#like its such a small detail. it could be copied for all of them doing it perfectly on time but theres a difference in the timing. amazing

[beaulesbian]

ARCANE S2 TRAILER

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗜𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗞 𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦 | 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟰

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: 4 times that Y/N and Matt made a couple's trend on tiktok.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Kinda?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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1. Decorating my boyfriend's car super girly and seeing his reaction

Going downstairs quietly so as not to wake anyone, considering it was still too early for any of the triplets - and even Y/N - to be awake, Y/N entered the garage. Matt's car, an impeccably clean black one, was there, parked and oblivious to what was coming.

The girl turned on the room light and made sure she had closed the door before finally unlocking the car ones by simply touching the small control in her hands.

Opening the driver's door with her unoccupied hand, Y/N climbed in, sitting down on the seat, a sound of complaint escaping her throat as she noticed how far and low the seat was - obviously adjusted for Matt's height. She quickly adjusted the position of it until she felt comfortable and, finally, put her phone in the support attached to the lower center of the windowshield, exactly where the boys supported their camera during car videos, her right hand instinctively flying towards the ceiling lights, turning it on.

Y/N unlocked the device and quickly browsed through the apps until she found TikTok, opening it and entering the recording space, adjusting the focus to ensure that every detail was captured, and pressed the red button.

"Good morning, TikTok!" The girl muttered in a low tone, a mischievous glint clearly apparent in her eyes. "Today, I'm going to do the biggest trolling of all in my boyfriend's car. Let’s turn it into a real preppy car!"

Y/N started by taking the first piece from the box of items she had prepared: a pink fuzzy cover for the steering wheel. The cover was a vibrant pink, with a soft, cozy feel to the touch.

Y/N carefully slid the cover over its right place, making sure every inch was covered and fitted perfectly. The fluff glowed below the yellow light, giving the steering wheel a luxurious, exaggerated appearance.

Then, she picked up two pink cup holders, filled with glitter, both twinkling every time the light hit one of them, as if it was full of little stars. Y/N laughed to herself as she placed them on the center console's cup rests, fitting them in and smiling widely when she noticed how perfect the size was.

"Matt will love putting our morning Starbucks here, for sure.” The girl murmured, looking up and sending a wink towards the camera.

The next step was to decorate the air conditioning vents. Y/N had bought several mini pink decorations, also full of glitter, each one more extravagant than the last. There were little hearts, stars, and even some fake diamonds. She carefully attached each to the air vents, adjusting until they were all secure and at a good enough distance to notice them all.

"Get ready for style and glamor to be blown throughout the car when Chris asks Matt to turn on the air conditioning during videos." She joked while still adjusting the last small items.

The car's gearshift could not be forgotten. Y/N pulled out a smaller sized pink fuzzy cover, specially designed. It was soft to the touch, matching the steering wheel cover perfectly. She slid it over the gear, adjusting it so it was secure, her right hand closing around the cover, smiling as she felt the small hairs caressing her palm.

Finally, to complete the look, Y/N took a pink diamond-shaped pendant, stretching her upper body upwards and extending her hands, hanging it around the rearview mirror. The pendant swayed slightly by itself, reflecting the light and casting small colored reflections throughout the interior of the all car.

"I feel like I'm in Barbie: a Fashion Fairytale." Y/N said, letting out a nasal laugh, resting her back against the backrest of the seat so that her eyes could analyze every corner of the car, admiring her final work.

She then turned her attention back to her cell.

"Alright, guys, the car is ready. Now we just need to wait for Matt to wake up and see his reaction."

The video stopped at that moment before it returned seconds later.

"I went upstairs after fixing the last details and woke up Matt, I made up that I was hungry, but that I wanted to have breakfast at a café." Y/N began with a hushed tone, now sitting in the passenger seat, her phone now in her hands. "I waited for him to get up and get ready before telling him I would wait for him in the car."

It didn't take long and soon Y/N heard Matt's footsteps coming down the stairs that led to the garage, her eyes looking up in time to see the silhouette of her boyfriend appearing in the doorway. She pressed her lips into a thin line in an attempt to contain her laughter.

Her eyes followed Matt's steps, who walked quickly towards the driver's seat door, the sound of the door opening echoing through the small space was followed by anticipation on Y/N's part, who looked at the camera to Matt and back again, waiting for his reaction.

"Hey, sweet girl, I'm sorry it took me so..." He interrupted his own sentence, his movements instantly stopping for a few seconds. "Y/N! What- What did you do to my car?!" Matt's voice echoed in a tone of disbelief, the surprise evident on his face not yet visible to the phone camera.

"Come on, babe, sit down so you can take a better look at this incredible work I did just for you." The girl asked in a fake sweet tone, smiling openly and leaning her upper body over the console, extending her right arm so that her hand could touch Matt's, holding it firmly and pulling him inside.

The boy, still wide-eyed and surprised, obeyed, sitting on the leather covered seat - already arranged again to his own taste - and closing the door with a thud.

"Where- When did you even get all those things?" Matt questioned again, his blue eyes quickly traveling over every pink detail before turning his attention back to Y/N, his mouth slightly open.

"Yesterday, duh." The girl answered as if it was obvious, shrugging her shoulders before her neutral expression broke into a smile again. "Did you like it? It's pretty, right? I'm sure your videos will be much cooler now."

"Babe, oh my God." Matt's voice sounded airy, eliciting a laugh from Y/N. He didn't know where to focus his attention, different shades of pink calling his eyes from every corner. "I can't lie. It looks so good." The boy finally reached out with his hands, his fingers curling around his steering wheel, pressing lightly against the extremely fluffy fabric over his palm.

"I know, right?" Y/N responded excitedly, briefly glancing at her cell that was still recording them. "Look at the cup holder, babe!" Her tone rose as she reached out toward the console, pointing to the pink cup holder with her index finger.

"So I can put in your favorite Starbucks drink every morning, huh?" Matt lowered his gaze to the item, shaking his head amusedly as he heard his girlfriend agree excitedly.

"Next step: getting the car wrapped in pink."

"Are you crazy?"

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2. Pretending to be asleep to see my boyfriend's reaction

Y/N was home alone, comfortable silence filling every corner as she waited for Matt to return from the street. He had gone out to get a specific sweet that she had been asking for for days, and the only place where they sold it didn't deliver.

Sitting comfortably on the grey couch in the living room, the girl was immersed in TikTok videos when a new couple trend appeared on her For You Page, catching her attention; Pretending to be asleep to see my boyfriend's reaction.

Y/N didn't think twice before making the decision to join the cycle of famous couples replicating the trend, quickly leaving TikTok, and opening the location app she shared with Matt. Watching his icon move across the colorful map, she calculated that she still had a few minutes before he arrived, rising from the couch seconds later, running down the small hallway that led to their room.

First, she took the plush, gray bedspreads off the bed, folding it and leaving it on Matt's gaming chair. The soft light from the already turned on lamp created a calm and welcoming atmosphere, perfect for what she had in mind.

She then adjusted her phone on the nightstand on her side of the bed, ensuring the camera was pointed directly at the mattress and the space Matt would enter, propping it against the lamp and organizing the minimal decorations that was always above the furniture around the device in a way that it disguised its existence there.

Checking the app again, she saw that Matt was just a few blocks away. Y/N hurried to lay down, adjusting herself comfortably but naturally.

She turned slightly to her back, rescuing Matt's pillow and hugging it to her chest, not stopping herself from lightly exhaling the natural scent of her boyfriend's male shampoo and cologne that permeated into the fabric, closing her eyes and regulating her breathing to make it seem like she was actually sleeping.

A few minutes later, she finally heard Matt's footsteps echoing across the floor, going from quieter to louder, indicating that he was getting closer to the room. She kept her eyes closed, trying to contain a wide smile as her heart beat fastned.

Matt's footsteps approached the door, the sound of it opening echoing after, the familiar sound of the paper bag he was carrying filling Y/N's ears.

"Babe, I found the one that you wanted, and guess what? They had just made it!" Matt started talking as soon as he entered the space, his voice excited and loud, before noticing the silence in the room.

The boy looked up, his eyes running around before noticing his girlfriend lying on their shared bed, lowering his voice when he noticed her apparently sleeping figure, his expression softening immediately, a small smile settling on his lips.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click, walking with steps of a feather towards the bed, the sound of his sock-covered feet tapping against the wooden floor gently echoing through the four walls.

His busy hand placed the bag with the sweet on the nightstand beside his side before he approached the edge of the bed, admiration written all over his face as he looked at Y/N.

He bent his knees slightly, curving his upper body over the mattress and bringing his face closer to Y/N's head, using his left hand to support his own weight, just watching her sleep for a few seconds, a tender smile on her face.

Matt then lowered his head so that his face was close to hers, sealing his lips over her forehead and head repeatedly, but very lightly and slowly, without the intention of waking her up.

"You're so beautiful when you sleep, you know that?" He whispered, his voice filled with affection, stroking the side of her face lightly with the tip of his nose before reaching out with his right hand, gently brushing away the loose strands of hair with his fingertips, taking them away from her eyes, being careful. His touch was light, almost like a gentle breeze.

Matt looked around, noticing the phone on Y/N's nightstand, but didn't suspect anything thanks to the low brightness of the screen. He just smiled, enjoying the moment, taking note of how the surroundings seemed as calm as ever.

Taking the corner of the duvet that was at the foot of the bed, he gently pulled it over his girlfriend, making sure she was comfortable and warm, petting the thick fabric lightly, molding it to his girl's body.

Then he got up again, reaching his hands to his bedside table, taking the bag with the sweet he had brought between his fingers. It was an angel cake with strawberry filling and whipped cream, Y/N's favorite.

The boy took the box with the cake out of the bag, being careful not to make any loud sounds, leaving the brown paper bag on the wood surface before walking towards Y/N's bedside table slowly, leaving the frame of the phone's front camera for a few seconds, placing the small white cardboard box above it.

"Hope you like it." The brunette murmured again, more to himself than to her.

Matt then returned to his side of the bed, resting his right hand on the mattress and taking off his socks before finally laying down next to her, being careful not to make too much noise or sudden movements.

After snuggling as best he could under the duvet, he turned on his side, bringing the front of his body closer to the back of Y/N's one, wrapping an arm around her waist slowly, gently pulling her closer, his hand automatically finding its way under the oversized t-shirt that covered Y/N's upper body down to her thighs, snaking his hand across the soft skin of his girl's stomach and finding home beneath her right breast, just as he did every day, not seeming to notice the shiver that ran through her body, closing his eyes.

Y/N couldn't help but relax her body even more under her boyfriend's gentle touch, snuggling closer, feeling a deep peace settle in her chest, momentarily forgetting that she was even recording something.

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3. Trying the spray trend on my boyfriend

Y/N was in the bathroom she shared with Matt, her hands working on resting her phone on the marble sink in a way that it wouldn't be obvious that she was recording, the screen with low brightness already open on the TikTok app. She made sure the frontal camera was well positioned, capturing the perfect angle from the bathroom door to the area where she would be standing.

Then, Y/N bent down slightly and opened the cabinet under the sink, her right hand retrieving a spray deodorant she had recently purchased, taking off the cap and setting it aside. With everything ready, the girl turned to her cell again, pressing the record button with her thumb.

Y/N smiled playfully at the camera before turning away from the device and extending her right hand, opening the bathroom door.

"Matt!" The low, muffled sound of Matt's voice shouting back echoed down the hallway leading to the bathroom. "Babe, can you come here for a minute?"

She waited, listening to her boyfriend's footsteps approaching. His figure quickly appeared in front of the already open door, a confused look on his face.

"What's wrong, babe? Do you need help with something?"

"I bought this new deodorant that says it's unscented, but I think it has a slight lavender scent. Can you smell it and tell me what you think?" Y/N asked, her tone sounding naive, holding the spray deodorant at the height she knew would be ideal for him to reach it, and pointing the hole where the product exited upwards.

"Sure." Matt nodded, still a little confused, but willing to help. He entered the bathroom completely and approached Y/N, tilting his head closer to the area where his girlfriend was holding the spray.

Y/N pressed the button on the top of the deodorant, creating a white cloud that slowly rose. Matt leaned even closer to smell the scent, a look of genuine concentration written across his face, and at that exact moment Y/N moved quickly, closing the distance between their faces and pressing her lips softly against his.

The kiss was quick and surprising, and she could feel Matt's slight shiver of surprise, a sound of shock escaping his throat.

When she pulled away, Matt's eyes were wide, his eyelids blinking rapidly as his brain tried to assimilate what had happened, his cheeks slowly turning into a bright red hue, a small smile appearing on the corner of his lips.

"What?" A loud laugh escaped Y/N's mouth as she watched his reaction, noticing his shy expression.

"You're a little devil." Matt shook his head comically. His tongue acted on its own as it escaped his mouth, passing his lips carefully, the taste of mint flooding his palate. "Is that mint?"

"Maybe." Y/N replied with the ghost of a smile, vaguely remembering how she had applied the Space Camp mind lip balm a few minutes earlier.

"Can I have another taste of it?"

"Matt!"

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4. Using my scary dog ​​privilege to walk alone at night

It was a quiet, cool evening as Y/N and Matt were taking a walk after a nice dinner at a home-cooked Italian restaurant close to their home.

Y/N's eyes swept the deserted streets in front of her, quickly looking back over her shoulder, taking note of Matt a few steps behind her body, vaguely remembering a TikTok she had watched earlier that day, the environment around them reminding her a lot of the one in the video.

With that, she decided to record one, too.

And how she was when she was beautiful

The girl was now holding her phone in her right hand, her screen with TikTok already open in the recording area staring back at her, the sound of the Babooshka song melody playing at a low volume from her speakers.

Her half-closed eyes were fixed on the front camera, which recorded her face contorted into a small smirk, her hair moving around her face as if it was planned, a consequence of the light wind that surrounded her and her measured steps, which never stopped.

She signed the letter

Y/N slightly raised her hand that was holding her cell so that the camera now captured the view from behind her back.

All yours

The video captured the image of Matt following in her footsteps, his body completely covered in black clothing, making a perfect contrast with the yellow night lights coming from the tall poles above their heads.

His posture was erect and his head remained high, his arms crossed so that his biceps were visible against the thin fabric of his black shirt and a serious expression resting on his face - as usual -, his eyes fixed straight ahead, as if he was on alert of everything, accompanied by his furrowed eyebrows, giving an impression of anger to anyone who saw him from afar.

Y/N, watching the image through the tilted phone screen that was still recording her boyfriend, felt a shiver run down her spine; a small, satisfied smile blooming on her face.

Matt was definitely a scary Doberman by her side.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @annamcdonalds67

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[romypearl]

The Queen's Pawn - Regina George/Oblivious!Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Summary: Everyone is interested and obsessed with Regina George, after all, she is the queen of the North Shore, so why does Y/N barely look at her? The new student, oblivious to her existence, intrigues and irritates the blonde at the same time. And she doesn't know how to deal with it.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: None, for now

Word count: +1400

Unrevised

She's boring.

Very annoying.

A total waste of time.

Sometimes seems to live on Mars.

And Regina George doesn't know why she wants to get her attention so badly.

When their gazes met a few weeks earlier in the cafeteria and Y/N greeted her as if she were any other human, well, the blonde has to admit that she felt her stomach lurch into an unfamiliar sensation and all the air being knocked out of her lungs. She had never seen her in North Shore, nor in the city, and it was annoyingly difficult to discreetly find out anything about the new student, after all, she never shows interest in anyone, it's always the other way around. However, as fate would have it, she soon found out that they shared some classes. That's how she knew her name, age, that she's not from Evanston and is very close to fucking Janis 'Imi'ike, with hands intertwined as they cross the tumultuous corridors and play with each other's hair, telling inside jokes. Damn it, it's only the third week and they're joined at the hip. And she's never looked at or waved to Regina in the same way, most of the time she seems almost oblivious to her existence.

The tray seems more interesting than the latest random conversation at the table, she plays with the scattered French fries and sips the diet coke. Thoughts wander far away, full of memories and expectations too, she hasn't seen her all day, soon it will be their shared lesson and she can't stop thinking about the reasons for her absence. If something serious has happened, if she's sick or... skipping class to make out with someone, which is something almost everyone does. But with whom?

Loud laughter breaks her trance, Damian tries to hold back a laugh while Janis hugs Y/N and has a hand over her mouth, trying to stop her from laughing any louder, even though she can't stop herself. The trio are walking to their usual table, ignoring everyone around them. It annoys her to the bone, how easy it is for them to get her attention, to make her laugh. Suddenly, the newbie turns her face in their direction and she could swear she felt her heart stop beating for a millisecond only to start beating 10 times faster, watching her break away from the group and walk towards the Plastics.

"Hi, girls!" she greeted the four with a wave of a hand, ignoring their lack of response, and opened a wide smile, which surprised them with its "boldness". For a moment the blonde thought Y/N would turn and speak directly to her, try to get closer, to have her attention, but she turned to Heron and squatted down, handing over a book, dozens of post-its marking the pages "Here it is, I made some notes and the colors of the bookmarks are my reactions. Hopefully you'll like it as much as I do."

"Thanks! I'll get back to you as soon as I've finished." Cady appreciates it and returns the warm smile, however, the queen bee doesn't miss her cheeks blushing slightly at the brief interaction, making her roll her eyes in disgust "I couldn't find any other copies..."

Regina watches with a mixture of disdain and envy, Y/N should be paying attention to her and only her, not some worthless girl who has just ascended the high school social hierarchy. At the same time, her anxiety barely lets her think, she has never been so close before, she can smell the floral perfume permeating the atmosphere and see the small details of the skin she longs to touch. But there is something she longs for more than that, and that is to get her away from Cady, to make it clear that she is superior and in control.

"You know, Cady, it's admirable that you're willing to sacrifice your free time to make a library rat feel validated." she cuts in, throwing out a biting comment, a forced smile plastered on her face and blue eyes directed at Y/N "But, frankly, I think she should spend less time with books and more learning how to dress without looking like a single 40-year-old librarian."

The sharp words echo through the cafeteria, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the air and all the cliques watching the scene unfold. The girl frowns, surprised and confused by the sudden hostility, and her smile falters. She really can't understand the reason for the gratuitous verbal aggression, she hasn't done anything to deserve such treatment, not even talked to anyone other than one person there before. Her friends didn't give her the same hierarchical speech and tips that they gave Heron, because, unlike her, they didn't see any potential in the other new student to stand out in Regina's eyes and quickly knew that it wouldn't do much good considering how oblivious she is, as well as how indifferent to groups she is. A being apart from the jungle of hormonal teenagers in search of social status.

Nobody expects her to respond, in fact, they believe the opposite will happen. They expect to see a puppy running around with its tail between the legs. Regina feels the temporary taste of triumph in her mouth and waits for her to turn around.

"And you should spend less time dressing up for Coachella and more time studying history, maybe then you'll get at least a C on an elementary school exam." Y/N shrugged and turned to her new friend "Tell me what you thought of the book..."

The beginning-of-semester test that the history teacher always gives to check the students' knowledge. It's this test that she's referring to, which Regina got an embarrassing F in, although it doesn't really bother her as it doesn't count as a formal grade. In contrast to her, the youngest scored an A+ and quickly excelled in the subject.

Another time, with someone else, the blonde was going to kill with one look. This time, to everyone's shock, she throws herself back in her chair and laughs out loud, head thrown back. It's genuine. Her kitten has sharp claws and knows how to use them. She hadn't imagined that the quiet, peaceful and compassionate Y/L/N could strike back at her, with her harmless appearance and silly expressions. It's little discoveries that make everything more fun.

Regina recovers and tilts her head slightly, lips curving into a subtle smile as she stares deeply at her, challenging. She's got the newbie's attention, as she's wanted for weeks, and now that she has it, it's time to put the pieces on the table, time to play.

"Oh, I see you know how to defend yourself. Well, princess, you should know that's not how people dress for Coachella. And that I don't need to prove myself in a stupid questionnaire." then leans over so that they're centimeters apart and whispers, "Now, if I teach you, maybe you'll learn something more interesting than history..."

The bait is thrown, a flirtatious double entendre in the middle of a cold discussion.

"I don't think there's anything you can teach me that I want to learn."

Once again, she has an answer on the tip of her tongue and isn't afraid to answer the queen bee straight. Y/N smiles and says goodbye to the group, turning her back to go to her own table, she's starving and can't wait to devour the pizza bought moments before. That's more important than arguing with a stranger over lunch. All that's left for Regina to do is watch her walk away and strategize how to keep the girl at arm's length.

It wasn't the quick and blunt answers or the fearless demeanor that captivated her, nor the appearance, she doesn't consider jeans and cute knitted cardigans anything special, much less the ridiculous Star Trek t-shirts worn in PE. She desperately wants to find out what it is, maybe then she'll stop being drawn like a moth to the light. When the newbie has disappeared into the crowd, Regina turns her attention back to her own table, where her friends are sitting in silence, too stunned to comment anything. Neither was she. The idea of leaving Y/N at her feet to stroke the ego and then despise her like she does everyone else is too pleasurable.

She sighs heavily and without thinking twice takes the book from Cady's hands, staring at the title with contempt. It's a beginning.

On the other side, Janis smiles to herself and exchanges a look with Damian, both coming to a conclusion quickly. In Regina George's game, they've always wanted to be ahead and finally they have the right pawn to do it.

Note: Hi, sweeties! I'm Romy and started writing again recently, that's why I'm a little rusty. Hope you enjoyed part one and see you soon in the sequel ^^ please share what you want to read and any ideas for this short fanfic, or one shots

english isn't my first language

[reiding-writing]

Are u willing to do a fic about an unsub!reader with early seasons Spencer? Like, the BAU has to team up with the unsub to catch another criminal with a similar M.O. to them and hijinks ensue (could be angsty hijinks or could be general scooby doo type situations) Idk!! I really like ur works and I've been thinking about this thing for days but my ass sucks at writing lol ;;

copycat—s.reid [1]

Summary:

The replication of a disturbing 2004 serial murder case calls for the BAU to get involved with the assistance of none other than the original killer themself. And whilst Spencer didn’t work the original case, he was eager to learn every detail about it, including its offender.

WARNINGS: made up murder case, graphic depictions of violence, implied suicide (actually murder), mentions of spencer’s addiction, sociopathic reader

s3!spencer/gn!unsub!reader || mystery || 4.5k || masterlist!!

part one !! , part two !!

unsub!reader masterlist!!

a/n: sorry to the person who requested this because tumblr deleted the actual ask but i did have it copied so at least it wasn’t completely lost 😭😭😭

left it here because people tend not to want to read really long fics. if people want a part two i will gladly oblige but otherwise its a decent stand alone to see how spencer would interact with an unsub like this

“James Harden, 23, was found two days ago on the bench of a public park in Los Flores, Orange County,”

The BAU team, barr Hotch, all settled in their seats as JJ arrived in the room.

JJ pressed a button on the small remote in her hand, two photos, one of each wrist of the victim, appearing on the screen behind her. “Both wrists had been slit, and the cause of death was concluded to be blood loss,”

“So, why are we being called in exactly?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from his coffee. The team was *tired*. They’d only gotten off a case three days before, and they were all in need of a break.

“Well, if you’d allow me to finish,” JJ shoots Morgan a pointed look to which he promptly raised his hands in surrender.

JJ presses the remote again, images of the victim’s wrists being replaced with images of his face.

There was a mix of reactions from the group, all of which perturbed, but some with more intent than others.

His head was laid limp over the back of the bench, his face pale and his lips white from the lack of blood flow to his head. Nothing they hadn’t seen before.

His eyes however, were a different story, covered up by a pair of red roses that had seemingly had their stems forcibly pierced into the victims eyeballs, leaving a trail of oxidised blood down his cheeks.

Morgan and Garcia shared a concerned glance that they simultaneously turned towards JJ, who matched their expression with her own.

“They didn’t-”

JJ shakes her head at the beginning of Morgan’s question, and Emily and Spencer share a confused glance that they turn towards their three teammates who seem to be locked in a silent conversation that only they understood.

“I feel like i’m back in high school again,” Rossi pipes up at the three from his seat, inadvertently calling them out on their exclusion of Emily, Spencer, and Rossi from their conversation.

JJ sighs as she adverts her eyes towards Rossi, her shoulders sagging slightly. “We worked a case in 2004…” She hesitates to elaborate any further about the details, and Spencer takes the opportunity to voice is own curiosity.

“You didn’t solve it?” He tucks his hair behind his ear, eyes glistening slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in JJ’s direction.

It’d been three years since 2004, and the idea that an UnSub could go postal for that long with an FBI target on their back was- something, to say the least.

“No, we did-” Garcia nods her head determinedly, her eyes lingering on the screen as if she was more focused on the images than the conversation.

“So, a copycat then?” Emily adds her part to the conversation, clearly concerned for her friend’s wellbeing.

“Most likely,” JJ nods her head sharply, looking back at the screen once more. “There’s only been one recorded victim so far, but we want to stop whoever is responsible before anything else happens,”

“Are you alright Garcia?” Emily’s eyes remain fixated on Garcia’s face, her usually upbeat persona dwindling into something more solemn.

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course my love bug, i’m alright,” Garcia shoots Emily a small smile as if to emphasise her point. “It was the first case I ever worked on is all, they just… stick with you ya know?”

Emily nods softly at her explanation. She knew what it felt like to have your first case stick in the back of your mind.

“Alright settle down everyone,” Hotch’s voice echoed through the conference room before he even stepped inside, and the team all diverted their attention towards him.

“I trust they’ve been briefed?” Hotch looks towards JJ, who gives him a nod before stepping aside so that he can take her place at the head of the table.

Hotch walks into the conference room with someone at his side. Someone who makes Morgan’s hand clench into fists and the small hint of optimism that Garcia had managed to keep fizzle from her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” Morgan’s voice was stern and challenging as his eyes narrowed in Hotch’s direction. “Hotch-“

Hotch halts Morgan’s attempt at a rebuttal with his hand, raised in Morgan’s direction as he knits his eyebrows into a line. “They will be a valuable asset to the investigation.”

“You can’t bring a psychopath in here and expect us to just go along with it-” Morgan’s argument was interrupted by your voice from where you stood behind Hotch, hands clasped together behind your back.

“Sociopath.”

Morgan’s expression furrows further if that’s possible, eyes staring daggers at your face. “Close enough.”

“Actually, Psychopaths and Sociopaths are fundamentally different, with the only real similarity between the two being an extreme lack of human empathy,” Your eyes flicker towards Spencer as he corrects Morgan’s assessment, raising an eyebrow in his direction out of intrigue.

“Either way, you cannot expect me to be okay with working alongside a serial killer.” Morgan’s eyes don’t stray from Hotch’s as he speaks, not backing down from his standing.

“I don’t expect you to be. But that doesn’t change the fact that they will be joining us for this investigation.” Hotch’s tone marks the end of the debate, one that Morgan knew he’d lost before it even started.

Hotch gestures for you to take a seat at one of the empty chairs and you oblige, leaning the side of your left foot on top of your right thigh and relaxing back into the swivel chair as Morgan’s eyes bore holes into the back of your head.

The fact that you were even here was enough to spark the embers of rage in the back of his mind.

The fact that you were walking around freely with no restraints was even worse.

“For those of you who weren’t present, in 2004, the BAU team was called out to Malibu to investigate a series of murders that littered the city.” Hotch’s eyes flicker over to where Emily, Rossi, and Spencer were sitting.

“Eighteen people were killed over the span of ten days, crossing age, gender, and race boundaries typical of a normal M.O, with the only link being two roses in place of the victim’s eyes.”

Hotch’s eyes turn towards the images on the screen, yours following his own as you examine the photos with a small huff. “Are you sure that is person is copying me and that it’s not just a coincidence?”

“Putting roses in peoples’ eyes isn’t something we see in the field every day,” Hotch’s explanation is blunt and straight forward.

“My roses were white.” You tilt your head at him with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a pretty stark difference to just ignore.”

“Maybe he’s trying to make a name for himself,” Spencer throws the idea out into the air at your observation, seemingly undeterred by your criminal history now that his head was submerged in the case.

“Then be original.” You face furrows with a roll of your eyes. “Don’t copy somebody else’s idea, it’s not that hard,”

“That’s enough,” Hotch’s voice cuts through the conversation, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll discuss the details on the plane.”

Hotch picks up one of the open files on the table and tucks it under his arm. “Wheels up in thirty, i’ll meet you all there,”

A gesture of his head for you to follow him later, and he’s exiting the conference room with you on his tail.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You walk right past Hotch’s seat as you board the jet, opting to take a seat directly opposite the genius doctor that had managed to capture your attention in the conference room.

He looks up awkwardly as you sit down, not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do. Should he start a conversation with you? Should he continue reading his file and pretend he can’t feel your eyes pouring over his features like you were sizing him up.

He doesn’t have to think for too long.

“What’s your name?” Your tone lacks any social grace, but he supposes he can’t blame you. It’s not like it’s your fault you don’t feel or express your emotions in the same way that the majority does.

“It’s- uh- Spe- Spencer,” His awkwardness really shines through his tone, left hand scratching at his right elbow as a self-soothing strategy.

Two seconds into a conversation and he already wants to dig himself a hole and hide in it for the rest of eternity.

“Spencer Reid- Doctor Spencer Reid,” He purses his lips into a line once he’s settled on his full title, but it doesn’t stop him from blurting out more in his effort to get all of his thoughts out of his head. “Spencer’s fine though…”

“Doctor? Of what?” You skirt past his awkward introduction in your pursuit to know more, and he’s grateful that his completely lack of social skills doesn’t scare you off like it would most people.

“Well- I have PhDs in Mathematics, Engineering, and Chemistry,” Spencer tucks his hair behind his ear, his file falling over the side of his lap into the gap between his leg and the arm of the chair. “But i also have bachelor’s degrees in Sociology and Psychology,”

He shuts himself off after his over-winded explanation with a purse of his lips in your direction.

“I have a bachelor’s degree in Psychology,” Spencer’s eyes practically light up at your words, completely forgetting that you’re a convicted serial killer and instead hyper-fixating on your academic interests.

“Really? Did you do a Bachelor of Arts or Science?” You can almost feel the enthusiasm radiating off of his body as he leans forward in his chair slightly.

“Science,” You tap the side of your head with your finger and Spencer thinks he understands. It’s the same reason he studied psychology himself.

Because he was different.

Because his brain worked in different ways than other people.

He couldn’t even imagine how much more severe it was for somebody like you.

“How do you know so much?” Your tone isn’t chastising. It’s not questioning his knowledge because he’s ’too young’ or ‘doesn’t look like someone who would be an expert’ in niche academic areas. You genuinely just wanted to know.

“Well- I have a 187 IQ and an eidetic memory,” You’re eyes followed his as he explained his intelligence to you, chasing them to ensure the two of you maintained eye contact. “And I have a reading speed of 20,000 words per minute,”

You hum at his answer, seemingly satisfied as you lean back in the jet seat.

The silence between you doesn’t have time to get awkward before Hotch is calling the team’s attention to go over the details of the case thus far.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer spends most of his first night in Los Flores on a laptop.

Garcia almost has an aneurism when he asks her if he could borrow one of hers.

It takes him almost 30 minutes to figure out how to use it, face lit by the harsh white light of the screen and softened slightly by the warm yellow of the lamp on his hotel bed’s side table.

Once he manages to pull up the internet browser he spends the next multiple hours researching. Pouring over every news article and journalist report that he can about the 2004 Malibu case that had you in its centre.

The 2004 ‘Malibu Rose Killer’. One of the most prolific serial killers in California’s history.

Eighteen people dead in just ten days. An extremely rapid escalation that held no victim pattern of any kind.

A spree that only stopped when the police found both of your adoptive parents dead after a welfare check concerning your father not turning up to work. Your two first victims.

You’d told the courts that it was a manic breakdown. A symptom of your previously undiagnosed sociopathy. That you weren’t in your right mind when it happened.

It worked to a degree, swerving you of a death penalty, but the fact that your parents’ crime scene had shown signs of recognition for your actions halted your defence quite a bit.

Instead of slitting their radial artery and leaving them to bleed out, you’d severed their spines from the brain stem whilst they slept.

And instead of piercing their eyeballs with two roses, you’d instead chosen to lay one in between their two bodies instead.

That was enough for the prosecution to say you had at least some knowledge of the severity of your actions, and so instead of being carted off to a psychiatric prison you were left in a regular old high security prison to serve two consecutive life sentences for the murder of your parents with an annual mental assessment.

He assumes that’s why you agreed to be here. To gain a lenience on your sentence.

He didn’t know why he found your story so fascinating, but he knew that he’d only be able to refrain from asking you questions for so long.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Spit it out.” Your words snap Spencer out of his thought-filled dazed, blinking at you as he slowly regains his senses.

“Huh?”

“Spit it out. Whatever you have to say to me.” Your tone, as he’s come to expect over the last few days, is very flat and straight to the point, clearly agitated at his eyes lingering on you for what you’d deemed too long.

You walk around the small table at the Orange County’s Los Flores police station with your arms crossed, confined there for the majority of the case as to not possibly initiate any ‘aggressive urges’ that might spawn from seeing a replica of your past crimes.

Spencer’s left hand absentmindedly scratches at his right elbow at your glare, clearing his throat and averting eye contact with you, both out of embarrassment of his unintentional staring and self-preservation towards your proclivity to get angry without real aggravation. “I- It’s nothing really,”

Your head tilts at him, your eyes telling him enough that your patience was waining and that you would get whatever he was thinking about out of him.

“I uh- did some reading… about your case-” Your expression morphs into an emotion that he can’t quite place at his confession, and he feels an overwhelming pressure to keep explaining himself as well as to just sew his mouth shut so he can’t say anything.

“And?”

“And… um- there was a part about it that didn’t really make sense to me,” He’s thrown himself in the deep end now, any hope of changing the topic of conversation long gone as he watches your eyebrow quirk in curiosity.

“Your parents…” Spencer’s eyes scan your expression intently as he mutters out the words, gauging your reaction to his words before he dares to continue.

“What about them?” You remain indifferent if not mildly compelled by the line of thought running through his head, and he’s internally relieved that he hasn’t pressed any of the wrong buttons in your fragile emotional state.

“Why?” Spencer mirrors the short, straight to the point wording that you seemed to be so fond of, and he can see you blank expression waver slightly at the question, like you weren’t sure how to answer it.

He watches the wrinkle in your brow become more prominent, how your eyes seem to loose focus and flicker around the room, the way you subconsciously shift from one foot to the other.

He’s not entirely surprised by your reaction. Sociopaths were very capable of harbouring emotions like everyone else. Anger, happiness, sadness, love, and even fear. Even if the intensity of them and the way they were expressed was different.

Right now your expression read as confusion mixed with mild apprehension, like you were considering whether or not you wanted to answer his question.

You still didn’t seem angry, which he was grateful for. He might have been a qualified agent, but that was with the exception of him not having to pass a physical examination.

And he really didn’t want to risk having to physically defend himself against someone who managed to kill eighteen people in the span of ten days because he’d accidentally said the wrong thing.

“They didn’t deserve to live with the knowledge of what I was going to do,” You tone is a lot less apathetic as you come to your answer, stopping intravenously to collect your words.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow at your answer, not quite sure what to make of it.

“My turn,” Your eyes scan Spencer’s facial features, watching how Spencer’s eyebrows raise as you don’t give him time to compute your answer. “Do your higher ups know you’re an addict?”

The question is blunt, clear, and lacks any subtlety whatsoever despite the two of you technically being in a public place, even if you were the only people in the room.

Spencer’s eyes snap towards yours, surprise written all over his face. “You- I- Uh-“ His mouth falls open and closed like a fish as he tries to string a coherent sentence together, blinking at you with wide eyes.

How did you know that?

He falls short of an answer to your question, his eyes questioning you silently.

“Does your team know?”

Spencer shakes his head slowly. “If they do no one’s ever mentioned it..” He doesn’t know why he’s exposing himself to you like this, but theirs something in the look your giving him that tells him that he can’t lie to you.

“What great friends.” Your voice is practically dripping in sarcasm, and Spencer can’t help but subconsciously agree with you.

He’d waited and waited for someone to recognise that something was off with him. That he wasn’t all there.

But instead of it being one of his coworkers, some of which he’d known for years, it was a sociopathic serial killer that he’d known for 37 hours and 16 minutes.

Lucky him.

“They have more important things to worry about,” His hand returns to scratching at his elbow through his shirt, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

You raise your eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by the misfortune riddling his life; Almost as if it was a private viewing of a feature film made solely for your entertainment.

“Stop doing that.”

Spencer raises his eyes towards yours once more at your words, wide and glossy and making him look like a pathetic little puppy who’d been told off for tearing up a couch cushion.

You wonder how deep that patheticness goes.

“Don’t scratch. It’s annoying to watch and it’ll make your withdrawals worse.” You depart from the room before he can give you an answer, shutting the door harshly behind you as you spot Hotch in the main foyer of the station.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m bored.” You swing your legs over the edge of the table you were sat on. You’d spent the last four days confined either to the hotel room you were sharing with Hotch or the small meeting room the OCPD had reserved for the BAU during the case.

You wanted a change of scenery. Desperately. You could only deal with monotony for so long.

At least back in your cell you activities you could engage in.

Instead you were just stuck as a fact checker for the details of each victim.

Five people had died now. Following your victim pattern to a T.

The first a young white man. The second a middle aged white woman. The third a male black college student. The fourth and fifth a young gay couple.

It agitated you. What happened to originality? Get your own random victims.

“You can accompany Morgan and I to the coroner’s office,” Spencer offered you a pursed smile at his suggestion, partly because he knew you’d be able to see more differences between the originals and recreations in person than through photos and partly because he wanted to crack you open.

He wanted to know everything about you. He wanted to know what made you tick. How you rationalised your crimes. How your sociopathy developed.

He was in deep. And his brain wanted answers.

“Absolutely not.” Morgan shot down the idea immediately with a stern shake of his head. “There is no way in hell we are bringing them with us,”

“They might catch something that we won’t be able to,” Spencer’s rationalisation wasn’t exactly wrong. Even in copy cat murders the offender always left a piece of themself behind. Something of their own personality rather than the killer they were trying to replicate.

It could be so tiny that no one would recognise it. Apart from the original offender of course.

“They might catch the bright idea to try and attack somebody.”

“Oh please-“ You roll your eyes at Morgan. “If I was going to have another mental break at seeing a recreation of my past endeavours I would have had it already,”

Morgan narrows your eyes at you calling your murder spree your ‘past endeavours’. You hadn’t published a book or painted some mural. You’d killed eighteen people.

“Reid’s right,”

He doesn’t have time to get angry at you.

“Hotch-“ Morgan looks completely betrayed.

“There’s only so much they can do to help us from here. We want to stop this before anyone else gets hurt.” Hotch’s tone is stern, leaving no room for argument.

“And if they do spiral out of control,” Hotch’s eyes flicker between Morgan and yourself. “I trust you’ll be able to take care of it.”

Morgan mutters something under his breath about ‘stupid hierarchies’ and how much he hated your guts as he left the meeting room with a huff, although more composed than you thought he’d be.

“Are you ready to leave?” Spencer’s question snaps you out of your revelling over Morgan’s distaste for you, although your small smile of satisfaction doesn’t falter as your eyes meet Spencer’s.

“Let’s go Doctor. I’m ready to get out of this beige abomination.”

You push yourself off the table and leave out of the same door that Morgan had, Spencer following closely behind you.

He was oddly grateful about your decency to respect his title, and it only made him want to read you like a book even more.

- part two !!

[melsimps]

Born To Be My Baby

FWB!dilf era!Peter Maximoff x fem!reader headcanons/blurb (kinda).

Tw: discussions of sex, childbirth, and pregnancy. (But not in graphic detail)

A/N: I had to write my own dilfsilver shit. Inspired largely by my oc x Canon fic with him.

We got something to believe in Even if we don't know where we stand

You and Peter were friends with benefits. And that was it. It was casual, fun. A way to de-stress without any strings.

And it was fun, too.

You'd mainly hook up after stressful missions or hard training sessions in the danger room.

And it meant nothing. Just some light fun between friends/coworkers.

That's all it was.

Until that one day.

However it went, you found out you were pregnant. Either a condom broke, or you forgot a pill, or your implant/IUD ran out, it doesn't matter.

What does matter is the fact that you're pregnant.

With Peter's kid.

So, after a doctor's appointment, and with a copy of the ultrasound in your pocket, you went and told him.

"I... are... are you shitting me-?" He asked, eyes wide, mouth agape.

...not the best reaction, I'll admit. But...

After some emotional conversation, it all culminates in...

"...hey," he whispered softly, on his knees as his hands settled on your (still incredibly flat/non visible) abdomen. "Hey in there, baby, I'm-"

"-Peter, what are you-?"

"Shhh-! Quiet, I'm having a conversation with my kid-!" He scoffed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And after that, he was right on board.

Project baby was a-go.

When you were reading pregnancy books, you'd chart out the rough size of the baby in fruit. And each week, he'd try and find one the right size. Just so he could visualise how big your kid is. Because hey, that's his little buddy in there.

You borrow a lot of his band shirts, especially when you get further on in your pregnancy.

But you're not, like...dating or anything. You're just two buds, having a baby together.

It's kind of hard, him having to be the rational one for once, but he's trying.

"...what's going on-?" He asked, slowly creeping into your classroom.

You were in tears, holding a book to your chest.

"They're just so mean to him..." you sniffled out, shaking your head.

He glanced at the cover, and...

"...Frankenstein?" Peter asked.

You nodded.

"...I could've parented him..."

All the while, y'all are still hooking up. Hormones are crazy, man. Especially later on in your pregnancy.

But it doesn't mean anything. Its just sex. Sex with your stupid hot baby daddy and his stupid hot vibrating dick.

Anyway, one night, the two of you were getting it on, riding him good and hard, when he felt a splash against his abdomen.

"Awe, babe, did you just-?"

"...that wasn't an orgasm..." you whispered, shaking your head.

He paled.

"It fuckin' what-?!"

...yep, he broke your water during sex. Pussy so good, it makes you accidentally induce labour.

He doesn't know which emergency bag to grab, so... he just dashes around campus and grabs all of them.

It's a long labour, with a lot of exhaustion and pain. A lot of emotions and yelling, and... crying.

But in the end?

A soft cry pierced the air as that flash of white faded over you, the pressure fading, the pain slowly alleviating.

"Is... is that-?"

"She's here..." Peter murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

And she was.

An itty bitty baby girl.

Luna.

As he holds that baby in his arms, he just... melts. He's crying and holding her so close to his chest, kissing the top of her little head while you sleep.

"Hey... hey, Luna..." Peter whispered softly, his voice shaking with emotion. "Oh my god, you're so small... I..."

He shook his head, tears pricking his dark eyes. God, he was a mess. It was stupidly early, and he was exhausted, and emotional, and-

"...what did I do to make me worthy of a baby as sweet as you and a woman as great as your mom, huh-?" He murmured, trying his hardest not to sob.

Meanwhile, Luna slept happily against his chest, gurgling as she snuggled close to her father.

As you guys adjust and recover together, getting used to having itty bitty Luna in your lives, Peter just... basically moves into the suite at the mansion with you.

I mean, you're raising a baby together. You've seen each other naked. It's not that weird.

Anyway.

He is so helpful during your healing, and is basically your rock during emotional moments (postpartum hormones are crazy, y'all).

He tries to grow out his facial hair.

Key word being tries.

"Babe..." you warned, grimacing slightly as his face nestled into your neck.

"Mmm... whaaaat-?" Peter asked back playfully, his stubble lightly scratching your skin.

"As much as I am loving the beard..." you purred playfully, cupping his cheek in a moment of domesticity in the kitchenette. "...I'm not a fan of the bristles pricking me during cuddle time..."

Reluctantly... shaves (after you promise to let him devour that pussy the second he can).

"Hey, you wanna get married-?" Peter asked one lazy Saturday afternoon as you snuggled into his chest, while Luna was settled in her crib for a nap.

...okay, so maybe y'all are more than just friends.

[python333]

bedbound — python333

— — — —

synopsis you're on a mission and oopsie daisy you get trapped under a building!! you end up in the medbay and tf141 visits you one by one, each of them giving you a lil piece of their mind for going and getting yourself trapped under a collapsed building.

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 4.5k

warnings pretty detailed (i think) descriptions of [reader] being in pain [specifically having a bunch of leg injuries], angstier than i usually write, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note this is my first actual fic ive wrotten in MONTHS so i hope its okay! so sorry if it feels like a majority of the focus is on the reader, i had a too much fun writing out the first part where they get crushed :3 i am also once again begging for requests. like on my knees hands together begging for requests. its the best way of getting motivation istg. anyway, this is all mild hurt/comfort and some angst + fluff so enjoy!! :3

You tried running out of the building—you didn’t expect the whole damn thing to come crashing down on you.

You’d just been chasing after an enemy soldier moments ago, dashing into the building, when suddenly the whole building seemed to shake. Then, the whole thing seemed to just collapse. When you think about it now, you realize the shake must’ve come from a nearby explosion, an explosion somehow powerful enough to damage the structural support of the building so terribly that it couldn’t hold itself up anymore and instead fell down onto you. 

Now, here you were, just ten steps away from the entrance of the building, stopped by the huge slab of concrete and twisted metal that pinned your legs down to the ground. Your earpiece fell off when you fell down, sliding across the floor, preventing you from calling your team.

Sure, you could try and move your legs, but the excruciating pain that came with each movement wasn’t worth it. You think your legs are broken with the way your nerves scream at you every time you move them, and with how uncomfortably and horrifyingly disconnected they feel.

“I’m making shit up,” You whisper hoarsely to yourself, ignoring the tears that welled up in your eyes from the debris and dust in the air, “They’re not broken. I’m making it worse for myself by thinking that.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’re quoting Price on that one, from the last time you got seriously hurt like this. You vaguely remember your panicked words and Price’s soothing voice that came after every worry, telling you that no, you’re not too badly hurt, it’s gonna be okay, you’re just panicking.

But in the forefront of your mind, all you can do is think about how you can’t reach your earpiece to talk to your team, the only thing you can do is listen to their worried voices.

The earpiece is loud enough for you to hear, even though you’re just out of arm’s reach from it, you can still hear your teammates repeating your call sign and asking how you copy. With the stupid Push-To-Talk thing, you can’t even just respond, no, you have to push the button on the side of your earpiece to unmute yourself.

You stretch your arm out just a little bit more to try and reach the earpiece, but when your leg starts to strain and your nerves light up you immediately give up, letting out a small, pained huff. You take a moment to just lie there and listen to your own labored breaths, every other breath hitching or catching in your throat.

You swallow down a sob that threatens to bubble out of your throat and try to reach again and—nope, that still fucking hurts.

You bring your hand back and put it over your mouth to muffle a small sob that climbs up and out of your throat, and try to take a deep breath the best you can with the debris in the air.

You feel a slight discomfort in your chest and cough, horrified when you see small specks of dust in the air you cough out, and God, the sight of it makes you want to rip out your lungs.

You feel the sudden urge to cough everything out, to flush out the dust in your lungs, to get rid of the uncomfortably full feeling you feel in your chest, but you know that every time you cough you can only exhale more of that debris-filled dust back in so now you’re trapped in a loop and—

“[c/n], how copy?” God, you want to yell at them that repeating that question won’t help, but you know there’s nothing else they can do. They’ve already asked where you are, if you’re okay, and how you copy multiple times, all of which got no answer.

They’ve only experienced radio silence on their end, and the thought makes you feel guilty for not being able to suck up the pain in your legs and just reach over to the damn earpiece and tell them you’re trapped.

You take a few deep breaths, trying your best to ignore the way you can literally feel the dust entering your lungs, and reach. You stretch your arm out the farthest you can, and feel the strain in your leg, and you’re almost to the earpiece, just a few more inches— pop.

A bone chilling pop rings through the air the moment you manage to snatch the earpiece, and good thing it was at least after you managed to grasp it firmly in your hand because you recoil back on instinct and gasp.

The gasp only lets in more dust, and you cough, wet tears dripping down onto your cheeks as you go through a seemingly endless loop of coughing out dust and inhaling debris and coughing it out again only for new dust to make its way into your system.

You stifle a pain-filled whimper and try to control your shaky breath, gripping the earpiece firming in your hand, looking down at it, looking at the sheer amount of debris on it. You bring your free hand out and wipe away the debris with shaky hands, making sure it’s clean enough to put in your ear before you carefully insert it.

It takes you a moment with your trembling hands, but you manage to do it, and you listen to Price ask how you copy one more time before you push down on the PTT button.

“Copy—” You hoarsely say, before coughing, everyone on the other line going silent, “Copy, not doing very well over here.”

“What happened?” Price’s voice crackles through on the damaged ear piece, “Are you hurt?”

“I got trapped under— under some concrete, and I…” You take a moment to catch your breath, “My legs are pinned, I can’t move.”

“Okay, okay,” Price’s voice softens, his tone becoming more soothing, “Where are you?”

“In a building— dunno which— which one… it’s by the really tall one,” You breathe out, mentally slapping yourself in the forehead for not being able to remember, “I’m sorry, I just know it’s orange and it has the entrance that Ghost bumped his head on—”

“It’s okay, I know which one you’re talking about,” Price reassures you, “Catch your breath. I’ll be there to get you out of there, okay? Just stay still, don’t move a muscle, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” You mumble, trying to catch your breath, coughing at the amount of dust that infiltrates your lungs. You bring your hand off of the PTT button and sob once, quietly, and sniffle to try and stop yourself from crying, blinking away tears.

The tears that trailed down your face earlier now only make you realize just how much dust and grime is on your face, how the tear trails must’ve been the only clean lines on your face, how there’s a whole layer of pure filth on your face and you can’t even properly wipe it away because your hands are dirty too.

The pain in your legs are throbbing and you know that you’ve torn some of the muscle in your thighs, and you know the popping noise had to have been your hip, from the unnatural way you’d twisted it to reach your earpiece. You don’t even have time to think about how pathetic you look when suddenly Price opens the barely-hanging-onto-the-hinges-door, looking at the floor for a moment before his eyes finally land on you.

He immediately walks over to the slab of concrete pinning your legs down and forcing you to lie on the ground and you can hear him faintly murmur, “Oh, God,” and kneel down to the same level as the concrete.

You turn your neck to look at him and watch as he looks at the concrete for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to lift it, before he simply grabs the edge of the concrete and, with a grunt and after a good thirty seconds, he manages to lift one end up and flip it over onto its other side. The circulation that immediately floods back to your legs and the sudden feeling of weightlessness you get is almost too much, and you can barely find it in yourself to feel shame as you let out a small, relieved sob at the sudden rush of blood to your legs.

Price immediately gasps and you can’t see much from your angle but in the midst of your relief you suddenly feel a pang of pain and oh God, that hurts. You can recognize now the warm blood that accompanies the drying blood on your calf, and with the blood rushing into your legs, more spills out from the wound in your leg. Vaguely, you can remember twisted metal doing something to your leg—stabbing it, maybe? Your brain becomes fog-filled; too hazy to think through but just clear enough to register the throbbing pain in your leg. 

“I’m so sorry,” Price murmurs softly, and before you can question him he takes the metal out of your leg and you let out a closed-lip scream, slapping a hand over your mouth to try and muffle the now uncontrollable sobs that break past your lips, the pain you feel making you light-headed.

Price quickly pulls a tourniquet out of one of the many pockets of his tactical best, wrapping the bright red strip around your leg just above the bleeding, blocking the blood from reaching past that point. He tightens it and rolls you over so that you’re laying on your back, making you stifle another pain-filled whimper. Without another word, he slips his arm under your knees and his other below your back and lifts you up bridal style, making you gasp sharply and cry out for a moment in pain, a few drops of blood making it onto the floor from your calf, the whole sight dizzying.

Being lifted up like this gave you vertigo—your head spun as you were lifted up and you could barely process anything with your hazy mind. Price mutters small ‘sorry’s under his breath, carrying you out of the door and quickly running with you in his arms back to where the others are, almost wanting to cry for you, seeing how much pain you were in.

Your eyelids drooped and your eyes shortly became half-lidded, and your ears started to ring, and everything was so overwhelming you just wanted it to be over. 

Price notices your eyelids drooping and quickly says, “Hey, hey, don’t pass out on me, you gotta stay awake, kid.” You can only shake your head ‘no’ because talking feels like too much right now and let out another small, pain-filled whimper, just the sound of it making Price’s heart shatter.

You can only find it in yourself to talk a moment later, your words slurring together as you try to speak, “I can’t— can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, what you’re trying to warn Price about, but he seems to know.  

“No, no, no—” Price tries to beg you, as if you had enough strength to stay awake. Those are the last words you hear before you completely black out.

—

You wake up to a white ceiling and the faint beeping of a heart monitor. You move your head around a bit, trying to gauge where you are, when you realize— oh, I’m in the medbay. You blink for a moment before sighing and just resting there for a moment, trying to recount the events that happened earlier. You don’t have time to go down memory lane, though, because suddenly the curtains in front of your bed are pulled back to reveal your Captain. “You’re awake,” He states, closing the curtains behind him. “How could you tell?” He snorts and sits down in a chair by your bed. You look at him questioningly, “Where’re the others?” “They’ll be here soon,” Price assures you, looking at your blanket covered legs for a moment before looking back up at your face, “Medics said one at a time.” You hum neutrally in response to that and wait a moment before asking, “How bad is it?” “Your leg?” “Yeah.” “Well…” Price starts to list off on his fingers, recalling the doctor’s words, “The joint that connected your hips and your legs was twisted and it had to be set back to normal, your muscles were torn, your ligaments were torn, your nerves were so compressed someone had to physically massage your legs back to life, and the stab wound in your leg almost got infected.” “… Huh.” You blink at Price, before asking, “When can I get out of here?” “Why is that what you’re thinking about right now?” Price asks, confused, before sighing and answering, “Kid, your leg was basically broken. You can get out of here in maybe a few weeks to a month. Getting back to your assignments is a whole different story. It could take several months for your muscles to fully heal, and even then I don’t want you back out there for a while. Not until it’s guaranteed your leg won’t… give out, or something, out there.” You frown at Price, “So what, I’m just gonna be stuck here?” “What else are you gonna do with an almost-broken leg?” “…” Price sighs and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Look, I know it’s frustrating, having to sit here for a few weeks then be able to get out only to not be able to do anything too physical, but your leg muscles were torn. You were trapped under concrete. You’re not going on any missions any time soon. I feel like that should be kind of obvious.” You can understand it, knowing the condition you’re in now, but you still deflate a little where you lie down and let out a tired, frustrated huff. Price chuckles softly at your clear display of disappointment and rubs your shoulder gently before patting it and getting up. “I guess I have to let the others see you too,” He muses, making your lips twitch up into a smile, the sight making him smile in return, “But I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to you again, alright?” “Alright,” You nod, watching as he walks past the curtains blocking your bed from the rest of the medbay and listen as the door clicks open and closes shut. Not even a few seconds later, the door opens again, this time with someone walking faster to the curtains, pushing them aside eagerly. You quickly recognize Soap as he walks in, quickly closing the curtains behind him before rushing over and leaning down to hug you. This all happens so quickly you have to take a moment to process it, but you eventually hug him back, sighing at the warm embrace. “I want tae call ye stupid sae bad,” Soap mumbles into your neck as he hugs you, “but it wasn’ even yer fault sae I can’.”

“That’s the worst thing that’s happened all day,” You mutter sarcastically, making Soap laugh quietly. He pulls away from you and looks down at you. “It is, actually,” Soap says, and at your confused and mildly offended expression, he adds on, “It’s been over a day since ye got yer leg fucked up.” “… Oh.” You dumbly said, trying to process that. Over a day. “Everyone was really worried about ye, too,” Soap tacks on, refusing to sit on the chair behind him, simply standing by your bed. You stay silent, and Soap takes that as an invitation to keep talking. “I think that's the first time I've actually seen Ghost stressed," Soap muses, making you huff out a small laugh. “Really?” “Yea,” Soap smiles, “I ken. Stone cauld L.t, suddenly worryin’ o’er ye.”

“Isn’t that a surprise,” You mutter, a small smile gracing your lips thinking about Ghost worrying over you, “So you were all really worried?” “Very worried,” Soap nods, “Gaz thocht ye were gonnae die, poor chiel.” “Hm,” You hum neutrally. Soap stays silent for a moment before his voice softens and he quiets himself down a bit. “Try no' tae dae that again, aye? Ye'll gie the captain a heart attack," When you give him a pointed look, he rolls his eyes and adds on, “And me. Possibly. Maybe.” “Uh huh,” You look at him, unimpressed, “Right. I’ll try to predict when a huge piece of concrete is gonna fall on me.” “Ye ken wha’ I meant.”

“Never said I didn’t.” “Ye— y’know wha’? I’ll just leave then,” Soap says, feigning annoyance as he walks away from your bed, making you laugh quietly. He slips out and doesn’t bother to close the curtains behind him, simply walking out the door, not bothering to close that either.

You can hear him letting someone else know you’re ‘free to visit’, and just a few seconds later you watch Ghost walk in. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, seeing as Soap had told you Ghost was worried over you, but you still find yourself a little shocked when he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him. He sits at the chair beside your bed, and silently stares at you from the chair.

You stare back, not blinking, waiting for him to say the first word. You and Ghost’s silent staring match ends with Ghost sighing and speaking up. “How does your… leg feel?” “How do you think it feels?” You ask, deadpan, watching as Ghost’s eyes narrow. You blink at him for another moment before adding on, “It feels numb, right now.” Ghost hums at the actual answer and sits there awkwardly for another moment before stating, “Gaz thought you died. Or, were gonna die.” “I heard about that,” You respond, raising an eyebrow at Ghost, “Did he not know it was just my leg that got hurt?” “Hurt is a mild word,” Ghost mutters, before clearing his throat and saying, “No, he knew. He was more worried about all the stuff that got into your lungs.” “Oh.” “Yeah.”

You both stay silent for a bit, again, before you speak up, “So… are my lungs okay, or… ?” “No, yeah, they’re fine.” “That’s… good.” “Mhm.” Why is this so awkward? You purse your lips and turn your head back so that you’re staring at the ceiling rather than at Ghost, not knowing what to say. Why’d he even come in here if he was just gonna be awkward about this whole thing? It’s silent again, an uncomfortable sort of quiet that’s silent yet deafening at the same time—and you hate it. It seems Ghost hates it too, because he shifts in his seat, not saying anything verbally but you can tell by his body language it’s awkward for him too.

This goes on for maybe a minute or two, when suddenly Ghost gets up and walks the short one step between him and your bed and leans down to hug you. Like the silence, the hug is awkward, but unlike it, it’s comforting. A comfortable awkward? You tentatively hug him back and you feel his hands snake underneath your back, forcing his arms under you so that he can hug you properly. 

“I know Soap told you I was stressed and worried and whatnot,” Ghost mutters, his skull mask pressing into your shoulder, “… And he was right.” “… Did you think I thought he was wrong?” “Shut it and let me try to talk.” “Yes, sir.” Ghost sighs and takes a deep breath before continuing, “He was right. I was growing greys watching you passed out, and I think I almost passed out as well, hearing you were trapped under a huge block of concrete and got stabbed by metal.” 

“Did you ever find out what the metal was?” You ask after a moment, making sure he was done talking.

“The Captain said it was a twisted pipe.”

“Huh.” You lay there for a moment, simply enjoying Ghost hugging you, before Ghost speaks up again.

“I know it wasn’t your fault, but please, God, never do that shit to me ever again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m in a collapsing building.”

“I’m serious,” Ghost pulls away from the hug and looks down at you, keeping his hands on both of your shoulders, “I had to drive a car with you in the back passed out laying in the trunk with Price, all while not knowing what happened, and having to drive you guys back to base.”

“… Damn, you guys didn’t get a helicopter, or anything?”

“[c/n].”

“Sorry.”

Ghost sighs, “I’m trying to say that I don’t like worrying over you like that. I don’t like knowing that my kid is hurt, and I can’t do anything about it. That was the first time I was seriously worried and— and stressed over you, and it was terrifying, seeing you just passed out with dirt all over you and blood all over your leg, and just seeing you like that— I can’t do that again,” Ghost takes a deep breath, and looks down at you, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see what you think of his words, but all you can think is, wait, he called me his kid?

“You called me your kid,” You dumbly voice your thoughts, watching as Ghost’s expression becomes more confused, and he opens his mouth to deny that when suddenly— oh shit, he called you his kid.

“… I did,” He dumbly says back, sounding surprised by his own words, before he fully realizes what he said and simply blinks down at you, not knowing where to go from here. You both blink at each other, not knowing what to say, before he clears his throat.

“I’ll just… head out then,” He awkwardly says, slowly walking away from the bed.

You take the opportunity to say, “Alright, dad.”

He freezes and slowly turns towards you and mutters, “Don’t call me that.”

A grin splits across your face, “Oh I will. Dad.”

He points at you with a single finger, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I’ll call you it in front of everyone. I’ll gaslight them into thinking we’re related.”

“God, you better not.”

“I will. In fact, tomorrow, I’ll begin with the Captain. Then I’ll tell Soap, he’s the next most gullible next to Gaz, who I’ll see right after you. Gaz won’t fight with me over it, he’ll just accept it, I know he will, then, and only then, will I tell everyone else. I spread it across the base like the flu. Everyone, and I mean everyone will think that you’re my father, Ghost.”

“That is…” Ghost blinks at you, dumbfounded and mildly horrified, “... terrifying.” “Yeah, I know. Pretty sure I got that from you, dad.” “Oh my God,” Ghost groans, making you laugh at his misery. He walks out without another word, being sure to slam the door behind him, making the poor medic passing by jump at least a foot in the air. You giggle quietly in your bed, waiting for the next person to walk in. By the time you’ve contained your laughter, Gaz walks in, looking strangely sheepish as he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him that Ghost had forgotten to close. He doesn’t say anything until he’s right by your bed and bends over to give you a nice, firm, quick hug before standing up straight again and clearing his throat. “Hi,” He greets you simply. “Hi.” “How’s the uh… how’s your leg?” “You thought I died?” You ask teasingly, ignoring his question. You can’t see any blush on his face, but you’re almost certain his face heats up as he looks away from you. “Listen…” He sighs, looking back at you, “Price ran over to the whole group, with you not moving at all in his arms, and a tourniquet wrapped around your calf. I feel like it was a bit reasonable for me to think you were dead for a second.” “Right, of course,” You nod, definitely not believing that he only thought you were dead for a second, “That’s totally why I’ve had both Soap and Ghost tell me you thought I was dead. They only told me that because you thought I was dead for a second.” “I’m gonna murder them both, I swear to—” He mutters, burying his face in his hands, making you laugh quietly. He glares at you from behind his hands and adds on, “Oh, you think this is funny? You having a laugh down there, knowin’ that I thought you were dead?”

“I think this is hilarious.” “You’re insufferable and I don’t even know why I try to care about you anymore.” “You don’t try, you just do,” You roll your eyes, “Don’t act like you have to actively try and care about me.” “You’re so snarky today, my God,” Gaz scoffs, “Wait ‘til I tell Captain Price about this.” “Alright, Draco Malfoy. You do that.” “I shouldn’t have ever visited you in here,” He mutters, crossing his arms and looking away from you, feigning annoyance. You huff out a laugh at that and that makes Gaz laugh a bit, though he keeps up his dramatics, continuing to look away from you. “You still think I’m dead now, or?” “Shut it, you.” “My bad.” “I wish they amputated your leg.” “No you don’t.” “…” Gaz can’t even argue with it, simply sighing and rolling his eyes before looking back at you, ”No, I don’t.” “I knew it,” You smile at him knowingly, making his lips twitch up into a smile. You think for a moment before tacking on, “Wanna hear what Ghost said to me?” That makes Gaz perk up and immediately reply, “Oh, absolutely.” Cue you both five minutes later, Gaz gaping at you while you laugh every other word, remember the horror on Ghost's face when he realized what he called you. Gaz covers his mouth with his hand, laughing into it, gripping the rail of your bed with his other hand, keeping himself up.

“He— oh my God,” Gaz laughs, trying to keep quiet so Ghost wouldn’t hear him, knowing the latter was right outside the medbay. He takes a deep breath and another before breaking into small giggles once again, making you do the same. After maybe a few more minutes of just pure laughter, Gaz manages to catch his breath and stop laughing, and you do the same. “I should probably head out now,” He says, sounding almost disappointed by the fact, glancing over at the closed curtain a few feet away from your bed. You nod in understanding and don’t say anything in response, making Gaz look back at you and add on, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow though, yeah?” “Yeah,” You confirm, making Gaz offer you a warm smile and lean down to hug you tightly one last time before getting up and walking over to the curtains, sliding them to the side and walking out, sliding them closed behind him. You hear the click open and shut of the door, as well as Gaz’s footsteps walking outside of the medbay and eventually fading into nothing.

[chironshorseass]

what bugs me most about the pjo show is that i know they could’ve done better. i knowwwww they could’ve been as faithful as they wanted to the books. for anyone saying “oh, but it’s an adaptation! it isn’t meant to be the same so stop whining that they took stuff out or that they’re adding things in different order!” well yes, i agree that adaptations aren’t meant to be a carbon copy of the source material for the simple fact that it’s adapting the source material into a different medium (television), yet it’s just that! a form of adapting the things that are unable to be channeled from, say, a book—or on the contrary, adding things that make sense for television but couldn’t be channeled into the books otherwise…all of this in a faithful manner. a good adaptation is one that stays true to the source material by properly adapting its themes, characters, symbolism, context, pacing, and the overall story/plot so as to not only be seen as a sort of love letter to the fans, but also to reach a wider audience.

just look at the hunger games! the movies are so faithful to the books to the point that most of the scenes are taken straight out of the books, dialogue and all. and they’re movies, aka less runtime than a freaking tv show and they still did it better. did the hg movies have to take a few scenes out? yes; they have only so much time to tell the story as it is told in the books. did they resume things, like the games themselves? also yes. but did most of the important scenes and character moments stay in the movies? also also yes. again, THESE ARE MOVIES!!!!! a medium much more limited than a freaking tv series with multiple episodes that have enough run time to add even more scenes from the books than what could be possible in a 2 hour (max) movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and yet they STILL changed so much that rly had no business being changed other than that the writers decided they felt like it because…..a lot of it im not even sure. and the worst thing of it all is that freaking rick riordan took part in script writing yet so much of the source material has been watered down???? they make a whole ass episode about a monster fight with the majority of the scenes from said episode not even present in the books instead of sticking to the perfectly good source material???? and by doing so they delete the small details that are very much integral to character development and plot???? huh???? the math isn’t mathing. don’t get me wrong, i do like some changes, but then i think: at what cost do they add these things when there was a perfectly good narrative without it? like, at what cost do we get the whole turning to gold sacrifice scene if they’re gonna take out all the fun details that make the lightning thief the lightning thief? for example the silly water park merch and then annabeth displaying her spider phobia and her mortification at going to the thrill ride of love with percy and then being broadcasted to olympus. this is just one episode, but they’ve been doing it in all of them. and u know, it’s not that i don’t hate-hate most these changes. again, what bugs me is that this was supposed to be a faithful adaptation. again, it’s a tv series, with so much more time to develop everything from the books. rick is behind it, who apparently hated the movies for how unfaithful they were. the cast is great. and yet…the script is so mediocre. the spark is lost. character traits are looked over in place for weird pacing and even weirder changes. if the hunger games could do it, then surely a pjo tv series could as well? apparently not? i really really Don’t Get It.

[fluffyfluffyscarecrow]

Scarecrow, Two Face, Penguin, Mad Hatter, and Mr. Freeze with a Partner who Sleeps With A Plush of Them

Inspired by the Scarecrow and Two Face plushies I sewed.

Scarecrow

You had spent days hand-sewing this plush doll of Jonathan Crane, and though it wasn't perfect, you had put a lot of love into it.

The doll appeared to stare up at you with its button eyes while you held its floppy, huggable body and stroked its soft hair. It was like an exact copy of Jonathan, just smaller. And probably less likely to commit crimes.

Jonathan would be incredibly surprised to see the plush- lots of times when people made artistic interpretations of him they were meant to be terrifying. He had never seen a version of himself this...cuddly. He doesn't mind it, though. In fact, he's quite flattered.

When you tell him about how you cuddle the plush at night he practically melts.

Two Face

You made most of the plush Two Face with soft minky fabric, but decided to add something extra- faux fur on the white side of his hair and dot textured minky for his scars. He was perfect.

The first time you showed it to Harvey, he was speechless. His fingers ran across the soft fabrics you had used to capture him so lovingly, and you might have even seen a tear roll down the unscarred side of his face. Two Face is the one to break the silence, saying "you really want to cuddle me that much?"

When you admit to them you cuddle the plush at night to feel close to them, they immediately wrap you in a massive hug. You hug them back of course, making sure to kiss their scars.

Penguin

Oswald had always been insecure about his appearance, and no matter how much you tried to encourage and support him with words, hugs, everything...it always seemed as if his trauma would make him feel unworthy of you. So you got an idea. You would show him exactly how you saw him, in the form of a cuddly plushie.

You had to modify your pattern quite a bit to make it accurate, but it was worth it. The plush Penguin sat before you with its arms outstretched, just waiting to be held.

You paid extra attention to translating the parts of himself Oswald was insecure about into the plush- intricately sewn hands, a prominent beak-like nose, his cuddly, plump body, and of course his long, soft hair.

You're a bit nervous to show the plush to him as you're not sure how he'll react, so you start kind of awkwardly.

"Uh...I...I really wanted to show you how wonderful you are in my eyes and I...I adore every single part of you, so I made this..."

Oswald doesn't know what to think at first, but he's incredibly touched. He still tries to play it cool, of course.

"I mean, you could always have a life-sized version of me if you want."

Catch him off guard by kissing his nose and wrapping him in a hug.

Mad Hatter

Okay, uh.. You didn't sew this one. You just kinda found a Disney Mad Hatter plushie on Ebay or something and thought it reminded you of Jervis.

(Fun fact, I actually do have this plush and he's very soft!)

Even if you didn't sew it, Jervis freaking loves it. You want to cuddle? With him??? So badly that you got a plushie to hold when he wasn't there to comfort you????

Mr. Freeze

This man is very insecure about how he's unable to cuddle you due to his physical state, so you get an idea.

The plush was honestly kind of hard to make, with all the intricate details of his suit, but it was absolutely worth it. You even added a voice box inside so you could hear his sweet German accent whenever you wanted.

Also you added a small tuft of fluffy fabric for his hair, (ik BTAS doesn't have that but HQTAS does and I freaking love it so it's going here!)

He absolutely cries when you show it to him.

You wrap your arms around him when he does, it stings a bit but it's worth it to see him smile.

For Christmas that year you make him a Nora plushie, with magnets in her hands so she can hold hands with your Mr. Freeze plush.

You better believe he cuddles his Nora plush every day. It's not even close to having his wife back of course, but it does relieve some of the pain to get to hold her again.

[lexo-is-pesto]

I'm so excited to finally post this.

My full Murder Drones reference! so hopefully I can keep up consistency

Obviously, this is full of my own head canons so close ups and explanations under the cut (it's a LOT) >;]

To be totally honest my focus was on the main characters, and I think that shows in the designs of the Manor Drones and Cabin Fever Squad. BUT I'll still do my best to explain my process here.

For the Disassemblers I decided to do very different builds for each but the same color pallet.

My idea here was that since each have a different designation letter, that was akin to their model type. That's also why "the company" was able to clone J so easily, they just had her model on file. (also like to imagine there are 26 different forms of the Disassemblers Imao).

I had all the colors remain the same to show their unity and of course the Absolute Solver-ification of the basic Worker Drone color scheme. Essentially, I just took the monochromatic WD colors and put the highlighter yellow over it that Cyn loves so much.

For J I did a more lean and strong build. I wanted her to exude that leader energy. I also made her Core a star shape for similar reasons and then I also noticed that N and V had caution stripes at the top of their legs but as far as I could see J didn't, so I decided to add those to the very top of her legs to finish the garter belt look she's got going on. For her hair, I actually really like the pigtails I just flattened them out a bit because the big cutesy poof they had didn't fit her style in my opinion. I brought it back for her worker form though.

With V I gave her a round yet sharp look. (My favorite added detail is the sharp shoulders) I did make her the shortest of the DD because everyone loves the small but vicious archetype. For her core I made it a sword or spear shape, because she's extra violent. And finally, I made her legs a little more pointed than J's to finish off the sharp look.

Last but CERTAINLY not least, N's design is meant to be soft and plushy but still has a little edge to it. His hair is fluffy but the tufts curl to be sharp, His core is meant to look like a heart but it's upside down so the point is still facing the top (which makes it look more like a club but whatever) I gave him a rounder torso than the other two and his elbow and kneecaps are softer too. His general construction is still menacing, though, so don't get too comfortable with all the fluff. I also spent a LONG time contemplating if I should make his thighs black to look like little biker shorts to contrast with J and V's sock looks but went against it because I love how the hazard stripes stand out against the white.

For N and V's worker forms I basically took out all the sharp edges and rounded them out. J's still a little sharp though not as much.

With the Workers I did the opposite of the DD. They have the EXACT same body types (minus Uzi because she's little) and instead I changed their color schemes to all be unique to their eye lights

Since Worker Drones were made to... well... WORK I think their initial manufacturing would be pretty uniform. A copy and paste if you will. It was only when they were left to their own devices that the WD started to customize themselves. Thus came the wigs and clothes.

I like to think the color started with those infected with the Solver, so Yeva and Nori gained color and then passed that on to their kids. Thats also why Alice has color, but Khan, The Manor Squad, and some other drones in the colony don't. Does not explain Lizzy and Thad though (maybe they have a distant relative that had the solver idk)

It was a lot harder to infer about what a base WD body would look like Maybe I was just looking in the wrong places, but I had to infer with things like the worker helmets, we see every WD except Uzi wear one but they seem more coordinated with their outfits so I decided to just continue my color head-canon that its naturally monochrome and you can customize it if you want to!

I added a light to the feet of the worker drones to match the hand lights. I don't think there's a canon reason for the lights but, on the workers at least. I think they're there to help them do grunt work in the dark! to light their ways in caves or tight spaces so they could do their job better. Now they're just another robot cosmetic

For the Parents, I gave them wrinkles because I thought it was unfair that Khan was the only one who got them. So, Nori gets crow's feet hurray! No but I probably had the most difficult time with these drones. It was hard to separate the canon from fanon since we know so little about them, but I fought off all the demons to keep their designs relatively grounded. Minus Khan's scar. And Alice's more natural horns. and-

I also gave some drones eyelashes. just cause. if I thought it fit, I added it and if it didn't, I didn't add it.

Now you may be wondering "Lexo what's up with all the cracks!?" the idea here is that it's the solver taking over. We see in Cabin Fever and Home that the solver virus fundamentally changes the body of a drone. The crack in the casing is basically this process. Depending on the stage of which your drone is at it changes the intensity. We see Cyn being the main host and essentially patient 0, so she has the most cracks. It starts at the core then spreads until it reshapes you entirely and you become a Disassembly Drone. Unless you stop it in time. Thats why J, V, and N have the pale lines on the bottom of their torso, they're more pretty and cleaner since they achieved the solvers "final form" so to speak. Nori and Yeva on the other hand, have repaired cracks but they're still messy since they were stopped mid-way. Alice, however, did not stop the spread with the solver cure since she was "abandoned" so instead she just cut out her core entirely. Yup. Shes functioning on pure insanity and spite at this point. And then of course with the new hosts, there is light spreading. TL: DR the cracks are a zombie bite.

But that's it for my Murder Drones head canons and designs! If you read all the way to the end, you're a champ and I love you. Have a cookie superstar <3🍪

[demensrage]

d for deep investigation ⚊ • . with albedo

summary: your altruistic personality always leads you to be a people pleaser, that's why you didn't refuse when your coworker asked you to help him with his little anatomy research

cw: unestablished relationship, fingering, oral (f. receiving), blindfold play, protected, slight power play, nothing explicir.

wordcount: 4.3k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

The atmosphere in Albedo's research room always had an air of tranquility, almost mystical, as if time flowed differently within its walls. The alchemy tools were meticulously arranged on the stone tables, and jars filled with ingredients of all kinds gleamed under the dim light of the lamps. You sat there, observing the familiar space, but your mind couldn’t stop wandering. What could be so urgent that Albedo had sent you a letter so suddenly?

You knew your companion had a tendency to oscillate between the most mundane requests and those of overwhelming complexity. You had spent entire days helping him collect simple plant samples or calibrate his tools, only to find yourself later submerged in arcane experiments that bordered on the limits of science and magic. Nothing was predictable with Albedo, and that, in part, was what kept your curiosity always alert.

The echo of your own thoughts resonated in the room as you patiently waited for his arrival. The letter you received that morning still rested in your pocket, and every now and then, you touched it, as if by doing so, you could obtain some additional clue. “It’s urgent,” he had written, but without any further details. Albedo wasn’t one to be swayed by emotions or unnecessary alarms, so if he considered it urgent, it had to be something truly important.

As soon as Albedo entered the room, you stood up immediately, almost without thinking. You didn’t want him to think you had been wasting time, even if all you had done was wait. You always strove to meet his expectations, and though he never directly asked you to, you felt that internal pressure to measure up, to be useful. You were surprised at how quickly you had reacted, but it was natural for you.

Albedo approached with his usual calm, and his gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if analyzing your every move, just as he always did. It wasn’t a critical look, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being evaluated, which only increased your desire to be as perfect as possible in every small detail.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said, his voice soft but with a touch of seriousness. “I have something important to do, and I need you for it.”

There was something in the way he said it, something deeper than the words themselves. Your breathing slowed slightly, as if your body sensed that the conversation was about to take an unexpected turn. Albedo moved toward one of the tables, and you watched as his hands slid gently over the instruments. There were no potion jars or herbs this time, just sheets of paper and some sketches, but as you got closer, you noticed that the drawings were not of plants or creatures. They were anatomical sketches, detailed and meticulous.

As you approached the table to examine the drawings more closely, something in them stopped you cold. These were not simple anatomical studies like the ones you had seen before. You recognized the proportions, the delicately drawn lines. It was your body depicted on those pages, recreated with a precision that left you breathless. Albedo had spent hours, perhaps days, studying every detail of your figure, every muscle, every curve, with a meticulousness that was both scientific and... personal.

Your mind began connecting the dots, a subtle current of understanding coursing through your body. Suddenly, all those times Albedo had touched you, those soft brushes on your hands, on your arms, took on a new meaning. There was always an excuse: adjusting a tool, helping you hold a jar, correcting your posture while you worked. But now you understood. Those small touches hadn’t been random; they had been pretexts, opportunities to observe, to learn from you, to study every inch of your skin with a purpose that you were only now beginning to comprehend.

“I have something important to do, and I need you for it.”

Albedo’s words echoed in your head, clearer now. It hadn’t been a request but a declaration of the inevitable. He had already decided, and you were destined to be part of it. His eyes, normally so calm, now seemed filled with an almost unsettling fascination, his pupils dilated as he observed you, as if he was anticipating something only he could see clearly.

“I see you’ve noticed already,” Albedo said, his voice soft but laden with a meaning you couldn’t ignore. There was no need for him to explain; everything was clear now. This wasn’t just a study of human anatomy. It was a study of you.

The silence between the two of you grew denser, almost tangible. Your thoughts raced wildly, but at the same time, something kept you anchored in that room, in that strange and subtle dynamic between the two of you. You had always wanted to be useful, to live up to Albedo’s expectations, and now, here you were, facing a situation you hadn’t anticipated, but one that had seemed inevitable from the start.

"It’s a study that requires something more... practical,” he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. He hadn’t touched you again since you entered the room, but now you understood that he didn’t need to. He already knew you better than you had imagined.

And as his words hung in the air, you knew that the line between apprentice and experiment had blurred, that in this “delicate process” he mentioned, you were both subject and collaborator.

"How practical?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as you watched him approach slowly. The air became thicker, as if everything in the room had frozen except for him, moving with the calculated calm that had always defined him.

Albedo didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked around you, circling you with the same precision he applied in his experiments, his steps soft yet firm, making you feel like you were the center of his attention in a way you had never experienced before. His presence felt more intense, almost as if something within him had been waiting to be released.

When he positioned himself behind you, your heart began to beat faster, and before you could fully process the sensation, you felt his hands rise toward your hair. Gently, he brushed aside the strands that fell across your neck, the touch of his fingers sending a slight shiver down your spine.

The pads of his fingers grazed your skin, just a faint caress, but enough to make your breathing slow, more aware of every movement. "As practical as necessary," he murmured by your ear, his voice low, filled with the same intensity you had seen in his eyes.

His fingers traced the curve of your neck, studying every small detail with a familiarity that now felt undeniable. This wasn’t the first time he had done this, not with the subtle pretexts he always found to touch you. But this time there were no excuses, no tools or experiments to justify it. This time, the contact was direct, raw, and for the first time, you were completely aware of the nature of his attention.

“I suppose I can help you,” you said, though your words came with a slight frown, reflecting the hesitation creeping in. Albedo, ever observant, noticed that moment of doubt in your voice, in your expression. His hands, still resting on your neck, stopped entirely, as if he wanted to ensure you understood the gravity of what he was asking.

He didn’t move further. Instead, his eyes focused on yours, searching for something beyond mere verbal acceptance. “I want you to fully agree to this,” he said in a quieter tone, almost like an intimate whisper, but laced with seriousness. You knew that behind his curiosity and scientific studies lay an ethic he would never cross without your explicit consent. Though he could be cold and distant in many ways, this wasn’t one of them.

The moment stretched on, his words suspended between the two of you like an open question, yet charged with intention. He needed to be sure not just that you were allowing him to continue, but that you were willing, that you understood the implications of his request. He didn’t just want your help; he wanted your total approval, your voluntary submission to his study.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the lingering touch of his fingers still burned softly on your skin, a constant reminder of what he was asking of you. The sketches of your body still lay on the table, and the image of them remained fixed in your mind. This wasn’t just another anatomical study—it was something far more personal. And now it was clear that he knew. He knew you had noticed his touches, his excuses... and now everything was out in the open.

“Will you let me use your body?” Albedo whispered against your ear, his voice low and enveloping, as if the very air had stopped to listen to his proposal. "Will you give it to me at my mercy? I promise to take care of you, I always do."

There was a strange truth in his words, a certainty you had never questioned before. Albedo had always protected you, in subtle but constant ways. In every experiment, in every lesson, he had always ensured you were safe. He had given you his knowledge, his time, and now... he was asking for something more.

“Yes,” you finally whispered, barely recognizing your own voice. The word came out softer than you had expected, but once you said it, you knew it was what you wanted. Not just from a need to please him, not just from the desire to help him in his research, but for something deeper, something that had been growing inside you without you realizing it.

Albedo remained silent for a moment, as if letting the decision settle between the two of you. Then, you felt the atmosphere change, the intensity in his gaze, in his gestures, taking on a new dimension. His hand, still resting on your neck, slid down, caressing the base of your nape with a care that felt almost reverent. There was no rush in his movements, only infinite patience, as if he were savoring every second of your consent.

"Good," he said softly, his tone lower, almost like an intimate whisper that only you could hear. "I knew I could count on you."

You were sitting naked in front of him, a blindfold covering your eyes, immersed in the dimness of the research room. The atmosphere was charged with a mix of excitement and tension, and although you couldn’t see, your other senses became sharper. You could hear the sound of his pen scratching against the paper, the soft scrape of ink flowing over the canvas. Each stroke seemed to vibrate in the air, as if telling a story that only he could understand.

Intrigue enveloped you, but the anticipation intensified as you felt his footsteps approach you. His presence was palpable, a contrast to the darkness surrounding you.

The way his hands enveloped your breasts was both delicate and possessive, an electrifying combination that sent waves of heat throughout your body. You could feel the softness of his skin against yours, the warmth of his palms fitting perfectly to your curves. Each movement was a game of exploration, as if he were discovering uncharted territory.

At first, there was a kind of reverence in his touch, as if he were trying to memorize every contour, every texture. But as his hands moved with more confidence, that reverence transformed into palpable desire. His fingers sank into your skin, caressing you with an intensity that made your breathing become erratic. Each stroke was a small flash of pleasure, each caress a reminder of your vulnerability and submission.

The blindfold over your eyes heightened every sensation; the lack of sight made you more aware of his presence, of his warmth, of how his body drew closer to yours.

Several gasps escaped your lips as his fingers tugged at your nipples, a gesture as unexpected as it was pleasurable that left you trembling. “I’ve heard that a certain part of you is sensitive,” he murmured, his voice low and controlled, almost clinical, but with an intensity that hinted at a deeper desire.

It wasn’t just an observation, it was an affirmation that pierced your skin and lit a flame within you. Albedo’s touch, once meticulous and calculated, had become firmer, more intentional. And as his fingers continued to play with your nipples, pulling and kneading with that perfect combination of pressure and subtlety, heat began to course through your body.

You knew that Albedo wasn’t like the others. While the others simply passed through your life without further ado, he only cared about you. And in that moment, there was no one else in his world, no one else in his mind, only you. His concentration, his attention, was focused entirely on your body, on every reaction he managed to elicit from you with his expert caresses.

You felt the heat rise from your neck to your cheeks, and that feeling of shame, mixed with excitement, left you breathless. The blush that stained your skin was only an external reflection of the growing desire that took hold of you, one that was beginning to feel impossible to ignore. Moisture pooled between your legs, clear evidence of what his touch was causing in you.

The kisses on your neck came unexpectedly, soft at first, like a barely perceptible whisper on your skin. Albedo, with a precision that only he could have, knew exactly where to place each kiss, as if he had studied every corner of your body in advance. His warm breath slid over your skin, causing an electric current to run up your spine.

As his lips continued to trace a burning path over your neck, his hands began to slowly slide downwards, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The way Albedo moved, with such precision and control, made every second feel like an eternity, every touch a reminder that you were completely under his influence.

When his hands finally reached your belly, they paused for a moment, as if he wanted to make you aware of what was about to happen. The air between you became thick, charged with expectation, and although you couldn't see him because of the blindfold on your eyes, you felt every movement, every breath he took.

Then, with the same confidence he had shown from the beginning, his fingers continued their descent, until they gently brushed the moisture that had gathered between your legs. The first contact was delicate, almost experimental, as if he were testing the effect he had on you. But as soon as he noticed your body's immediate response, the tension that built up in your thighs, his movements became more determined.

His fingers entered without warning, curling immediately with clear intent. There was no room for gentleness. Albedo knew what he was looking for and found it quickly, his movements precise, but with a firmness that stole your breath.

Every time his fingers flexed inside you, they hit that spot that lit an insatiable fire inside you. He didn't stop, he didn't hesitate. His pace increased mercilessly, with one goal: to take you to the edge.

Gasps escaped your throat, as his hand kept you immobilized. There was no escape. Heat grew violently in your belly, as his fingers continued to work, relentless, curling at the perfect angle to draw out every moan from you.

He knelt in front of you with crushing confidence, his hands still working relentlessly, keeping you trapped in a spiral of pleasure. The intensity of his movements made you tremble, but Albedo showed no sign of stopping. From this new position, he was in complete control, and he knew it.

“You feel so warm,” Albedo murmured in a husky voice, his breath caressing the skin of your thighs as his fingers continued to work inside you, never slowing down. The firmness of his touch and the way his words reached you made the heat in your body rise uncontrollably, enveloping you completely.

One of his hands held your legs apart with a firm, almost dominant force, making sure you couldn’t move or close up. The control he exerted over your body was absolute, and he did it effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing for him. His grip tightened every time your legs trembled, resisting the urge to close up at the intensity of his caresses.

As his fingers sank again and again inside you, his other hand held your thigh firmly, preventing any attempt to push you away, as if you were his most fascinating experiment. There was no escape, and deep down, you didn’t want to escape.

“You sure taste delicious,” Albedo murmured, his lips brushing the skin of your belly with a heat that made you arch involuntarily. Every kiss he planted on your skin felt like a promise, an anticipation that burned you from within. His tongue barely touched your skin, and the tingle spread like liquid fire through your body.

“Let me taste you, precious?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, a dark, hungry glint in his eyes as his lips came dangerously close to the place you wanted him most.

The lump in your throat barely let you speak, but your lips formed the words almost instinctively. “Yes… do it.” The hesitation you felt before vanished completely, replaced by the all-consuming heat. Your body no longer belonged to you, and you knew it.

Shamelessly, you spread your legs wider, offering yourself without any reservation, making it clear that you were completely at his mercy. The reaction was immediate: a spark of satisfaction crossed his eyes at the sight of your total submission.

He knew exactly what you wanted, he had seen it in the way your legs spread wider, offering themselves without any shame, and he was more than willing to give it to you. There was no rush in his movements; Albedo enjoyed prolonging the moment, savoring the anticipation that grew between you. His smile was just a trace of the satisfaction he felt at having you like this, at his mercy, vulnerable and exposed before him.

Without taking his gaze off of you, he leaned forward, letting his breath brush your skin, sending shivers throughout your body. The first touch of his mouth was slow, almost torturous, as if he wanted to make you beg for more, but deep down you knew you didn’t have to ask for it. Albedo had already decided he would give it to you, he was just enjoying the control he had over your every reaction.

When he finally let his lips reach you, there was no more gentleness. It was with a mix of intensity and hunger, as if he was determined to explore every corner of your body until you couldn't hold back your cries of pleasure.

His lips moved with precision, exploring every corner of you as if he were mapping out a map, as if every shudder and moan he elicited was a confirmation of his success. There was no softness in his touch, only a hungry intensity that left you trembling, at the mercy of his calculated movements and absolute dominance over your body.

Albedo alternated between caresses and kisses, his tongue following a relentless rhythm that drew uncontrollable gasps from your lips. Your entire body arched beneath him, seeking him out, while his hands kept your hips fixed, making sure you couldn't escape the growing pressure building inside you.

It was like he knew exactly how far to push you, like he was playing with your limits just to watch you succumb, giving you everything you wanted without giving you control over when or how you would receive it. And in that moment, amidst the heat that washed over you, you realized that he had been waiting for this, to see you like this—given over, lost in the pleasure he himself gave you, without reservations or barriers.

Unable to contain yourself, you buried your hands in his hair, holding on tight as your hips instinctively moved against his mouth. Pleasure built up with every flick of his tongue, every firm caress of his lips, and you could no longer maintain your composure. Your fingers tangled in his golden locks, tugging lightly, searching for something to hold on to as he continued to devour you mercilessly. Feeling your touch, Albedo let out a soft growl against you, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body. His hands, strong and sure, held your legs open, making sure you couldn't escape or resist the pleasure he offered you.

"Delicious… oh fuck, so delicious," Albedo murmured against your skin, his deep, raspy voice sending waves of heat straight to your core. Every word that escaped his lips seemed to intensify the fire already consuming you, as if the sound of his pleasure only fueled your own.

With each word he spoke, the heat inside you grew, becoming almost unbearable. Albedo didn't stop; on the contrary, he reveled in your body's response, as if your pleasure was his greatest triumph. His hands moved with a confidence that made you feel even more exposed, each caress meticulously calculated, each movement designed to push you beyond your limits.

His lips and tongue explored mercilessly, as his words of praise became a mantra that echoed in your mind. "You're perfect," he whispered between kisses, his warm breath sending sparks across your skin. The combination of his voice with the touch of his mouth was intoxicating, like a drug that kept you lost in a sea of ​​pleasure, drowning you in sensations you didn't know could exist.

You were completely drunk with pleasure, every touch and every word from Albedo immersing you further into a state of euphoria. Every caress was like a bolt of electricity running through your body, making all your senses explode. The outside world faded away, and it was just you and him in that room, trapped in a bubble of intense sensations.

Gasps escaped your lips without you being able to control them, and every time his tongue slid over your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. "I can't… oh, Albedo, I can't take it anymore," you murmured, feeling yourself approaching a climax that threatened to overwhelm you. But he only smiled with a mischievous confidence, as if he knew he was far from allowing you rest.

“That’s just the beginning,” he replied in a deep tone, his hands gripping you with a possessive force. The way he moved, with the certainty that he had you under his control, only fueled the fire burning within you. Every time it seemed like you might break free, he held you back, taking your desire to new heights, relishing every moment of your surrender.

The intensity was increasing, every brush of his lips a spark that lit the fire inside you. His devotion to you felt palpable, as if every caress, every kiss, was designed to make you feel more than you had ever felt before. The line between pleasure and pain blurred; the outside world faded away as you gave yourself over completely to the experience.

“You like it, precious?” Albedo whispered, his voice a soft murmur between your moans, and you could only nod, unable to articulate a coherent response. All you could do was feel, let each wave of pleasure drag you further away from reality. His fingers moved masterfully, exploring every part of you, unleashing a torrent of sensations that kept you on the edge of climax, without him letting you fall.

“More… I need more,” you managed to whisper between gasps, feeling the tension in your body reach unbearable levels. He smiled, an expression of triumph that only fueled your desire. Albedo knew exactly what he was doing; he knew every corner of your body and how to take you to the limits of your pleasure.

With one last flick of his tongue, he brought you to the edge of madness, and before you could stop yourself, a cry of pleasure escaped your lips, releasing the pressure that had been building up inside you. The explosion of sensations left you trembling, lost in a sea of ​​euphoria, as you let yourself be carried away by the current of your own desire, knowing that he had brought you to this point.

But Albedo wasn't done with you, and you knew it. Even though your body was shaking, exhausted from the climax you had just experienced, he showed no signs of stopping. His eyes locked on yours, through the blindfold that still covered your vision, as if he could see past your fatigue, as if he knew you could still give him more.

"I've just begun," he murmured, his voice firm and full of determination, as his hands slid down your body again, this time with more force, with an intensity that made you feel like you were being molded by him, at his whim. His fingers invaded you again, moving with a more relentless rhythm, not allowing you a break, while his lips rested on yours, taking what he wanted without asking for it.

With each passing second you felt more overwhelmed, trapped between exhaustion and the desire to continue pleasing him. Your body, hypersensitive, responded to every touch, to every pressure of his hands. The pleasure built up again, faster this time, turning you back into a puppet under his control.

"I'm going to take you to the edge, precious," he promised, his words a low whisper against your ear, just before he sank his fingers into your pussy again.

[kashixxx47]

A fun little fanfic?

Guy's so.. I was think about making an Halloween costume fan-art so that'll probably be the coming up post for y'all and also I was hoping you guys wouldn't mind if I post fan art n fan fiction right?

Here's a little fan fiction I wrote

( don't mind if it's a little out of character huh)

[ n let me know if I should continue writing k]

(↑ it's taken from pin btw)

Fanfiction Outline for Kakashi x Y/N: "Steamy Encounters"

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Mission

Summary: Kakashi and Y/N are assigned a joint mission involving reconnaissance in a remote mountain village famous for its hot springs. The village harbors strange rumors about chakra-infused waters. While staying undercover at the hot springs, they both begin to realize their feelings, but in a hilariously awkward way.

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Mission

The morning sun barely peeked through the high windows of the Hokage’s office as Y/N stood in front of Tsunade’s desk, waiting for her mission details. She shifted slightly, glancing around the room, trying to look focused. But her thoughts were drifting somewhere else entirely.

“Y/N, are you paying attention?” Tsunade’s voice pulled her back to reality.

“Yes, Lady Hokage,” she replied, straightening up.

“You’ll be going to Hotsuki Village,” Tsunade continued, unfazed. “There’s been talk of unusual chakra activity around the hot springs there. Your mission is to go undercover, investigate, and report back. Nothing too difficult.”

Y/N nodded, her mind finally back in the moment. Undercover at a hot spring? That didn’t sound bad at all. She could use a break, especially after the last mission.

“There’s one more thing,” Tsunade said, a glint in her eye. “You won’t be going alone. Kakashi will accompany you.”

Y/N froze for a second. Kakashi? Of course, it had to be him. The legendary Copy Ninja, calm, mysterious, and impossible to read. They’d been on missions before, but the thought of spending days at a hot spring with him felt…different.

Before she could say anything, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Ah, I see I’m right on time.”

Kakashi appeared at her side, his usual lazy posture in full effect, one hand holding the latest volume of Icha Icha Paradise. He offered her a sideways glance, and though his face was masked, Y/N could swear she saw his eye crinkle in amusement.

“Ready for some R&R, Y/N?” he teased, his tone light.

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to hide the heat creeping up her neck. “It’s a mission, Kakashi. Not a vacation.”

“Of course, of course. Let’s go then, shall we?”

The trip to Hotsuki Village was quiet, though not without a few moments of awkwardness. Y/N had never been particularly good at small talk with Kakashi. He always seemed to be in his own world, making it difficult to know what he was thinking.

The village itself was nestled between two large mountains, and the scent of sulfur and steam hit them as soon as they arrived. The hot springs were famous throughout the land, and the village was bustling with tourists.

“We’re supposed to go undercover,” Kakashi reminded her as they checked into a local inn. The innkeeper, an older man with a crooked smile, handed them a key. Y/N didn’t think much of it until they reached their room.

“One room?” Y/N blinked, staring at the single bed.

Kakashi scratched the back of his head, looking unfazed. “Looks like we’ll have to make do.”

Before she could protest, he was already placing his things on the far side of the room. “I’ll take the floor,” he said nonchalantly. “You should get some rest. We’ll check out the springs tomorrow.”

Y/N felt her face heat up but nodded stiffly. She didn’t trust herself to say anything without stammering.

The next day, they arrived at the largest hot spring in the village. Tourists were lounging in the steaming water, and the sound of relaxed laughter filled the air. But beneath the surface of relaxation, Y/N could feel something off.

“I can feel it too,” Kakashi murmured, standing close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body next to hers. “The chakra is strange. Almost… alive.”

“Maybe we should investigate further,” Y/N suggested, glancing around. “But without raising suspicion.”

Kakashi gave her a lazy smile. “What better way to investigate than to experience the springs ourselves?”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean—?”

Before she could finish, Kakashi was already stepping toward the entrance, waving at her to follow.

Moments later, Y/N found herself submerged in the warm, steaming water of the hot springs, a towel loosely wrapped around her body. The water was soothing, but the chakra felt like it was dancing against her skin, prickling with strange energy.

She glanced at Kakashi, who sat a few feet away, his mask somehow still in place even in the water. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was just as aware of the strange sensation as she was.

Suddenly, the water bubbled. Y/N felt something brush against her leg, and she tensed.

“Kakashi, did you—”

But before she could finish, the water surged again, and with a splash, Y/N was suddenly pulled underwater.

End of Chapter 1

What do you think of this start? I can continue with the next chapters where they dive deeper into the mystery, and their relationship starts to develop more?

Ty ヾ(＾-＾)ノ

[stubz]

"I think Glip and Kal don't like me."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, we just don't talk. Like it's fine when your here or Quip is here but when you guys leave we don't really talk."

"Have you tried? Like making small talk?"

"Yeah but its really awkward and short." Max sighs leaning back in his chair.

"Hmmm...oh my god Piper! Take that off Marl!"

He watches as his friend and co-worker runs off to deal with Piper running off with Marl, treating the youngling as a stuffie to dress. Marl cackled as they were carried off by the human.

"Too bad you don't talk to them like my Mapa, they are a chatter bug."

"Your Mapa is a chatter bug? Really Dali?" he found it hard to believe that Calis would be chatty. The ever so serious and stoic first mate.

"Yeah but only when Pomo gets them talking. Usually about go-sip."

"Gossip huh?"

.

"He sent the email to everyone. Everyone! He sent all the texts and messages between them to everyone to show them what she said about us."

"Oh my god what a power move...this dude is my hero." Quip nods in agreement.

"Want me to read em?"

"Max I would kill you if you didn't."

"Seconded."

..

"-I feel unsafe in this hostile environment. You told me it was fine, that I could go whenever."

"Go whenever? ...she left like a day before the wedding! A day! She had 3 goddamn months!! And hostile??? Says the woman who tried to call the cops on her own roommate for being 'too loud'!!" shouts Quip crushing the drink in his hand.

"It gets better."

"HOW?!" cries Kim

"Hold up! Pause! I need a new drink!"

"Oh get me one too will you?" the humans call out.

...

"-I'll be changing the locks and hereby request to you all who I have sent this email to to not contact her or respond to her. Thanks for reading and Tiffany, I'm willing to talk to when you come back from your trip. Bring your keys."

"Oh shit its done! She's dumped. He's dumping her as soon as she comes home!"

"I need a copy of this or just you to read it to me again and again for a month."

"Oh with pleasure, I love reading this. It never gets old."

"Thank you for sharing this. This was the best gossip I've had in years. Come on, desert on me!" she shouts grabbing her friends arms leading them back to the cafeteria.

....

"Hey Max!" he looks up from his lunch and sees Quip with Kal and Glip.

"Hey guys."

"I was telling these two about the shipwreck you told me and they won't stop hounding me about asking you for a copy of the email or in depth detail so here." he shoves his two embarrassed partners forwards to the human

"I'd love to hear it again but I gotta return something before the place closes. I'll be back in an hour, have fun!" he calls waving to them

"...so how much do you guys know?"

"...a bit but could you start from the beginning?"

"Like when she said she hurt her back a week after flaking on doing her part of the wedding planning."

"Gotcha. So she says that she hurt her back a week after going to the gym, which makes no sense because back injuries hurt right after or hours after the thing you did!"

"Oh she's lying."

"Did they kick her out of the wedding planning?"

"No, because they don't want to cause drama about this. Like its hard to subtlety make a person prove their back is hurt. Also the job they gave her was the smallest thing so."

"What was her job?"

"Making sure there was enough napkins and balloons."

"Get a hint Tiffany!"

"That's so sad."

.....

"So I heard you're gossip buddies with Kal and Glip?"

"Yep. Spent 3 hours sharing gossip."

"..."

"You wanna hear it?"

"Yes!"

"Thought you would. Wrote down the key notes of each story."

"This is why we're best friends!!"

[celebtf]

THE SHAWN REPLACEMENT

Shawn Mendes stepped out of the car, adjusting his jacket as his manager waved from the driver's seat. "Good luck in there, man. We’ll head straight to the meet and greet after."

“Yeah, thanks,” Shawn replied, his voice carrying the weariness of endless interviews, meet and greets, and concerts. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension built up from weeks on the road. He didn’t have much time to think about it, though. He had to be on point for the interview. Another day, another routine.

Shawn entered the sleek glass doors of the building, the cool air inside washing over him. He checked his phone for the time: 3:30 PM. The meet and greet was in a couple of hours, followed by the concert. Just a quick interview, then back to the craziness.

He hit the elevator button, glanced around the empty lobby, and waited. When the doors slid open, he stepped inside and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The hum of the elevator filled the silence as he leaned against the wall, his mind drifting to the setlist for the concert. It was going to be a long night.

The doors opened, and he stepped out into a modern, minimalist office space. A young man stood waiting for him—a tall, blond guy with stubble and an easy smile. “Shawn, hey! I’m Derek,” he said, extending his hand.

Shawn shook it. “Hey, Derek. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course. Let’s get you set up,” Derek said, leading him down a hallway. The office was quiet, with only the hum of air conditioning and the occasional click of a keyboard from unseen rooms.

Derek opened a door and gestured for Shawn to enter. Inside was a small, sterile room with a chair in the middle and a camera on a tripod in front of it. Shawn took a seat as Derek shut the door behind them, the soft click of the lock barely registering in Shawn’s mind.

“Alright, let’s get you mic’d up,” Derek said, walking over with a microphone pack in hand. He clipped the mic to Shawn’s shirt, his fingers brushing the fabric as he adjusted the wire. Shawn barely noticed; his thoughts were already drifting to the evening ahead.

But then, something changed. Derek’s movements became slower, more deliberate. Shawn felt a coldness in the air. Derek stepped behind him, and before Shawn could react, he felt something tightening around his wrists.

“What the hell—” Shawn started, twisting in his seat, but it was too late. Derek had tied his hands together with a zip tie.

Shawn's heart pounded in his chest. “What are you doing?” he demanded, panic rising in his throat.

Derek didn’t respond. He calmly walked in front of Shawn, pulling a strange device from his pocket. It looked like a gun, but with a metallic sheen and wires that pulsed with a faint red light. Shawn blinked, his mind reeling as Derek inspected the device, turning a dial on the side.

Derek smirked as he lifted the device, his eyes gleaming with cruel intent. “I’ll explain it, Shawn, don’t worry,” he said in a voice that dripped with mockery.

Derek aimed the device at Shawn first, his finger squeezing the trigger as the machine came to life with a low, ominous hum. A beam of red light shot out, beginning at Shawn’s feet and rising slowly up his body, scanning him like a digital copy was being made.

The light lingered as it climbed, inch by inch. Shawn felt its heat as it passed over his legs, his torso, and finally up to his face. It wasn’t painful, but it was invasive, like the machine was stripping away every secret his body held.

Shawn watched helplessly, feeling like an animal caught in a trap, as the red light scanned every inch of him. His skin tingled as it moved up his neck and over his face, his muscles tightening as if it resisting the scan.

The beam finally disappeared, leaving Shawn panting slightly from the strange, disorienting experience. But Derek’s eyes glinted with satisfaction.

“Perfect,” Derek said softly, admiring the device’s display, which now contained all of Shawn’s data. “I needed to make sure I get every detail.”

Shawn's stomach twisted as Derek turned the dial on the device, preparing for the next phase. “Now for my part.”

Derek turned the gun toward himself and squeezed the trigger. This time, the beam of light washed over Derek’s body, starting at his feet. As it climbed, Shawn’s confusion morphed into horror. It wasn’t just a scan—it was *changing* him. Derek’s muscles twitched and rippled beneath his skin. His stubbled jawline softened, the rough patches of hair thinning out as his face began to smooth, becoming more youthful, became flawless—perfect

Shawn’s eyes widened as Derek’s hair began to darken, strands of blond morphing into deep brown. His posture shifted, his shoulders rounding in the exact way Shawn’s did when he performed on stage. It was an haunting sight—like watching a wax sculpture slowly melt into a new shape.

Derek flexed his fingers as the light scanned them, watching with satisfaction as his hands became more slender, the veins and muscles rearranging themselves. His fingernails rounded out, his knuckles losing the roughness they once had.

The transformation was disturbingly precise. Shawn could only watch as Derek’s eyes—previously a piercing blue—turned a warm, familiar brown. Every detail, down to the freckles scattered across Shawn’s nose, appeared on Derek’s face. His cheekbones shifted, and the lines of his jaw rounded until they matched Shawn’s exactly. Even his height adjusted, shrinking subtly to match Shawn’s leaner frame.

The last part of the scan settled on Derek’s voice, and when he finally spoke again, it wasn’t *Derek’s* voice anymore.

“Not bad, right?” Derek asked, his voice now a perfect match for Shawn’s—smooth, deep, and resonant. He grinned, testing the new sound, rolling his shoulders as if he was settling into a new suit. “I’ve got to admit, this feels *incredible.*”

Shawn’s stomach churned as Derek stood before him, now indistinguishable from himself. The sheer wrongness of seeing his own face looking back at him, sent a shudder down his spine.

Derek wasn’t finished yet. He glanced down at the device, turning the dial again. “Now it’s your turn.”

Before Shawn could even comprehend what was happening, Derek pointed the device at him and pulled the trigger. The red light hit Shawn with an overwhelming force, flooding him with a burning heat that made him gasp. It felt as if every inch of his skin was on fire, tingling with a sensation that was both excruciating and numbing at the same time.

Shawn felt his bones shift first, a sickening crackling noise accompanying the reshaping of his skeleton. His tall, lanky frame began to compress, muscles tightening in all the wrong places. His shoulders broadened, growing heavier than they had ever felt. His legs shortened, and his body seemed to thicken, growing bulkier in ways that felt foreign and monstrous.

His hands, which had always been delicate from years of playing guitar, grew rougher. The skin stretched over his knuckles, becoming hard. His fingers, once precise, felt clumsy and awkward as they thickened.

He looked down in horror as his legs bulked up, the lean, athletic build he had known for so long vanishing. His knees felt stiff, and his feet ached as his shoes grew too tight. Everything about his body felt *wrong*.

As the light reached his face, the changes became unbearable. His skin tightened, the soft youthfulness draining away as wrinkles formed around his mouth and forehead. His nose sharpened, his jawline became more angular, and his cheekbones seemed to protrude unnaturally. His hair, once a rich brown, turned lighter, fading to a pale blond as it thinned.

Shawn looked into the reflection of the nearby window and saw *Derek* staring back at him. His own eyes had turned cold and blue, devoid of the warmth they once held. His entire face—once so familiar—was gone. He was now trapped in Derek’s body, his identity stolen, his entire existence erased.

The real Derek—now fully transformed into Shawn—let out a slow, cruel laugh. “It suits you,” he said, his voice a perfect match for Shawn’s. “How does it feel?”

Shawn, still panting from the shock of the transformation, tried to form words, but his mouth—now twisted into Derek’s cruel grin—couldn’t produce anything coherent. He was paralyzed by the sheer horror of it.

Derek leaned down, staring directly into Shawn’s new blue eyes, his grin widening. “You should have seen this coming,” he whispered, his tone filled with sadistic delight. “After all, who wouldn’t want to be Shawn Mendes? The fame, the fans, the life..."

Derek stood back, slipping into Shawn’s leather jacket as if it had always belonged to him. He moved with an ease that made it seem like he had always been Shawn—the way he ran his fingers through his hair, the casual way he glanced at his phone, all of it naturally.

The real Shawn—now trapped in Derek’s body—could only watch in silence as The new Shawn casually dialed his manager. “Hey, I’m done with the interview,” Derek said, his voice chilling in its perfection. “Come pick me up.”

He hung up the phone and turned back to Shawn, a cruel smile stretching across his new face. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your life. "

Without another word, Derek—now Shawn—walked out the door, leaving the real Shawn behind, trapped in a body that wasn’t his, with a life that no longer belonged to him.

The meet and greet went perfectly, almost too perfectly. As Derek—now completely transformed into Shawn Mendes—walked into the event, a wave of excitement rippled through the room. Fans gasped and screamed, their phones flashing like strobe lights as they tried to capture every moment. The energy was electric, and Derek soaked it in, his expression the perfect blend of humility and charm. He moved with effortless confidence, just like Shawn, giving warm smiles and that signature wave that made the crowd roar even louder.

One by one, fans stepped forward, eagerly awaiting their chance to meet “Shawn.” Derek wrapped his arms around them in familiar embraces, his movements smooth, affectionate, and practiced. His hands didn’t tremble as he hugged them, he posed for selfies, flashing Shawn’s trademark grin. He even joked with the fans, throwing out Shawn’s typical playful banter, causing a chorus of laughter and adoration.

Some fans wiped away tears of joy as they leaned into him, trembling in disbelief that they were touching the man they idolized. “Thank you for everything,” one whispered as she hugged him tightly.

“My pleasure,” Derek responded, his voice soft and sincere—exactly the way Shawn would’ve said it. No one suspected a thing.

He studied every expression, every reaction from the fans, feeding off their admiration. It wasn’t just about fooling them—it was about being adored, about living in this intoxicating world of celebrity that had once belonged to someone else.

Derek took extra care with each fan, ensuring no moment felt rushed. To them, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and he wanted to ensure that *their* Shawn Mendes was everything they hoped for. He answered questions, made eye contact, signed autographs with a flourish. To those fans, this was the real Shawn, and Derek reveled in their adoration.

When it was finally time for the concert, Derek stepped onto the stage like he had done it a thousand times. The roar of the crowd was deafening, the sea of faces illuminated by flashing lights and glowing phone screens. His heart raced—not from fear, but from the sheer thrill of it. This was *his* moment now. He owned this stage, this crowd, this life.

The band kicked in, the music filling the arena, and Derek launched into the first song without missing a beat. His voice, now identical to Shawn’s, hit every note perfectly. His movements mirrored Shawn’s signature style—effortlessly smooth, the way he strummed the guitar, the way he leaned into the microphone stand during quieter moments, the little twirls and gestures that drove the fans wild.

As the set progressed, Derek found himself growing bolder, more comfortable in this stolen skin. He interacted with the audience just like Shawn would, smiling down at them, giving them the heartfelt, emotional moments they craved. “You guys are amazing,” he called out between songs, his voice dripping with the sincerity that Shawn was known for. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

The crowd erupted, hanging on his every word, believing without question that the man on stage was their beloved Shawn Mendes.

With every song, every cheer, Derek felt the power of Shawn’s life flowing through him. He had perfected every move, every look, every smile. By the time the concert was over, the crowd was in a frenzy, chanting Shawn’s name over and over.

As he stood at the edge of the stage, gazing out over the crowd, Derek let the moment wash over him. The cheers, the love, the undying devotion—he had done it. He had truly become Shawn Mendes.

And the real Shawn, now trapped in Derek’s body, was out there somewhere, forgotten and powerless.

Derek raised his hand for one final wave, basking in the euphoria of the crowd’s roaring adulation. He had succeeded.

[alllgator-blood]

ohh my goodness can you pls pls pls do a brush tour?? i love ur art so so much its so cruncy >:]

Yes I can, I appreciate your interest!! I use paint tool sai 2 which is kind of archaic, but I've been drawing on a wacom pen and touch small + using paint tool sai since 2012 and I'm too stubborn to move onto something better. I actually only use three brushes so I've made a little drawing where I only use one brush per character to show the differences:

Gonna put the screenshots of the brush settings below the cut cause it got longer than I expected:

I drew my three big faves cause frankly I am sick of looking at kallamar and narinder's smug faces lmaoooo ANYWAY. GOING FROM LEFT TO RIGHT, WE HAVE THE CHUNKY BRUSH. I use that brush for messily coloring things in, doing big blocky background shapes, or just adding texture to a drawing. It's my favorite brush to paint with but I have not....finished a painting for this blog yet...

Then for the crunchy brush, it's a tool I use half for lineart and half for coloring. I use it for stuff like changes in fur color/markings, drawing all the lines in the backgrounds I do, and finer details the chunky brush can't handle. It's also the lineart tool I use for my drawings where the lines are all on the inside of the chararacters but not the outside!

As for the smooth brush, this one only ever gets used for lines but it was created when I was so bored of my lineart tool I stopped drawing for a while. I wanted a calligraphy pen and had to work around SAI's limitations, so while it doesn't have that thin-thick angular effect that calligraphy pens have....I manually apply the pressure and it looks passable enough. I hope.

The brush settings are visible in the pics but uNFORTUNATELY I DO *NOT* remember where I got my stupid brush pack from. I literally downloaded the files before I was even a teenager but I *do* remember they're from deviantart. If anyone is for some reason kicking and screaming to acquire this ancient, crusty brush pack I'm sure I could throw it in a google drive

I have other useless information about my process if any of this is remotely helpful: for the anaglyph effect on my lines, I literally take a full 120 seconds to copy+paste two copies of my lineart, color it red and cyan, and then slightly move them up+down beneath the black lineart to get that 3dish effect. My flat backgrounds are just another sai preset texture, usually the checkerboard one cause it's swag. The rest of my brushes are just for utility or to fill in the gaps, that scroll bar leads to a bunch of empty space. They're not worth showing off just because they don't ever get used, or it's just like. The bucket tool. The select tool. A binary pen I never use. And lastly, for my usual lines, I actually go back and mess them up myself to get them to look more chaotic...my lines are usually smooth + even but it's so boring to look at and time consuming that I'm trying to unlearn that.

here's a wip of what my lines USUALLY look like with the smooth brush. You can see for the background I mostly used the chunky brush for shapes and then the crunchy brush for the finer lines! But yeah it takes forever to do smooth lines because I have nerve damage in my arm (it's why my stabilizer is maxed out...) and I refuse to use the line tool. In a professional setting I definitely make sure my lines are polished but this is just my goofy fanart blog and I want everything to look like it's been laced with crack.

I HOPE ANY OF THIS HELPS?? OR JUST SATES YOUR CURIOSITY, I try to not gatekeep the way I do my art so I have literally no secrets tbh

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Hostage Situation

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Salvatore!Reader

Word Count: 1970

Warnings: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Fluff. Cutesy shit that just goes with this whole series in general. Reminder that this is an AU human fic.

Author’s Note: The inspiration for this was from the post Daniel Gillies had done on Instagram for a convention that he was going to. Inspiration hit and I just needed to revisit the Sweet Family of Mine characters. Please note that while you do not have to read the others to get the full picture of this fic, there are details/references that make more sense if you've read them.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else. 

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥ 

Sweet Family of Mine

Mikaelson Photography Studio was in its busy season. The summer months meant Y/N Mikaelson practically had a camera in her hand 24/7. It had been years since Y/N had taken that fateful step out of the shadows her father had casted upon the Salvatore children. And once she had, that small little business she created had now expanded to several locations throughout the state.

The sound of the camera shuttering several times filled the room before she gave instructions for a new pose with her current clients. An adjustment here and there had her grinning as she looked through the lenses, seeing the happy smiles on the newly engaged couple. And after several more clicks of the camera, she was one hundred percent positive she had gotten everything the couple had asked for.

“You guys can go ahead and relax.” She smiled as she began going through the images on the camera. “Is there anything else you would like to do before we end the session?”

It was something she always made sure to ask before she called the session completed. She wanted to make sure there was no stone unturned in what they wanted. In most cases, they couldn’t come up with anything else as Y/N usually hit every mark they asked for.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket just as the couple had confirmed she had gotten everything they asked for and more. And with that, she began explaining her turnaround time for her process of editing and the promise of calling them as soon as they were ready.

Her phone went off twice more, before she finally pulled it out of her pocket to view the messages that were awaiting. It never failed that a grin would pull at her lips at seeing her husband’s name in the notification bar.

Y/N and Elijah had been happily married for close to twelve years. Their lives had become everything they ever wanted it to be and more. Their little family had expanded with the birth of their daughter, Evelyn, and four years later with their son Jayden.

Her eyebrow raised as she opened the text messages. The first message sent had been in all caps.

WE HAVE YOUR HUSBAND

It had been followed by:

BE SURE TO WATCH VIDEO FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS

Part of Y/N wanted to be afraid. Elijah was taking this week off to spend with the kids during their first week of summer break. Surely nothing serious must have happened since she had left earlier that morning. It wasn't until the thumbnail for the video had shown the edge of a nerf gun that the spike of fear had subsided instantly.

When she pressed play, she could hear Jayden laughing in the background before Elijah came into view with a blindfold over his head as he was forced into a chair, no doubt by Evelyn as she held back a chuckle. The nerf gun came into view against his head before she caught sight of Evelyn’s hand pulling away the blind fold. A piece of paper was forced in front of Elijah and Y/N knew it was a script written out.

A grin pulled at her lips as she continued to watch the video. She wondered who had been the mastermind between the three of them. Jayden was sure to go with any antics his sister could come up with. But to have Elijah be held hostage and held at gunpoint, she knew it had to have been either Elijah or Evelyn.

“My darling wife,” Elijah’s voice came over the phone speakers. “These heathens we call children hav-'' Jayden pushed the gun closer to Elijah causing him to stop. “Excuse me, these rather lovely and adorable children have grown tired of your absence. They believe I am your weakness and believe holding me hostage would bring you home sooner. Though part of me doesn’t believe that given you left without-”

“Dad…” Evelyn whined slightly as she peeked into the screen. “You’re supposed to stick to the script.”

“Oh right.” Elijah tried to keep the smile from forming on his face as he looked between his kids. “Their terms for my release include: One, you are to stop wherever you are on your work day and come home. Two, You are required to pick up the delivery that will be awaiting on our doorstep. And lastly, for the four of us to take a well deserved vacation. They’ve also written that we know this was your last client for the next few days and you cannot use an excuse. You have an hour to meet their demands. If you don’t…” His eyebrow raised as he looked over at Evelyn. “You’ve spent way too much time at your Uncle’s house.”

The sound of the nerf gun cocking back caused Elijah to look back at the screen. Y/N couldn’t stop the laugh that passed her lips as she waited for the end of that sentence. Elijah sighed. “If you don’t, I’ll be forced into a coffin and hidden where you’ll never be able to find me.” Both Jayden and Evelyn burst into a fit of laughter as Elijah feigned his fear. “I love you and I hope you consider saving me from these creatures whom I love dearly.”

The video ended a moment later and Y/N shook her head as she laughed. Her thumbs moved along the screen as she typed out her message and hit send.

I’ll be on my way shortly to save you, my love.

The response was almost instant.

Never doubted you for a second.

She couldn’t keep the small smirk from pulling at her lips as she typed her response.

And what do I get in return for saving you?

Whatever your heart desires.

And if my heart desires fangs?

I would gladly bring fangs on this trip and prove to you just how much I still know how to use them.

I’ll hold you to that.

When Y/N returned home within the timeframe of the ransom, she was greeted by her kids. Their arms wrapped around her tightly as if they hadn’t seen her in days when in reality it had been only a few hours. They talked over each other about how excited they were for the trip their dad had planned out for the four of them.

All Y/N could do was hold onto them and listen as they laughed and talked about how it had been Elijah’s idea to do the video. Evelyn explained her parts and Jayden filled in the rest. She laughed and hugged them tighter.

“That was one of the best ways to get me to come home from work.” She said to them as she gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

“I told you mom loves dad a lot.” Jayden said, smiling up at his sister.

“Now if it was you kids that were held hostage,” Y/N began. “I would have been home a whole lot faster.”

“I tried telling them that.” Elijah said as he stepped out of the house with several bags. He made his way towards the trunk of the car before dropping them in. “I believe they just wanted to rough me up without getting into trouble.” The kids laughed but didn't deny it.

After closing the trunk, Elijah made his way towards his family. Over the heads of their kids, he leaned in and kissed his wife. Jayden's mumbled ‘gross’ as he pulled his arms away from his mom made both him and Y/N laugh as Elijah pulled away from her.

“Why don't you two go get the rest of your things so we can get on the road.” As soon as the last words were said, both kids rushed off towards the house.

Y/N shook her head slightly, a smile pulled at her lips. Out of habit she reached out and took Elijah’s hand. “And where are we going? The ransom video left out that detail.”

He chuckled, bringing her hand up to his lips, kissing the back of her hand before bringing their hands down to their side. “The cabin. I was reminded that our last getaway had been over a year ago. Freya reminded me of how much we're workaholics when she stopped by earlier.”

A laugh came from Y/N. “In comparison to before the kids, I think we're doing okay.”

“We're more than okay.” He said as he brought his free hand up to run along her cheek. “Our lives are everything I've imagined it to be and more. Even for workaholics.” They both laughed at that.

“We're ready!” Jayden yelled out as he and Evelyn came out of the house with their bags.

Looking at the kids, they both couldn't help but smile at them. The two of them had been a perfect blend of their parents. While Evelyn had taken after her father, Jayden had Y/N’s eyes and hair color. Their own personalities are completely opposite from each other. But even then, the two were close.

“Can we stop at Uncle D's bar for burgers before we leave?” Evelyn asked as she walked over towards the car.

“Of course we can.” Elijah said with a nod of his head. “It's not a family trip if we don't stop there beforehand.”

It was a tradition that Evelyn herself started. Her relationship with Damon never changed as she grew. Damon was her favorite Uncle and there would be no changing that. No one could ever convince her to turn her back on Damon.

Any time they planned a trip out of town Evelyn insisted they stop to see her Uncle before they left. Over time, the burgers became a ‘Before we leave’ meal.

It wasn't long after that they were all loaded up into the car and headed out. Conversation filled the car as they talked about what they'd be doing once they got to the cabin. Some of the stress from work left them the further they drove from town.

And when silence came from the backseat, Y/N looked over to see both of them asleep. Her heart warmed at the sight before she looked over at Elijah. A small smile pulled at her lips.

Even after all this time, she always wondered what she had done to get the life she had. It was far from what one would consider perfect. But to Y/N, this little family of hers was as close to perfection. Who knew that teenager that used to sneak out to parties would be a woman with everything she ever wanted.

Elijah glanced over at her. When he saw her smile, his own grew. “What is it?”

“Did you ever think when we met we'd be where we are now?” She asked, her smile never leaving.

He chuckled. “Part of me knew from the moment I agreed to make sure you got home safely that night. But what I’ve imagined dims in comparison to the life we've created for ourselves. I would make a deal with the devil to ensure I would never lose what I'm so fortunate to have.” His hold on her hand tightened slightly as it rested in between them.

“You've always had a way with words.” She said, attempting to blink back the tears that threatened to form.

“I have a way with many things.” A smirk pulled at his lips.

She laughed and shook her head. There was no doubt about that. But she could never imagine a life without him. Nor could she imagine not having the family. Her heart was in that vehicle. And just as Elijah expressed, she'd gladly make a deal with the devil to keep this sweet family of hers intact.

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[sadhours]

Harringrove x reader. ur left sharing a small tent sleeping. boyfriend billy on the right steve the left. your feeling some sexual tension w billy despite you both agreeing not to do anything with ur friends. but he wakes up noticing u staring at his pretty face. He can’t help it-moving even closer to u and kisses you. Eating you up. It’s so sloppy. So intimate and cosy. It’s so loud that Steve wakes up. Once he sees you and billy kissing he moves closer behind you and 😳 double p-

1st billy- then when Steve’s about to insert himself you feel slightly nervous- and you whisper Billy’s name. He brings your head onto his neck praising you to take steve. Once steves inside you and ur comfortable-that’s it. They’re using you for their release. Hard and fast. You hold onto Billy’s muscular form almost crying with how good it feels.

some Harringrove moments- maybe they feel their cocks rubbing against each other at one point ?

Sorry for such the detail I’m not too sure abt it- I’ll let you cook this up or change it - inspired from ur amazing Harringrove smut. I’ve never ever requested Harringrove x reader and some may say I have had my big amount of ideas 🤠

🤤🤤🤤

absolutely, being sandwiched between the two of them is my fckn dream

It’s almost like a cruel joke— the way Steve ended up in the same tent as you and Billy. You’re sure it’s been done on purpose because you’d off-handedly mentioned to Billy that Steve looked good in his Scoops Ahoy! uniform the other day. You and Billy were getting some ice cream after your shifts at the pool ended, Steve and him had become quick friends recently. You weren’t exactly sure how it had happened but they were hanging out suddenly and Steve gave you guys discounts whenever you stopped by to get ice cream. Anyways, you’d both witnessed Steve getting shot down by a group of girls and Billy had laughed, suggesting that it was the dumb uniform to which you shrugged and said he looked cute in it. Immediately afterwards, you looked at him with wide eyes, expecting Billy to be angry but he actually seemed amused— intrigued even.

When Billy invited Steve along to the little camping trip with your guys’ group you were shocked at first but figured, they’re friends now so it wasn’t weird. Until it was time for bed and Steve followed you and Billy into your tiny, two-man tent. But it was totally fine, it wouldn’t be weird because you and Billy discussed not having sex during the trip for the sake of your friends. You were loud, everyone would know and you didn’t want to subject them to that.

Billy’s keeping up his end of the deal, eyes closed and steady breathing. The moonlight peeking into the tent shines beautifully on his face and you’re most definitely staring. He’s so pretty it makes your stomach do flips, you could stare him all day and in fact, when you have the time, you do. You watch his eyes barely move behind his lids, you’re a little impressed by how quickly he can fall asleep. As your eyes rake over the curve of his nose you can’t help but reach your fingertips up to brush against it. Billy’s face squishes up in reaction, his eyes blinking open to meet yours and a lazy smirk spreads across his lips. He turns on his side, facing you completely and copies your earlier movement, brushing his fingertips from the bridge of your nose to its tip. You giggle softly and something shifts in the mood, Billy grabs onto your jaw and leans down to press his lips to yours. The kiss is hungry, Billy grunts softly into it before biting your lower lip and tugging on it. You gasp softly and he takes the opportunity to lick eagerly into your mouth, hand moving from your jaw to your breast and squeezing it through your thin tank top. It’s so sloppy and you try to focus on Billy and not Steve’s back pressed against your own but you panic a little bit, knowing he’s bound to wake up to your and Billy’s sounds.

Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care, shoving his hand down the front of your pajama pants and underwear, cupping your pussy in his hand as he sucks on your tongue. There’s no possible way you can stop the little moans erupting from you, especially when Billy slides his fingers between your folds. Your whole body feels on fire and you can’t deny you’re turned on by the fact that Steve’s so close while Billy fingers you. However, you feel Steve turn over and you freeze, pressing your palm to Billy’s chest to push him back an inch.

“Shh,” your boyfriend smiles at you, “It’s okay, right Harrington?”

You feel Steve’s hand snake over your hip and you feel his breath against your ear, “I don’t mind at all.”

Suddenly, you’re sure they’ve planned this and while you think you should be upset, you’re not. You’re incredibly aroused by it, actually. Billy must feel as much as his fingers slip inside your aching hole with ease and he smirks at you.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks you softly, his hand moving up to cup your breast, “If I join?”

You knit your eyebrows together, wanting to say yes immediately but looking to Billy for reassurance.

“It’s up to you, darlin’,” Billy purrs, lowering his lips against yours.

You gasp as Steve squeezes your tit and Billy curls his fingers inside, “Yes, I want it!”

You feel Steve’s lips curl against your neck just as Billy lets out a soft chuckle before he’s licking back into your mouth. It’s already pretty overstimulating but your body tingles all over when you feel Steve licking and kissing your neck. You moan but it’s stifled by Billy’s tongue while he pumps his fingers in and out of you. Billy pulls away, saliva connecting between your lips and he makes a guttural noise as he looks over to where Steve’s sucking bruises into your skin.

He sits up, his fingers still inside you and it’s a team effort between the boys as they awkwardly pull your pajamas and underwear down. Steve grabs a hold of your thigh and pulls your leg over his waist, spreading your legs wide as your boyfriend fingers you relentlessly. Steve’s long fingers find your clit and he rubs circles against it, breathing heavy in your ear.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, eyebrows raising as your chest heaves with your own labored breathing.

Billy bites his lip, watching as his fingers disappear inside your dripping pussy.

“You’re so wet,” Billy comments, voice low, “Thinking about Steve in his uniform?”

Your face flushes, eyes widening at Billy while Steve scoffs beside you, “Got a thing for sailors?”

Billy chuckles, “She’s got a thing for pretty boys. Don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You can’t even answer, you’re not sure any words would come out so instead you nod, hips writhing against the pair of hands on you. The sounds that do come out of you are euphorically induced, uncontrollable. You’ve always been loud, Billy had to keep his hand over your mouth most times. Out here in the forest, he doesn’t seem to care and you’re too blissed out to even think about it. Everything feels too wonderful. Steve’s kissing your jaw and cheek and Billy reaches his free hand up and turns your face to Steve, groaning when Steve licks into your mouth. It’s different kissing Steve but it’s not bad, he’s not as eager as Billy, he’s slower.

Billy sighs softly and you can’t help but open your eyes and look over at him. He’s got his left hand wrapped around his cock, stroking lazily as he watches you kiss Steve while still thrusting his fingers inside you, but his pace has slowed. It’s fucking hot, seeing Billy so worked up at the sight of you kissing his friend. Steve grinds his hips up and you can feel his erection against the back of your thighs. You feel like you’ve won the fucking lottery or something. Two of the hottest men you’ve ever seen, right here at the same time. You don’t feel so guilty about your crush on Steve anymore.

“Fuck,” Billy exhales, squeezing at the base of his cock. “So hot.”

Steve leans back from the kiss and easily maneuvers you on top of him, your back against his chest. When Billy pulls his fingers out, you stubbornly whine at the loss but Steve’s holding your legs open as Billy positions himself between them. He slaps the head of his cock against your pussy and you moan out, leaning your head back against Steve’s shoulder. Your boyfriend doesn’t tease anymore, prodding his tip against your entrance.

“Pull her legs up, Harrington,” he instructs and Steve obeys, hands smoothing over the backs of your thighs and he holds them up for Billy.

Billy sinks in, groaning lowly as he bottoms out. You cry out, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation of Billy stretching you out.

“Jesus,” Steve comments, “She’s loud.”

“Yeah,” Billy grunts, “Have to fucking gag her half the time.”

The way they’re talking about you and not to you is surprisingly hot, you kind of like feeling like an object to them. You’re totally happy to let them use you however they please.

“Your dick is thick as hell, though,” Steve muses, “Poor thing probably can’t help herself.”

Billy laughs lowly, rolling his hips which pulls another sound from you and Billy tsks, “Feels good, doll? Am I stretching that tight pussy out?”

“Uh-huh,” you whine and you can feel Steve groan, the sound from his chest vibrates against your back.

“Just you wait,” he says beneath you and your eyes widen up at Billy.

He smirks, licking his tongue against his bottom lip and nods, “Oh, yeah, we’re gonna stretch you out nice and good, baby.”

“Billy…” you whine out, reaching up to grab onto his shoulders while he thrusts his cock deeper.

“You ready?” Billy asks and you look up at him with uncertainty. He pouts, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “I think she needs to be warmed up a little more, Harrington.”

“I can help,” Steve props his knee up so he can keep your thigh held up for Billy while he moves his hand around to rub at your clit again.

“Ah, perfect,” Billy drawls, “She’ll be ready after she cums.”

He pistons his hips quicker as Steve works against your clit, it’s all so intoxicating and you already feel like your floating up to the clouds. You keep your eyes open, watching your boyfriends face intently as he fucks you open. Billy looks almost drunk, glassy eyes with his lips parted and his eyebrows knit together. He’s so beautiful it makes you feel dizzy. The head of his cock pounding against your g-spot helps, along with Steve’s firm fingers playing at your clit. The pressure building up in your stomach is working quicker than ever before, you’re not even sure how that’s possible. Billy’s gotten to know your body well, he can make you cum pretty quickly when he wants to but this is entirely new. You can’t even bring your orgasm along this fast by yourself.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you blubber, “i’m… oh my fucking god!”

The pair of them double down, Billy thrusts even harder and Steve rubs your clit faster. You see white as your orgasm crashes into you, causing your body to seize and then thrash between the men. You’re screaming, you’re sure of it, your throat feels raw when you come to, panting against Billy’s mouth, you can’t even remember when he put his lips against yours. You blink repeatedly as he pulls away, this almost devious look in his eyes.

“Goddamn,” Steve grunts.

Billy pulls out of you and lays down on his back, grabbing you and pulling you on top of him. He kisses you deeply, smoothing his hands over your ass before he slips his cock back inside of you. You whine, feeling like you might actually cry. He wraps his arms around your middle and keeps kissing you through the whimpers you make. Then you feel Steve’s cock poking against you and your eyes widen again, looking to Billy with panic. He rubs his big hands against the small of your back.

“Billy…” you whisper, voice shaky.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coos, “You can take him too.”

You bite your lip, nodding to your boyfriend as you wait for the stretch of your life. You’re nervous but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t fantasize about this. “Okay,” you breathe, smiling at Billy.

Steve slides in alongside Billy and they both make low, throaty groans and you’re preening at the sounds. It helps the burn, knowing they’re enjoying the feel of their cocks rubbing against each others. You think about the possibilities of this becomes a regular thing with them. You’d really like to kiss the both of them at the same time. You press your forehead against Billy’s shoulder, trying to get adjusted to the feeling of two thick cocks stretching you out.

“Such a good little cock slut,” Billy purrs and Steve’s hips jerk at his words, urging himself deeper inside you which pulls a cry from your chest.

“Fuck, sorry,” Steve apologizes, hands grabbing onto your hips while Billy’s wrap against the back of your neck.

“No… felt good,” you whimper, grabbing onto Billy’s bulging biceps.

They both seem to take that as the go ahead, rolling their hips and your mind goes fuzzy. Their fingers are bruising where each of them holds you, thrusting in sync brutally. The noises they make flood your ears and you might’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s excruciating, how stuffed and satisfying it feels.

“Fuuuuuck,” you moan out, turning your face to catch Billy’s lips in a dazed kiss. Steve’s hand smooths up your back and grabs a fistful of your hair while he thrusts up inside you. He pushes your face down against Billy’s, forcing the kiss deeper.

Billy’s hands move down to your ass and he pulls your cheeks apart, holding you open while the two of them drill into you. It feels almost unreal, but you chase the fact that this is reality, you’ve really got Steve and Billy’s cocks stretching you out.

“Such a good girl,” Billy purrs.

“Mm, doing so well,” Steve supplies just as Billy smacks your ass.

The praise sends you over the moon, your eyes flutter closed. This is beyond your expectations. This is wonderful. This is earth shattering. This is fucking everything and you’re absolutely drunk on it. They’re fucking you raw, so hard and fast and you’re feeling used in the best way possible. You’re hoping and praying this turns into a regular thing.

“Wish you could see her face, Stevie,” Billy growls, “She looks so fucked out.”

Steve kisses against your cheek before pulling your hair to turn your face so he can see it, “Still with us, sweetheart?”

“Unh…” if they thought you were capable of the English language at this point, they’re sorely mistaken. You’re an absolute puddle. Words barely have any meaning, all you know is you’ve never experienced ecstasy like this and you’re fucking loving every second.

They each give a pleased little laugh, both breathless as they try to feign control, like they’re not both so close on the edge. You feel special, so so so deeply special and on top of the fucking world. The sheer stretch of the two of them shoved inside you made your eyes cross, had your whole body shaking, was so irrevocably pleasurable that you weren’t sure you could recover. They’d fuck you dumb, that much was guaranteed. You realize tears are streaming down your face only when Billy’s wiping them away and kissing you softly.

“You’re taking us so well, baby,” he encourages, “you’re doing so good, you’re such a good girl for me.”

“Billy….” You whine out, grateful you remember any words, particularly your boyfriends name. “Billy, billy….” You chant it because it grounds you, keeps you tied to reality.

Their thrusts match in desperation, both making incredibly pretty sounds that make your ears hot. It’s matched by their strong, big hands moving over your body. There’s a pair grabbing onto your tits, they must be Steve’s judging by the angle which means Billy’s are the pair gripping and pulling at your ass. You’re elated, floating practically as they fuck into you relentlessly. It’s brutal, rough in the way you need. Steve pulls you up by your hair, your back flush against his chest and he kisses you deeply. Billy digs his fingers in your hips, eyes scanning up and down your body and then to where you and Steve are sloppily making out. Steve moves his hand down and presses his fingers to your clit.

“Fuck,” you choke out, all the sensations they’re serving you is becoming almost too much. You can’t tell if you want to push them away or pull them closer.

“Baby,” Billy coos, smoothing his hand up over your side, “Sweetheart, you gonna cum for us?”

“Uh-huh…” you whine, “M’so close… feels so good.”

Steve kisses against your ear before whispering, “Come on, babygirl. Give us what we want.”

You’re sent over the edge, your second orgasm ripping through you with a cry and everything goes fuzzy for a few seconds. Then Steve’s pushing you back down, pistons his hips faster while Billy’s rock up to meet his thrusts. Billy captures your lips in a kiss, there’s hands running all over along your body but you can’t tell who’s who. Then Steve makes a strangled groan and you feel his cum filling you up, at least you’re assuming it’s his by the noise he makes. Billy hums against your lips, moving his hips harder into you and then he’s making a similar sound to Steve and you feel more cum filling you up and you whimper, holding onto Billy’s muscular chest for dear life. The feeling of their cum mixing together inside you is unmatched and you make a small whine as they each pull out of you. Steve collapses beside you and you remain clinging to Billy. You fall asleep like that, Billy rubbing soothing circles against your back and whispering softly how good you did and how beautiful you are.

When you wake up, you feel sticky and honestly, dirty. A shower would be greatly appreciated but as you open your eyes you’re reminded that you’ll be in the forest for one more night so a dip in lake is gonna have to do instead. You hear Steve mumbling something incoherent sleepily and feel Billy’s breath against your face and then you realize you’re sandwiched between the two of them, they’re both holding you tightly. It’s a wonderful thing to wake up to. You feel so warm inside.

Billy kisses your cheek and then nudges his nose against yours, “Good morning, darling.”

You hum, “Morning.”

Steve mumbles something again from behind you and tightens his grip on you.

“Can we do that again?” you whisper to Billy, blushing.

He smirks down at you, “What do you think we’re doing tonight, doll?”