#toxic romance

[the-bar-sinister]

I adore toxic relationship stories. Stories where the love is there, and it's absolute poison to everyone involved.

Stories about people who love one another completely and desperately, yet are so deeply flawed as people that they each drag one another down, and make one another into their worst selves.

Stories where the characters are full of romance, and love and joy, and that love somehow turns everything around them into an emotional blasted wasteland.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hit List pt. 2

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Pairing: Jason Todd/Red Hood X (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, toxic romance,dark romance, dark Jason, psychotic Jason, mean Jason, brain-washing, violence, Jason's death, threatening, stalking, intimidation, blackmail, unethical behavior, mafia au, exes, assassination, semi-public sex, fingering, kissing, love confessions, mourning, ruined orgasms.

The door opening snapped you out of your concentration. Your head shot up, eyes wide with surprise as the imposing figure in the red helmet stepped into your lab. Then your heartbeat froze as you recognized the terrifying figure you've been seeing on the news for the past month. The red hood - the crime lord of Gotham - was in your lab.

"Uh... can I help you?" you asked, your voice wary.

The red hood sweeped the room. You shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ve got some questions,” his low baritone was distorted through the modulator.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ Six Years Prior◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason lay on the warehouse floor, his Robin suit was torn around different parts, the exposed skin under it seeping blood onto the cold floor. Speaking of cold, Jason was pretty sure he was going to die here.

Yeah... asking Batman to let him patrol alone was just another notch down the line of Jason's cocky mistakes. But after doing it for so long, being Robin has become a second nature. He could beat up henchmen with his eyes closed and his arms tied. So, of course, he thought he could handle Joker alone to save his mother. Hell, he might have even stood a chance, but the moment he'd entered the Joker’s hideout, some familiar scent hit him, and Jason became numb in an instant.

Joker had been at it for so long that the boy should no longer register the pain from the crowbar. Only... he did. He felt every cut, hit, punch, every bruising hit.

Joker needn't have bothered with the gag, Jason lost his voice from screaming a while ago.

The newly carved "J" scar on his cheek hurt like a bitch.

"Well? Looks like bats are going to be late to save ya, kiddo." Joker laughed. "Bad traffic, I guess."

Jason didn't bother talking. Too exhausted. Everything after that was blacked out. Then he stopped breathing.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason was in excruciating pain. He was losing his mind. All of the hurt from his torture, from the explosion that followed, attacked his senses all at once.

He was in Ra’s al Ghul’s hidden stronghold, recovering from his resurrection. The room was dimly lit, incense filling in the air as Jason lay on a cold stone slab, his body wracked with phantom pain from his death. Ra’s entered and stood beside him, offering him water and speaking with a calculated gentleness. "You’ve been through a lot, Jason. The cruelty of this world knows no bounds."

Jason spoke with a hoarse "Bruce… Did he…?"

Ra’s tone stayed calm. "Save you? He didn’t even try."

Jason struggled to sit up, his face contorted in confusion. "No. I dont believe you. He would have… he he’s my fath-"

Ra’s directed Jason’s attention to a screen showing pictures of batman running side by side with... Robin, "While you were rotting in a shallow grave, your so-called father was playing hero with the one who replaced you."

Jasons tone was angry yet desperate as tears filled his vision. "No. He wouldn’t - he didn’t forget me."

But seeing the images of the boy in the Robin suit, he shut his mouth.

Jason recalled moments of Bruce’s kindness - of patching him up after a rough mission, smiling at him when Jason mastered a new skill or got an award at school. "He saved me before. He would’ve done if he could-"

"But he didn’t, young one." Ras said. "I did. Who truly values you, Jason? The one who abandoned you to die or the one who gave you your life back?"

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason's breathing quickened as his fists pounded the hanging punching bag in Al Ghul’s dojo.

He had overheard an exchange between Ra's and his daughter. The topic of which was Batman, a word which recently became a trigger to him.

Jason continued olbiterating the punching bag, which had tore open where his fists landed, mixing with his bloody knuckles.

I wasn’t worth the risk? I was his son! How could he-how could he just let me die?!

Ra’s placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder making him stop his movements. "Its difficult to cope. You were nothing more than a soldier to him. A pawn in his war. But to me, you are a warrior. A leader."

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

"We found this in your bloodstream the night you were killed." Thalia Al Ghul held up a vial of clear liquid. Jason nodded, hunched over a table with his shirt pulled over. A medic was stiching up a nasty gash he got from a recent mission.

"It's relatively new," she continued. "Not FDA approved. Not even patented. But my men tracked it to a lab in Gotham University. It matches the research on several Academic papers published by a PHD student."

Jason frowned at the colorless liquid, hissing against the anchoring pain of the stitching. "What is it?"

"It's basic form blocks pain receptors. Joker played around with it and manipulated the chemical to immobilize people by overstimulating their nervous systems. It can cause a hallucinatory haze, so they're unable to defend themselves. Sound familiar?" She asked.

Jason ground his teeth and nodded, recalling how disoriented and agonized he felt during his torture.

Then, another memory surfaced his mind. One rainy day at school, when talking to you about your lab research.

"Im calling it 'Chill Mist,'" you said, proudly holding up a vial. "It'll be a breakthrough in healthcare, Jay. It blocks pain receptors and induces a calming state. For when people undergo trauma or surgery." You explained excitedly, spraying a bit of it in the air for him to smell.

"What's the name of the student working on it?" Jason's tone was grave when he asked Talia.

He anticipated the name before Thalia spoke it, but it didn't prepare him from the painful stab of betrayal in his chest.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Raw anger fueled him as Jason stared at the limp body of his duel oponent lying lifeless at his feet.

Ra’s clapped proudly once. "See what you’re capable of? This is just the beginning, Jason. You will become unstoppable."

Jason stared at the blood on his hands, the sword shaking in his grip.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ Six Years Later ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Dmitry, a lower level henchman in the Russian mafia, sat across the table from the red hood, swallowing thickly. He felt for his gun in his holster and was relieved it was still there.

He's heard stories about the Red Hood from rival gangs, and he damn near shit his pants sitting across from him now. Worse, so when the man finally spoke, addressing him in his native language. "Привет Дима," (hello, Dima)

Dima looked around himself nervously, wondering why he was here instead of his boss. "Г-где Сергей?" (Where's Sergey?)

"Сергея больше нет. C сегодняшнего дня, я твой новый бос. Продолжим на английском. "(Sergey no longer exists. Starting today, im your new boss.We're gonna continue this conversation in English.)

Dmitry paled, his eyes cast down to the duffle bag resting beside the Red Hood's boots, suspecting the worst. "Бляд..." He swore under his breath. "W-we didn’t know it was your turf!"

The hood let out a sound that might have been a chuckle, but it was distorted behind the mask.

He leaned against the desk, spinning his knife lazily in his hand. "The whole fuckin' city's my turf."

Danny tried to protest, but Jason interrupted. "Here’s how it works now. You want to work in Gotham, you pay me a cut. I keep the cops off your back, keep you alive, and make sure you don’t sell this filth to kids. You mess up, you disappear. Simple enough?"

When Danny hesitated, Jason flipped the knife into his hand and buried it in the table beside him. "That wasn’t a question."

Danny nodded frantically.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

The by-now famous Red Hood walked into Arkham asylum to blaring sirens as inmates shook the bars of their prison cells, shouting his name. Under the fluorescent lights, he could make out some familiar faces. But he was only here for one.

Joker looked up as red hood approached, a grin spreading across his face. "What's this?" He asked. "A fan coming to visit -"

The gunshot rang out before he could finish talking. The smoke raising from the red hood's gun. He climbed out into a nearby window and jumped out, the jokers cold body on the floor behind him.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason's eyes narrowed as he watched you through the window of you lab. You looked different now, older than the girl he once knew, but no less intoxicating. He clenched his fists, feeling the phantom pain of his death crawling all over his body.

You didn’t know. He reminded himself. You didn’t know what the Joker planned that night...

But you made it. That damn toxin that burned through his veins, twisting his screams into something unrecognizable even to himself.

Jason ground his teeth behind his mask. How was it fair that you got to walk away? That you got to live while he had to claw his way out of a fucking grave?

His gloved hand flexed over the hilt of his knife. He wouldn’t kill you, no. But he would make you pay. One way or another, he would make you pay.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Your hand reached for your phone charging on the table, but he noticed. He grasped you by your lab coat, easily pushing you against the wall. His grip was firm as he pinned your hands above your head. The sharp edge of his helmet pressed against your side. "What? Don't you trust me? After all this time..." the words released in a low chuckle.

Confused, you struggled against him. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t-"

He stepped closer, pressing you against the wall and locking your movement. The sound of his boots against the floor echoed in the quiet of the empty room.

You heard a click of metal and risked a glance to see him lift the helmet before dropping it to the ground.

Your breath left in a rush as your world tilted. Impossible...

"Jason...?" you whispered, barely audible.

He smiled down at you. Not the boyish grin you remembered. But a sharp, humorless. "Surprise."

You stared, taking in the stark differences. The Jason you remembered was cocky and boyish. The man standing above you now had sharper features, his body bulkier, and his eyes were hollowed pools of blue - once bright and mischievous - now held pain and anger aimed at you.

You stammered. “You - how - youre dead!”

"Aparently not." He drawled. “And congrats on being the first person to know who’s under the Red Hood.”

The Red Hood. That’s who he’s become. The vigilante-turned-crime lord everyone in Gotham feared or admired. And he was standing in front of you, the same boy with whom you did your homework, the one who pulled your hair at school, who took your first kiss, and more.

Jason’s gaze roamed over you, his expression unreadable. "What's wrong, baby? You look like you’ve seen a ghost," he said, his tone filled with amusement.

You voice shool as tears filled your eyes. "What happened to you?"

He told you. Step by step. Recounting the literal horror he'd experienced. By the time he finished his story, it was clear to you that Jason blamed you for hia death.

Jason felt a twisted satisfaction in seeing your head shake, guilt evident in your teary eyes.

His hand slid to your body, the leather of his glove cool against your skin. “Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Does it bother you? Knowing that every time I look at you, I see the reason I died?” he emphasized by wrapping around your throat.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Jason’s lips crushed against yours before you could form a single word. It wasn’t tender; it was raw, punishing, a collision of teeth and desperation that left you breathless.

He lifted you with ease and put you on the table you were working on. Worrying about chemical hazards was the last thing on your mind when you were being kissed by a dark reincarnation of your high school sweetheart.

"Jason-" you drew back on a gasp.

His lips brushed your ear before biting your neck, “Do you know how many nights I dreamed of making you feel an ounce of what I felt?” His words terrified you.

"What will you do to me?" Your voice trembled.

"I don't know..." He sounded distracted as his finger glided over your lab coat, unbuttoning it and pulling it down off you, leaving you in your t-shirt and jeans. You were suddenly cold, feeling bumps along your arms. Jason's haze was heated, and you followed it to your chest, where your nipples pebbled under your bralette. You held your breath as he raised his hand to circle one of your nipples, not saying anything.

"If you were me," Jason drawled, attention back on you, though his fingers continued circling your nipple. You suppressed a whimper desperate to be let out. "What would you do to you?"

"I..." Your voice hitched when his finger brushed the spot you wanted him so desperately.

"What would you do if you've defeated all of your enemies, but one." He asked, tone heavy.

Your heart ached at his words, and you shook you head. "I'm not your enemy, Jay-" you wispered.

Something you said made him freeze, a moment passed before he gave your nipple a brief but harsh pinch. “You don’t get to say my name like that,” he hissed, his other hand tightening on your hair.

Removing his gloves and dropping them to the floor with a soft thud. You watched at his scarred, large hand lowered to the buttons of your jeans, undoing them one by one. The sensation made your body jerk, and you bit your lip to keep from making any sounds.

Jason noticed and brought his lips up to yours, biting down on your bottom lip before saying. "Dont hold back now, baby. You never did before -"

"I've missed you." The confession left your lips in a quick breath.

That made him freeze again. Just like when he did when you called him by his nickname. Carefully, you reached to cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the "J" scar under his eye.

"Stop," he said under his breath.

"Jason," you wimpered, your voice strained. "I missed you so much-"

"Stop." He growled.

With tears in your eyes, you begged. "Please! Jason, I still love-"

He kissed you again, desperate to silence you. He was pretty sure the next words out of your mouth were going to break his conditioning completely. He couldn't pet that happen - not after how far he's come.

His fingers reached your sex, coating themselves in your slick and sliding up to rub your clit. "If you don't shut up for your own good, I'll have to find something else to keep your mouth busy."

The ministration on your sex, the words, and the fact that the love of your life was speaking them to you all sent your mind spiraling. But the sensations he caused in your body overtook any intentions in your mind, and you arched against him, desperately pushing yourself closer to him.

"That's right," he chuckled, his mind back where he deeded it to be. "Give up control, baby."

You were so close.

"Give me my revenge." He laughed, grinning against your ear.

You moaned just as you were nearing your climax.

He withdrew his fingers, ruining your orgasm.

"No!" You protested.

Pleading, your eyes sought his out in the darkness. He wore a wolfish smirk as he reached up and licked his fingers. His eyes were hooded as he glared at you. He didn't say much. Just hummed as he slowly approached you. Frightened, you tried backing away as far as you could. "Dont! Jason, I'll call the cops. I'll tell them -"

"Tell them what?" He pulled you by your hair. It was not a playful tug like he used to do in school, but a harsh grasp that had you gasping. "That the Red Hood fingered you? That he didn't let you finish?" He said in a mocking tone.

You swallowed harshly, not saying anything. This version of Jason was so cruel that you couldn't comprehend it.

"You're not gonna go to the police." He informed you. "You're gonna come to work wearing a skirt tomorrow." He finished before giving you one last kiss.

Before you could come up with anything more to say, he had put on his gloves and helmet, saluted you, and walked out the door.

[morallysuperiorlips]

Oddly Specific Romance Prompts Vol. 3: Toxic Romance

“You are so fucked. You are so unbelievably fucked.” “Yes, I know. And that’s why I’m saying we can be unbelievably fucked together.”

"You're the worst thing that has ever happened to me." "That means you'll never forget me, then, huh?"

"Your love has absolutely ruined me."

"I know you're going to leave, but I also know you always come back. You're incapable of functioning without me and you know it."

"You and I were a match made in fucking hell."

"I could not survive if you left. I can't live without you." "The solution is simple, then. Don't give me a reason to leave."

"Nobody else could ever put up with you like I have."

"Every little part of you belongs to me. Your love. Your hate. Your body. Your soul. It's mine. You're mine."

"You could try to find somebody better, but I know you won't. You can't."

"I hate you. It physically pains me how much I hate you." "I know." "But the thought of leaving you is so much more unbearable." "I know."

"I don't know what sounds better: breaking your heart by leaving or watching you break yourself by staying."

"I never loved you." "That's a fucking lie if I've ever heard one. You and I both know you can't fake that passion. Admit it."

"You're psychotic. You're despicable. You're unloveable." "And yet, here you are. Loving me."

"You're everything that's wrong with my life, and yet I don't have the strength to get rid of you."

[slutforspungen]

Sid Vicious’s Letters to Deborah Spungen following the death of Nancy Spungen (his girlfriend).

(TW MENTIONS OF SUICIDE)

(FIRST LETTER)

Dear Debbie, thank you for phoning me the other night. It was so comforting to hear your voice. You are the only person who really understands how much Nancy and I love each other. Every day without Nancy gets worse and worse. I just hope that when I die I go the same place as her. Otherwise I will never find peace.

Frank said in the paper that Nancy was born in pain and lived in pain all her life. When I first met her, and for about six months after that, I spent practically the whole time in tears. Her pain was just too much to bear. Because, you see, I felt Nancy’s pain as though it were my own, worse even. But she said that I must be strong for her or otherwise she would have to leave me. So I became strong for her, and she began to stop having asthma attacks and seemed to be going through a lot less pain.

I realized that she had never known love and was desperately searching for someone to love her. It was the only thing she really needed. I gave her the love that she needed so badly and it comforts me to know that I made her very happy during the time we were together, where she had only known unhappiness before.

Oh Debbie, I love her with such passion. Every day is agony without her. I know now that it is possible to die from a broken heart. Because when you love someone as much as we love each other, they become fundamental to your existence. So I will die soon, even if I don’t kill myself. I guess you could say that I’m pining for her. I could live without food or water longer than I’m going to survive with out Nancy.

Thank you so much for understanding us, Debbie. It means so much to me, and I know it meant alot to Nancy. She really loves you, and so do I. How did she know when she was going to die? I always prayed that she was wrong, but deep inside I knew she was right.

Nancy was a very special person, too beautiful for this world. I feel so privileged to have loved her, and been loved by her. Oh Debbie, it was such a beautiful love. I can’t go on without it. When we first met, we knew we were made for each other, and fell in love with each other immediately. We were totally inseparable and were never apart. We had certain telepathic abilities, too. I remember about nine months after we met, I left Nancy for awhile. After a couple of weeks of being apart, I had a strange feeling that Nancy was dying. I went straight to the place she was staying and when I saw her, I knew it was true. I took her home with me and nursed her back to health, but I knew that if I hadn’t bothered she would have died.

Nancy was just a poor baby, desperate for love. It made me so happy to give her love, and believe me, no man ever loved a woman with such burning passion as I love Nancy. I never even looked at others. No one was as beautiful as my Nancy. Enclosed is a poem I wrote for her. It kind of sums up how much I love her.

If possible, I would love to see you before I die. You are the only one who understood.

Love, Sid XXX

P.S. Thank you, Debbie, for understanding that I have to die. Everyone else just thinks I am being weak. All I can say is that they never loved anyone as passionately as I love Nancy. I always felt unworthy to be loved by someone so beautiful as her. Everything we did was beautiful. At the climax of our lovemaking, I just used to break down and cry. It was so beautiful it was almost unbearable. It makes me mad when people say “you must have really loved her.” So they think I don’t still love her? At least when I die, we will be together.I feel like a lost child, so alone.

The nights are the worst. I used to hold Nancy close to me all night so that she wouldn’t have nightmares and I just can’t sleep without my beautiful baby in my arms. So warm and gentle and vulnerable. No one should expect me to live without her. She was a part of me. My heart.

Debbie, please come and see me. You are the only person who knows what I am going through. If you don’t want to, could you please phone me again, and write.

I love you.

NANCY

You were my little baby girl

And I shared all your fears.

Such joy to hold you in my arms

And kiss away your tears.

But now you’re gone there’s only pain

And nothing I can do.

And I don’t want to live this life

If I can’t live for you.

To my beautiful baby girl.

Our love will never die.

(SECOND LETTER)

Dear Debbie, I’m dying. Slowly, and in great pain. My baby is gone, without her I have no will to live. I love her so desperately. I know I can never make it without her. Nancy became my whole life. She was the only thing that mattered to me.

I’m glad I could make her happy. I gave her everything she ever wanted, just for the asking. When we only had enough money for one of us to get straight, I always gave it to Nancy. It was less painful to be sick myself than it was to see her sick.

When you love someone that much you cannot lose them and still be able to go on. I know that if I lived to be a thousand years old I would never find anyone like Nancy. No one can ever take her place. I love Nancy and Nancy only. I will always love her. Even after I am dead.

I have only eaten a few mouthfuls of food since she died. I may die of starvation in this place. I just hope it comes soon, so that I can be with Nancy again.

We always knew that we would go to the same place when we died. We so much wanted to die together in each other’s arms. I cry every time I think about that. I promised my baby that I would kill myself if anything ever happened to her, and she promised me the same. This is my final commitment to the one I love.

I worshipped Nancy. It was far more than just love. To me she was a goddess. She used to make me kiss her feet before we made love. No one ever loved the way we did, and to spend even a day away from her, let alone a whole lifetime, is too painful to even think about. Oh Debbie, I never knew what pain was until this happened. Nancy was my whole life. I lived for her. Now I must die for her.

It gave me such pleasure to give her anything she wanted. She was just like a child. She used to call me “daddy” when she was upset, and I used to call her “mamma” and she used to nurse me at her breast and call me her “baby boy”.

I tried to kill myself but they got me to hospital before I died. Nancy knows that I will soon be with her. Please pray that we will be together. I can never find peace until we are together again.

Oh Debbie, she was the most beautiful person I ever knew. I would have done anything for her.

Nancy once asked if I would pour petrol over myself and set it on fire if she told me to. I said I would, and I meant it. If you would happily die for someone, then how can you live without them. I can’t go on without her. She always said she would die before she was twenty-one, and I never doubted it.

Goodbye, Debbie. I love you.

Sid XXX

[nerdby]

I think toxic romance should qualify as a subgenre as horror, and I can't stand horror nerds that don't believe in subgenres. Like the kind of people who think that anything that isn't oozing shock value and gore doesn't count as "real" horror. The kind of people who say Flowers In The Attic is a psychological thriller or tragedy instead of a horror-tragedy.

Like how is tragedy not horrifying???

What is not horrifying about children being locked up, starved to death, and so completely cut off from human interaction that they develop an incestuous bond as a coping mechanism???

[zaphs-lost-cat]

I love the taste of your name in my mouth.

Even as I notice the cracks in my heart and the blood on your knuckles.

[yanderes-for-everyone]

Title: Betrayal of Dignity

Status: Ongoing

Synopsis:

Would you sacrifice your honor to marry a Duke?

In order to save her family from ruin, Chloe Verdier must find a groom for her sister, Alice. She soon runs into the handsome but arrogant Duke Thisse who makes a proposal that could save them. When Alice flees with a mysterious man, Chloe must seek out the Duke in the biggest gamble of her life. (manta)

My Thoughts:

I love puppy dog Yanderes. The ones that are sweet and simple, that are always at your beck and call. But there's just something about a manipulative bastard that really gets me going. And this man tops all the bastards I've seen so far. He's just so shameless. He's willing to do pretty much anything to get his way without regard to anyone else's feelings. I think that he probably immediately fell for the fl as soon as he saw her (though he would have never admitted that at the time), but he marries the fl in order to use her. As he get's to know her, his mild interest turns into obsession. He bulldozes his way into her heart through...you guessed it manipulation (she doesn't like him at first.) But don't worry he gets what's coming to him...fufufufu.

Anyway... he's definitely a manipulative type and I enjoyed him thoroughly, but I really love the fl. In my opinion she feels like a real person. She is so level-headed, smart, and loyal. She tries to keep and open heart and mind when engaging with other people.

But what really made this comic stick with me was the season 2 finale (I'll leave a huge spoiler in the comments if you're interested). It really sold me on the series and the fl.

And if you like smut the snu snu scenes are pretty good 🤭

Yandere Rating*: 8.5

Overall Rating: 8

*Meaning the yandere's intenseness

[fuckboysfm]

Me when the guy I’m seeing says he’s bad for me:

[dweetling]

Second Thoughts & Cold Feet

slightly suggestive but relatively tame prompts fitting for one night stands & unhealthy relationships - written by max

“Are you saying last night was a mistake?”

“Last night . . . was a mistake.”

“I’m not sure if I can go through with this.”

“It wasn’t meant to last, you and I.”

“As much as I’d love to do that again . . . I can’t.”

“As much as I loved every second of it . . . never again.”

“We really shouldn’t . . .”

“I can’t do it. I can’t quit you.”

“I’m not sure I can be with you . . . like this.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet . . .”

“What, you’re having second thoughts?”

“Does it scare you? The way I can make you feel?”

“If you want it so bad, why can’t you let yourself have it?”

“I’ve seen how this story ends. One of us gets left at an altar somewhere and the other is never the same again.”

“I want you. But I shouldn’t.”

“Damn it. I can’t do this anymore.”

[authorred]

Yandere Spencer Reid heacanons because I was inspired |Part 1|

Preface: It’s hard to imagine the upstanding, moral Spencer Reid as an obsessive, compulsive lover who would do anything and everything for your love. Lucky for you, I’m here to help you imagine.

Yandere!Spencer Reid is chefs kiss. Exactly what I need (and want awooga)

Part 2 here Part 3 here

Warning(s): Mentions of violence, stalking, kidnapping, psychological abuse, (un)willing reader (depends on if you fw this imagine), spiral into pure criminality

He is first horrified when he begins to feel the obsession or possession

When he first meets you is when he first begins to get those feelings

Tries his absolute hardest to logic his way out of it, or to control it, or to seek help

Tries his best to communicate to you as a healthy, normal person would, but he can’t help but find those thoughts creeping in again

He believes it’ll be better if you’re away from him, but his thoughts and feelings change to hardcore yearning

Knows it’s not love he’s feeling, and is potentially dangerous to you

Might spiral down into a breakdown (or a few) because of it

Will genuinely think of himself as a horrible person who thinks he can’t get help

If you try to help him he’ll vehemently decline it and will tell you it’s a bad idea

Others at the BAU try their hardest to help him, but the thoughts are still there

If Reid sees you interacting with someone who seems interested in you, his mind will implode

Will be constantly trying to justify the person’s ‘disappearance’ to himself for hours whilst alone

Will come up with the excuse that the person is dangerous to you, or has the potential to be (his calculations will be slightly skewed)

At first, he’ll ask Morgan or Hotch to help him ‘deal with’ the person, but since the person is literally innocent, they can’t do anything

He gets frustrated but brushes it off as paranoia

Spencer starts to find himself hovering near where your house is just to ‘check in’ on you to see if you’re alright

To him, he’s just being protective over you. He wants you safe

But he also knows if he springs all of his thoughts and worries on you, you’ll hate him

Whenever he thinks about you hating him he feels like he can’t breathe

He needs you to like him--love him, even

As weeks and months go by, he doesn’t fight his impulsive thoughts as much as before

Whenever you’re near, you have 100% of his attention. He barely looks away from you if you’re within his line of sight

He’s a nervous wreck when you talk

He’s scared he’ll mess up and say something that’ll fuck your friendship up

He’s not good at mincing words, so he has to carefully curate his sentences

When you smile or laugh at something he says, he feels high

When you mention someone who’s not a part of the BAU, that high disappears instantly

It’s replaced with a cold disinterest in whoever it is you’re speaking about

He tries to manipulate the conversation to see if he can pull more info out of you about the person

He takes advantage of his access to FBI equipment and software to find the person

He makes sure to cover his tracks thoroughly and will not rest until he’s sure any audit trail or history or whatever isn’t linked back to him

When he finds the person’s personal info, he finds himself ‘checking them out’

Will take walks in front of their house, or follow them

Does this for every person who’s not an overt threat

He will, however, drop whatever stalkerish shit he’s doing if you call or text him

If someone does ask you out, or you mention going on a date, or talking to a person of interest, haha

Someone’s going to die

Once Spencer gets the necessary information, he’ll stalk the person out

He might have a conversation with them, profile them, and then talk about their relationship to you

He’s more than likely not strong enough to physically overpower a person of above-average strength, but he’s got the brains to make the odds even

Will create an elaborate plan to get the person to come to him instead

Whenever he does manage to kidnap/isolate the person, he won’t kill them immediately

He’d have a genuine heart-to-heart with them

He’d say you’re his. He’ll say he’s yours, and whoever tries to take you away (be it romantically or otherwise) will be met with a steep response. He’ll say he loves you, and will do anything to be sure you’re with him, and only him

Probably kills the person by slitting their throat. A bullet is too easily identifiable

He’ll comfort you if you’re saddened by your date’s/person of interest’s disappearance

When you hug him, his entire body goes hot

He hugs you tightly (probably a bit too tight)

He verbally comforts you as best he can, and assures you you’ll go on other dates (hopefully with him)

He’ll gently rock you if you’re hugging for a long time

If you pull away first, he’ll try to keep you in the hug, but will let go if you push him away

He’ll let you sleep on him, and he’ll stare at you while you do

He’ll think to himself about how beautiful you are, and how you deserve everything, and how much you deserve him especially

He gets a lot pushier after that, especially when it comes to you getting close with others

Will physically hover closer to you

Will glower at anyone who looks at you a certain way

Will never let you privy to these thoughts and habits and behaviors of his until he’s sure you can handle/accept them

He will definitely try to gaslight you and/or emotionally manipulate you if he thought it’d make you like/trust him more

You’d trust him, most likely. He’s Spencer mf Reid, why wouldn’t you

He wouldn’t psychologically manipulate/abuse you that much, and wouldn’t physically put his hands on you unless he had to

He notices the obsessive and compulsive thoughts calm when he’s around you, so he wants you next to him almost 24/7

Gets very disenchanted and uninterested when you’re not around

The team believes him to be down bad

They think he’s a puppy in love with you and find it adorable

Will mention you often to get him engaged

Sometimes he’ll just push through a case due to the thought of seeing you after

If he gets injured on a case, his first and only thought would be his desire to not die and leave you behind. Anything else comes secondary

If you’re a mother figure, or give off ‘motherly’ vibes, that’ll make this worse

If you initiate any form of physical contact, he will beam

Literally treats you like an actual god(dess) (aside from the occasional emotional manipulation but yk)

[namranii]

Girl I'm loving the blog revamp 😝 also now I have a BLUE goldfish called Frank Ocean 🤭 and my sister has a white one called Britney Spears

tysm!! btw idk what happened to ur gary smith request so i have to answer it on this one..

great fish names

——————————————————————————————————-

dating gary smith ⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃🎐 ⋆

﹒ ◠ headcanons start here ⊹ ﹒

˖⋆࿐໋warning: toxic/abusive relationship˖⋆࿐໋

has an odd fascination with war criminals and nazis (explains the nazi halloween costume doesn’t it?)

extremely emotional when he’s on his medication, it makes him cry like a baby and that’s why he hates taking them so much.

physical violence is something that he relies on, especially when “keeping you in line.” he wont go too far, just a slap or something.

occasionally, he will show love to you. and by love i mean he will be very clingy and possessive.

sometimes he will realize that what he’s doing is just a “tiny bit wrong” but thinks that its too late to apologize to you anyway.

its canon that either his father or grandfather got kicked out of bull worth academy, but for this sake let’s just say it was his father…

its also implied that his parents were/are abusive in some way, because in the start when he mentions that one of his problems were his parents. i feel like this would’ve affected a majority of his life, especially in relationships.

uses some sort of drugs but refuses to smoke cigars because he thinks its stupid.

[the-bar-sinister]

The inherent romance of the toxic, doomed relationship where the participants have been making each other miserable for years. Where the love has turned to bitterness and thorns and poison and spite, but they refuse to completely give up on one another.

The eyes meeting in silence.

The single touch of each other's hands after a long time with no contact.

The rough gestures of romantic intent that come with no apologies.

[spenglersglasses]

⌛⚙️ What a lovely day..... ⚙️⌛

Listen, lol I had to! Anyways already friends, here is my first and maybe my only venture into the world of Mad Max with a focus on my favorite character, Immortan Joe.

I am really excited to get this too you and as with all my fics I will update as I am able and inspired to make sure I am giving you my all every time.

**This fic will be an AU! Mostly I will try to stay canon but there will be some conflicts and reimaginings. This includes themes as listed in the tags, if any of this doesn't sit well with you, please skip this one!**

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️Discussion about RAPE/FORCED PREGNANCY/VIOLENCE/VARIOUS DISTRUBING SUBJECTS⚠️

Listen you are reading a fic with Immortan Joe, it should be pretty obvious. but that being said if you are still here, I sincerely hope you all enjoy!

Thank you so much for reading!

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the awesome dividers!

Glimmer in the Wasteland

Many years after the Citadel was conquered and seized by him, the Immortan Joe longs to feel something besides the pain and anguish of the world. Desperate to secure his legacy by siring an heir, he decides that now is the time before it becomes too late. Meanwhile a young woman named Corrine is separated from her group in the Wasteland and captured by the War Boys. When Corrine awakens within the fortress of the Citadel, her world changes when she has an encounter with the deeply feared and infamous warlord.

Chapter 1: God and the Scavenger

Immortan Joe struggles with his inevitable mortality and makes a life changing decision. A young woman, Corrine is separated from her scavenging group in the Wasteland during an attack and is captured by the War Boys.

Also available HERE on AO3.

Will eventually be very NSFW below the cut!!

It had finally happened. A spot—tingling. A pang of pain threatening that a sore would soon be sprouting up along the outer edge of his back. 

It would be the first outward effects of the nuclear fallout Joe would bear. One that no amount of salvaged antiseptics and alcohol washes could stave off. Lesions caused by a cancer too tenacious to be contained as it slowly ate at him from inside. Suddenly he, the Immortan, felt all too mortal.

“It is time.” The People Eater spurred him. Joe, nodding as the War Pups covered him in powder. HIs already pale skin turned ghostly white. Adorned in his pauldrons and chest plate, molded in plexiglass and covered in his former accolades, as he took to his feet. 

His long, ghastly white hair, flowing in the harsh wind as he approached the balcony. Ready to address the wretched below as they waited for the life-giving water. The people of the Citadel, all but decaying in the heat and waste of what was left of the world they all inhabited. Desperate for things, once taken for granted. 

As they stood waiting, the man they called “God”, began rolling his neck side to side. Hoping to release some of the tension in his shoulders. Held there from the weight of his breathing apparatus. His piercing blue eyes staring out into the Citadel under blackened lids. Tired and weary. The rest of his face concealed beneath the grim of his mask. Cold, chrome and equine teeth bordered by hoses for breathing. He looked as frightening as he did mighty, standing before them. 

The whole of the crowd below, cheering as they saw his silhouette appear beside his son, Rictus, and the People Eater. The People Eater leaned over to his commander's side. Holding up the shining microphone as Joe took hold of the aquifer valve levers in his hands. The time of placation, arriving once again. 

“It is through me that you will all find salvation. Through me that you will ascend. Rising above the rot and filth of this life…before moving on to the next…” Joe began. The people below crying out his name, Rictus clapping incessantly. Joe shot him a look, stopping him mid applause. The feebleness of Rictus’s diseased mind, growing more apparent each day.  

“Please sir, go on.” The People Eater nudged. Joe returned his attention to his task. Frustrated and angry that he had to speak at all. 

“...You shall drink of the Aqua Cola and remember who gave you this gift…” Joe continued, pulling the levers and listening to the gears as they twisted and turned. The water cascading down upon the wretched below. 

“That’s right. The Immortan is the redeemer!” the Prime Imperator shouted. Joe’s hold on the people of the Citadel renewed as the vapor from the water found its way upon his face. A cool mist that fed what was left of his own soul.  

Joe closed his eyes to revel in the feel of it on his skin when suddenly, the fury building inside him returned. The moment of solace, short lived as Joe began yanking back hard on the levers. The flow, shutting down as he removed himself from the room without another word. Leaving Rictus, the People Eater, the Prime Imperator, and his son’s Colossus and Scrotus confused.

“You had better go see what is wrong with Dad, Eater.” Colossus suggested from his small, makeshift chair. His diseased and deformed body, struggling to move itself. Swiveling back around to his telescope as he watched the scene below.  

“Of course, sir.” the People Eater replied as he fiddled with the chain that connected his nipples. Smiling and sending a nod to his ruler’s sons as before making his way out to find him. 

The pain was excruciating. Like an explosion that was still going off inside her head. Corrine opened her eyes to find darkness. She began to tremble, the fear—immediately settling in. Where am I? She thought.

Her whole life she had only known struggle. The abrasive grit of the sand and the heat of the unencumbered sun. The place she was now, it was different. The air still and the calm and there were drops of something coming from above her. It was cool and crisp like water across her skin. 

It was jarring. It had been so long since she'd had anything but the sensation of sweat running over her. Her body, more recently than ever before, in a constant state of dehydration and hunger. Life in the Wasteland wasn't easy, especially for a scavenger. 

Her people had been lucky. For years managing to gather enough supplies to keep the true horrors at bay. A hearty people, but kind despite their hard way of life. Corrine was born after the world ended, twisting into desolation and undeserving perdition.

It seemed now her luck had run out. Only flashes, sensations, and fragmented images remained from what had happened. She could remember the days before. Traveling across the endless sands and dirt plains. 

They were out together, the crew she knew as her brethren, scouring a deserted camp for ever dwindling supplies. Their trip, having gone on far longer than expected. Having strayed days away from their home. They had set up a camp for the night, ready to find their way back once the sun returned to the horizon.  

All seemed well until the sound of revving engines came out from the darkness. Her eyes shut open. Corrine quickly got to her feet and exited her tent. Running as fast as she could through the sand. Listening to the others crying out for help, before the sounds of malicious laughter began filling the night air. 

It was the War Boys. Until then they had only been a story. A tale told to the youngest of her colony as a warning not to venture far. A warning she regretted not having heeded.  

Was she being held captive by them? Why was she spared instead of the others? How long was she out? There was nothing else she could remember before things went black. No way to know for sure where she’d been taken. 

She could hear the metal clanking of the chains as she shifted around. The sound, rattling mercilessly in her ears. Her head, now pounding full force as she tried to stand. Feeling the wet, bloody knot that hid within her hair. 

“Ssss...agh.” She groaned as her fingers grazed the spot.  When she felt she had her footing, Corrine began scanning the walls. Feeling the rock beneath her hands as she tries to find a way out of the darkness. She continued until in an instant she was suddenly blinded. 

“Who's there?” 

“Hmph…” groaned someone in the darkness. A man, only barely coming into focus as Corrine felt her heart pounding in her chest. Wanting to flee, the sight of his shotgun barrel held out in front her. His pale, sunken face smiling behind it.

“Yes…yes, you'll do just fine. A gift, a delightful gift.” he said gleefully. In an instant a chill shot through her spine. Horrified at what was to come. 

“Where am I?!” She yelled, tears flowing down over her cheeks. The man disappeared and before she knew it, Corrine was listening to the sound of a metal. Clunking and scraping that rang out with the slam of a door. The War Boy’s ‘delightful gift’ realizing she was once again alone in the darkness. 

Joe paced the floor of his rooms—slowly and methodically. Every step, filled with harsh contemplation. Only noticing briefly that the People Eater had followed him in. 

“Sir? What is it? What are you thinking?” The Eater asked, wondering what could be brewing in his mind. Wondering if the Immortan was concocting a new way of cultivating crops? Maybe a strategy for expanding the War Boys’ lifespans—something more than just the unlucky blood bags they'd culled from the wasteland. The truth however was far more intrinsic, more primal. 

“Leave me.” Joe said, his voice level and his eyes fixed into the space before him. Focused on something abstract, but to him something completely clear.

“Maybe I could be of some help.” The Eater continued.

“I think I'm ready to try again.” the Immortan explained, the Eater’s eyes widening. He knew better than most what was truly important to Joe. One thing that his power and all the guzzolene the world could muster wouldn’t give him—a healthy child. 

“What's that sir?” he asked him still, hoping that it might be something else. 

“You know exactly what.” Joe chided. The hurt and angry present in his eyes. 

“Are you…are you sure sir? We were fortunate enough with Rictus and Scrotus. It’s been years since—”

“I am aware.” Joe growled, turning quickly to face his comrade. The memories of his failures, fresh in his mind. The People Eater did his best to swallow back his reservations, mostly in fear of the thrashing that the disobedience might incite. 

“Immortan, I come with news.” the Prime Imperator said, bursting into the room with a smile spread wide across his face. 

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?!” the Eater yelled. 

“Some of the boys returned last night, riding high and proud. They found a group of foragers out in the wasteland.” he continued, both the Eater and Joe intrigued.

“Anything worth salvaging?” the Eater asked. 

“The men didn’t last long enough to see the rocky formations but the other one they found—” he boasted before pausing for a breath.

“Go on.” Joe told him.

“The other one is a woman—a young woman.” The imperator finished. The People Eater let out a chuckle. 

“Sir…it seems fate may be on your side.” The Eater finished. Immortan Joe's eyes held a glimmer of hope within them as he approached the imperator. Grabbing him by the bandana on his neck. Burning a hole through his eyes with his stare.

You had better not be joking.” Joe growled. His ally, shaking his head and throwing up in hands in protest of the accusation. “Good. Eater, send for Miss Giddy and have her ready the vault. I shall seek an audience with this acquired treasure tomorrow at dawn. "

 “Come up, get up now. Get up. We haven't much time.” said a soft voice. Corrine groaned, rolling over on the ground. In and out of consciousness as the sweet tone of the woman’s voice calmed her. It was similar to her mother's and Corrine was devastated when her eyes opened to find a strange old woman, covered head to toe in inscriptions, and not her mother staring back at her. 

“Time?” She absentmindedly repeated, head still aching from the trauma of the day before.

“Yes…we need to move you to the vault. We must bathe and dress you before he arrives.” The woman explained, helping Corrine to her feet and walking her down a long winding hall. Stopping only once they arrived at a large vault door. So large Corrine had never seen anything like it. 

“What is this?” she asked. The woman, pulling the already unlocked door out before them revealing the beautiful scene within. 

“This is your new home.” she explained, nudging her inside. Corrine was in awe; in all her life she’d never seen a place so beautiful. The ceiling, open to the sky. The sun, beginning to rise in the distance and illuminating the room. Its rays shimmering off the large crystal chandelier that hung from above a piano, just opposite the room. 

There was a small watering pool along the ground. Flowing steadily like a stream. And there were books—lots of them. Oh the knowledge they held, she thought to herself. Would she be able to actually read them? 

Then there was another room. One with beds, real pillows, and clean linens. It was all too much to take in, her eyes beginning to tear. It just didn’t make sense, none of it. 

In such violence she’d been brought to this place, one of beauty and all the comforts she had otherwise been denied. But why? “Got it all fixed up for you my dear. Come, come. Let Miss Giddy help you in.” she beckoned, helping Corrine remove her tattered scraps of clothing. What was left of them, covered in blood and dirt. Then finally into the pool of water. 

“Giddy?” she asked, before gasping as the cool water surrounding her. Kneeling in the water in only her underwear. 

“Yes, little bird. I will be your caretaker. Get you everything you need.” she assured her. The woman easing Corrine’s fears as she washed her hair. Missy Giddy kept mostly quiet, careful to not disclose too much. Corrine knew answers would come in time, but worried she might not care for what those answers may be. 

Once the water ran clear of the grit and soil washed from her hair, Miss Giddy helped Corrine out from the pool. Allowing her to balance with a hand on her shoulder as she tried to dry off. Then getting her dressed in a white muslin ensemble. The fabric, billowy and light on her curvy frame.

Afterward Corrine sat beside the water as Miss Giddy brushed through her hair. It was long, wavy and a bit unruly after having been matted from the blood and sand. Corrine wincing as the brush tugged at the skin surrounding her wound. Miss Giddy did her best to be gentle and thankfully finished without too much of a fuss.

“Thank you.” Corrine said as she pulled her knees to her chest. “Miss Giddy.”

“Yes?”

“What am I?” Corrine began when the door opened, and a man stepped in. He was tall and impressive. Dressed in clothing, the likes of which she had never seen. An intimidating mask concealing the majority of the lower half of his face. His eyes, however, blindingly blue, staring at her.   

“Leave us Miss Giddy.” he commanded, it was clear to Corrine that whoever he was, he was calling the shots. Without hesitation the old woman left, leaving Corrine and the mysterious man alone in the vault. 

“What is your name?” he asked, Corrine feeling her heart pounding with both intrigue and fear. 

“What's it to you?” she asked back, still unsure of what circumstances she had found herself in. Clutching the wrap of the dress within her fists. The nerves, as clear on her as the orange hue of the sky.  

“I am not going to harm you.” he told her, slowly approaching as he grabbed a chair from along the wall and brought it to sit beside her. Corrine frozen in fear, wondering what he might do next. 

“Is that so? What if I don’t want you to know my name.” Corrine asked, careful not to make eye contact. Feeling the breath halting inside her chest with each passing second in his presence. 

“Then what am I to call you?” 

“Uh…It's…It’s Corrine.” she finally told him. Her eyes, unable to help but meet with him. The two of them locked on to one another. Sparking green and crystal blue orbs, fixed on one another—no way of turning back now. The man shifted in the chair, the movement causing Corrine to flinch. 

“Hmph…an unusual name to be sure.” he said, brows piqued. 

“It was my great grandmother's.” Corrine explained. So entranced at the sight of him, at the sound of his deep, thick voice that she wondered if she’d said anything at all. 

“I see. Well, here you shall be given a new name to go with a new life.” he began. The words forcing a knot to swell in Corrine’s throat. “Give me your hand.” 

“I—” Corrine began but could not find the words. The man, reaching out his hand for hers to take. Reluctantly she took it, the man helping her up from her spot on the ground. The two of them standing together, intensely facing one another head on. 

“We shall call you the Fray.” he proclaimed as he felt the roughness of her hands. A sign of her life spent laboring out in the unforgiving wasteland. A wasteland he would save her from. His gaze, softening as he looked at her. 

A soft heart-shaped face, clear skin with no sign of disease. Emerald-colored eyes that were kind and gentle. As his sights continued to travel along her body, he took note of her large breasts and hips. Everything about her suggested she was perfect, full-life, and fertile.

There was more to her, and he could tell. The way she spoke with him, despite her fear. A hint of strength beneath a thinly veiled exterior. An observation that spoke to him, in ways he couldn’t quite comprehend. 

Corrine took in a deep breath; it was more than obvious he was sizing her up for something. This man whose name she didn’t know, though he now knew hers. As she exhaled, she summoned the courage to ask him.

“And what…what is your name?” she inquired. Watching a change in the man’s demeanor. The soft look, growing more sinister as he pulled her towards him. Now only inches from the haunting mask on his face. 

“It's Joe.”

Notes: Aqua Cola- WaterRe Guzzolene- gasoline

[crabmeatcute]

AHHH I just love fucked up romances with a lot of lying and deception - but only when both sides of the romance are liars!!

I love it when they’re both good liars!!

I love secret machinations and hidden agendas, I love when the secrecy is because they want safety and power at the same time

I love characters who are used to getting away with their lies having ONE PERSON who can see through them and becoming obsessed with them for it

I love characters who are such good liars bc they learned by lying to themselves every day to survive

I love stories about repression and unearthing, when the removal of masks is more intimate than the removing of clothes

I love stories where they’re in love with both the “true self” but ALSO become a fan of the mask, because through the mask they learn the truth

I love stories where they engage with the rules of the mask and double speak to let them know I CAN SEE YOU

Just AHHHHH it’s so compelling!!!!!!

[bitemedatingsim]

If you ever wanted queer, trans, disabled, and poc rep in the vampire media, you'll love our indie game🦇

Win the hearts of the Kymiagar family to convince them to spare your life. Otherwise, you'll be their blood bag tonight🩸

Check it out on itch io!!

[nerdby]

Dude, you have got to be seriously fucking dense to think Interview With The Vampire wasn't always gay as fuck. It's literally about two dudes that love sucking on body parts living alone and adopting a kid together. That is not a subtle metaphor.