#serial killer behaviour if you ask me

[danrifics]

just found out dan howell uses a generic lockscreen image on his phone??? i no longer trust him

[aakeysmash]

college!sukuna + the first time he asks you to watch yuuji for him :)

“Yes mom, everything is okay- no I don’t need you to send me food- ma, please-“ you try reasoning with your mother, phone between your cheek and your shoulder, while trying to cook something up.

It’s been a month since your arrival and she’s worried you might not find the comfort she so desperately wants you to have. You love her, but she can be a little too much. You manage to hang up and then you’re deep in thought, not knowing if you should add pepper or not to your pot, when a deep voice near your ear makes you jump.

“Yo.”

“For fuck- hi?! Couldn’t you, I don’t know, make any kind of noise before scaring me shitless?” You say to college!sukuna, who is looking at your pan from behind your shoulder.

“That looks like a mess,” he responds, ignoring your outburst. He's so nonchalant, almost as if judging negatively something is his natural behaviour towards strangers.

“Get out,” you whine, trying to push him away by putting your hands on his chest. He doesn’t move an inch, merely resorting to stare at you from below his nose. Your breath almost hitches: his eyes are piercing red, and the fact that he has a pair of them tattoed beneath his real ones makes him look-

"You look like a serial killer, should I call the cops on you or are you going to step back?" you say, raising one eyebrow. He blows in your face and gives you space only when he hears you whine. Asshole. Your hands fall from his chest and you slightly touch his torso. Oh, the boy has muscles, that's for sure.

"I need you to watch the brat for me," he tells you straightforwardly.

You're confused. "You need me to watch who?"

He rolls his eyes. "My brother, I need you to watch my brother."

You gape up at him, then raise your shoulders and move around him to get to the fridge. "No thanky youuu."

"Come on. They need me at the studio, a client requested me for a tattoo," he says following you, hands in his pockets.

“Not surprised you’re a tattoo artist. I’m sorry for your clients,” you mumble.

“The fuck did you say?” He snarls.

You huff. “I said, what’s in it for me?”

You turn around closing the fridge door with your hip, and you find him staring at you, again.

“Pal, you have a serious staring problem-“

“I’m ordering take out for ya.”

“Huh?” You respond, a little baffled.

“Are you dense?” He starts, a bored tilt to his tone. He thinks you’re kinda cute, but the fact you talk back makes him want to shut you up. With his own tongue down your throat, possibly. “I said I’m ordering you food. Take care of my brother and you can ask me for whatever you want for dinner. It’s not like you’re a great cook, anyway,” he adds, pointing towards the pan you still have on the stove.

You lightly slap his arm and he fights back the urge to slap you back on your forehead. Affectionately! Maybe.

“You’re so rude. Go, I’ll watch Yuuji. I want seafood boil, thanks,” you singsong. In your peripheral vision you see him stretching out his hand.

“Shake on it.”

You put your hand in his and try to grip him as strongly as possible, but he notices and it feels like he’s trying to crush your bones when he grips your hand back.

“Ow! Okay! Deal!” you say stepping back and massaging your hand, frowning.

“Thanks,” he says smirking.

[viperify]

Kinktober 2024 | 𝗼𝗰𝘁 𝟭𝟭: ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Obey me. | pt. 1

Part Two is up!

summary: Your boyfriend was the leader of the Knights of Walpurgis. He normally did not like showing you off to his soldiers, however recently you had started questioning his behaviour, which Tom could obviously not tolerate. He did what he had to – show you what happens when his followers do not obey him.

Warnings: 18+ only! Dark!Tom, public humiliation, oral m!receiving, nipple play, choking, corruption kink, hints of sadism

A/N: I am all new to writing and I feel like I lowkey went too crazy with this one. Whoops

wordcount: 2,3k

You and Tom had met at Hogwarts when you were just little kids. Your companionship soon turned into a relationship, though, when Tom started researching his family’s history, things drastically changed. Him and other purebloods formed the Knights of Walpurgis, a group that was soon known to terrorize, torture and even murder muggles and wizards with muggle blood.

Being Tom Riddle’s girlfriend had its perks. Although he was infamous for being too closed off and his cold demeanour, he had always respected your opinions and wishes, finding solace in your arms after a long day of work.

While it had started out really well between you two, Tom seemed to hide what he was up to most of the time. Yet, you always found a way to get the information you needed. You two now lived together, in a small but sweet house you could call home. To your distain, that was where he and his friends would have their weekly meetings. Not that you didn’t like them, because of course they had to respect you in front of Tom, no, you disliked the conversations that took place in your very own living room.

Killing that guy, torturing this girl, wiping out the muggle family down the road. It never seemed to end. Mostly, you decided to just leave as soon as they turned up, yet you could still hear their laughter and conversations through the paper-thin walls of your house.

Tom rarely was home during the day, and when he came back late at night, you were fast asleep. It really started to get to you, your boyfriend turning into a blood-thirsty serial killer and the fact he was never there for you. You started to doubt whether he actually still loved you, or if he had already planned your death as well.

Another month had passed, and the last time you saw your boyfriend was now more than a week ago, when he and his “followers” as he now referred to, had their last meeting. You almost had to throw up at that thought. They were talking about the muggle man they had successfully murdered in the most brutal way you could imagine. All of this at your very own kitchen table, mind you.

You felt like if this continued for just another week, you would snap. It had to stop immediately. The next time Tom came home, you would confront him about all of this. About your future together, and his seemingly never-ending killing spree.

It was late at night when you heard the front door creaking open. You had been waiting for him, leaving on the light in your shared bedroom. He wouldn’t be able to evade you today.

“Why are you awake?” He asked sharply when he entered your bedroom.

“I wanted to talk to you, Tom.” You replied softly, not wanting to anger him already. He had been quite short-tempered recently.

“About what?” He got into the bed, next to you. You turned to him, yet he didn’t seem like he wanted to have a conversation with you. It started to annoy you. Partners don’t treat each other like that.

“About you mindlessly killing people, about you being gone for days if not weeks at a time, about you not talking to me anymore! Damn it Tom, we are supposed to love each other! Be there for each other! But all you do is murder, murder, murder. I am not having all these people talk about those cruel things on my own kitchen table anymore, Tom. We have to figure this out, together!” Normally you wouldn’t raise your voice at him, you knew better than doing that. But you were so fed up with all of this.

He finally turned his head to face you but stayed completely silent for a few seconds. The only source of light came from a thin candle on your bedside table, yet you could feel his dark eyes staring at you, an eerie feeling rising in your chest.

“There is nothing to talk about. I bought us a home, yet you never show gratitude for what I do for us. What me and my followers are up to during the days and nights I am not here, are none of your business. End of discussion.” His voice was controlled, not showing any traces of excessive anger. You knew he was furious, though. A sigh escaped your lips and you turned around to leave it be for the night. Tomorrow was another day, after all.

When you woke in the morning, he was gone already. Of course he was. You prepared yourself breakfast and started a slow day, where you would do some gardening and read a book Tom had gotten you last Christmas.

It was noon when footsteps advanced from outside. You were preparing dinner at the time, peeking towards the front door to see Tom entering. He hung his black coat on the wall, not paying you any attention.

“Tom please can we talk about yesterday?” You begged, slowly walking towards him.

He turned around, and his cold expression made you halt. Your boyfriend had never looked at you like that before. A shiver ran up your spine and you immediately regretted bringing up that topic again.

“To the corner. Turn around to face the table. Then kneel. Now.”

”Tom I am s-“ your voice shook, afraid of what was going to happen next.

“Silence! Do as I say.” He interrupted you, the anger breaking through his usually controlled demeanour.

You did as he said, to scared to question him. You knelt down in the corner of your kitchen, facing the table which was in the middle of the spacious room. Tom followed and stopped right in front of you.

“Look up to me.”

Your eyes met his, and by the dark look of them you knew the last bit of the old Tom you had once known had left his soul. Everything had changed.

“I never wanted to do any of this to you, but the result of disobedience is punishment. You will obey me now. Follow my instructions closely.” He ordered, you only managed a nod in return.

“Undress your blouse.”

“But-“

“Silencio!” With a quick wave of his wand, your voice was silenced. He bent down and ripped the soft fabric off your body, leaving you in your bra and skirt. You whined at the cold air hitting your delicate skin, goosebumps rising all over your body.

Hot tears started spilling from the corner of your eyes as he removed your bra. You wanted to scream, cry, beg for his forgiveness, but with the spell he cast on you it was all no use. Instead, you tried wriggling yourself out of his touch, away from him. Anything.

“Stay still or I will have to use another spell.” He hissed, standing back up.

Obey, obey, obey.

“You want to be good for me right? You want to prove yourself as a worthy follower of mine. Show me how well you can follow my instructions.” Tom said, now in a sweet, almost forgiving voice. You nodded eagerly.

He then reached into his pockets, grabbing some sort of clips with weights on them. You only knew those from the muggle family nearby who used similar ones to dry their clothes outside. What were the weights for?

“Finite” with another movement of his wand, your sobs were finally audible.

“You will not speak unless spoken to. You will from now on answer me with “Yes, my lord.” You will obey me and do anything I say. Because you want to be worthy of my attention, of my love. Is that right?” He asked, petting your hair and wiping away tears that had soaked your cheeks.

“Yes, my lord.” You sobbed, lowering your head. Tom had never asked you to refer to him as that. Only his followers did. You felt pathetic in the situation you were in, but it was too late now.

“Good. You will stay quiet for the next part.” He instructed you, kneeling down before you.

Tom kneaded one of your breasts, and you couldn’t help but moan at his touch. It had been so long since the last time he touched you in that way.

He then rolled one of your already hardening buds between his thumb and index finger, applying just enough pressure to make you wince. Surprisingly though, the pain quickly faded into pleasure, a familiar heat building in your lower stomach.

When he seemed to be satisfied, he took one of the clamps and… Oh. That’s what they were for, you thought. He applied it to your erect nipple and let go. The sting was so bad, you threw your head back, another set of tears rolling down your already damp cheeks.

Tom repeated the procedure with the other breast, and when you knelt there, teary eyes staring up at your boyfriend, he smirked. “That feel good?”

You shook your head. Good? His hands felt good but this? It was quite painful, yet you felt yourself become wet. “Hurts, my lord” you whimpered, looking up to him.

“You will get used to it. Punishments shouldn’t feel good, after all.” Tom berated.

Loud laughter from outside made Tom grin.

“Sounds like our guests have arrived.” He turned around to open the door for them, when you realized what was about to happen.

“T- my lord! Don’t let them in! I am half-naked!” Your shocked expression didn’t seem to matter to Tom. “As I said, you will get used to it. Obey me.”

All of Tom’s friends would see you half-naked. But not just that. Half-naked, kneeling in the corner of your kitchen, with your breasts on full display, clamps decorating your already sore buds. You closed your eyes, the embarrassment making your face flush with heat.

Tom then greeted them and everything went silent for a second. They must have spotted you.

“She will be our guest for tonight. She will learn what it means to question me.” He explained to the group of men now all aware of your presence. “Greet our guests, love.” You opened your eyes warily and welcomed them, not looking any of them directly into the eyes. You could probably never look them into their eyes again.

They all took seats and discussed whatever they were up to this week. You had to listen to their stories, but that was not the worst part. You could feel the tension in the air and your breasts throbbed, making you wince at every little movement you made.

Tom seemed to notice you were struggling and got up from his seat. His eyes felt hot on your skin as he came towards you.

“Good girl. We are going to be done soon, can you wait five more minutes for me?” He asked you, slightly bending down to look into your bloodshot eyes.

“Yes, my lord.” You whined, sobbing.

Tom petted your head and returned to his seat. The other men did not question any of this and also did not pay any more attention to you than necessary, probably scared of Tom. At least one good thing.

As soon as they were done, your boyfriend let the other men leave, returning to your kneeling form.

“Did so good for me.” He praised, reaching down to remove the clamps from your swollen buds, massaging them. You winced at his ministrations, feeling how sore they were.

“Get up and lay on the table. Let your head down the edge.” He demanded, voice stern.

You did just as he said. Now he stood there, in front of you, undressing his trousers. Tom wrapped the belt around your neck, securing it. You felt it slightly cut off your breathing, making you feel a little lightheaded. Now this was something he had done before in a similar way, he liked choking you sometimes when you were intimate. You had to admit you liked it as well.

“Now be good and take what I give you. Okay?”

“Yes, my lord” you nodded eagerly, waiting for him to feed you his cock.

Tom did just that, demanding you to open your mouth. The position you were in allowed him to have full control. He entered your mouth swiftly, and you swore his length had never felt this big before. Just after a few seconds of letting you adjust to his size, he set an unforgiving pace. You gagged around him, feeling his length slide down your throat with ease. Every now and then he let you breathe, and you greedily sucked in oxygen.

The closer he got, the more he pulled on the belt, making it even tighter for him. Tom groaned as he chased his high, massaging your sore breasts as he snapped his hips into your throat. He let you take another short break, before pushing back into you. His thrusts were relentless, and soon enough you felt his hot seed spill down your throat, eliciting a primal growl from your boyfriend. He made sure you got it all before he pulled out.

He caressed your tear-stained cheeks, looking into your eyes. “Swallow for me, love.”

Obviously you did.

Freeing you of his belt and gathering your clothes, he kissed your forehead as you sat up on the table.

“You have proven yourself to be a worthy follower after all. Are you ready to obey me? Follow me wherever this path may lead us? Be loyal to me, no matter what?”

“Yes, my lord” you agreed eagerly. Not because you were scared. No, you wanted to. You loved the way Tom could break you into pieces, rearranging you into whatever he wanted you to be.

Tom smiled, kissing your plump lips. “Good girl.”

You loved a monster, but more importantly, the monster loved you back.

[slay00ryu]

Date with your Devilish Butcher

So you and Ronin are dating officially now, but hey you never went out on a real date (unless you count your first meeting or all the truth and dares games dates).

The idea of a date never came to your mind until Luca and Feli were acting all lovey-dovey in VC.

After that you were thinking about a real date all the time, you wouldn't ask Ronin out of course, you didn't know what a serial killer would even want to do on said date.

Well to your surprise Ronin decided to ask you out himself and you agreed without hesitation. How will your date go? Well let's see it together.

_____________________________________________

List of trigger warnings

- Blood and Gore

- Swears

- Violence

- Murder (duh)

You've been warmed, enjoy! <3

_____________________________________________

🫀

You were in the middle of getting ready for your date with Ronin. He asked you out a week ago while you were telling him about the story you wanted to write, you were frustrated because you couldn't find any new murder ideas and you wanted to write a "dark romance" story with a murder motive, then he said the sentence that left you stunned :

Ronin: Darlin' let's go out next Wednesday.

Those were his exact words, he didn't exactly wait for your answer, he just laughed at your surprised expression and left for "work", of course the next morning all news sites were flooded with a new murder from "The Butcher".

Now you were standing in front of your mirror adding the final touches to the outfit you prepared. For some reason your favourite devil decided that you have to wear a white shirt, everything else is up to you, but not the shirt. You still had half an hour left until Ronin would arrive at your doorstep to collect you to that mysterious date he had prepared. You sat down on your bed to mentally prepare for whatever he had planned, after all, you can't exactly expect anything from the devil.

Suddenly your phone rang, the noise almost made you jump, you quickly reached for it and picked up the call that turned out to be from Ronin.

User: Ronin? Why are you calling me?

Ronin: Get your pretty self down here, I'm already waitin' for you.

You were quick on your feet, you moved to your window and looked out of it. There he was, he gave off this arrogant energy even from so far away, you shut the curtains and looked back to your phone. He was still on the line.

User: Ronin you were supposed to be here in half an hour!

Ronin: Awh stop whining like you aren't all dolled up and ready to go now, darlin'. Don't keep the devil waiting, or he may come for you himself.

There was silence from your side, followed by his snicker and three beeping sounds informing you that the call has ended. You sighed and massaged your temples. Oh how annoying Ronin was. You grabbed your favourite bag, made sure that you've put everything you needed and quickly made your way out of your house.

Ronin: Took you long enough, my divine darlin'.

You were greeted by Ronin's wide grin. He closed the distance between the two of you and placed a kiss on the top of your head. He took your hand in his and looked you up and down. He took his sweet time while he was obviously checking you out.

Ronin: My, my, what a sight you are.

A small hint of a blush found its way to your cheeks.

User: Oh shut it.

You squeezed his hand to show off your annoyance with his behaviour.

User: Where are we going?

Ronin:'s a surprise. You'll see once we arrive.

He smirked when he saw your disappointed face and pinched your cheek with his free hand.

Ronin: Awh, cut the dramatics, you'll like it.

🫀

It took the two of you a ten minute ride to reach Ronin's chosen destination. He covered your eyes with a blindfold for a "better reaction" you didn't argue with him. It was somewhat sweet when you gave it more thought. Yes, he is a serial killer and could blindfold you so you wouldn't know how to escape the possible death he could arrange for you. But Ronin also proved himself to be quite the romantic. He made sure to visit you when you had a shitty day. He gave you advice for your killer protagonists (sometimes even tried out your ideas to see if they would actually work).

Ronin: We're here, writer darlin'.

Ronin's voice from your side and the sound of the passenger door opening tore you out of your thoughts. You could feel his hands moving to unbuckle your seat belt and then grasping your hands to help you get out of his car.

User: Can I take this thing off now?

You asked and reached your hand to the blindfold to lift it up, but his hand stopped you from doing so.

Ronin: Don't you trust me baby? I'm an amazing guide, those dead people somehow had to find their way to my favourite gruesome alley.

He chuckled at his own words and you just furrowed your brows.

User: You are so... Infuriating sometimes.

Ronin: But you love the way I push your buttons, don't you Darlin'?

He was, unfortunately, not wrong. You loved him and all that came with him. His twisted games and grotesque nature. His past and present. God, you loved him even when he made you want to punch him in that pretty face of his. You had to admit that you started to like the idea of being the Devil's Fallen angel.

Ronin was keeping his hands on your shoulders, he was walking behind you and guiding you. At first you were walking on hard concrete, but then you could feel grass under your feet. You walked through the fields of grass for some time, then Ronin stopped you. He moved his hands to your blindfold and gently untied it.

Ronin: We're here. How do you like this darling?

Ronin whispered into your ear. Your eyes had to take their sweet time to adjust to the sunlight. But after you regained your vision your eyes met the most breathtaking sight ever. You were in the middle of an apple orchid, surrounded by nothing but apple trees, never ending fields of grass, and sometimes even a couple or small groups of friends could be seen here and there.

You turned around to look at Ronin, a wide smile spread over your lips as you wrapped your around him.

User: Ronin this is... Wow... No one ever took me to such a beautiful place before.

You said with a blush as you realized how cheesy your words must've sounded. You wanted to take a step back but Ronin wrapped his own arms around you.

Ronin: You're so fuckin' adorable when you're actin' all happy and excited.

He chuckled, but this was a genuine and sweet sounding chuckle. You smiled at his words and took a step back, taking a hold of his hand.

User: So, what's the plan? Are we just going to walk around the apple orchid?

Ronin shook his head in response.

Ronin: Nah, I wanted to pick some apples and then we can go back to your place.

You could see in his face that he had mischief in mind. What could he possibly want to do with these apples to have that kind of expression on his face? You decided that it's best to not know and just regret this later if it's something really bad.

You were walking through the apple trees, Ronin picked the apples and stored them into a bag that he brought with himself. You knew that he liked anything that had even a little taste of apple in it. So it was no surprise when Ronin ate one of the apples he picked while the two of you were walking.

This date felt almost "normal", you didn't feel like your boyfriend was a serial killer who was brutal and gruesome. This doesn't mean that you don't like him when he acts like... Well Ronin, the devil's butcher. It was just this simple walk through the grass, was a good change of pace from time to time.

You didn't take long in the orchid. After less than an hour later you were on your way back home (this time you could see the road) Ronin was humming along to a death metal song while he was tapping the rhythm on the steering wheel. You watched through the window, you drove past a small village, a forest and your city.

Soon you arrived back at your place. Ronin placed the bag full of apples on the kitchen counter and turned to look at you. His signature smirk present on his lips.

User: What are you scheming?

You asked, brow raised and arms folded over your chest.

Ronin: Oh nothing dangerous, yet.

He snickered and pulled you by your arm towards him.

Ronin: Since we've got so many apples, we are obligated to use them, no?

It didn't take a genius to realise that what Ronin meant was that you have to use them. You sighed heavily clearly annoyed by his behaviour but you soon gave in. After all his help, you could as well do something for him, even though he shouldn't be praised for using the excuse of helping you to commit more murders.

You took off your leather jacket, the same jacket that Ronin gave you a few weeks prior and tossed it at the dining table.

User: Fine. I'll make you an apple pie, happy?

You asked as you started to take out the necessary ingredients from your refrigerator. Ronin's face answered your question on its own. You swore that the smile he was wearing right now was even bigger than his usual smiles.

Ronin: Oh you don't know how grateful I truly am, darlin'.

He answered for what you gave him an eye roll.

User: If you're so grateful then lend me a hand here.

You have him a scolding look and he raised him hands in a gesture of surrender. He took off his own jacket and placed it next to yours.

Ronin: Fine, fine. I'll do the chopping, after all it's something I'm good at.

He made another joke about his "profession" and you almost laughed but you couldn't give him the satisfaction of actually finding his jokes funny.

Your time wasn't bad. Ronin actually helped you with more than just chopping the apples. He also annoyed you by poking you at your sides or on your nose. You just elbowed him in answer for what he just chuckled and gave you some flirtatious answers. You placed the pie into the oven and cleaned the kitchen that was covered in flour (Ronin decided to throw some at you and answered in doing the exact same thing).

Ronin: So while we wait. How about watchin' a movie baby? I have a perfect pick for today.

There wasn't anything better to do so you agreed. You moved to your living room that was really close to your kitchen so you would hear the oven alarm go off. You both sat down on the sofa. While Ronin was looking for a movie that definitely sounded like a slasher, you leaned your head on his shoulder and let his hand wrap around your waist.

Your guess wasn't wrong. Ronin picked the movie "Saw x" you felt like Ronin had fun while you were watching the movie, although he sometimes commented about how boring some moments are for him. Maybe you didn't share Ronin's feelings towards the horror movie, but you certainly were surprised by how unfazed you were by the intense gore. Well, after receiving pictures of gory murders first thing in the morning at least three times a week on #killer_shit, you can't really expect yourself to be scared by a movie.

Now you are watching the second part of the movie, but this time with a pie to eat along, while people are opening themselves with a chainsaw.

That was definitely an... Intriguing first date. And when you thought that it was coming to an end because it was already close to midnight by the time the movie finished and you stopped discussing the plot. Ronin decided to surprise you once again.

Ronin: Oh? You thinkin' that it's already over darlin'? How adorable. But you couldn't be more wrong.

You didn't really enjoy the look in his eyes, it screamed murder. You felt like his plan wasn't going to kill you, but it would definitely be life-changing. You didn't really have much say in this, he basically pulled you by your hand to his car, you drove away into the night and found yourselves in the purgatory.

Ronin stood in the shadows, his face covered with his white mask with black dots going through the middle of it. Crowbar in one hand, the other hand reaching out to you with another mask.

User: Ronin... What exactly are we going to do tonight?

He laughed at your question, this wasn't his usual mocking snicker. He pushed the crowbar into your hands and put the simple black mask on your face, leaning down to your eye level.

Ronin: You didn't really expect a normal date with me, did you? Come on baby, where's the fun in that?

He took the crowbar from you, you could sense the twisted smile on his mouth even when it was covered. You both stood there, hidden in the shadows. Ronin was humming while you just wanted whatever this is to be over. But you were already corrupted so it was only a matter of time before Ronin actually led you into murdering someone, so making it one of your first date attractions shouldn't be so surprising.

Suddenly Ronin pushed himself off of the wall and gave you a signal to stay in your place, you were surprised by his action especially after you just saw him pulling a man into the alley. Wasn't he supposed to give you his crowbar and let you have your first taste of blood shed? It's not like you would be against it, sometimes you could find yourself fantasizing about committing a murder, it started even before you and Ronin were together, writing graphic scenes for your book twisted your brain enough on its own. But now you could only stand and watch the scene in front of you upfold.

Ronin was really rough when it came to murder. He wasn't waiting for the bastard to scream or beg for mercy. He smashed his back with his crowbar while he tried to crawl away from him (he probably twisted his ankle while Ronin threw him on the ground). Your beloved devil crouched next to him while he held his back down with his crowbar.

Ronin: Tsk, tsk. This asshole thinks that he can escape from the devil. Too bad. The devil was always stronger than the pathetic humans.

He laughed maniacally and straightened himself. He smashed the man's head with his weapon. His skull smashed under the strength of the metal hitting it. There was blood everywhere, the brain spilled on the concrete, some new blood reached the walls. Ronin smashed the body a few more times, but for some reason he avoided the torso.

You didn't feel disgusted by this sight, nor were you scared. You somehow felt hypnotized by this and before you knew it, you were almost in front of the corpse. You felt like you were in some kind of trance. You didn't even realise when Ronin moved behind you, wrapping one of his hands around your waist while the other reached your throat. His head was resting on your shoulder, his hot breath sending a ticking sensation on your skin.

Ronin: Writer darlin'... Isn't this a beautiful sight?

He whispered those words into your ear, his fingers gently pressing on your throat. You slowly nodded your head, unable to take your eyes off of the dead body.

Ronin: So how about you curve out that aaorta you promised me? Raw and beating. As filthy as nature made it.

His words sounded like the most romantic love confession to your already deranged brain. You felt like you could do it, you should do it...

Ronin: Would'ja do it?

Another sweet sounding whisper, and a knife placed into your hand. You gripped the handle and slowly walked towards the body, your feet were moving on their own. Soon you were kneeling in front of the torso. Slicing it open with your knife, breaking the ribs so you could reach the heart. You had to cut a few veins because they made it harder to take it. You took the heart into your hand, holding it like it was something precious to you.

You knelt in front of Ronin and held it out to him. He took the heart from you, letting the blood drip to the ground. He lifted the mask, so you could see how terrifyingly amazed he looked. He liked the sight in front of him, he knelt in front of you and took the mask off of your head.

Ronin: Oh I love how rotten you became, my divine lover. My fallen angel.

The next thing you felt were his warm lips pressed to yours. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, your kisses deep and raw, he even bit your lip to the point when the both of you felt the metallic taste on your tongues.

And this is how you became the Devil's corrupted angel.

🫀

Hi! Hi! This is my first ever work in the beautiful English language. Please don't kill me.

I hope I did Ronin justice 😭😭

[taissaswifelowkey]

playpen

pt i

pt ii

rhiannon and afab detective reader bc we need more detective readers???

a brilliant detective falls into the hands of a cunning journalist, literally and metaphorically

a/n: yeah i couldn’t wait anymore, sweetpea defender. i also got my knowledge from any fictional detective media i consume so don’t come for my neck please 🫤 the “obliviousness” is toned to an average amount, just the normal level if that makes sense? like the reader is not 100% clueless. they don’t interact a lot but i promise they will in the next chapter. thoughts are in italics and bold, proofread but knowing me there still might be mistakes left. i wanted to try something new but idk maybe it should have stay in the drafts. enjoy reading and drop feedback if you have any 🤠

warnings: for the sake of the plot some details have been changed but there are still major spoilers if you haven’t watched the entirety of sweetpea!! swearing, mentions of blood, implied use of other weapons, dead bodies, stabbing, murder, slightly obsessive behaviour, stalking, a few implicit suggestive thoughts but is is rather vague. purely self indulgent and GAY SOOOO GAY you already knowww

it starts below the cut 🙂‍↕️ (i also realise that placing the pictures before the indication looked better)

Another body found near an alley of a nightclub. He couldn’t be any more than forty, is neatly shaved and is dressed in a suit. Clearly, the killer has a preference of victims. There is obviously a pattern. Your colleague DCI Farrow sees it. She is the only one who understands that your seemingly small community has a serial killer looking around and doesn’t infantilise you like the rest of the crew, or tells you to not get carried away like your boss, DI Diane St-John. Just thinking about them makes you grit your teeth. What use is it to join the police and helping families if it’s to play ill jokes and pranks and dismissing you every chance they have? And frankly, this killer is starting to get on your nerves. All credibility that you successfully kept is getting tossed and the same goes for Miranda.

You crouch down, assessing the man’s corpse. Fourteen stab wounds in all. Neck, chest, abdomen and hands are impacted. Viciously impacted.

“It never gets prettier, does it?” A voice muses beside you. Farrow looks down at the man, a slight despaired tone in her voice.

With a scoff you stand up, sparing the body one last glance before you pull out your notepad.

“If only it could just get easier for us.” You mutter. She hums, looking ahead as a small crowd of journalists gathered near the crime scene.

“In any case, they’re getting the attention they wanted.”

“You think they want to get noticed?”

She flips through her notes and beckons to come forward. “See here? They didn’t even wait for a week, not even three days before they hit again. Literally.”

“People like me, men like me are in danger! We want answers!” You both snap your heads to a man dressed in neon. Deciding to keep Farrow’s theory in mind, you march to the man, slowly raising your hands and putting yourself between St-John, who was just sputtering at the man’s words. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen her this speechless.

“Sir, please calm down—”

“Oh. Oh, I see what’s going on around here. What’s next you’re going to tell me to take a sip of water? Ask me if, I don’t know, my monthly testosterone levels are rising again?”

Is this guy serious?

“You’ll get put in a cell where you can calm down your testosterone levels, if that’s what you wish.” You simply stated, your stare locked on his. Two journalists stifle a laugh and get a warning glance from the volatile man.

“I now understand what it's like to be on the other side. From then on, consider me a feminist:”

And with that he shakes his head, leaving a bewildered Diana and a confused Farrow.

The remaining journalists leave the scene and coroners ask if they can carry the body away.

“The ball’s in your court now.” Diane shrugs, leaving before you could even utter a word about the theories you came up with.

Always welcome to hearing out others that one isn’t she.

And then a week passed and you were in your office meticulously piecing everything together on your own. Farrow got the credit card details of all the partygoers who attended the nightclub the evening of the murder. You set the file aside, mulling over your reasonings.

It makes sense. Same patterns, same type of victims. The killer’s got an MO. That helps. What doesn’t, is your crew thinking you and Farrow are completely deluded. So much so that someone thought it was funny to hide your PC, with a note attached on it which read Thought I might give you a break. Don’t wanna see our favourite detective get a burnout cos you’re the only one who actually refills the coffee machine xx

Pinching your forehead, you open your laptop and profile your victims, verifying their last whereabouts to give you a clear start. The last victim was at a nightclub. Anyone who was there could potentially be a suspect.

You peer at the file and scan down names of every credit card holder. You figure you’d do half and Farrow would take care of the rest.

It was funny that you found yourself interrogating the yelling man, whose name you found out is Jeff.

“It would be great if you could, I don’t know, maybe pass a message? Perhaps to the families? Don’t you realise the gravity of our situation here?” He sputters. You already feel a headache approaching and are this close to dismissing him. He swirls the cup of non dairy coffee and swallows it in one gulp like it’s a shot.

“Sir, I promise you we are doing everything that we can. Being cooperative and understanding would help—”

“There you go again with the keep calm thing. Don’t tell me to be calm. You know I can write a report about you in The Gazette, right? Yeah?Because I literally work there. And now I really want to get on that article so I’m going to be very quick. I went with my team to the club, we had drinks, a karaoke session, then I went home.”

A fly lands on his head, to which he aggressively bats away. He’s evidently aggravated and you think it’s best to let him off. Besides, you had to give it to him. His stories match his other colleagues. Everyone working at The Gazette were together.

You feel like you had a fresh breath of air once Jeff left your office. Working with him must be a pain.

The last person you had to interrogate was Rhiannon Lewis. You recognise her as one of the journalists who laughed at Jeff. You would too. The colour of his clothes were just as loud as his personality.

She looked nervous, holding on to her purse, her doe flickering everywhere before landing on yours. Usually…this kind of behaviour would be taken into account. But perhaps she has never been called in by the police before?

“Rhiannon Lewis, is it?”

You greeted her and presented yourself, trying to make her feel a bit at ease, extending your hand to her. Her skin is so soft and featherlight it’s a barely there contact. The touch grounds her to reality for a bit. She almost didn’t let go until you spoke again.

“Thank you for coming here. Also you can sit, you know?”

With a tight lipped smile, she nodded and sat down. Putting the purse on the floor she cleared her throat and slowly inhaled.

“It’s not a problem Officer…Detective?”

“Either which is alright. And don’t worry about the procedure. I’ll just ask a couple of questions and then you can go, alright? Can you do that?”

She feels herself cooling down a couple degrees, the soft yet directive tone carried in your voice sending her chills.

“…Yes.”

“Good.”

Though she doesn’t think she’d be able to. Not with your large shirt. Or the way your sleeves are rolled. And this weird scenario that she swears she’s seen in awfully written romance books.

“So, you and your team had a get together, right?”

“That’s…that’s correct. I’m just…how did you get to call all of us down by the station?”

“We traced your credit card information. Anyone who’s had drinks were called up here.”

“Ah.”

Be careful, Rhi. And stop acting like you did it. Nothing happened. Technically.

She should’ve let Craig pay for the drinks when he had his chance at being the gentleman he insisted he was.

“Mhm. So, can you tell me what went on that evening?”

Was it possible to find a sound attractive? Maybe it was the way you paired it up with a small nod. Or how you leant in and she caught a whiff of your woodsy fragrance.

Berating herself for having the mind of a teenager, she collected herself for a split second before answering your question.

“I had a couple of drinks with my coworkers, then we held a karaoke session. After paying for my drinks I went out with someone.”

Of course that was before she could stab that man. The same one she’d seen around, sitting down next to people when other empty seats were available. Even sat next to a teenager who had to hop off their next stop.

“Can that someone perhaps vouch for you?”

You kept an impassive face though your eyes were trained on her fingers and the way she twirled them. Noticing, she brought her fingers on your desk.

She was odd. Similar to that of a suspect. The way she was nervous to the point of looking like she’d melt on the spot. Then again…it could just mean she’s an anxious person.For someone who sang in front of a couple of people, you think that’s impressive and kind of brave.

“Would it be convenient to you if I said yes?”

She blurted all of a sudden, the words leaving her. She felt her own eyes widen a fraction but it’s not entirely regretted either, the crease between your eyebrows egging her on.

“I’m sorry?”

“Would it help if I told you yes, I spent the other half of my night with a date? Who by the way partially left me unsatisfied if that’s even possible. Maybe I’m just emotionally connected to people.”

Your apathetic expression is losing its composure, being replaced by utter confusion. She thinks it’s a better look for you, it gives her tidbits of aspects of who you were.

“It would be greatly appreciated if you could just maybe answer the questions Miss Lewis.”

She’s trying. She really is. But she’s concentrated on the way you’re saying her name. She wonders how you would sound if you said her first name, how she would sound if—

“So, you were on a date then. What’s their name?”

“Craig.”

And how can he be selfish enough to leave her alone would be perhaps your next question. You wonder if she knew anyone there who might have offered her comfort. Perhaps that guy she was laughing with. Wait…why are you even curious?

“Alright. I didn’t see his credit card information so we’ll have to give him a call. Could you perhaps leave his number?”

You ask but you are already pushing a piece of paper and pen her way. She shouldn’t have looked at your hands.

“For professional purposes, right? He’s not very good at answering messages. Believe it or not, our texts are filled with thumbs up emojis.”

She bitterly laughs as she scribbles the number before handing it back to you. You hate how the sound of her laughter causes your heart to skip one, two beats.

Shaking your head at your train of thought, you moved to stand up and lead her at the threshold.

The interrogation’s over already?

“Hey…you’ll catch them, won’t you?”

That same confused expression that her brain captures takes over your face again. Apparently she might have developed a thing for it.

“I was talking about the killer?”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah we’ll catch them. I can’t promise you when but…we’ll do anything we can.”

Her gaze makes you feel unsteady. The room feels crowded with the way her eyes are honed in on yours.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. This affects me greatly as it does the rest of the community, Detective.”

“We understand a case like this can make you feel worried. It’s not nothing you don’t know already, but walk in public spaces, contact your friends and family before and after work and check up on them as well.”

At that, her demeanour changes, for just an instant. Her shoulders are slumped, her eyes flickering between yours.

“My family situation is…complicated. And I don’t have any friends to talk to.”

You don’t know why you did it. Of course, you do the same for everyone but only under specific circumstances and conditions.

You rush for one of your many cards with your name, clumsily so. She looks at it curiously before you move to clarify.

“In case you have anything that might help the case or if you…need anything. You’re not alone.”

She’d believe anything you tell her. With one last smile, she shook your hand again, lightly squeezing it.

“I hope so, Detective.”

Quickly leaving your office before she let out another ridiculous sentence, she took a deep breath and left the station, your card in her hands.

She’ll have research on her hands. Maybe, hopefully, you won’t forget her and place her in the back of your mind.

A twisted thought isn’t it? It’s almost as if she’s begging to get caught.

▸

Only a few days have passed, the card on her table taunting her whenever she’d pass by with Craig. Though she never lost sight of it. Always keeping it nearby. Whether that be at home, or at work…or even during her nightly escapades with her knife. It feels weird but she feels a whole lot different, a whole lot better knowing a metaphorical part of you is there with her.

It’s a shame what one can find with just a simple first and last name. And you just had to be one of these people who kept things under the radar.

You had no socials, only basic public information. However she was lucky to stumble upon a newspaper that had a picture of you holding a cat and someone cradling a sleeping puppy sitting next to you. You were volunteering at an animal shelter. Cute, she thought. It was a green flag to like animals. She felt oddly sad, being reminded of Tink’s death. You being an animal lover was the perfect thing for her.

You were wearing casual clothes that day, your professional oversized button shirt switched for something simple. In the article you mentioned how having a cat helped you grow up, and you adopted your first pet at the shelter and met your best friend at the same time. You also talk about your favourite hobbies and random things that you call silly but that just sends a pang to her heart.

There’s this one coffee place that has a booth near a window, all the way at the back. It’s heavenly and kind of underrated. I always go there when I’m in need of quiet.

I won’t say I have a lot of favourite hobbies, but I do like to collect rocks and trinkets. Sometimes you’d see me with a rock after I’m back from running.

She could listen, at least theoretically, to you all day. You were the mellow, soft type. Not the same person she saw that day on the crime scene, where she had to disguise her nerves by laughing at whatever nonsense Jeff was complaining about.

Unfortunately she didn’t get much information, not even simple clues. Not even out of your friend, who only used a first name for the article. Even then, it could be a made up one. She was hoping to perhaps get anything she needs to know about from you from them on a social page but things have gotten complicated.

You’re complicated. You’re making her feel complicated. Why does she want to be noticed by you, like you’re the only one who could ever really afford to?

“Rhi?” A voice startles her from her dreams of your hands again. She knocks over her tea, splashing all over her table. And the files she printed.

“Shit, shit—”

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t move.” The kind voice, her colleague AJ, grabs napkins from her desk and helps her clean. He does so with a soft reassuring smile. “I take it has been a long week since Norman’s finally put you to real work?”

“Something like that.”

She thanks him as she closes the tabs before turning her attention to the brunette, who’s wearing a wry grin. AJ, despite being a nepo baby, was the only one who ever really noticed her in the office. As in, he fully acknowledges her. Not like the rest of the team. But the degree of attention she feels towards him is different than what she feels towards you. Slightly different.

He smiles and nods to her again, shifting his weight on his foot. “Well if you’re not too busy we could perhaps go for coffee?”

“Isn’t our break in five minutes?”

“Family privileges.”

He shrugs, raising a slight eyebrow.

Okay?

She looks at her screen one last time before returning his warm expression. Though she’s Shute she looks like she’s trying to force a smile out of her.

“That is kind of you but I’d rather not. I mean, I’m still new to the editorial team and I’d really hate to give a bad impression, you know?”

“Oh.”

He really tried to hide his disappointment. He really did. But the slight quiver in his voice and his tip lipped grin gave him away.

“Maybe another time, then.”

“Another time.”

And with that he nodded before leaving, leaving her to pick up where she left off.

▸

Rhiannon Lewis was a phenomenon. You’ve never seen anyone like her, really. And you don’t think of her uniqueness as something negative. She’s peculiar, odd…but there are many layers that might make up who she is. That’s what you want to do. To peel off those layers off her. Find out who she is. Your notes seem to cover enough of her information…surface level information. What you’re doing is risky. Maybe slightly deranged. But this is all for the sake of your…well. The investigation.

What you’ve gathered so far about her is that she works for The Gazette. Her father recently passed away and owns a moving company. She has a sister.

You called in the supposed Craig who spent the night with her and her alibi seemingly checked out. And seemingly is used very lightly, here. He was kind of confused at your use of the term “date” instead of “boyfriend” before confirming that yes, they spent the night, all night in his bed. Cool. Great.

“It was great until she left in the morning…she wasn’t that kind of girl before. Between you and me, she was rather the clingy type. She would stay on for two hours after.”

That made you want to tell him not to give private details but you’d take anything you can get.

As soon as he left, you wrote prone to attachments to your notebook along with a couple of traits you briefly witnessed. shy, nervous, plays with her fingers, blinks her eyes more than necessary.

Right under those traits were written all the details of the night of the murder. The victim was murdered before she got to spend the night…or have her date, whatever, with Craig. She said she paid for her drinks, stayed at the bar then left with Craig at the time of murder. Her alibi checks out. Right?

Although something is evidently not adding up.

At all. There are still many, many questions on the tip of your tongue. The first one being what is she doing with a guy like Craig among many others.

And you’re wrecking your brain trying to understand it. Miranda has shared her doubts about her. You both went to St-John, trying to get her to see that something is off but all she answered you with was a "I'd really hate to give you a long week break if you come to me again with this serial killer nonsense."

Judging by Rhiannon's character, calling her in back would push her away. You did give her your number and encouraged her to call you in case of anything so by the looks of it, she has to take the first step. But if she doesn't answer and refuses to meet with you, that will be a cause of pinning her as a prime suspect. You're sure she's smart enough to not do that.

"She's off."

No hesitations on Farrow's part. You thought she would at least wait a few minutes before theorising an idea. This does reassure you in a certain way. You weren’t insane for thinking that Rhiannon is more than what she seems.

So you call her.

And wait.

You do tread lightly, though. Very lightly. It's not like your fingers were trembling whilst you were calling her number. Not at all.

Taking a deep breath, you hear the phone ring for a few seconds before a voice answers it.

“Hello? Detective?”

How did she know it was you on the first call? Was she somehow hoping it was you? Or were you just plain delusional and perhaps a bit insane.

“Miss Lewis? I was wondering if you could maybe come down to the station. When you have time, of course. I talked to your boyfriend about your alibi and would like to review a few things.”

You hear shuffling sounds then…something breaking?

“Shit, shit—”

“Miss Lewis? Is everything alright?”

Nothing was alright.

She was doing the dishes, peacefully as one could on a Friday evening. It’s been weeks since she’s last seen you. Or rather heard you. Your voice held a certain warmth to it. And although her eyes loved to memorise every detail about your face, her brain wanted to store your sound.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“I can always call another time if you’re busy—”

“No! I mean…don’t. I’m not busy. I mean I’m not doing anything important at the moment. Just…what is happening? Is everything okay?”

She puts you on speaker while cleaning the shards of glass, careful to not hurt herself while also trying to listen to you.

“Are you sure?”

“Please. I’m not occupied at the moment, I’m at home. Alone.”

Why did she feel the need to add that information?

“Alright. Well. It’s to inform you that I talked with your boyfriend and he confirmed your alibi. If it would be alright, there are other things I would like to go over with—”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Right, your date—”

She laughs, an airy type of laugh that sends a strange swirl to your abdomen.

“I’m actually not sure if he can be considered a date either. When you think of it, it looks too much of a strong word, no? Sure we see each other maybe twice a week. But a date is just a one time thing. This…whatever this is, is some sort of weird non-verbal agreement.”

“…Uh-huh. Would you care to tell me more about it whenever you can?”

“More about who I’m seeing?”

This woman was driving you wherever she wanted you to. Pinching your eyebrows and fighting back an incoming headache, you think of what to say before diving into…this. Whatever this was.

“More about your evening. What you were doing before you were at the bar. And before you met up with Craig.”

“And here I thought you were interested in what I was doing now.”

She dusts the remaining shards, accidentally cutting herself at the sound of your sigh. It’s just a small cut. But she’s still pissed off at how you’re able to render her weak.

“Rhiannon…”

“You’re calling me by my first name? We are making a lot of progress here. Next is, what, we meet somewhere for coffee?”

“Miss Lewis. Please.”

“Yes, Detective?”

“Concentrate on what I’m saying. We can go anywhere you want us to. But now I’m focused on trying to gather all essential information to move forward and avoid wasting both of our time.”

“You’re not wasting mine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

In fact she wants you to waste all of it.

“Is there a time you’d like to meet up, then?”

Deciding that your nerves are too tired to decipher anything properly, you play along with her game, blindly, and just focus on her words, mindlessly agreeing with her.

“We can meet up at this coffee place. I will call you over the weekend and let you know when I’m available. My job might keep me busy.”

“Whenever you wish to, Miss Lewis.”

“It will be quick, I promise.”

She shortly hands up after that. Your heart is still hammering in your chest, your hands clenching the landline as your mind races.

Where have you landed? What have you landed yourself on? Do you want to get out of it? Of this weird latch cause by her?

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Maybe the teen (about 15 ish) daughter of an unsub who spencer is questioning about her unsub dad and there's clearly more that her dad is doing to her that she won't tell him about and maybe she gets a little clingy to spencer?

Spencer Reid x Teen Reader

Request: Maybe the teen (about 15 ish) daughter of an unsub who spencer is questioning about her unsub dad and there's clearly more that her dad is doing to her that she won't tell him about and maybe she gets a little clingy to spencer?

Third person pov...

Y/N walked into the police station, she had been called by thr sheriff to come in, they had some questions for her. They had been calling about her Dad all week.

Which of course made that his reason to beat her, accusing her of rating him out to the police, she promised him she never said anything of course he never listened.

Y/Ns father is the serial killer the police have been looking for, hes been kidnapping and murdering young girls who he finds annoying in some way for the past 6 months, a new one goes missing every week.

Y/N of course has witnessed every kill and kidnapping, the man was ruthless if he wasn't killing and making the girl watch, then he was abusing his daughter.

Still recovering from the beating she got jsut before she left the house the teen pulls at her clothes making sure her neck and wrists are covered.

Limping slightly she tells the receptionist who she is and they tell her the sheriff if waiting for her, giving the officer a smile she walks through the busy bullpen until she get to the sheriffs office.

Knocking on the door she walks in. "Hey there Y/N, glad you could come down" Says Sheriff Briest, he stands up and walks towards the teen, noticing how she steps back automatically.

The sheriff of course noticed, he had been called to the L/N residence alot over the years since Y/Ns Mum died, reports of crying and shouting coming from inside the house.

When questioned Mr L/N would tell them everything was okay and that Y/N was acting up, these lies continued all her life making the young girl seem like a troubled teenager who was rude and never listened to anyone.

Though the sheriff knew something was wrong he saw the signs and so did his officers but knowone was able to do anything about it as Y/N never told anyone not even when she was a kid.

Threat of death proved to be useful, Her Father would remind her what would happen should she tell anyone. "There's some people I want you to answer some questions for okay" Says the Sheriff.

Y/N freezes sightly as they walk into one of the briefing room that was usually unoccupied, but was now being used by a group of people. 'FBI' thought the girl instantly.

"Agent Hotchner, Y/N is here. Y/N these are the Behavioural Analysis Unit. They are here to help us find the killer" explained Sheriff Briest, Y/N doesn't look up at the people.

If she looked anyone in the eye she'd get beat again by her Father. She learnt that the hard way when she looked up at someone who was speaking to her Dad when she was 6. Since then she avoids eye contact.

"Hi" Says the teen looking at the shoes of the agents. "Hello Y/N, I'm Agent Hotchner these are Agents Jareau, Gideon, Morgan , Greenaway and Dr Reid" says polished black shoes.

"Nice to meet you" mutters Y/N, soon she is sitting in an interrogation room with Dr Reid. Nervously tapping her finger on the table she waits for the young Dr to walk in and ask her questions.

Minutes later the man walks in and sits down on the chair infront of her. After a few seconds of silence he speaks. "Hello Y/N, my names Spencer I work with the BAU, I'm going to ask you some questions okay?" He tells the girl.

Y/N nods her head. "Yes sir" she mutters wanting to go home and not be there. "Now can you tell me about your Father" Says the man, Y/N freezes her tapping increasing as she shakes slightly.

Trying desperately to stop shaking she answers the question. "I love my Dad, he doesn't do anything wrong he loves me" she says, her voice robotic as if it had been planted into her head as an automatic answer to that specific question.

Spencer takes notes of her behaviour, eyeing the two way glass he askes another question. "I'm sure he does, now, does your father leave for long periods of time, not telling you where he's going or why?"

Y/N hesitates before shaking her head. "He doesn't, Dad is always as home after work, dad loves me he doesn't do anything wrong" Spencer notes how the last part it connected to the answer from before.

"Okay, Y/N. Does your Dad hurt you?" Spencer knows asking that question would have a strong reaction but he didn’t expect the girl to slam her hand on the table and stand up and start pacing.

"No he doesn't hurt me! Dad loves me he doesn't hurt me" she yells almost crying, tears in her eyes but not falling yet, Spencer gasps at the raw emotion in the 15 year old eyes.

Desperation seeped into her voice, as she stared into the man's eyes, he noticed this was the first time he had seen her eyes. Suddenly the girl gasped and slammed her back into the wall.

Gripping her head she bring smacking her back against the wall. "Nonononono can't do that against the rules can't do that" she mumbles falling into hysterics, Spencer is soon joined by Derek and Elle.

The two had ran in when Y/N started repeating to herself. The three stand in shock not knowing what to do to help, Spencer is quick to notice the bruises on her neck and wrists. "Morgan" he whispers, the man nods his head he's seen the bruises on the girl.

Pulling out his phone, him and Elle leave Spencer alone with Y/N, the girl is still smacking her back on tjr wall as if she was punishing herself, the man slowly inches towards the grill.

"Y/N, Y/N its me Spencer remember" he whispers to the girl, holding out his hands non threateningly he speaks to the teenager desperate to calm her dow from her panic attack.

"Nonono broke the rules" muttered the girl. "Y/N you haven't broken any rules, your Father can't get you here okay, your safe your safe with me" he tells the girl, slowly Y/N pulls her hands awa from her hair and stopping smacking her back against the wall.

Smiling at the teen Spencer stays back. "I'm safe here" she whispers horsely, Spencer nods his head. "Yes that's right your safe here, I won't let anyone hurt you" he says.

Y/N slowly begins to inch closer to the man eagerly seeking comfort, soon the girl was throwing herself at him, Spencer hugs her tightly whispering that she was okay and he wouldn't hurt her.

An hour later the Team and swat had arrested Y/Ns Father for the abuse she suffered and 15 accounts of murder.

Over the next few days adter they had caught the killer, Y/N had grown close to Spencer, she wouldn't let him out of her sight scared her father would come and hurt her, Spencer stayed with the teen while she recovered in hospital from the abuse she suffered from her father.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot sorry for the wait, as usual sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1277

[therainscene]

speaking of your famous rod phallus theory, what do you think of the gooey tentacle that comes out of the mind flayer's demogorgon mouth in s3? its dripping, oozing, its like the puberty metaphor for s3 but also very phallic and invasive. if the monsters are all manifestations of will's sexuality etc, could this be an additional rod symbol? or symbolic of rape etc? the whole s3 billy villain setup is very evocative of serial killers/rapist/abuser behaviour ('keep quiet' etc).

Hi anon, thanks for the ask!

The Flesh Flayer tentacle strikes me as a possible Alien reference -- very consistent with the sexual horror vibes of the Upside Down, which is also lousy with Alien references.

However, my phrasing in the rod analysis aside, I wouldn't go so far as to say that the monsters are manifestations of Will's sexuality, per se.

Rather, they're manifestations of toxic 80s attitudes towards non-conformist sex -- which has obvious implications for the visibly gay kid, but straight (or "straight") characters deal with sexual horror in this show too:

Nancy had conformist sex with Steve while Barb was left all alone where the Demogorgon could get her -- and was quickly slut-shamed as punishment for drifting away from that conformity in order to investigate what really happened. (To say nothing of the guilt that's been haunting her for four seasons.)

Mike largely manages to avoid the horrors, but I think it's notable that he has a few close calls in S3, all of which are associated with protecting El -- almost as though he's unhappy about performing traditional masculinity for El's sake as sexual maturity looms on his horizon or something, I dunno, I'm sure it's nothing

Billy has sex with a lot of women, but note the homoerotic tension between him and Steve in S2 -- he likes the feeling of power it gives him to sexually intimidate other men. This doesn't necessarily make him queer, mind -- the point is that he views sexuality as a tool for control and power, which makes him a perfect conduit for the horrors.

So yeah, the Flesh Flayer tendril isn't one of Will's rods -- but you're definitely not misreading the phallic symbolism there.

[bonbonchocolates]

Clown

Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Summary: When the past comes back.....

Warnings: yandere jungkook, stalking, mentions of death (of minor characters), obsessive behaviour

A/N: Again originally from my Wattpad account. I hope you like it and if you did please leave a like.

Masterlist

___________________________________________

"Kookie"

A nine year old ran towards her best friend and engulfed him into a hug. Her friend hugged her back with a smile on her face.

"Doll, I wanted to tell you something."

These words of the boy grabbed the girls attention. She looked up towards her friend with eyes filled with curiosity. The boy was almost a feet taller than her since he was older than her.

"I like you very much doll. I thought rich people were arrogant and selfish but it all changed when I met you. Doll, will stay with me forever? Will you be my wife in the future?"

The girl didn't take a single word of the boy seriously. She was too small and dumb to understand what he meant.

"Kook-"

Before the girl could speak further her mother grabbed her and pulled her away from the boy. She then slapped the boy which made the boy's face turn to the side.

"How dare you touch my daughter? You low class peasant, stay at your limits. Don't forget that your father is a clown in a circus and your mother is a maid at our house. How can you even think that my daughter will ever marry you?"

The little girl stared at her mother, confusion was written all over her face. She than turn towards her friend and found that his eyes were filled with tears. She felt a pang in her heart. She tried to escape her mother's hold and run towards her friend and hug him but her mother tightened her hold on her arm.

"I'll fire your mother from her work and you, don't ever show your face to my daughter ever again."

With that she dragged her daughter with her. The boy just stared at both of them. Unknowingly a drop of tear escaped his eyes. He felt humiliated and didn't want to stay there any longer. So he ran away from there and promised to never return back ever again.

____________________________________________

"Mom please don't leave me."

A thirteen year old boy cried holding his death mother's hand with his. His mother committed suicide because she was humiliated and fired from her job. The boy tried to call his father but he didn't pick up the call.

This evening after he came back home he found his mother dead, lying in her own pool of blood. A blade lay beside her dead body. His heart broke when he saw his mother in such a condition. He refused to believe his mother is no longer with him and kept calling his mother in hope that she might listen to him and wake up.

He even tried calling his dad but he didn't pick up the call. He knew the reason why his mother committed suicide. His mother was the only earner in their house. His father spent all his money on alcohol. After his mother lost her job now no one was there to earn and she couldn't handle the shock and took such a big step.

After a few minutes of crying he finally stopped. Now his eyes were filled with the desire of revenge instead of tears. He decided that he will take his revenge from the ones who are responsible for his mother's death. He then started to laugh like a crazy person.

____________________________________________

8 years later:

"Y/Niee did you hear about the murder in the circus?"

Your friend asked you and you nodded your head. How could you not know about it? Right now it was the hot topic of your town. You lived in a small town and it was quite peaceful here until day before yesterday. A clown was murdered brutally in the circus. Even his face could not be identified.

"Yes I know"

"We need to be careful Y/Niee, what if the killer comes after us next?"

"Why will the killer even come after us?"

You asked, at your friend's silly question. Why will the killer come after you? He is not a serial killer right? Maybe he had an enemity with the clown. You never harmed a single insect in your life so why will a killer be after you?

"I know but we never know."

You just shrugged off her words and continued eating.

____________________________________________

Later that evening you were coming back home after your outing with your friends. The street was empty and there were only few cars in the road. You were walking when a orange coloured balloon came towards you and hit you on your face.

You were about to let it go when you noticed something was written in the balloon. You grabbed the string and found that there was a 'Miss Me?' written in the balloon with red ink. You just ignored it and let the balloon go.

You usually took the alley to reach your home because it was a shortcut but today you decided to go from the main road. You looked at the dark alley and it gave you goosebumps so you thought it was better to take the long way today.

____________________________________________

Unknown POV:

I was secretly keeping my eyes on my doll to make sure nothing happens to her. Though I hate her parents but I cannot hate her because I love her too much. Last time when I saw her she was only nine years old and look at her now all grown woman.

I blew the balloon I was holding towards her. My heart jumped a bit when she grabbed the balloon and read what I had specially written for her. My heart dropped when she ignored and continued walking towards her home.

Suddenly my eyes fell on someone behind her, it was a boy probably my age. At first it all looked normal but then I saw the but kept following her. Now I understood his motives. My doll had no idea about it. I clenched my fist in anger .

How did he look at my doll that way? No one is allowed to look at what's mine. Don't worry doll I will get rid of him.

____________________________________________

"Y/Niee did you he-"

"Yes I heard."

Another murder in your town and this time it was a college boy. He was murdered in the same way as the clown. So people assumed it was the same killer. The most shocking thing was that the boy's dead body was found in the same alley through which you would take a short cut to your house. Even the time of the murder was estimated to be in the same time when you were on your way home.

You thanked God that you did not take the alley or you might be in place of the boy right now. You decided to never take that alley ever again and never to head home late at night.

____________________________________________

Time Skip:

A month passed and now your peaceful town turned dreadful. Everyday there was a murder and still now the police were not able to catch hold of the killer. Though they were sure of the thing that all the murders were linked to each other. The police also suggested that a clown was the killer because a clown was spotted in the cctv cameras where the murders took place but still they were not able to catch him.

First the people who were murdered were totally unknown to you but recently a lot of people murdered were known to you. For example the bullys of your school who used to often bully you, the maid who steal your money and that creepy man who followed you a few months ago. Oh you forgot one the math teacher of your school who looked at you badly.

You were quite scared to get out of your house nowadays. Your parents were out on a business trip and you had to stay in the big mansion of yours all alone. You were totally freaked out.

____________________________________________

Unknown POV:

Finally I got rid of my doll's parents, they were the reason why I lost my mother. Now I got my revenge. I know if my doll gets to know about her parents death she will break down. But no worries she has me.

No one can come between me and my doll now. She is finally mine. Be ready doll I am coming for you.

____________________________________________

It was quite late night and your parents are still not home. You are getting worried for them. They promised to come back home by today morning but they were still not home yet.

You thought of all the possibilities of the killer- no you should think positive. Nothing will happen to your parents. You tried calling your parents once again but this time it was switched off. Before you tried calling them and they were not picking up the call and it was switched off.

Suddenly you saw a pink coloured balloon coming towards you. You grabbed it and saw it there was a 'Miss Me?' written with red ink on it just like the balloon you found that day. Just then another white coloured balloon came towards you.

This time 'Doll' was written in it. After that a bunch of balloon came towards you. Some had 'Miss Me?' and others had 'Doll' written on them. You were completely freaked out by now.

You couldn't understand from where all these balloons were coming from. You were sure you locked all the doors and windows of your mansion or maybe you forgot.

Doll- why does the nickname sound so familiar to you? It feels like someone used to call you with this nickname but who? Wait- Kookie

"Miss me, Doll?"

____________________________________________

[watarfallar]

gigs

Skizz: *points at Impulse* A human turtleneck, *points at Grian* a narcissistic monster, *points at Scar* and literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met. Scar: And who am I? Describe me now.

*talking about Impulse* Scar: They are beauty. Grian: They are grace. Skizz, runnning into the room: THEY CAN DESTROY THE HUMAN RACE!

Scar: I haven’t slept in 72 hours… Skizz: I haven’t slept in 80. I’m the insomnia king! Grian: Ha! I haven’t slept in 90 hours, I’m aiming for an even 100. Impulse: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

*The gang when they drop food on the floor* Impulse: Aw man. *Throws it away* Scar: Five second rule! Skizz: Foolish germs, thinking they can stop me!? *Eats it off the floor* Grian: *Sobs on the floor*

Impulse and Scar: *making loud, shouty gorilla sounds at each other* Skizz: Grian, exasperatedly: We have a guest.

Impulse: Those darn tall old people. Scar: Darn em' indeed. Skizz: Don't worry, they'll be gone soon enough. Grian: *sharpening knife* Yes. Dead. The Squad: Grian: Hahaha. Grian: ...Is this self-destructive behaviour?

Grian, Skizz & Scar: *screaming* Impulse: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Scar?! Grian: Wait, why are you asking Scar that when Skizz and I are also here? Impulse: Because Scar wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

Impulse: It’s the gift that keeps giving! Scar: It’s the flower that keeps blooming! Skizz: It’s the boat that keeps sailing! Grian: It’s the serial killer that keeps stabbing!

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 12

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol, canon typical conversation, smut. This ch feels a little it jumpy, partially because it is, partially because of how it needed to be. Each of the breaks represent a time jump, just little pieces of our girls lives while they figure out how to go about it. Two to three chapters left until this series is finally done with!

“Fuck…” Emily muttered with a small huff, flipping the cover to her iPad closed before she gently tossed it onto the coffee table.

“You good?” You asked, glancing between the television and her.

“Yeah, just lost another round of scrabble.”

“Cheeto breath’s the blonde, right?” You asked, redirecting your attention towards her as you picked up your glass of wine.

“JJ.. yeah..” Emily’s eyes drifted out the window for a moment, reminiscing about her memories with Jayje over the years.

“I take it you two were good friends?”

“Yeah.” She cast you a small smile.

“You know… you are allowed to talk about them.”

“I know.” Emily sighed softly, picking up her own drink, “it just almost feels surreal now. Like that part of my life was some kind of fever dream, the years between Doyle were reality but the way things worked out it almost seems like the fake memories were it, not the time with him.”

“Did you go straight from that undercover gig to your team?” You asked your brow furrowing.

“Basically.” She laughed, the grin staying on her face, “a few months to recuperate, make sure all the loose ends were tied.”

“How does that work on a resume? I mean, you can’t exactly put an entire fake identity on there.”

Emily laughed again, taking a bigger swig of her drink while she mulled over the entire topic, “the bureau and international teams have their way of covering things up. It wasn’t really me who did all that, it was Lauren, so Emily Prentiss came off a desk job, well recommended to the BAU.”

“And they believed that?” You raised a brow in her direction. It didn’t take a federal agent to notice the way Emily behaved, the little things she picked up on that made her seem like someone with extensive experience.

“Everyone had their walls up, they weren’t ready for a replacement on the team yet, it wasn’t exactly welcoming. Not to mention Hotch seemed to have it in for me, thinking my mother had swindled the job for me.”

“Hmm.” You replied over the rim of your wine glass, “it didn’t stay like that though?”

“No.” She smiled softly, “they became family. I spent more time with them than anyone else in my life, we all did, even outside of work. If I wanted to have a girls night I knew JJ and Penelope would always say yes, Derek was never going to decline a visit to the gym or shooting range, Rossi was always dying to teach someone his latest recipe…..” She trailed off, her eyes slowly misting with tears as she thought about how likely it was that all of that continued despite her absence, how they were all coping with her death, with their grief while she tried to figure out her own on the opposite side of the world with only one person by her side. “We were all a better family to each other than our own ever could have been.”

“They sound amazing.” Your hand reached out, squeezing at her elbow and she cast you a grin.

“They are.”

“So aside from being a total bad ass federal agent chasing down serial killers, what is it exactly that your unit does?”

“Behavioural Analysis, it’s more psychology based, figuring out trends, triggers, history, patterns, geographical locations,” she waved her hand with each statement, “putting it all together to figure out who our unsub is.”

“That’s honestly really neat. I kinda wish hospitals had people on staff to help with that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, “me too.”

***

Thick flakes of snow were drifting down through the air, coating the city in a fluffy white blanket, which meant going nowhere. Emily crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a huff as she looked out the balcony window. The temperature had been decreasing daily and she was getting pent up, cabin fever increasing and had been hoping to get out of the house this weekend.

“You okay?” You asked from your spot in the kitchen, packing up leftovers to toss in the fridge before pouring out a couple fresh glasses of wine.

“I’m bored.” She practically whined, turning around to face you, “if I have to watch another episode of The Bachelor I will blow my brains out.”

“Okay…” you laughed, picking up the wine to move back into the living room, handing her her glass. “You have anything else in mind? New show, game?”

She chewed on her lip, eyes darting around the room while she tried to find something to entertain her and you knew you were in trouble when they shot back up to you with that dangerous glimmer in them. “How about poker?”

“We’ve played every night this week, you think that’s gonna cure this?” You asked, grabbing the deck of cards from behind you before you settled on the couch.

“How about we up the stakes?”

“What? Play for real money?” You asked with a laugh, nearly gulping at the look she gave you in return.

“Or… we could make it strip poker?” She offered with a wild grin and you couldn’t help but roll you eyes.

“Fine.” You started to deal the cards out, “but you better take it easy on me, we all know you’re the poker champ.”

Emily in fact, did not take it easy on you.

It didn’t help that the cold bothered her more, her body aching at the temperatures meant she was bundled up, thick socks, leggings, tank top, thin pullover, hoodie. You preferred cool temperatures, meaning you were already down to just a pair of lace panties while she still had pants and a bra on.

“This is not fair.” You grumbled, letting out a little shiver as you crossed your arms over your chest and she laughed, draining the last of her drink. “You were wearing so many more clothes than me.”

“Sounds like someone’s a poor loser.” She chuckled, the cards in her hand finding home on the coffee table as she shifted toward you on the couch, “but I’m pretty sure I can make it up to you…”

You let out a small laugh as she caged you into the couch, your back hitting the arm in the same moment her lips hit your neck and you were suddenly out of complaints. Her hands toyed with your chest, groping and pinching at you, her lips smirking up into a grin as your hips rutted up against hers. It only took a few moments before her hand was sneaking into your panties, gently rubbing at your clit.

“Fuck…” You muttered, your head dropping back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth wrapped around your nipple.

Your moans became louder when her fingers slipped into your pussy, twisting and curling just where you needed them. Emily’s breath hot on your neck, her teeth scraping against your skin as you fluttered around her, whimpers leaving your lips as she toyed with you, getting louder and louder until you hit your peak and losing a poker game was the furthest thing from your mind.

***

Emily let the apartment door swing shut behind her, flicking the lock before dropping the bag of groceries on the counter. After hanging up her coat and kicking off her boots her eyes finally swept through the living room, her head tilting when her gaze landed on you. You were perched in your usual corner of the couch, fuzzy blanket over your lap, mug of coffee in your hand but instead of staring at the television, your gaze as focussed on the corner of the room. She watched you for a couple of minutes, wondering if you were just zoned out, off on some tangent of medical language in your brain but you didn’t even blink to notice that she’d even come home.

“Okay you’re freaking me out. This is like when your cat is staring at the wall and the only explanation is a ghost.”

“Should we get a tree?” Your head titled to the side but your gaze remained in the corner.

“Uh… what?” She asked, laughing awkwardly and you finally looked over to her.

“For Christmas.” You explained, eyes sweeping through the living room, “every where’s all decorated, lights, garland, trees, I could do without the Christmas music at the hospital constantly but it’s a little drab in here, don’t ya think?”

“And you want a tree?”

“Not a real one,” your nose scrunched, “too much work, and it doesn’t have to be a big one, a mini one, just some lights to make it a little festive in here.”

Emily crossed through the living room, dropping down onto the other side of the couch as she looked through the apartment, “you’re right. We should decorate, even just a little, make it feel more homey in here.”

“Yeah?” You looked up at her and she couldn’t help but smile at the excitement in your eyes.

“Yeah.” She squeezed at your leg through the blanket, “we watch enough tv as is, we could be marathoning Christmas movies. I picked up hot chocolate,” she nodded toward the grocery bag.

“Now that, sounds like a festive night.”

“After decorating though.” She grinned and you raised a brow, “there’s so many little celebrations going on out there.” She gestured toward the window, “I walked past two separate Christmas markets today, we should go check them out, pick up some stuff for the apartment, maybe some treats.”

“You wanna go now?”

“Well I was gonna make baked ziti for dinner, but that could wait cause I have a feeling you really love Christmas.”

“Yeah…” you nearly winced with a small smile on your face and Emily laughed.

“Well c’mon.”

Five hours later the two of you were curled up under the same blanket on the couch while The Holiday played on the television. Empty pasta plates sat on the coffee table and mugs of steaming hot chocolate spiked with Baileys were cupped in your hands. Multi coloured lights from the tree and the tops of the wall cast a warm glow throughout the apartment, the smell of gingerbread wafting from a candle burning on the kitchen island.

“You were right.” Emily mumbled “this is much better. I guess I forgot how just how nice actually embracing the holidays can feel.”

“Oh really?” You glanced up at her with a small grin and she raised a brow in your direction.

“What?”

“I’m just saying, I saw an ad for a really cool looking ice sculpture festival next weekend.”

She laughed, nudging your shoulder with hers as she shook her head at you, “alright, fine. It’s not like I have much else to do anyways.”

“Exactly.” You settled back into the couch with a satisfied sigh, “though we need to get some presents for under the tree.”

***

“If you don’t hurry up, you’re gonna miss the countdown!” Emily shouted over her shoulder, puling her sweater tighter over her shoulders, her eyes sweeping through the stars sparkling in the night sky. A dreamy look on her face, no doubt partially thanks to the bubbly the two of you had been drinking since dinner.

“I know, I know!” You scoffed back, hurrying back onto the balcony and handing her a flute, “but you absolutely cannot start a new year without champagne, and this is legit champagne.”

“Classy.” She replied with a laugh when she took the glass from you.

The streets below you were filled with laughter, cheers and the general sound of celebration as midnight ticked closer and closer. You shivered and Emily tugged you closer to her, her arm linking into yours as smiles broke out on both of your cheeks while you joined in on the countdown echoing from the street below. The clock hit twelve and choruses of ‘Happy New Year’ and cheers bounced through the air as the two of you clinked your glasses together and took a swig of your drinks fireworks exploding in the sky above you.

“What?” You asked when Emily swiped your glass, putting it along with hers down on the small table.

“C’mere.” She tugged you to her, “you can’t not have a new year’s kiss.”

Her arm wound around your waist, lips meeting yours tenderly, moving with grace against each other as your arms wrapped around her shoulders. Her tongue slipped into your mouth and you let out a happy sigh into the kiss.

“You know, you’re really good at this.” She murmured, lips curving into a grin and you chuckled.

“I’m good at a lot of other things too.” The smirk on your lips pulled a laugh from Emily.

“I like this.” She replied, stepping backwards and you let out a squeal when she pulled you down onto the couch behind her, your legs settling around her hips as she adjusted you on her lap, her lips meeting yours once again.

The kiss was full of little laughs, happy breaths, satisfied sighs as you held each other tighter to combat the chilliness of the now January night air. You could only hope that if this was how you were starting the year off that it would end up being a better one overall than the last.

***

Emily was in the kitchen scrounging up what she could for dinner out of leftovers when you finally emerged from your bedroom. You glanced up to her with a happy smile,

“I take it the meeting went well?” She asked.

“Yeah. The hospital wants to fly me out for a couple of consults on Tuesday.”

“That’s amazing!”

“You’re good then..” your brow scrunched, “like… if I take off for a few days? It feels weird to leave you… unsupervised, for lack of a better word.”

Emily barked out a laugh, “I’ll be fine, I’m sure I can handle a few days on my own. You go save some lives.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, “you’ve cleared me, the shrink has my med load decreased, I was cleared at the beginning of the month by PT to up my workouts. Hate to break it to ya, but you’ve been downgraded from babysitter to roommate at this point.”

“Okay, okay.” You laughed, sliding onto a stool at the island.

“I’m guessing this is the same research you’ve been working on?”

“Yeah, finally found the right place with the right fit and resources.”

“So you’re moving then?”

“God no, I don’t even know if there’s an actual job available. They might just want my research, might offer me a grant to keep working here, fly me in when needed. I could probably do ninety percent of it over Skype, it’s all about collaboration at this stage.”

“Well whatever happens I hope it’s good.”

“Me too.”

While Emily did actually enjoy her solo time in the apartment, she found it feeling just a little strange. Knowing that you weren’t coming home those nights, that noise out in the hallway were just the neighbours making their way to their own apartments. That she wasn’t waiting for you before starting dinner, she could eat whenever she wanted and that there was no one to start the coffee for her in the morning. Your absence was felt, even if you were still keeping in touch over text the three days you were gone.

**

It was barely noon and there was already a sense of urgency shooting through the apartment as you practically jumped out of your bedroom into the living room.

“Em!?”

It wasn’t even a second later that she came barrelling out of her room, duffle over her shoulder, still open so she could grab her phone charger and tablet from the kitchen island to shove into it.

“I, uh.. I think I need to go.”

“What?” You asked and she stalled suddenly,

“The guardian I had for Declan, he just called me. Declan tried to call him, there’s something going on, I need to get back stateside.” She took a deep breath, feeling the jitters in her chest starting as her pulse started to race, “oh god…” She suddenly dropped to a squat, her elbows on her knees so she could bury her face in her hands, “I really didn’t think this was gonna happen so quick.”

“Em…” you stepped toward her, a hand resting on her shoulder, squeezing softly and she was able to take another deep breath, calming her racing heart enough to bring herself up to standing and you could see the misting in her eyes.

“I… I know you’re not my therapist or anything, but you have honestly been the closest person since we got here, and I… I don’t know if I’m ready to go back.”

“If Declan needs you…”

“What if this is some kind of trap? What if Ian got to Tom, and this is just a fucking set up?” She ran a hand over her face, turning back to you, “sorry, I’m freaking out. You were gonna say something when I first came out.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “you don’t have to worry about Ian. Your team has him.”

“What?” Her eyes widened and you gestured to your phone in your hand.

“Hotch called; they want you back to help break him.” Reaching out you squeezed at her wrist, “you’re ready. They need you, the real you... you get to be yourself again.”

Emily couldn't help the warmth flowing through her at the thought of that, at getting to return to her real life after all this time. “And you what, keep playing pretend here?”

“No.” You laughed, “actually right before Hotch called, St Thomas’ called…there was a job and they just offered it to me. I move to London at the end of the month.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing.” A smile burst out on her face and she pulled you into a tight hug until you were nudging her away.

“You need to go.” You practically laughed, “there’s a jet waiting for you, a car will pick you up on the other end.”

“Fuck, right.” She quickly zipped up her bag, double checking that she had everything she needed.

“Text me if you’re missing anything crucial and I’ll ship it out.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” She paused, looking up at you with genuine gratitude written across her face, “and I mean that, both literally and figuratively. Thank you, for everything.” Stepping toward you she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, placing a kiss on your cheek before she stepped away.

“Yeah well, you can pay it back to me by not ruining all my hard work in your first day back in the field, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Stay safe.” You warned her and she cast a smile back to you while she opened the door.

“I will. And don’t be a stranger.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

_________________

@momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @lesbodietcoke @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak xnovak

[mx-loar-tev]

So, about that fic idea of time traveller/serial killer JJ...

I'm toying with plot ideas.

1. Who would end up on her kill list?

Hastings, Askari and Doyle are the one that would take priority in S6. There are also the ones that JJ would feel the most justified to kill.

Izzy, the bank robbers and the other guy (forgot his name) in Hit/Run would definitely anger her so much that she could decide to preemptively get rid of them before they attack the bank in Washington. Not only she almost lost Will (the guy got shot and almost blown up twice), her son was taken hostage and she had to violently fight in front of him in their home. Her maternal instincts might push her to kill Izzy at the very least. Especially if she had already murdered three people in cold blood before that.

I'd need to rewatch the show, especially seasons 6 to 8 to see who could be on her kill list, but there's another name that come to mind: Diane Turner, the woman that stalked and killed Maeve. JJ had seen how devastated Spence had been after Meave's death, so of course she would do everything to save her and give them the opportunity to date.

The replicator is also someone that could be on the list. After all he tried to kill them all and succeeded with Strauss. I don't think JJ liked Strauss that much, even after she got sober, but the section chief is still "one of them". She also saw what Strauss' death did on Rossi, and for that only the replicator deserves to be on the list. He might not be her easiest target though.

2. About the cases:

With the amount of cases she worked on for over a decade, I think it would be hard for her to remember and keep track of it all. I'm sure she'd try to use the Intel she remembers to help with the case and save more victims, but the load of work that would come from trying to PREVENT all these crimes from happening is way to much for a single person.

Maybe there's some cases that sticked to her though, maybe she could focus on these ones if she wants to prevent them. But she can't save everyone and I'm sure it'd impact her mood severely to realise that.

I think she has a notebook written in code where she put every nugget of informations she can remember, along with ideas of how to approach each situation.

3. The butterfly effect.

Each time she changes something, kills someone that would have lived in the original time line, it has unpredictable repercussions. After a while, it would be hard to predict for JJ what would happen then. And sure, saving people's life is good. But there's no way to predict if someone else isn't going to hurt the person JJ just saved. Or just create an chain of events that would ends in tears and pain. It think at some point JJ would be overwhelmed by it all.

4. Lying to the team.

We know JJ is a great liar. Probably the best liar in the team. Her teammates failed countless times to see through her lies. But no one is perfect, especially with the amount of lies JJ would need to keep track of. I'm not sure yet how she would react from the worried and/or suspicious stares from her teammates. She'd be in a lot of pressure, that's for sure, so maybe she might slip at some point. And when you're surrounded by profiler, that can be a fatal mistake.

5. Her pregnancy.

If she killed Askari and Hastings before her humvee was blown and she miscarried, she probably would have given birth to that child. Her pregnancy and taking care of a newborn would impact the story and her ability to keep going with her mission.

6. Romance.

Sorry, I needed to put that here.

I'm quite flexible on who I ship JJ with. I'm a die-hard jemily shipper, I'll admit, but I think Will is okay even if he's not perfect.

I don't like writing Will as a bad guy, but that doesn't mean I can't write them breaking up for some reasons (JJ's odd behaviour since she arrived in the past and went on a killing spree might damage her marriage.) So that's a possibility, I guess.

But I also love the idea of polyamory. Though I'm already going that route in the fic I'm currently writing so I might want to try something else.

I could just not focus on a ship. Not every fic needs to be shippy. After all, the main interest of this fic is JJ, her psychology, the way she interacts with everyone in her life. There'd also be a huge chunk focusing on motherhood since she'd be pregnant.

Thinking about it, JJ being aromantic is something I haven't explored yet. That could be fun to write.

I haven't decided what I gonna do in that department yet.

7. How it'll end.

Or more exactly, what tone do I want to give to that story?

I mean, it'll probably be dark. But do I want a happy ending for JJ?

Even if she feels justified, what she does is morally blackish grey. That plus the weight of the lies and the amount of work that double life would require would be enough to burn her out. Once she stepped into the darkness it would be a downward spiral.

On the other hand, I like the idea of girlboss JJ being a successful charitable hitman/vigilante. I want her to have a little Deadpool vibe (sans sexual jokes and 4th wall breaking). I want her to find a confortable place where she's okay with what she's doing, even if it requires unsavoury methods.

Regardless of her state of mind, should the story end badly for her? Would her teammates find out about her? Would they arrest her? Would she escape? Would she be killed?

Or would she thrive in her new side work and remain undetected by her fellow profilers?

Would she stay at the BAU, considering she had become an unsub herself?

Do I want a happy ending? A sad one? A bittersweet one?

Thanks for reading through my musings.

If you have ideas or want to discuss that story, feel free to leave a comment/reblog and comment/send me an ask.

[manie-sans-delire-x]

Asking out of real interest, what do you mean by “PDs aren’t just bad behaviour”? I know there’s neurological differences and all, but I feel as if there must be some element of choice for ASPD? Obviously it’s not a choice to have the personality disorder, but the behavioural aspects confuse me a little. Like what compels someone to lie pathologically, exploit, manipulate, be horrendously irresponsible etc. in daily life? Also: is it daily? How severe/frequent does this type of behaviour have to be to lead to dx

Yeah its a complicated thing isnt it? It really comes down to the discussion of whether humans have genuine free will at all, or if we're just animals at the mercy of our brain chemistry. Honestly, the more I study psychology, and evolution, the more I become inclined to believe the latter, even if it may sometimes be a "cop-out" excuse. But I don't believe humans are in control of ourselves as much as we like to believe, we are just animals, perceiving and reacting based off innate predispositions and our environment around us, neither of which we can control. Nature vs nurture? We cannot control either, and twin studies show nature/innate genetics actually determines who we are a little bit more- about 60% to 40%. Actions are decided based off thoughts and feelings, again neither of which humans can control, only try to manage after it has already come into existence and awareness. Unfortunately, whether its true or not, society can't really function on that premise. Society HAS to function on the premise that humans have total free will, or we couldn't punish crime or hold people responsible for anything. Even if its scientifically proven that humans dont have free will, I dont think humans are willing or capable of accepting or fully understanding that about themselves.

Also, its the same conflict with other disorders- people with anorexia "choose" not to eat. People with depression choose to not bathe. They are perfectly physically capable of it, but they are "unable" or at least its deeply difficult to do so because of internal factors, even if they want to recover. Is that truly free will? Are they under control of an illness that has co-opted their brain? Does a drug addict have full control over themselves when the drug has changed their neurochemistry? A person with schizophrenia may understand that they are being paranoid or having hallucinations, but they cannot stop being paranoid and having hallucinations.

You say that you know there are neurological differences and people with ASPD dont choose to have that, but aren't our actions determined by our neurology? Our thinking, our emotions. Brain chemistry determines it all doesnt it? Isnt that why medication works, that thoughts, feelings, and behavior strongly changes once brain chemistry changes? Isnt that why brain damage can completely change a persons personality and behavior? We know that physical damage to the brain often causes severe aggression, seen in many serial killers like Richard Ramirez and even in odd cases like Phineas Gage. So is it so different from that, whether the damage to the brain is cause by a physical outside influence, or abuse and trauma? We can see on scans that abuse and trauma changes the physical structure of the brain- its smaller, has less neural activity and less volume of gray matter.

Ultimately I don't know, I dont have the answers. But it sure is a fascinating topic!! Stanford neurobiologist Robert Sapolsky argued the same thing- that free will doesnt exist. I havent read it but he wrote a book about it.

-----

"Like what compels someone to lie pathologically, exploit, manipulate, be horrendously irresponsible etc. in daily life?"

Thats another complicated but very interesting question! But ok lets ask this, what compels someone to NOT lie? To tell the truth, to treat people well, to be responsible and show up at work everyday even when they dont actually want to. I think its the same answer- genetic personality and upbringing. Basically, maybe we are all just trained dogs. We all act based on what we are shown, what we are taught (and genetic predispositions). People do what they believe is best for themselves, what they deserve, what others deserve. People act on how they expect others will act- an abuse victim being aggressive and attacking first because they expect to be attacked due to prior life experience. Most liars think other people lie. People who scam justify to themselves by saying the fault is in the victim for being stupid, and separate themselves from the victim by believing they would never fall for such an obvious scam (whether thats true or not).

People can justify anything, most people dont think of themselves as a bad person. Even rapists and murderers justify it to themselves, and they can even be horrified by the same crime committed by someone else. Humans have a blind spot when it comes to themselves, especially humans with ASPD or NPD. Even though they are PDs, there really is an element of delusion in it, same as psychosis. They are not fully living in the mainstream "reality". Breaking free of that delusional state and realizing that they are the monster, they are the bad guy, that they are the problem, can be a huge shock. Its a complete change of perspective, their world turning upside down. Most arent capable of ever even reaching that break through point, because its too painful, and would ruin their self image and narrative of their life. Or they are not naturally insightful enough, or versed in psychological and philosophical thinking enough. I'm speaking from personal experience here, when I had my moment of "I am the monster in this story" when I was 19 it was very shocking because I was delusional, I did not see it like that at all, I was viewing my life from my perspective, naturally. Suddenly I saw two mirror realities of my life and myself, both equally real and valid, but very different perspectives. But I'll just say this- it makes total sense at the time. It makes total sense to lie, or manipulate, or kill, or rob. It all just comes down to perspective. I dont think people can fully understand something without experiencing it themselves. To understand a murderer, you have to commit murder. But then it really does make sense.

Most people with PDs are victims of childhood abuse and trauma. It warps your thinking, your ways of feeling, and thus your actions. You dont relate to other human beings the same way healthy people do. That basic bond and care, the recognition of the self in the other is damaged. Trauma makes your brain shut off your empathy and connection to others to better survive, so you dont have to carry the pain of others on top of your own suffering, so you can prioritize your own survival.

I think it can be very hard for a victim of abuse to admit when they are NOT the victim this time but instead the perpetrator in a situation. And I think thats because they have not been properly validated yet. Their trauma needs to be fully acknowledged first, or else they end up just feeling defensive, angry, resentful. "Well what about MY trauma? No one cares about that but everyone cares about my victim? NOW people care?" They need to be fully validated first, then work to acknowledge that a person can be Both a victim and a perpetrator.

-----

"Also: is it daily? How severe/frequent does this type of behaviour have to be to lead to dx"

It just has to be severe and frequent enough to meet the diagnostic criteria in the DSM or ICD. Yes its daily because PDs are a consistent thing, not episodic. PDs are serious disorders and can be harmful or even dangerous to others, but I also dont want you to have the wrong impression that most people with PDs are like these lurking scheming villians who plot all day. Most people with PDs, even ASPD and NPD, are just people who are really suffering and struggling to live day to day. Most have co-morbid mental illnesses, or addictions, and a history of trauma. The PD is considered a disorder because it negatively impacts their own life so much, and who in their right mind would choose that? As a mental health practitioner, I operate by the belief that the person with the disorder is always the one suffering the most. Its important to remember that when compassion fatigue is setting in.

-----

These are topics I find fascinating, and I'd love to hear what others think. I hope this answer wasn't too rambling, I'm a little high. I'm also going to post something I've been working on- I call it "thought perspective" and basically it's just an effort to understanding mental illnesses from the inside out, to see specifics of thinking. I think it may help you understand what I mean more, about people with PDs and/or severe trauma just operating in a different reality and how their actions make sense from their perspective. Thanks for the ask!!

[inklessletter]

I've been coming across some posts on and off these past few months about people complaining of fandom behaviour, particularly what is right or wrong to write about a character or a story. And I want to clarify that this me giving an opinion, and I'm no one, I'm just expressing myself, but I kind of feel like I need to say this before it gets me mad enough to snap someday.

I'll start with saying that, to me, "fandom" is just a place for you to be yourself. You saw a piece of media that became your comfort place, and fandom is that place where you are allowed to experiment, bend, deconstruct, rebuild or tear apart that, because you are, ultimately, experimenting with your own feelings. This means that nobody in fandom writes to meet another people's expectations, but themselves'! There is no use other in pointing out "but that's not canon!" that making that person who just poured a bit of themselves into something they made feeling bad and ashamed, even for a second. Of course it's not canon. That's the point.

It is okay to take a canonically good, pure, heart of gold kind of guy and write him being a serial killer. It is okay to take a villain and turn him into the hero. It is okay to take a side character and make it all around them. It is okay. Seriously, what good can it make to say "he would not do that", "but that character is evil, that would not happen", "but the story is not about them, tho"?

Who cares about canon anyway? It is a good starting point but once you don't treat that piece of media as something meant to entertain you for the two hours that the movie's running, and start thinking about it, and analyzing it, and creating aus, and thinking about characters' motivations, you're making that story yours. And we do collectively join here, in fandom, to share. I find it so petty and mean just to point out, to even suggest to a certain someone without mentioning them that they're wrong when they defend their personal headcanon about something. It is so silly and funny to me, like, can you imagine taking a literature exam in college and they ask you to write about Jane Eyre's red room meaning and some ballsy student just writes down "well, the room was decorated mainly red and she hated it because it was a punishment place. If there is any religious meaning behind, it is not canon because Brontë didn't write about that specifically."

Let people analyze and make out what they need out of a character or a piece of media. Let them draw their own conclussions. What's it to you? Who are any of us to say that a certain depiction is wrong because it's not canon? What do you know about those people motivations anyway to write about a character that way?

Fandom is not government, it's a community. There are no rules, no laws. No headcanon is above another headcanon. No canon is above a headcanon!

So please, stop weaponizing canon and fanon. Either case, it's just people creating, saying what they need to say, one way or another. Just let them do their thing without making them feel bad for doing differently from you.

That's all I have to say, really.

[asterdisaster06]

Strawberry Pie

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

summary > The four times Simon helped you, and the one time you helped him.

word count > 2.5k

cw > Serial killer AU. Inaccurate police information + procedures for plot reasons. Allusion to murder + getting away with crimes, yeah, that’s the kind of help (:<

a/n >  inspired by hannibal + “strawberry” by andrew montana

ao3

“How does it look?” A simple twirl following the words accompanying the small smile. Lips painted blood red with a new lipstick. 

“Beautiful love, absolutely stunning,” Simon says with a slow blink, a cat-like behaviour to express his adoration for you.

“I found this sundress while out shopping. And I got my nails done while I was at it! I followed your recommendation,” You answer with a smile as soft as the blanket beneath your rosy fingertips. 

“And the lipstick?” Simon asks, tilting his head. 

“Something I found in college. It’s served me well all these years,” You send a grin filled with sharp teeth towards Simon. His sweet little vixen. 

“Others would call you crazy,” Simon mentions, the teasing tone trailing off as he stares at you intently.

“But?”

“But, I admire your gumption, sweetheart,” Simon says, cupping your face gently in his hands; laying a tender kiss on the tip of your nose.

“You missed,” You remark with a twinkle in your eye.

“Oh did I now?” His voice softened from its usual gruff timbre. 

Simon RIley leans in to kiss your forehead, and then one corner of your mouth to the other, and then finally landed home onto your lips. He didn’t seem to mind the transfer of dye nor the chastising you did because of it. It was messy, it was sweet, it was entirely and so wholefully the two of you with the only disturbance being the gentle breeze shifting the pastel curtains. The ones that Simon insisted on keeping open to let the precious sunlight in - he claims that the way it brushes against your skin is a look into heaven itself. 

“Okay, okay, I really have to go this time. You’ve kept me trapped here like your little Rapunzel for far too long, Simon,” You urgently get out between fits of laughter and giggles alike. 

“So satanic, the way you plan to simply leave the love of your life here to die alone,” Your boyfriend sighs, sagging back into the comfort of the mattress you both were now laying on. Of course, he was being dramatic. As per usual. It would be endearing if it wasn’t so humorous to see the giant of a man turn into a feeble ghost of the soldier he usually is. Price would be proud to see that his subordinate does in fact have some humanity left within himself. 

“Don’t panic. You’ll live, I’m sure of it,” You reply, giving him a sympathetic kiss on the cheek, before getting up.

“Hey love?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“You missed,” Was all he could get out before you rolled your eyes and gave him exactly what he wanted - despite the fact that it made you a minute late. 

. . .

“Welcome to our humble abode,” You smile, giving a sweet little twirl and a flourish of your arms. The team had to admit that it was a cosy little thing out in the sticks. The interior design was no doubt your doing, a cottagecore vibe, considering the fact that Simon was limited to plain walls being his entire experience. Plants here and there, sunlight streaming through the glass paned windows, and pots and pans hanging with their herb friends. 

“Thank you for having us,” Price responds.

“What he said,” Came from the other two. 

“Where’s your lover?” Soap asks teasingly.

“Oh, he’s out in the garden gathering a few last minute spices,” You say, a gentle expression taking over your features at the thought of your love doing so much for you. You see the group share a knowing look and a few chuckles were heard from behind you. A soft reminder is all they need to stop with their shenanigans while you’re cooking. Of course, Gaz offers a helping hand with chopping up various vegetables for the stew and Price had called dibs on doing the dishes. He claims it was the least he could do for the host. Soap on the other hand insists on being the taste tester. A gentle ring of a bell alerts you to Simon coming in from the outside, completely drenched. 

“What happened to you? You look like a stray dog,” You laugh, leaning against the counter. 

“In my defence, it started as a drop before it ended up pouring a minute later,” Simon grumbled, 

“We’ve needed a good shower, wouldn’t you say? Good for the fertiliser,” You say, sending your lover a wink as you scoot over to allow him access to the sink.

A playful eye roll is what you earn in response as he says, “This is what I get for agreeing to hide out in the country.”

“Bite your tongue if you know what’s good for you,” You nudge him good-naturedly. 

“You know I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, love,” He says, facial expression softening into pure adoration. He sends you this look even as he’s scrubbing his hands of the dirt and blood from the garden. The scent of decay quickly running down the drain, tainting the water black. 

“I know. My saviour day in and day out, wouldn’t you say?”

Before Simon got the chance to answer, the timer - the one in the shape of a chicken because Simon just couldn’t say no when you held it up to him with those puppy dog eyes - went off. 

“Your world famous strawberry pie? Again?” You click your tongue and shake your head with a sly smile.

“It’s world famous for a reason, love. And, we have guests that have yet to taste my creation,” Simon grins back at you. 

“Whatever you say, Simon,” You huff out with a laugh. 

Laughter filled the air as the dinner party continued later into the night before it all quieted down with the departure of the boys. A simple contentment washes over the two of you left on the couch, a fleece blanket encasing your figures. Something about it warmed your beating heart as you listened to the rhythm of Simon’s long after you drifted off into unconsciousness. 

. . .

“Simon, you wouldn’t happen to be busy right now, would you?”

“Of course not, love. What do you need?” Simon answers over the phone.

“There was a roadkill accident, and my car isn’t in tip top shape anymore. Do you think you could come pick me up? I’m about two klicks down the road from our house,” You say, your phone tucked in between your ear and shoulder as you slide latex gloves over your hands. 

“As you wish,” Simon’s voice rumbles in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. 

You drag the corpse into the bushes and thank whoever was listening that the only evidence left was the blood pool. It would be quite a shame if any innocent had to feast their eyes on the remains of the carrion. Vultures would have to find another meal elsewhere - this one was yours. Right on time, Simon’s car reverberated down the gravel lane. 

“I didn’t think you would become so reckless, angel,” Simon chuckles, hopping out of his truck to help you lift the body into the back of his car. 

“I like the word hasty more. It sounds better, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you call it, just remember I’m always here to help clean up your messes.”

“And I you, darling,” You nudge Simon as he opens the car door for you. 

“I should’ve seen it in your eyes when we first started seeing each other. You were trying to warn me,” Simon chuckles, humour lacing his words. 

“I always wanted to be able to see you in the morning, Simon,” You begin solemnly. “I don’t wanna be alone, it’s quite boring, isn’t it?” You shrug. 

“Oh, baby, let me finish. I’m keeping you, you menace. Until the day one of us kills the other,” Simon smiles, giving your hand a tight squeeze. 

“That would be how it ends, wouldn’t it?”

“Of course, there’s no other way,” Simon says, a simple grin on his lips. A rare sight, but a common one with you. And just like the rain, it was washed away just as quickly.

. . .

“Shit, love, did you go after a military man?” SImon asks as he gently wipes away dirt and grime from your face. Your clothes were receiving the same treatment in the washer after you took a shower.

“I somehow doubt her boyfriend got into the military with that weak of a punch. He just got the jump on me. . . and had a pocket knife,” You explain, wincing when Simon brushed over your wounds. 

“That would explain all these lacerations, now wouldn’t it?”

“Actually those were from the girl clawing me half to death. The guy did jack all if I’m being honest. Tried to run like a pussy too,” You laugh, your ribs protesting at the act. 

“Sounds like you did her a favour, showing her the real colours of her boyfriend. A shame she isn’t alive to make a change,” He hums, confidently bandaging your arms and face like he had done a million times before. And like he would continue to do a thousand times over. As he does that you down a cheap whiskey from the bottle to ease the pain. 

“Quite a shame. Almost as much as the fact that I have some cleaning up to do later. They were surprisingly bloody for how little it took to bring them down,” You sigh, raking your hands through your hair before realising your hands were still stained metallic red.

“You just take a shower and leave the rest to me,” Simon says with a quirk at the edge of his lips. 

“What would I do without you?”

“Probably end up in jail.”

“That’s both true and insulting.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

. . .

“Simon? I think it’s time for a change.”

“What colour?”

“You know me so well. I was thinking something colourful this time around, really make the sight a seemly one before they meet their end,” You say, looking in the mirror and preemptively mourning for the identity that would be no longer. 

Not if Simon had any say in it. He had a surprising knack for disguise; although, you suspect that a few missions would require a little bit of magic to make it work. Odd, though, considering it’s doubtful that anyone would be left to tell the tale of the infamous Simon “Ghost” Riley. 

“You just get into the bathroom, I’ll be there soon with the dye,” Simon calls out from across the house. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Not today,” Simon answers.

“Well, I love you very much for all that you do for me,” You say, expressing your thanks.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Simon chuckles, entering the bathroom with all that you could ever need for an identity change. “Although, have you ever considered wearing a mask? Speaking from personal experience, it does make a wonderful impression alongside shielding you from the public eye.”

You hum thoughtfully before responding with, “I have, although I’ve discovered the personal touch makes it all the more better. That, and, I think between the two of us, you pull it off way better than I ever could.”

“If you insist, love,” Simon laughs, the sound reverberating throughout you. 

“It’s the truth, now which colour would suit me better?” You ask, alternating two dyes in your hand and in your favour. 

“Tough question. I fear we might need a second opinion,” He teases. 

“You know me too well, get the team on the phone,” You grin, practically bubbling over with excitement. Some may say you were too enthusiastic given the circumstances, but not Simon. He always supported you in your little hobby and dinner parties - much to your surprise. He was everything that you could’ve ever asked for, and more.

. . .

“Hey, love, are you busy right now?” Simon asks over the phone - a surprising event considering that he was never one for calls. They irked him, verbatim words that make you giggle at the absurdity of all.

“No, of course not, Simon. What do you need?” You ask, slightly busy with cooking dinner but Simon always came first. You did put him on speaker though to make it a little easier. 

“Could you come down to the station? Some stories need to be set straight, if you know what I mean,” Simon almost growls out.

“I’ll be there in five,” You reply, dropping the pleasantries as a dark look overtakes you. 

. . .

“What seems to be the problem, Officer?” You ask, acting the part of an innocent victim.

“Can I get you some water?” Fake pleasantries. Nothing upset you more.

“No thank you. I’d prefer to get this cleared up as soon as possible, sir,” You spit out, decisive and curt with your words. 

“Of course. There appears to be significant evidence that forty-eight hours ago your significant other was put at the scene of a crime near the Lincoln bar. Likely as a perpetrator,” Is what the officer tells you, much to your chagrin. Despite the calm facade that you were putting forth, you were fighting the urge to roll your eyes. You know exactly what happened, exactly who was killed, and the reason behind it was all because of a jealous spat between Simon and a man who had the misfortune of hitting on you in front of the infamous Ghost. He just couldn’t control himself when it came to you.

“I find that highly unlikely,” You say brusquely.

“And why is that?”

“He was at the Lincoln bar, but both myself and three other people were with him the entire night. Here, I’ll write their numbers down,” You say, quickly uncapping the pen on the table. 

“We’ve already checked the surveillance, but thank you for these witnesses. There is a gap of time between 9:31 PM and 9:39 PM that we are awfully curious about.”

“From what I remember, he went to the bathroom,” You answer genuinely.

They continued their line of questioning, asking if you had any connection to the victim, if you had seen anyone suspicious, along with other interrogations that all ended with the classic ‘if you think of anything else, notify us.’ You had high hopes that Simon would be released almost immediately and you were proven right when he walked right out of the building over to where you were on the curb. 

“There’s my saviour,” Simon says, embracing you tightly.

“You haven’t forgotten our promise, right?” You ask with a smile.

“Of course not, love. I simply wanted to show my appreciation, as per usual,” Simon chuckles lightly.

“Be your alibi, and never ask why,” You say, interlocking your pinky with Simons.

“Never ask why,” Simon whispers back, promising it like a vow. 

“The boys invited us out to dinner at Price’s, angel. You feeling up to it?” You ask.

“Always if it involves you,” Simon flirts.

You roll your eyes, replying with, “You menace.”

“You know you love me,” Simon laughs. And you did. So, very, much. 

[hot-take-tournament]

Can I ask why yanderes are considered as stereotypes of BPD? I have never compared the two before I saw people saying this. Yanderes to me are just "hey what if this cute anime girl murdered people"

Okay, I'll try my best - but please keep in mind I'm in no way an expert or authority on this kind of thing, so if I get something wrong please feel free to correct me

There is a widespread harmful myth that people with BPD can't have stable relationships, because they are somehow 'obsessive', 'possessive', 'controlling' or 'abusive'. Obviously, this isn't remotely true.

The yandere genre romanticises obsessive and often violent love and possessiveness - all things that align with people's pre-existing negative misconceptions about how people with BPD act in relationships. As a result, people, especially online, have increasingly begun to equate BPD to the 'yandere behaviour' of their favourite characters - and that's led to both the demonising and fetishizing of people with BPD.

There isn't anything wrong about liking the yandere character archetype! But you have to recognise it for what it is - just a fictional character archetype.

The problems start to arise when you begin to associate that fictional yandere archetype with a real personality disorder.

Yanderes are just cute anime girls who murder people - and that's all they'll ever be. They are purely fictional characters - they don't represent real people with BPD, or any other personality disorder, and they were never intended to.

Yanderes become a harmful stereotype of BPD when you start assuming real people who have BPD act like fictional yanderes. People with BPD aren't serial killers, they aren't stalkers, and they aren't going to be your IRL yandere waifu either.

TL;DR -

There's nothing wrong with liking yanderes! And there's nothing wrong with finding them relateable either! But it's so, so important to separate fiction from reality.

Yanderes don't represent real people with any personality or mood disorder, and they were never intended to.

And remember, people with personality or mood disorders aren't just a list of symptoms! We're real people too!

[fromabasementonthehilll]

May I request and 1996 Shauna Shipman x Fem!reader? Where Shauna is a vampire and she gets with reader?

It's okay if you can I just wanted to ask

Teeth (pt.1)

͙⁺･༓☾ - Summary: You had been attacked by a wild ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎animal, if it even was one. You slowly ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎begin to question your friends behaviour.

Pairing: Vampire!Shauna Shipman x reader

Warnings: blood/gore

Part two

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A blood rush induced haze, one hand limp, heart heavy with numb ground assailing legs; you ran. You didn't know how long you were running for, but you knew you couldn't stop, because it wouldn't. you couldn't feel the bottom half of your body, you traced the foreboding forest with your teary eyes, unsure of where to go. Looking behind, you'd convinced yourself that it was gone, that bloodlust creature that sunk its teeth into you on your way back home, and so you slid down against a rough tree, the wind healing the soreness in your breathless throat and the scorching heat that built up in your face.

"Yeah, I don't know, I think it was a wolf or something" you sat in the cafeteria the next day with a few of your friends, "Oh my god I'm so sorry (y/n), I knew I should've driven you home" Lottie apologised, "Are there wolves in New Jersey? I'm not sure we have them, it could've been a serial killer y'know.." Van exclaimed spookily to your side, you simply gave her a confused look. "I didn't know you were out yesterday night, is the wound bad?" Shauna asked across the table in front of you, weirdly sincere guilt covering her expression. You adjusted the bandage on your upper arm, "The doctors said it could take a few weeks to heal, luckily I didn't have to stay overnight at the hospital, but goddamn it hurts. The worst part is that they don't even know what could've bitten me." It hurt, a lot. You were taking so many painkillers that you were constantly disoriented, barely keeping up with school assignments. "You can stay at mine tonight if it helps," Shauna offered. It made sense, she lived further away from the place that you were attacked, and you couldn't help but fear walking there again. "And I could drive you home whenever you want." She finished, you accepted the invitation, it would probably cause you less stress, and you'd most likely manage to convince her to help you study. Shauna cursed herself out, mentally - why had she offered? She cant be close to you, nothing good will come out of it. Her eyebrows furrowed in thought, you noticed.

After school you wanted to go straight home. You sat in Shauna's car, "Hey, thank you for this, Shauna." You watched her as a slight smile painted her worried face, "Of course."

"You can sleep on the bed," she gestured, "No, no it's okay, I'm not going to steal your bed too." You chuckled, she laughed back, "No really, I don't mind," Both of you left it at that, going downstairs to watch TV. You caught onto the fact that she would stay as far from you as possible, do I smell? What's up with her.

You felt bad, I mean you basically just decided to live at Shauna's house, though she did offer after all. You admired how she kept her bedroom neat and tidy, the art on her walls, though you noticed something odd when she opened her closet. A white t-shirt, ripped at the torso with a few blood stains. As much as you could brush it off - it worried you, maybe even scared you. You didn't ask, however. It felt weird to pry after she'd been so kind to you after your attack.

You two were listening to music in her bedroom, you watched her as she danced while drawing something, it felt like every other time you'd stay over at hers. You sang along, "This is my favourite song." Hearing you, she turned up the volume, "Me too," she sat beside you on the bed, still miles away somehow, "I have a whole collection of CDs if you wanna check it out? I also have a bunch of movies on VHS if you wanna watch something.." Shauna looked at you deeply, watching the way your hair moved with you, how your body listened to her words closely. And In all honesty you felt happy, you liked being around her.

You smiled, hugging her. "Shit, (y/n)." She stood up so quickly, mouth agape and sad eyes in worry. "Are you okay? Did I do something? Shauna I'm sorry I just wanted to-" She cut you off, you stared at her in attempt to figure out what the fuck was going on, and right before she turned away the bedroom light highlighted a slight crimson glow in her eye, almost unnoticeable. "It's nothing, I mean you didn't do anything, I'm sorry." Suddenly the music felt like dull background noise, you looked away, bewildered. She sat back down on her desk as if nothing happened. You began worrying, worrying too much for your own good. "Shauna, talk to me." Receiving no response, you followed up, this time trying even harder to get her to talk. "Why do you have a blood stained shirt? It's all ripped up - are you okay? Tell me what's going on!" "It's nothing okay? Forget it." Finally seeing more than just the shakiness of her head from behind, you raised your eyebrows as she turned to you. "No it doesn't make sense, you invite me over to your house but don't want to be around me." This time both of you stand up, flaring your arms around as you two argued about nothing. "There's nothing wrong, alright! Gosh why do you have to be so.."

"So what?"

"Nothing."

The rest of the night was quiet, her parents weren't home, so she had decided to sleep in their room instead. The only time you two would really speak was when it was necessary. It felt wrong, all of it. Arguing with Shauna was at the bottom of your bucket list, you never argued with her. It's not like you two never hugged before, you were close friends and were always getting up into each others faces, she'd just act weird around you lately.

In the meantime you had noticed Shauna would sneak out in the middle of the night, and on top of everything else, it made you jittery; confused, most importantly distressed.

"Lot, somethings up with Shauna, I know it"

"Shes probably just on her period or something"

"Really, Lottie? That's the dumbest thing you could say right now." You sat in the lockers after practice, on the complete other side of Jackie and Shauna. "You keep looking at her, just to talk to her I mean you guys practically live together now she can't just block you out?" You scoffed at Lottie, it had been a few days since you started sleeping over at Shauna's. "She can and she has, I barely even speak to her, she won't tell me anything." Tying your laces extra tight, Lottie reassured you. "The Halloween party's soon, everything will be fine. But... she could be turning into a werewolf or something, watch out!" She crept up and jumped at you as you finished tying your laces, your heart skipped a beat "Shit Lottie don't do that!" She laughed menacingly before helping you pack up. Admittedly, you were on edge, fighting with Shauna wasn't the best for your stress levels, and your arm hadn't gotten any better. If anything, it hurt even more.

"Hey, (y/n)." Shauna stopped you outside of the changing rooms. "Shauna?" Darkness cast her under eyes, she clearly wasn't sleeping. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't want to fight with you." Her sheepish stance didn't bother you, at this point you were just upset. "And yet you're still standing 3 feet away from me." Stern, just how you meant to say it. She swallowed her words, carefully tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, you looked at her every detail, still searching for answers. Shauna wanted to be close to you, she wanted to hug you, she wanted to listen to music with you without having to be careful - but she just couldn't.

"I'm going home today, don't worry." You began walking off. "Wait - (y/n), you don't have to leave," She was cut off, "I do, clearly." You tried your hardest not to sound like an asshole, but you really believed she didn't want you there, and she did nothing to disprove that. Shauna was still staring at you, pleading with nothing but guilt in her eyes. "You can't go, how will you get home? You live so far away from everything I won't be able to drive you home everyday." You dismissed her tries to reason your stay, "You won't have to, I'm not counting on that." Still metres away.

"What? Don't tell me you're going to walk, what if that person attacks you again?"

"Person? Shauna it was an animal, why would a person bite me, and it's probably gone by now. Just forget it."

"No, stay."

A sense of urgency lingered in her voice, you wanted to ask why she pleaded so much for you to stay, but you just walked away.

It would be a lie to say you didn't feel scared walking home. As you inched closer to the place you got attacked, the sun began setting and your hands began shaking, you could almost feel the adrenaline ready to kick in at any moment, but nothing happened. You were out of the forest, or so you thought. Relief began settling until it was broken by the bushes in front of you.

Blood filled eyes chased after you, you stood for a moment, cursing yourself for not just giving into Shauna. You glared at it, as much as you could considering how fast it was moving. It looked human. You ran back into the trees as fast as your legs could carry you, weak from your state. Branches cut and bruised you, reopening the wound that impaled your arm. Van was right all along, and you were wrong to act so reckless.

Ruptured moonlight casted onto your vision, soon distrusted by the red eyes you sought to escape. They moved around, cautious of nearing you. Regaining consciousness, you had realised you failed. You ran so fast and failed. It was now upon you, as you felt a pair of eyes stalking you. You smelled it, the blood, creeping around you like flies to rot. "Oh my god. Fuck." A familiar voice startled you, though you were in such a daze it all sounded distorted. You gave into the voice, seeking aid from anything you could. "Shauna?", weak, but hopeful, you spoke.

"(y/n), I'm so sorry, please just.."

The distortion began to dissipate, fading away into the night as you tried your hardest to get up, vision focusing on the face in front of you. The pale moonlight accentuated her face in all the right ways, her pretty doe eyes looked sadder than they ever were as they attempted to look at you without squinting, her lips were ridden with thick blood as they trembled. You sat up, in silence for a moment as the hurt throughout your body seeped in while the adrenaline left entirely. "Shauna, what happened?" You desperately hoped it was the last time you had to ask her that, hoped that she would give an answer to all of this, hoped that you wouldn't have to be stuck in the endless, incoherent maze that you thought only occurred in your restless dreams. "I'm sorry," She began trying to construct her sentence, you shifted your gaze onto her ripped, blood soaked flannel.

"It's me (y/n),"

"I attacked you."

Another phase of silence stayed within the air momentarily. You closed your eyes for a moment, unable to focus on her words while trying to adjust your eyes. You stuttered for a second, blocking out the pain shooting throughout your entire body as hard as you could.

"You?"

"I would do anything to take it back, I swear, please just," Shauna despised it, all of it. She hated who she had become and it consumed her. She looked at your fragile state, how you pleaded with your gaze for her to give you an answer, an explanation.

"I'm a vampire, (y/n)." Those were the last words you expected to hear from her. Shauna never even admitted it to herself, she doesn't know how it happened, she just dealt with it, and now you had to too. "Don't joke around Shauna, I'm being serious." Your voice whiny and sore, seeking for an ending to all of this. "I am serious, I swear, just let me take you to a hospital, you're bleeding out" You interrupted her increasingly louder voice.

"Prove it."

"What?" She was metres away from you yet again, it all began to make sense, but it seemed surreal. Vampires were fiction, you couldn't wrap your head around it unless she showed you. Lifting yourself up from the ground, you looked at her.

"I cant do it (y/n), it's dangerous."

"Just do it, please. I'm tired."

Her body whispered towards you, moving alongside the peace bringing wind. You watched her eyes shine red. It wasn't a pronounced red, it was a certain glow that you couldn't describe, shuffling in between the honey brown colour that she had. You, on the other hand, were drenched in red, you knew what it would do to a vampire, though her presence omitted a strange security that wrapped around you. Shauna tried her hardest not to hurt you, you knew how much she cared for you, but this time it was different. You stared at her as she stood before you, the closeness you hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. You wanted to feel the warmth of her again, her touch. After the attack it all seemed to disappear.

If you focused your eyes enough you could see how her canines had been honed all of a sudden, like the edge of a blade. Tears formed in her eyes with every step she took, you steadied yourself as you began to feel the brunt of your wounds. You could tell she was hungry, and it controlled you, just as it controlled her. You began acting more reckless by the second, yearning for her.

"Kiss me"

Her mouth pronounced a shaky o shape, exposing her fangs to you unintentionally. Ever since she had accidentally bitten you, her hunger for you grew, and you could sense it.

"Shauna, please."

Bloodlust eyes watched your fresh wounds in avoidance, unsure hands resting on your body.

She had given into her hunger for you, roughly matching her lips to yours. You fell into the kiss, feeling the stabbing of her fangs onto your bottom lip. Your gashes ached as her hands gripped you like you were prey. Her lust tasted metallic, you ran your hands through her messed up hair, though it was too much for her. In a flash, she had disappeared.

Woken up by the peering eyes of your doctor, the fluorescent hospital lights burned your eyes. You noticed gifts on the bedside table and 'get well soon cards', but none from Shauna.

"Tell me your full name, please."

"(y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Do you recall what happened to you?"

You were unsure of what to say, it all felt like a hazy dream.

"No, I passed out."