallest things. There’s a very plausible world where I got punched or the CNA got kicked and then the patient got drugged or restrained, and everyone in the situation is worse off than they’d been before. There’s a very plausible world where he didn’t get the care he needed because I was scared of him. That didn’t happen. I’m not saying we absolutely crushed it, he definitely was still in a bad way by the time I had to leave, but no one got hurt and he got his medicine and his nurse got to finish dealing with her completely unrelated emergency before she had to come deal with this potential new one.

That’s what I thought about when Mom asked me how I was doing, and I thought this Terry Pratchett quote that had been bouncing around my head all night: “You do the job that’s in front of you.” So that’s how I’m doing. Whatever all that means, that’s how I’m doing.

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[bjornshouldvelivedddd]

18+caged

A/n: obviously NONE of the stuff in this fic is good to do, this is inspired from the movie fresh completely so if you haven't watched fresh don't read this maybe, I’m bringing Tyler into this so just for some verification Bjorns the one who sells the body parts and eats them(maybe just sometimes) but Tyler only sells them because he needs money or just because he’s trying to be a supportive cousin😭 I don’t like this at all so I might delete it and re do it

Tags: @spikedfearn thank you for helping me come up with the Tyler idea🙏 also thank you for matching my freak with this

Pairings: Tyler Harrison x fem!reader x Bjorn

Warnings: cannibalism mentioned, mocking, reader being held in a prison cell, cannionbalistic Tyler and Bjorn, manipulation, false hope, corrupted!Tyler, degrading and praising , dub con, oral f!receiving, lying, Tyler being desperate to just touch a girl in general, orgasm denial, p in v, non protected sex

You’ve been there for at least two weeks, of course you have no way of tracking time but it feels fitting, two weeks of being stuck in a cage with cold hard floors, you also have a small shitty mattress and a thin blanket but it doesn’t help much when it’s night time and freezing cold, the only upside to this is you still have all your limbs also Bjorn brings you food down every day, you shouldn’t really trust the food he brings you but it really does taste good and you also negotiated with him to get the chains of your ankles, another good thing.

You’ve notice that Bjorn isn’t always there, you assume he goes out to the city for groceries or something, but you don’t know.

Your laying on the mattress that hurts your back, just staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs which immediately makes you sit up, you heard Bjorns car leaving a hour ago which means he wouldn’t be back so who is that?

A fairly tall man comes down the stairs, you can’t see him front on but from the back he has short brunette hair and he’s well built, he walks over to the door of the cell and looks at you, now that you can see him front on he looks the same as he does from the back except now that your looking at him front on you notice he he has brown eyes “So your the new girl my cousin has down ere’, Bjorn wasn’t kidding when he said yer’ a pretty thing”Tyler says he smirks slightly, eyes roaming over your form before he leans against the cage.

"Don't worry, I don’t usually come down ‘ere" He says "just wanted to check you out, see if tha’ dick head cousin of mine was telling the truth" He mutters, you just look at him, your even more confused now, is this some kind of fucked up family business? “What do you want.”You ask bluntly, Tyler chuckles “No need to snap a’ me luv, it’s jus’ such a shame, a pretty girl like you down here all by yer’self..”He trails off, noticing how scared you look "ya' gonna keep looking at me like that luv’?.. You look terrified..." he chuckles softly "I could make ya' a deal" he offers, noticing the way your eyes light up with what seems like hope “how bout’ ya’ let me touch and and I’ll let ya’ walk straight outta’ ere’?”he asks, tilting his head to the side “c’mon I’m sure you wanna’ be touched, hm? It must get lonely down ere’..”he mocks, taking keys out of his pocket and opening the cell door and stepping inside, walking over to you.

“I can distract you for a bit, take your mind of all this.”He mutters, placing a hand on your chin and pushing it up so your looking at him “and I’ll get something outta’ it too of course, but so will you and tha’ will be gettin’ outta’ ere’, so?..”He asks, you clench your jaw, if you say no you stay in here for who knows how long, if you say yes you’ll get out of there, it’s a no brainer really. “Fine.”You huff out stubbornly, just like that and he’s kissing you, tongue probing at your bottom lip asking for access, left hand sliding up your shirt to lightly grope at your breast through your bra, other hand is busy sliding down your shorts, thumb pushing your panties to the side so he can sink two fingers knuckle deep into your wet core, you moan quietly and buck your hips against his hand, he moves his fingers in and out of you at a torturous pace.

Tyler presses kisses down your neck, stopping on a certain spot to lightly bite at it, he continues kissing down your body until he gets to your thighs, he pulls your panties down and he pulls his fingers out of you just as you were on the edge of orgasm, he brings his fingers up to his mouth and maintains eye contact as he sucks them clean “taste so sweet, so good..”He mutters before leaning down, his warm mouth wrapping around your core, your hand immediately going to his hair, fisting at it slightly to bring him closer. He’s eating you out like he’s been craving to eat someone out, his jaw is flexing as his tongue works over your slit, going from little licks to gentle sucks “Mh, Bjorn was right, such pathetic noises comin’ from ya’, you we’re jus’ sittin’ ere’ beggin’ ta’ be touched, pathetic almost..”He hums against your core, sending jolts of pleasure through your body “taste so sweet though, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted thats f’sure..”He sucks on your clit, your on the brink of orgasm once again, just like before Tyler pulls away from you, licking his lips, you think he’s gonna just walk out now but instead he undoes his belt and thrusts into you, no warning at all for you, he rocks his hips eagerly against you, his rock hard cock aching for release inside of you. “Feel s’ good too, fuck Bjorn wasn’t lying bout’ how tight you are..”He groans. You whimper under him, clenching around him tightly. Tyler burys his face into your neck as he cums inside you, the head of his cock pressing against your insides, your about to cum around him but before you have the chance he pulls out, it’s just cruel at this point. Tyler smirks at you before standing up “well-“he tucks himself back into his pants and does his belt up along with brushing his clothing off “a deals a deal.”he motions to the door, walking out of the cage himself.

you quickly pull your underwear and shorts on, your so relieved you can finally leave, as soon as your about to walk out Tyler slams the door on your face. “C’mon, you really thought you were gonna’ get out tha’ easily?”He mocks, smirking at the anger on your face “sorry luv. Can’t let ya’ out, ma’ cousin clearly has ya’ in ere’ for business reasons.”he says casually before locking the door again and walking back upstairs.

[osleeplessflowero]

Previous Part🍪 First Part 🎃 💜Oneshot Masterpost💙

[*Notes!] - Context from the previous 3 parts is heavily recommended. Please go check those out! - Reader is gender neutral, They/Them pronouns are used by default. - CONTAINS: Swearing, Typical Haunted House Violence, Mutual Pining - ❕New Tagging Section! If you would like to be tagged when I update this or any other of my series, please let me know in the comments/reblog tags! I'm always happy to.

@xcryptk33p3rx

Fire crackles in the fireplace near the TV, keeping the living room warm against the cold November air outside. You furrow your brows in your sleep before fluttering your eyes open, glancing around in confusion before remembering you'd fallen asleep the night before. Briefly glancing upwards, you freeze when you spot Sans' sleeping face, feeling your own burn as heat rises to it.

Shit, you fell asleep on him! ..Well, he fell asleep too.. For a skeleton, his body's surprisingly pretty warm..cushioned, too. Perhaps it's some kind of magic? It's comforting, in any case. You lean on him a bit, not quite ready to get up yet.

Slowly but surely, Sans' eyesockets open. His single eyelight rests on you, and he feels his skull burn as a mix of red and blue spreads across it. Your gaze meets his, and your face burns a little more. His expression of shock soon shifts into a smile as he looks down at you, catching you off guard.

"..comfortable?" He grins, earning a playful shove from you as you sit up. He chuckles at that, sitting up a bit himself. Such a change in demeanor..you might not be the only one who's gotten more comfortable. And you're not too sure whether that's a good thing, or a bad thing..for your heart's sake.

"You're like a big ol' cushion over there. You're a skeleton, how can you be so soft? And warm? Aren't bones supposed to be cold?" You tilt your head as you wonder aloud, earning a shrug from the skeleton next to you.

"it's just magic. makes our bodies more fleshed out than they actually are. if i appeared as just regular ol' bones, my clothes would be a lot closer to 'em. want an example?" He raises a browbone, and you match his expression. It wouldn't hurt to find out..

"Yeah, sure, show me." You offer, resting your arms in your lap. He adjusts his jacket a bit, before pulling up his shirt. Sure enough, there's a faintly visible magical outline there, a mixture of two colors of magic making a typical stomach. The view flickers in and out, transparent. You can see his actual bones beneath them, still fairly large but not as much as the magic makes him. Huh, makes sense. A few seconds pass before you realize you've been staring for far too long, and you quickly avert your eyes.

"Oh.. so that's how. Cool." You smile sheepishly as he pulls his shirt back down, pausing for a moment when you feel heat rise back to your face. "Oh, uh, by the way.. I'm sorry for falling asleep on you like that. I didn't mean to overstay my welcome, and..y'know.." You rub the back of your neck, avoiding eye contact until you hear him chuckle.

"hey, don't worry about it. i don't mind. you're..welcome anytime." He averts his single eyelight, a hint of color making its way across his skull again before you both hear who is presumably Papyrus coming back downstairs. Once his tall, slender form makes it down, you give him a wave.

"Good Morning, You Two! Have A Good Rest?" He grins slyly, causing you both to flush even further before Sans waves him off as he enters the kitchen; leaving the door open so he can still hear you both.

"yeah yeah, it was good. mornin', paps." Sans coughs into his sleeve before getting up. "i've gotta get ready for work soon, so you two talk."

"Wait, where do you work? I mean, I know you had that haunted house on Halloween, but like..where do you work normally?" You rest your arms in your lap, genuinely curious.

"..i'm still a scare actor, i just move around. i do it full time." He looks back at you, raising a browbone amusedly at your surprised reaction.

"Oh, really? I didn't think you'd wanna do that full time. I was thinking like...I dunno..you worked at a pet shelter or something." You shrug, standing up to go get your coat and tie it around your waist since it's too warm to wear yet.

He lets out a laugh at that. "and let all of those traumatized dogs bark at me in fear or gnaw on my bones? yeah, i think i'll pass on that. not for me. i don't mind dogs though. they're fun little guys."

"When They're Not Stealing Your Attacks From Under Your Skeletal Equivalent Of A Nose, That Is!" Papyrus calls out from the kitchen, earning a confused look from you as you glance towards his brother for context.

"underground, there was this little white dog who would keep showing up to steal the bones paps would use in combat, so he'd have to chase it down. ever since he's been super..wary, around dogs, i guess. it's pretty funny. i wonder what happened to that little guy.." He mutters that last part to himself as he goes upstairs to get changed.

You stand still for a moment, thinking over that last statement. ..There are a lot of aspects about Sans that you don't fully know or understand yet. What happened Underground to mess monsterkind up so badly? Considering the state a lot of them were in when they came up..it must have been pretty damn bad. A part of you wonders how Sans and the others are taking being surfaced, after everything they'd gone through. Maybe someday when you're close enough, you can talk to him about it..learn some things.

Papyrus slowly slides his skull into the room from the doorway, raising a browbone at you as he observes how you're longingly staring up the stairs waiting for Sans to come back down. Once he clears his nonexistent throat, you tense in place before slowly turning and walking over to the kitchen to help him with breakfast. It's the least you could do for being allowed to stay over so late.

"I Fear I May Be Out Of Those Delightful Cookies You Baked By The End Of This Week, Would You Be Willing To Come Over To Visit Again Anytime Soon?" He glances over at you while mixing pancake batter quickly, a hopeful glint in his eyesockets. You huff amusedly, giving his shoulder a nudge.

"Of course, Paps. I'd be happy to come back anytime. Beats hanging out alone at my place." At Papyrus' hum of acknowledgement, you stare at the bowl while he's mixing it in anticipation for the pancakes he's going to make. "..What will you be up to today?"

"I'll Be Going On A Class Trip With Our Friend Aliza! You Might Know Of Her As The Monster Ambassador. We Became Well Acquainted Underground! ..Well, After A Few..Traumatic Experiences, But- What's A Few Traumatic Encounters Between Friends, Hmm?" He laughs awkwardly, continuing to stir before pouring the batter into a pan.

You raise a brow at that, before shrugging. Well, if she's willing to go on a trip with him, surely they must be on pretty good terms now. That's what matters.

Sans shortly comes down a bit later, wearing clothes smudged in fake blood and a few other practical effects minus the mask he'd been wearing when you met him. Papyrus shoos you both away to the table, where you sit patiently while waiting for him to finish.

"..So, uh..hooow would you feel if I tagged along to see you in action? I've only gotten to see you at work once, and that experience was kinda..well, y'know." You offer, earning a nod in reply.

"i don't mind. it's just one of your run-of-the-mill haunted houses. animatronics, actors, practical effects, the works. i doubt you'd be the type to get scared by too much anyway.." He rests his arms on the table. "wantin' to spend some extra time with me, huh?"

Your face flushes at his sly grin, and you wave him off.

"Well, yeah- I like your company, so.." You cross your arms. He blanks at that, a bit surprised that you didn't deny his attempt at teasing you. Heat rises to his skull, a mixture of red and blue giving his feelings away before quickly dying back down as Papyrus returns with the food.

You both don't say much while you eat unless Papyrus prompts you to, and eventually you're both on your way outside, waving goodbye to him.

"m'kay, just hold on. you might feel a little dizzy once we get there. do not let go of me until we're on solid ground." He warns you ominously, a serious look in his eyesockets as you quickly walk over to grab his arm. Within a few seconds, the world seems to flicker.

You glance around a dark, empty void, the two of you being the only signs of life within it. It's cold..eerily silent. You could only hear your own breathing and the faint hum of Sans' magic within the space. A chill goes down your spine, and your grip on him tightens a bit before you finally land on solid ground.

"..And you just..look at that every day?" You blink, before staggering a bit. He quickly loops an arm around your waist to keep you up so you won't fall. You feel your face flush a little again as you look over it..he has really strong arms. Big, too. He could practically engulf you in them.

"yep. careful now, don't want you falling." He smiles a bit, before helping you stand up straight and entering the decorated building. You quickly follow behind him, before stopping at the entrance.

"Hmm..wouldn't hurt to get the intended experience-" You mutter, before letting him go further in and paying a small admission fee, entering when instructed. This'll be fun! You're sure this'll be a breeze to get through.

As a sound effect plays to signal that it's time to enter, you walk in alone. You can't help but feel a sense of familiarity as you do, thinking back to the first time you met Sans in one of these. Only then you had your shitty ex boyfriend ruining your experience, now you can enjoy your time by yourself.

A few actors jump out here and there, earning light yelps and a laugh from you as you make your way past them. You don't seem to realize it as you're doing it, but..your eyes dart around in the hopes of finding a tall silhouette you've grown accustomed to, waiting somewhere in the darkness. You're sure he's around here somewhere, based on the screams you just heard up ahead.

You pick up your pace a bit before entering a room off to the side, jolting once you hear the door lock behind you. Ah, an escape room. Of course. Okay..time to find a way out of here. First thing's first..gotta check your surroundings.

With a sigh, Sans tugs on the mask over his skull while watching over a set of cameras. It's a normal procedure he has to go through to know when his cue to go out is, he usually doesn't linger for too long and waits for one of the other actors to give him a cue. But this time, well..this time was a little different.

You were here, so he couldn't help but watch you work your way around the escape room with a determined smile. The way you light up when you find a puzzle solution, rushing over to solve it and moving to the next swiftly. The way you hesitate to reach into a box of fake guts they made out of random solutions and slime, before your Bravery overtakes you and you grab another puzzle piece. He can't help but find it charming, leaning a bit on the desk beneath all the screens as he watches you move.

Then he pauses a second. Reflecting. Those feelings that had been eating away at him the day before resurface. ..Fondness, appreciation..admiration. Maybe something more, something he hasn't grasped just yet. He puts a hand where his teeth are, feeling his skull burn. His magic forms that familiar mixture of blue and red across his skull, hot enough to cause his mask to emit a faint glow before he calms himself down. He can't get distracted like this, he's working.

A sound cue plays since the others are out acting at the moment, and he moves to get in position behind a bookcase. He closes his eyesockets, listening to the sound of your heartbeat. A hunting skill he'd learned down Underground when hunting down prey that had carried over into his life on the surface. ..He doesn't typically use it for much anymore, aside from to tell how scared the people he's acting for are. It can be pretty amusing to him, listening to their heartbeats speeding up at the mere sight of him. And that's BEFORE he takes out the prop hatchet.

You lift a small note that hints to go to the bookcase to retrieve the key, rushing over and moving one of the books to grab it. As you do, the case begins to rumble before moving off to the side. There he stands, looming over you and covered in fake blood. A wide grin stretches across your face, and Sans can hear your heart rate pick up once you recognize him. ..It's..not from fear, though. You're smiling way too wide for that..

"..Hey." You point finger guns at him. It takes everything in him not to smile, stepping out from his space in the bookcase. "Come here often?"

"are you seriously hitting on a masked murderer right now?"

"It's totally a fear response, I swear-" You let out a little laugh as he scoffs, before raising up his prop hatchet into the air. Your smile dies down almost immediately.

"regardless.. i'm still on the clock. so i suggest you start running." A grin stretches across his skull beneath his mask as you book it out of the room, quickly unlocking the door with him chasing you out and down the following hallway.

A tension in the air picks up as you run, hearing his booming footsteps behind you in the darkness. Adrenaline rushes through you and you can't help but smile, letting out a few laughs as you make daring escapes. You're..doing the complete opposite of what one would expect in here. Sans finds that a bit more charming.

A few other actors jump out at you as you run before sliding into a room, Sans still right behind you. The door closes behind you both as you rush over to the other door to try and open it.

"..Wait, is this another escape room?-" You're cut off by Sans making his way over. As you turn to face him, you lean against the door a bit as he corners you. You both take heavy breaths from how much running you'd been doing, taking the opportunity to stare at each other. Is it getting hot in here?

He moves his prop hatchet over, lifting up your chin with the fake blade so you look at him. His mask had come a bit loose, allowing you to see his shining red eyelight just barely illuminating his face. ..And then he grins.

"caught ya."

A shiver goes down your spine, and you feel your face burn. Any response that comes out is incoherent, earning a chuckle from the skeleton before you as he moves the hatchet away. You move your hand up to where the blade had been pressed absentmindedly, staring for a second.

"..the key's on the table there. looks like you made it." You glance over, spotting the key to the door. Internally, you facepalm. Why didn't you see it when you rushed in here? Taking it in your hand, you unlock it as a sound effect plays to indicate you'd made it out.

"That was fun. Nice work, Sans." You smile up at the skeleton, who huffs amusedly in reply. "I'll have to see how it is behind the scenes next time."

"can't wait." He gives you a pat on the back as you start to make your way out. Glancing over, you notice a bit of color crossing his skull as he pulls his mask back down. Seems he's a bit flushed, too.

[rebeltigera]

Absolutely obsessed with V!Wukong and Blind!Macaque.

I have questions, overall comments and some hypothesized things. (Feel free to ignore or not answer all of them, but the ADHD has kicked in and I gotta splurge because YES)

OKAY! So;

You’ve mentioned in the past that B!Macaque is terrified of Wukong because of what was done to him, PTSD is a bitch. How would V!Wukong get around this to show that, to Mac, he’s not a threat?

* My first thought was, oh! He could start leaving his things around that smell like him so Macaque gets used to his smell, but that seemed more like training a dog, so probably not. But maybe?

Would V! Wukong try and steal Macaque some new eyes that work or an elixir that could heal his sight? Is it possible for his sight to even be healed at this point? Is that something Macaque would even want?

Once some time has passed and Macaque got more comfortable with this Wukong, would Macaque show his growing trust for V!Wukong by grooming his fur? Or allowing V!Wukong to groom him?

How would they show their growing intimately outside of… well, physical affection? Would they feed one another? Pick out clothes they know the other likes? Little things unique to them.

Would V!Wukong ever tell B!Macaque about his macaque? And if he did, how long would it take him to open up? Same scenario with Macaque, how long would it take him to open up?

I like to imagine that the word “Destiny” is a forbidden word for both of them. Neither of them like hearing it. Good way to get V!Wikong to start growling.

Your B!Macaque is so beautiful, he reminds me of a delicate crystal flower, I like to imagine V!Wukong is scared to touch him for a while because he’s afraid he’ll break him further.

V!Wukong violently protecting B!Macaque is something that just makes my heart happy for some reason, and B!Macaque gently cleaning up and healing him afterwards even though V!Wukong is the last person who’d ever need healing is such a tender vision in my mind.

Okay, I believe that’s the end of my rambling. I can’t think of anything else at the moment. I hope you have a wonderful day!

THE TISM HAS TISMED AAAA LOVE IT-

IDK why y'all decided that this ship is interesting after like - one art sksksmssm

But alr

... Oh boy the first one -

To be honest? I Don't know, maybe it would be his charm, the little things he'd do , or that he'd rescue Mac from falling into his own shadows. I didn't ever thought much about it

Mac wouldn't notice him at first . His heartbeat concealed, his power too. Wukong would indeed leave little things around but not in a "find my smell comforting way" . He would do that , move cluttery n dishes to more accessible places. Mac tend to leave them in the sun (to see them through shadows) but once the sun is gone they are gone from his view cuz they don't leave shadow anymore or are concealed by it.

Mac's eyes are not able to heal anymore. However Wukong would find a way to connect in a way their eyes. It wouldn't be permanent thing , just sometimes. See what I see kind of thing

Mac might not want but would need it. Because the last thing he saw was Wukong striking him . And it stuck like super glue.

Wukong might be the one to get a grooming session first. He'd be so confused and scared in a way . Like- he wouldn't expect that and sit obediently like a puppet till Mac would be done . Wukong wouldn't get to touch his fur tho.

Casual Physical affection would be everything to them . Because they both would be reluctant to it at the start .

Wukong wanting to touch but never doing so , Mac starved for it but never asking for it .

So their trust would be shown by it fully .

One thing that I can think of rn is that wuk would wake him up by gentle touches. He relies mostly on his hearing nowadays so it would be nice n comforting.

Whisper when he'd get a feeling Mac would get overwhelmed.

Outside of it , cooking , clothing etc etc - yeah it would happen

About telling him about his task- he wouldn't. Coming to that universe his memories become no more than flashes of the past. He doesn't even know what he searched so long for . He still get flashes of past Mihou and it brings him pang of pain but it'll pass.

For Mac to open up- months? Maybe years . Once he'd realize that V!Wuk is not a threat It would be easier. Wukong got nothing to hide from him so he'd be open like a book.

Mac speaking of destiny

Wukong growling it's bullshit, while hugging him closer

He'd get some pats.

The other moments he might growl more would be in safe heaven called nest, but it's story for a different acc sksksks

Wukong indeed would be scared to hurt him. Those bloodied hands are the one that destroy everything. He wouldn't dare to taint Mac with em. He would have moments when he'd think if he held him too strong he might crush him . Just like that.

The last thing might've happen , but wukong would rather want to keep to himself if he'd ever got hurt or dirty with blood . Mac is too pure.

[thriftyshark530]

"ow!" Whumpee yelps, pulling away from caretaker's touch.

"I'm sorry, whumpee. I need to clean this" caretaker whispers, reaching a hand out towards whumpee, waiting for whumpee's permission to continue cleaning their wound

"I know, I know, I'm sorry." Whumpee leans back into caretaker's touch, letting them continue their work. "Besides, I didn't think it'd hurt that much".

The 'joke' relieved the air of its tension for a few moments, before the two fell silent again as the air got heavy. Whumpee decides to break the silence

"You don't need to do this, y'know, help me. I can take care of myself, I'll be fine"

Caretaker removes their hands from whumpee's wound, staring at whumpee with a confused glare and a raised eyebrow

"You'll be fine? This is 'fine' to you? Every time I find you, you're like this"

"Like what?" Whumpee turns towards caretaker, reflecting the same confused glare

"Broken"

Whumpee's eyes widen, completely taken aback by caretaker's comment. Just before whumpee turns from caretaker's gaze, whumpee notices the tear streaks on caretaker's face

"And I'm afraid, whumpee. I'm so fucking scared, that one day you'll be here, needing my help, and I won't be here to put you back together. And I cant- whumpee, I can't live with that. I couldn't, I-"

Whumpee's expression softens as they watch caretaker choke up on their own words. Whumpee's heart breaks seeing caretaker like this. Whumpee moves in closer to caretaker and gently holds their face, caressing caretaker's face with their thumbs, wiping away caretaker's tears

"Hey, look at me. I won't let that happen to you. I'm not going anywhere, caretaker"

"Do you promise"

Whumpee plants a kiss on caretaker's forehead before pulling back and maintaining eye contact

"I promise, caretaker, I'm not leaving you"

Caretaker smiles through their sniffles and tears, nodding as they wrap whumpee up in a hug. One so tight that whumpee thought they would be snapped in two, but they didn't complain, whumpee needed caretaker to be ok.

[piinksdoll]

→ [808 | Spencer Reid/Emily Prentiss]

Pairing~ Spencer Reid x Fem!Bau!Reader, Emily Prentiss x Fem!Bau!Reader

Genre~ angst, fluff, kissing

Word Count~ 2.8k

Warnings~ heartbreak, wine thats rlly it

a/n~ k this is very angsty, sad spence, sad reader, cute emily tho so yeah! have fun lmk what yall think! also NOT PROOFREAD!!!!

Today is the day. October 17th. 808 days. 

Spencer and I have been together for 808 days. I've counted every day since the first time he said ‘I love you’. I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was after a particularly hard case, and I had gotten hurt. After coming back to Quantico he insisted on driving me home. He walked me to my door and stood in front of me. His hands were trembling, the rain soaked his hair and his clothes. He looked at me with pure adoration before the words left his lips. “I love you Y/n.” 

I have been up for 6 hours, pacing my apartment trying to prepare myself for what's to come. He's on his way here and I know why. It’s over.

I glance up at the clock, 7:58. He’ll be here any minute. Suddenly I'm snapped out of my thoughts with the knock on my door. I opened the door and there he stood.  “Come in.” I moved out the way to let him in. He enters my apartment, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings as if he’s trying to memorise every detail. The warmth of my home feels so stark against the chill of the situation.

“Hey.” His voice barely above a whisper. “Hey.” I replied, my voice almost inaudible. “Do you want some coffee or-?” I start, desperate to break the silence, but he cuts me off. “No, I- ” He hesitates, glancing down at the floor before meeting my eyes. “I think we need to talk. I swallow hard, nodding slowly as the knot in my stomach tightens. “Yeah, I think we do.”

“Y/n, I don't know how to say this. I've been thinking about us, about everything.” He looked at me with those damn brown eyes. I could melt in them. “I think... I think we need to take a break. I need time to figure things out.” My brows furrowed in confusion. “Spencer. I don't know what to say to you.”

He nods slowly, tears pooling in his eyes. “I think it’s for the best. For both of us.” I shook my head, laughing bitterly at his words. “The best? For both of us? No Spencer, I think this is just for you.” His brow furrows, confusion mixed with hurt flashing across his face. “What do you mean?” I close my eyes trying to stop my tears from falling. “I mean, you’ve found something with JJ, haven’t you?” I cross my arms defensively, my heart racing. “You’re too scared to admit it, but you want her. You’re using ‘us’ as an excuse to justify leaving.”

“That’s not true!” he protests, his voice rising slightly. “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. You know how much I care about you.” I shake my head at his words. 

“No Spencer, you don't because if you did, we wouldn't be here. Don't act like there's nothing going on between you too because there is. I've seen the stolen glances, the lingering touches. Do you think im stupid? I've seen the way you look at eachother so don't. Don't try to pretend you care about my feelings because you do not.” A sob escapes my lips. My hands are shaking and tears are streaming down my face as I continue “You don't get it do you? You are my whole world Spencer. I'd give my life for you and all I get is ‘I didn't plan for this to happen?’ You’re leaving me for one of, not only yours, but also my best friend. Like who does that to someone they love.” I shake my head, my tears blurring my vision, and for a moment, it feels like the world is collapsing around me. 

“I thought we had something special,” I say, my voice cracking. “Every day for 2 years, I believed we were building a future together. But now, here we are, and you’re throwing it all away.”

“Just go Spencer, I can't look at you without it ripping my heart out.” My voice trembles. He freezes for a moment, his hand still hovering over the doorknob, and I can see the hurt in his eyes “Y/N…” he starts, but I can’t bear to hear any more. “Please,” I choke out, forcing myself to meet his gaze one last time. “Just go.” His eyes search mine, a mixture of longing and despair etched across his face, and I want to scream at him to stay, to tell him I’ll forgive him, that we can work through this. But I can't do that to myself.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he leaves my apartment for the last time. 

My knees give in, I hit the floor unable to hold myself up. A gut wrenching scream leaves my lips, it feels as if the walls are closing in on me suffocating me with the weight of my heartbreak. I curl into myself, clutching my arms around my legs, the tears flowing freely now as sobs wrack my body. Each cry is a release, a desperate attempt to let go of the pain that clings to me like a second skin. It's over

—

Tonight is the first pasta and wine night at Rossi’s since Spencer left me for JJ. I smooth out my dress before heading out. Emily came to pick me up, “Hey, gorgeous! Ready to have some fun?” she asks, pulling me into a quick hug. I force a smile. “Yeah, let’s do this.” 

The drive to Rossi’s was quiet. I felt like Emily wanted to say something but chose not to pry. As we pulled into the driveway of Rossi’s gorgeous house, I saw Spencer’s car already parked. It made my stomach uneasy. I feel a pang in my chest, but I shake it off as we step inside.

“Y/N! Emily! You made it!” Penelope squeals, rushing over to pull me into a tight hug. Her excitement is contagious, and I can’t help but smile. “Of course! Wouldn’t miss Rossi’s cooking for the world,” I reply, attempting to sound cheerful. I felt Emily squeeze my hand, she gave me an encouraging smile as we walked further into the house. 

I catch glimpses of Spencer and JJ together as we walk past the kitchen into the living room. They’re sitting side by side on the couch, sharing quiet laughs and playful nudges. The way Spencer leans closer to her, the way JJ tucks her hair behind her ear, it all feels like a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost. I swallow hard, forcing myself to look away.

I walk back into the kitchen not wanting to witness them for another second taking a seat on the island with Emily standing next to me. “How are you doing bella?” Rossi asks concern etched on his face as he sets down a plate of freshly baked garlic bread.

I force a smile, trying to mask the hurt inside me. “I’m okay. Just… enjoying the night.” He gives me a knowing look, one that makes my heart sink a little. “You know I’m here for you, right? You don’t have to put on a brave face for me. And I know you’ll find someone, in fact they may be closer than you think.” I look at him confused. “Thanks, Rossi,” I reply, my voice soft. “I appreciate it.” I look back at Emily whose cheeks are now covered in a pink hue.

“What’s going on with you two?” I ask, raising an eyebrow playfully to mask my curiosity. She straightens up, her demeanour shifting. “Nothing! Just… a little wine, that’s all,” she stammers, glancing at the glass in her hand as if it holds all the answers. “Uh-huh, sure,” I tease.

After dinner we all begin to, wine is flowing a little more freely, and laughter filling the spaces between conversation. I catch JJ glancing at me more than once from across the living room, but I do my best to avoid her eyes, pretending to be focused on Emily’s story about some misadventure with Penelope. Eventually, JJ stands up “I’ll be right back,” she whispers to Spencer before making her way to the couch im seated on, and I feel the dread in my stomach grow as she walks towards me.

“Y/N?” JJ’s voice is gentle as she comes to stand by me. “Can we… talk for a second?” I hesitate, glancing at Emily, who gives me a subtle nod. I take a deep breath, then nod, standing up to follow JJ out of the living room and onto the back patio. The cool winds brushed me, I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself. 

“Y/N,” JJ begins softly, “I know I should’ve talked to you sooner. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already have.” I blink back the sting of tears in my eyes, She takes a breath, “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. It just… did. And I’m sorry. I never wanted to cause you pain.” I nod slowly, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “I know, JJ,” I whisper, my voice softer than I expected. “But you did. You really hurt me.”

JJ’s face falls, and I can see the guilt in her eyes as she steps a little closer, her voice shaky. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. And you have every right to not forgive me or let me in your life. I care about you. You’re my family.”

I give her a small, sad smile. “That’s the thing, Jaje,” I say quietly. “You’re like my big sister. I’ve always looked up to you, trusted you. That’s why this hurts so much. I don’t know why you’d do this.”

She looks down, biting her lip as tears well up in her eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you,” she says again, her voice breaking. “It just… I don’t know how to explain it. Spencer and I, we just…”

I shake my head, cutting her off gently. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. These things happen, and I know you didn’t plan for it. But it still hurts, JJ.” Her shoulders sag, and I can see the weight of her guilt bearing down on her. “I know,” she whispers, tears spilling over. “And I wish I could take it back. I really do.” I reach out, placing my hands on her arms lightly, offering her an understanding look. “I can forgive you, JJ,” I tell her softly. “With time, I will. But right now… I just need space. I need time to heal.” JJ nods, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I understand. And I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could make it right.”

“I know you are,” I reply. “And I appreciate that you’re here, apologising. But it’s going to take time.” She sniffs, trying to compose herself. “If you ever want to talk, I’ll be here. I just want you to know that.”

I give her a small nod. “Thanks, JJ. You’ll always be my sister. No matter what. I love you.” JJ’s breath hitches at my words, her eyes widening in surprise. But as I pull her into a tight hug, I feel her tense body soften against mine, and she wraps her arms around me in return. “I love you too, Y/N,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “I always will.” I give her a warm smile before returning to the group. 

—

It’s been a month since everything with Spencer and JJ. A long, painful month, but slowly, things have been getting easier. I’ve been spending more time with Emily lately. She’s been there for me, a constant source of support when I needed it most. What started as a few friendly drinks after work or late-night phone calls turned into something more, a connection I hadn’t realised was forming. 

Tonight, the team is out for drinks, one of those rare evenings where the case is over, and for once, we don’t have to rush off to the next one. The bar is lively, the music loud, and the energy infectious. Emily and I have been dancing for the past hour, laughing and letting loose. I haven’t felt this carefree in a long time. I step away from the dance floor for a second, and go to the table where Derek, Penelope, Aaron, Rossi, and Spencer were sat. Emily and JJ went to grab drinks. 

“So, you and Prentiss looked pretty cozy out there. Do I sense a relationship perhaps?” Derek teases me, nudging my shoulder with a playful grin, I roll my eyes, trying to play it off, but I can feel a blush creeping up my face. “Derek, it’s not like that,” I protest, though my voice betrays me. 

Penelope leans in, her eyes have a look of mischief. “Uh-huh, sure. You’ve been glued to each other all night. Just saying.” Even Hotch cracks a small smile, sipping his drink. “It’s been nice to see you so relaxed lately,” he says, with genuine warmth in his voice. I can’t help but smile back “I’m just enjoying the night, guys. And even if I like her, who says she likes me?” They all look at me in shock, “Y/n be serious for a second, she cant get enough of you. You guys are attached at the hip every second you’re together.” Penelope exclaimed, trying to convince me. “I- I don't know you guys…” I shake my head reluctantly, as Morgan is about to reply Emily and JJ come back with drinks for everyone. “What’re we talking about?” Emily asked as she slid into the booth next to me. “They’re being ridiculous as always and I kinda wanna leave…” I whispered the last part leaning into her shoulder. “Alright we can leave, ok you guys I think we’re done for the night. We're gonna head out!” I let out a breath of relief as we made our way out of the bar. 

Emily took my hand into hers shooting chills up my spine. I thought about Penelope and Derek’s words, could she really see me like that? Especially after seeing me and supporting my relationship with one of our mutual friends? As I was about to speak up Emily beat me to it. 

“You know, you're someone I look forward to seeing everyday Y/n.” The look in her eyes made my heart skip a beat. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks, I swallowed, nervousness and excitement swirling inside me. “Emily…” I look down to hide the grin forming on my face. 

“And I don't want to rush you. I know this isn't where you thought you'd be but Y/n I- I like you a lot. And I underst-” she continued, but before she could finish I reached up pressing my lips against hers. 

Emily froze for a split second before melting into the kiss, her hand coming up to gently cup my face. The world seemed to stop as we stood there, wrapped in each other, my heart pounding in a way I hadn’t felt in so long. It felt like all the tension and unspoken words from the past few months were pouring out between us in that single, tender moment.

When we finally broke apart, she kept her forehead pressed to mine, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t think I’d be this lucky tonight.” I let out a shaky laugh, feeling a surge of emotions that I’d tried to ignore for so long. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again… but here you are.”

Emily smiled, her thumb brushing over my cheek as she pulled me close. “One step at a time, okay? We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” I nodded, a wave of relief washing over me. “Yeah. I’d like that. One step at a time.”

(Spencer’s Pov)

I stepped out of the bar and caught sight of Y/N and Emily up ahead, walking together under the dim glow of the streetlights, her hand held in Emily’s. My heart clenched. Not being with her has been eating away at me, more than I wanted to admit. She was right about everything—how I took her for granted, how I’d let myself fall for JJ, that I lost sight of what really mattered.

Seeing her now, laughing softly with Emily, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. I’d tried to convince myself that walking away was for the best, that it would be easier on both of us, but watching her find happiness without me made it all feel final. She deserves someone who would make her feel seen, who wouldn’t let her slip through their fingers. And maybe Emily could be that person in a way I never could.

As they turned the corner, I hesitated, realising I didn’t have a reason to go after her anymore, and it ripped my heart out. 

“2 years, and 75 days…”

[purplemagics-blog]

IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH LOGAN HOWLETT/WOLVERINE HEADCANONS!!🐱⛓️‍💥🚬

“I'm a puppet on a string. Tracy Island, time-travelin' diamond cutter-shaped heartaches. Come to find you four in some velvet mornin' years too late. She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space”

Things: gender neutral headcanons I think, kinda out of character of him, Logan being an ass.

1.) When he is tired he will hold you in his lap and will NOT let go, leaving you stuck with his arms around your waist and his face in the crook of your neck.

2.) He secretly love cuddling but denies it HARD when you try and tease him about it to the team.

3.) This man is attempt to cook just for you when you’re sick even if he is actually shit at cooking. He has actually almost burned down the kitchen of the X mansion, trying to cook a grilled cheese for you.

4.) He will match with you when it comes to clothes like if you wear a white suit/dress he will wear a white suit or if you wear a red suit/dress he will wear a red suit.

5.) Overprotective for no reason. This man is jealous 24/7 especially when you’re around Scott and when he gets jealous of Scott and you he will pick you up and carry you away from him leaving you embarrassed and mad at him. (you would do the same if he was talking to Jean BUT STILL!-)

6.) Loves watching movies with you and loves it when you cling to him when there’s a jump scare.

7.) Finds it adorable when you try to act tough or in charge and when you try to boss him around he just mocks you not taking you seriously.

8.) You got a cat and Logan was complaining about it but when you checked on Logan and the cat to make sure he didn’t kill it and when you walked in he was cuddling with it. (They are best buddies)

9.) Ones you bought pheromone perfume as a joke in this man was glue to you. No this man would not leave your side no matter what.

10.) HE IS A BITER Y’ALL!😭🙏🏽

11.) An actual mess when he drinks to much. Ones you had to carry him out a bar has he peppers your face with kissing and rambling on how he never wanted to leave you.

12.) You speak in brain rot sometimes and watch as his face goes more and more confused and like “wtf is my partner talking about!?” (Skidi sigma Rizz☝🏽🤓)

13.) You always take him to the theme parks/carnivals which he loves it there but would never say out loud. Once a little kid that got lost walked up to you guys and Logan offered him a sip of the cheap beers they sell at carnivals.

14.) He got your name tattooed on his left collarbone (small but noticeable if you looked at it close) but then you looked at it you didn’t have the heart to tell him it was spelled so terribly wrong LMAO. 😭🙏🏽

15.) He would never go through your phone but he doesn’t mind if you go through his’ phone. (THAT MAN AIN’T GOT NO GIRLS OR BOYS IN HIS CAMERA ROLL BUT YOU!!)

16.) Type of guy to plan out a whole fucking future with kids, home, etc thinking you are the sexy person on earth just from looking at you while you are slumped over the couch with your hair tied up, in a oversized hoodie, on your period (if u a girl), thinking you are the ugliest mutant/person in the world.

ANYWAYS TELL ME IF YOU WANT MORE OF THIS TYPE OF THING BYEEEE❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜

[wrenxpalmer]

What made her confusion worse was the ridicule she was faced in the unknown. He was making fun of her, indulging in the fact that she was out of her element and even worse, scared. It felt like digging the knife in deeper, a blunt and painful blade. It made her bitter with anger and she became mad at herself for not knowing the answer as if she had the means. There was nothing worse than being caught off guard or so she thought, until now when met with the twisted delight he got from her uncertainty. A harsh breath came from her nose in contempt. Trained, marked, memorized - all of these words felt like watching him build the walls of an invisible prison. The very things she hated all spouted from his lips, a new and suffocating fear rising to the surface. Ownership and possession were some of her greatest fears, and some of the words he liked using the most.

She especially resented being mocked amongst many other things, now missing the opportunity to counter for lack of better words. In the conception of the idea, it felt utterly stupid. Denial was the first emotion to set in, perhaps disbelief. Stuff for the movies, it wasn’t real. Certain memories trickled in now, like the cut on her lip and the sounds he made as he tasted it, calling her human. They’d been enthralled in each other for some time, it felt, long enough not to notice a single sound - where now none existed. There were no sounds of feet, heightened conversations or laughter, no sounds of bustling drinks and silver plates and platters. Just silence. Maybe the fear of the unknown mixed with her thoughts now because it only seemed to encourage his pleasure. “You’re lying.” She hissed, very aware of the closing space he put between the two. “You’re making up stupid shit to scare me, that’s not a real thing - let me go.”

Her eyebrows pressed together in frustration. It all felt like a rush to her nervous system, and not being able to verbalize disorganized her breathing. His hand gripped her wrist and she suddenly became aware of the resistance behind it, even if the strength was not enforced. Her short movements against the action did nothing, not even his body moved from how much her arm wiggled, an immovable force. “I don’t want to.” Her words felt muddled, reduced to a less clever response than before. “Don’t keep me here, just kill me.”

Something infinitely worse than the idea of dying was the thought that she no longer belonged to herself. To be in possession of someone else was making her stomach turn, as if it were marinating inside of her alongside the disbelief of this discovery. “I’d rather die than stay here. You want to make shit up and fantasize and role play, do it with someone else. Don’t leave me here.” It almost sounded immature, she didn’t want to believe him. “Don’t do it.” Her arm wriggled against the stone of his grasp. “I wont give you what you want. If you come back here and touch me I’ll be lifeless. There’ll be no joy in it and you’ll wish you would’ve just killed me.” Her nose was flaring but her eyes stung with fear. “I’m not scared to die. Just do it now. Don’t make me wait. Please.”

Aggression and coercion were expected, perhaps veiled and even direct threats that might precede something more violent. When braced herself for it, ready for what she might have to dodge or talk herself out of, how she might manipulate herself out of her current position. What she never expected in the wildest depths of her imagination was the swift switch in air and how quickly it whipped against her skin and lifted her hair as the body that was some distance behind now stood directly at her side in less than an instant.

The air was cold as it hit her, even colder was the air that left her lungs. Not even a shrill gasp could leave her throat, only a withdrawal of breath from her lungs and widened eyes. It was pure instinct that she might move away, body taking over for protection and preservation as it felt an object closer than it should have ever been in that moment. Her breath caught in her throat and dried it of all moisture. As she jolted back her mind could only race with conclusions to no logical answers, as if it was trying to muster a solve for something so irrational and unnatural. She’d never even heard his heavy steps, like he might be running fast to catch the door in its place. Only the feeling of the air around her and the sight of his body once there now suddenly here, with no apparent answer in sight.

“What the fuck?” Was all she could muster, the first word catching in her throat before the rest very quickly followed it. Her body trembled, perhaps a mix of adrenaline and definite confusion, a jolt of emotion that she could only describe as lunacy. From him came less than nothing, like he expected the reaction from her. He almost seemed bored, but then that boredom came a sweet sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that he’d had something to prove. To Wren this word echoed in her ear, monster, like she had any bearings on what it might mean from whatever it is he might be showing her.

Then, as if to prove another point, he twisted off the heavy doorknob which would have otherwise been her only way of leaving and held it out to her with twisted amusement. Already curving away from him, Wren was rightfully distrusting in his actions and made no movement towards him, even angrier now that she felt she’d been made a fool, angrier now that she was not in control of what made sense. How did he do that, what was that, what’s going on - all things she wanted to say but betrayed her, it felt like her grasp was slipping from control and it only deepened her anger, eyes confused and brows turned in, lips curling in disgust. She felt like she might be sick. Some of her concern should have been on her predicament but somehow it centered in her confusion, too preoccupied with making sense of what was happening as opposed to her lack of an escape route. “You’re unscrewing the knob?” She spat back at him, breath unsteady even now. “What are you saying? What are you doing?” Her eyes rushed between his as if comfort would be met against the two. “What the hell do you mean monster?”

[crustyfloor]

The idea of Till having a certain sentiment of regret, hate? towards Ivan for what he did in round 6 jumbled up with his already mixed feelings about Ivan because of the person he is and how he treated Till when they were kids up until now, it's a lot. It breaks my heart but feels a little too real.

[illuschism]

“the recent episode of doctor who was so weird and confusing!”

me:

[stardust-moth]

looking at some takes on characters or relationships or scenes in which things happen between them and just thinking,

How in the hell are people interpreting it this way??? But then i step back and realize that the story or character in question is fundamentally and extraordinarily different from the average person's life experience and I go,

ah,

you guys just... don't have a deep enough understanding of trauma responses...

[truth-01001001-liar]

one of the customers made their straw into a rectangle, and it survived the dish pit…

i am enamored..

impressed ..

..and a little bit concerned.

[leatherbookmark]

i get it i get it i really get it but also it's very frustrating when a work of fiction raises you expectations, makes you thrilled for The Big Confrontation, and then the next post-clifhanger installment comes and it goes "after everything was over,"

[quietwingsinthesky]

hey *grabs you by the shoulders* its gonna b ok

oh, i know, anon. but thank you.

[serkonans]

the way we handle medical leave in the states even for people with good benefits is cruel