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odoraful · 3 months

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I'm not scared.ᐟ

it's a cosy saturday night. rain gently patters against the windows. you set up a small projector in your bedroom and decide to play a horror game with your boyfriend while snuggling in bed.

characters: zayne, xavier, rafayel content: headcanons, established relationship, no in-depth details of anything scary (however, there are descriptions of the type of horror game they play!) a/n: tbh i’m not the biggest fan of horror games, but i do enjoy peoples' reactions to playing them, so i thought it’d be fun to picture how the boys would play hehe

𝒁𝑨𝒀𝑵𝑬

You're playing an exploration-focused game set in a hospital. The main character is a patient who seems to be having visions of their past.

You take the controls, and he lets you sit in his lap. Only if you get too scared or rage quits does he take the controller from you to play.

“No!” You cry out when the hiding spot you put your character in is discovered by the creature. You bury your face into Zayne’s arm, frightened by the sudden attack.

Defeated, you hang your head and wordlessly raise the controller towards him.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you to take it from your hands. “I’m guessing that means you’re tapping out for now?”

Snuggling deeper into his chest, you sigh. “Yep, you’re subbing in.”

Zayne manoeuvres the character carefully around the abandoned hospital and you hold your breath. The silence of his concentration is occasionally broken by your gasp seeing the creature stalking right past the character. Miraculously, he manages to evade and escape on his first try.

“We did it!” You cheer with relief.

“We?" He lifts a brow. "If I’m not mistaken, I was the one holding the controller.”

“Well, I was your emotional support!”

If he is scared, he never lets it show. Rather than screams, the most you’ll get out of him is a slight flinch or a curse under his breath. He actually seems to be more frustrated than frightened.

He’s an ace detective when it comes to putting clues together and figuring out the mystery! Lowkey a lore gatherer.

“I see… so these hallucinations are simply a manifestation of the main character’s guilt.” He's absorbed in the inventory screen, sifting through all the collected notes and letters. “Zayne, I think we’ve spent more time reading than actually playing...”

𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹

You’re playing a survival game set in space. The main character is a lone astronaut on a space station who must defeat an extraterrestrial monster.

You two alternate between who’s in charge of controls based on each save point.

When he does get scared, he reacts by dodging out of the way in real life as if the alien is actually coming through the screen.

Xavier doesn’t have the most experience with video games, so it takes him a little bit to understand the mechanics. Despite this inexperience, he still clutches it anyway. It also pushes him to try over and over again even if he fails multiple times.

"Xavier, let me have a go at it if you can’t get past this.”

This is his third go at defeating the monster in the final stage of the game. He shakes his head fervently. “I can do this. If you think about it, this is just like evading a wanderer’s attacks.” There’s a determined look in his eyes. “I should be good at this.”

You poke his shoulder. “Well, the problem is that the character in-game doesn’t have your evol to help them out.”

Xavier hums thoughtfully. “They have a sword though. I know how to use a sword.”

The innocence of his tone strikes you through your heart and you can't say anything to refute his logic. Maybe real-life sword skills can transfer to in-game controls. You give in. “Okay, you get one more go at it! I know you can do this."

Your encouragement renews his spirit. He lifts up a fist. “I’ll get it this time for sure.”

Easily gets side tracked from the main quest and wants to explore every nook and cranny. Collectables and achievements? This might be the first time Xavier stays awake because he’s getting a one-hundred percent completion rate.

Questions the survivability of the main character and the realism of the situation.

How can drinking medicine instantaneously cure the character’s wounds? How is the character still walking after being bitten in the leg? Beings from a different planet don’t actually look like this you know…

𝑹𝑨𝑭𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑳

You’re playing an indie game set in an abandoned mansion. The main character has inherited this house from their grandfather, who was a wealthy collector of occult art pieces.

He wants to be in-charge of all the controls and lets you cuddle against his side. You observe his gameplay like you're watching a movie.

Tries his best to maintain his composure to show you just how calm, cool and collected he can be. However, he ends up jumping around every corner he turns.

He either moves really slowly because he can’t stand not knowing where the phantoms are lurking, or will charge straight in to get it over and done with.

“This doesn’t scare me. I’m just being cautious,” he’ll say defensively, leaning into your shoulder more as he slowly moves the controls to pan the camera around the empty room. His efforts are futile as the phantom zooms past the open door behind the character, accompanied by a piercing sound cue.

Rafayel’s shriek drowns out yours, as your scream swiftly turns into a fit of laughter.

“Your scream scared me more-” your words come out in bits and pieces between your cackles, “than the actual jumpscare!"

He’s red in the face, offended by how amused you were at his suffering.

“My life is in mortal danger, and you’re laughing at me?!” He tries to stay indignant, but he can’t help but crack a smile at how lost in laughter you are.

Has a genuine appreciation for the art direction of the game. He loves how atmospheric it is and compliments the stylistic choices. He actually chose this game just because the reviews raved about how good the visuals were.

“This is a nice house, like look at all this antique decor. You think we could live in a place like this someday?” You shiver. “A haunted mansion infested with ghosts? I think I’ll pass…”

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shower-phantom-ideas · 10 months

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Yall don’t understand how obsessed I am with Danny messing with the Justice League. Like just pranking them mad wild. Or “haunting” them.

Maybe it starts as a mistake. Someone was getting close to him and he just vanished. Maybe he was walking around one of their cities cause he wanted to “see how a real hero does it” but tried to stay out of the way.

Hes following Superman and doesn’t realise hes been had. Superman keeps seeing this odd child on the edge of his vision. It’s only weird because of how quickly he is traveling. He should be followed like this. So he tests it out and flys off to somewhere far off, but secluded. Edge of some farm land would work. Trying to not give it away he doesn’t make a show of looking for the boy. He then spots him. His eyes slightly glowing as he stands in the edge of the woods. Clark focused on the boy and hears slight breaths but nothing else. Which he should have realised sooner was wrong.

He returned to the team to report this odd being following him. To also warn everyone else to be on look out just incase.

Weirdly enough it was the Flash who noticed him next. Even weirder was that he could never get close. Even with his speed which was alarming.

Cyborg started seeing the kid too. He tried using cameras to get a better look at him but nothing ever showed up. Always missing was the boy from the video. Sometimes the whole video would get distort.

Wonder Woman probably got the closest as she used a fight to get “thrown” in his direction. She got close enough to see worry about her. He seemed so concerned and like he was going to step in until he met her gaze. A whole new kind of fear crossed his features. Then he was gone.

Everyone of the main team (and even some not) reporting in of spotting the kid except for Batman. And he looked. He tried everything to see if he was being followed like the rest but nothing. He read their reports on their encounters and tried to emulate it but never saw the boy. Maybe it was all a big prank being pulled on him? He couldn’t rule it out. Still he kept up constant watch.

Then one night he was out and got into a fight. Distracted by looking for the kid he got messy. Or maybe the criminals got desperate but he didn’t notice the rocket launcher being targeted on him in time and it fired. Only then did he notice it. No time to fully get out of the way he braced for the worst. When all of a sudden a body slammed into him shoving him out of the way of the blast. They rolled onto the ground. Bruce quickly recovered and looked for his saviour. On the ground, blown slightly to his left by the explosion was a black haired teen in a white t-shirt. Before he could move the boy groaned and looked right at Bruce. The haunting blue eyes meeting his even with the mask in the way the boy knew just where to look. He was about to speak when the boys eyes went wide with fear and then nothing. The boy just vanished into this air. Bruce didn’t have much time to be stunned by this as the thugs before started to cheer, thinking they had finished off the Bat. So he went to make quick work of them before any could get away. Well now he knows hes being followed too

Danny just freaking out about Batman seeing his face. Turns out he never followed Batman unless fully invisible. All he wanted was to see how “real” heros did it. And it had been helping him with his fighting. To see how the pros are. He was always worried the “worlds greatest detective” would figure him out though so he stayed hidden. Also maybe hes a bit of a fan. I made Wonder Woman get the closest cause shes his fav probably.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #how do I tag this one lads #it’s been so long #do I tag the justice league?#idk who cares I guess lmao #im obsessed #like I love dp x dc #plus I have been dying to post for yall #miss yall so much

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itsvelyria · 3 months

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"types of smiles the f1 boys would love from their s/o"

happy show-your-loved-ones-you-love-them day!! 🤍🤎

Charles Leclerc

the shy smile: he fell in love with you when he saw that smile for the first time. he always knew you were too good, too nice to this cruel world and despite all the hardships you’d faced, you somehow still retained that innocence from childhood. that shy smile, all gentle and modest — he liked to think you reserved it solely for him, made his heart flutter like a schoolboy with their first crush all over again. your lowered eyes, radiating a certain charm he could never put to words. it was like he was cleansed from all the negativity that accompanied his line of work. maybe it would be better to say he was your devoted follower, begging his goddess for just a glimpse of her smile every so often.

Carlos Sainz

the loving smile: it wasn’t like Carlos had never had a crush before, hell he’s been in a long-term relationship before. but never has he felt the pull to you so strong before, even as you are right across him, laughing at something his sister said. his mind can only focus on the way your eyes sparkle at dinner with his family, mapping the crinkles beside them. and as the gaze he is dying to have land on him does, the bright smile shifts, edges softening into fondness, the slight raise of your eyebrows asking what he needed. he reaches across the table, greedily needing to feel your warmth too, wanting this moment to last forever.

Danny Ricciardo

the smirk: he can see it taunting him even from a few feet away, in the neon pink glow of the club. you were teasing him, challenging him after a casual remark about how you had no game. the glances you send up at the second level where he hung by the railing shoots sparks of green fury in him. he should have known better; you were nothing if not confident and it was evident in the guy you had been grinding against for the past 15 minutes. he hated everything about this, his skin felt like it was on literal fire, and he had half a mind to go down to the floor to drag you away. perhaps Max had a point, maybe he needed to face the reality that he had feelings for you.

George Russell

the warm smile: miles away from your hometown, new cities every week, away from everything and everyone he'd ever known, you were his anchor. your presence grounded him when it felt like the world was spiralling away and he had absolutely no control over anything. he waited as you spoke to a member of the team, the warm smile on your face taking the tension out of the new girl. it was the same smile you brought to restaurants and parties, making the people around feel at home. it was the same smile you gave him in his moments of uncertainty. you bounded over happily, saying something about the same school, with the new girl trailing behind and as he smiled at his colleague, something in his brain told him that things may change and ebb away but your smile could never.

Lando Norris

the proud smile: his whole life, he’s been working to be the best – to stand on the topmost step of the podium and hold that trophy up, to have people acknowledge him as a great driver, the best in the world. and he’s one step closer, the first race win of his career, a step towards greater things. he could feel the elation emitting from his entire team, but the pats on his back and cheers from his team couldn’t compare with that beam on your face. even all the way up on the podium, the only thing he was focused on was your face and how it resembled a mother hen looking on her chick. he pumps the trophy higher, the sense of pride bursting in his chest and all he could think about was how he was going to be a better driver, a better man, for you.

Lewis Hamilton

the comforting smile: it was the slightest tilt of your lips, the light from his nightstand outlining the soft frame of your body. the smile in your voice was easy to detect even as he laid his head on your tummy, exhausted from a long day of endless meetings and emails. sometimes, he wonders why he works so hard. his life has already amounted to so much and he had accumulated enough life experience to know the most important thing was family and his sweetheart. and then its nights like this, when the world beyond your sanctuary is dead asleep and everything fades away, leaving only what mattered: the gentle vibration under his head and your sweet lullaby and smile telling him nothing was more important than this moment right now.

Max Verstappen

the smiling eyes: the Internet had never been a nice place to him. sneers and belittling comments deterring him from ever going on there if he had a choice. but as a 3-time World Champion, his social media obligations were more important than before. when you two started dating, he wanted to keep it private. everything bad in the world, in his opinion, had no chance of ever hurting you as long as he was around. which is also why he never brought you to races. the fewer the interactions between you, the less there was for the media to scrutinize. but it was moments like this, as the camera pans to you in the garage. your face is hidden but your eyes are bright and admiring him in his element, your name broadcasted with his beneath, told to whoever was watching, that he bookmarks the image in his mind.

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lovemly4 · 2 months

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Hi there! Not sure if you're open for request but if you dont, feel free to ignore 😅 my request will be lando x reader, whereby he's dating a very shy reader so its normal for her to want to keep their relationship very private. However, one day, reader told lando that she's ready to watch him race and support him irl and it makes him so so happy and both of them were smiley and giggly while walking on the paddock. Hope that's okay!

I’m here with you - Lando Norris

word count: 841 ; genre: fluff ; pairing: Lando Norris x reader ; warnings: none, just teeth rotting fluff ☆

Note: Hii, of course requests are open!! And this is so cute omfg, i feel like Lando would be super respectful of you boundaries, but his eyes would light up when you tell him that you’re ready to support him in person to his races.

Wednesday, Nov 29th, 2023

My heart jumped at the sound of the front door opening. It had been three days since the Abu Dhabi GP, and during our time apart we tried to contact each other every time we could.

“My darling, i missed you so much” he exclaimed against my shoulder as I hugged him, inhaling his familiar perfume. I felt a little bad at his words, a little thunder striking through my heart.

Despite being in a relationship with him for four months already, I’ve never felt ready enough to make it public; but what was I so afraid of? I didn’t really know, actually.

I feared that people would come at me, telling me that I wasn’t enough, that he deserved someone better, maybe? Yes, most definitely.

Something held me back, despite my wish to make him the happiest man in the world.

“I missed you too Lan, I’m sorry i wasn’t able to be there with you” I apologized, my hand making its way to his cheek.

He smiled comprehensively.

“You don’t need to apologize love, I know. I would never force you into something you don’t feel comfortable doing” He said in a tone a little louder than just a whisper.

I placed a little peck on his lips, and reached out to help him with his luggages.

Friday, Feb 23rd, 2024

I looked at the tallest shelf in our shared walk-in closet, carefully choosing Lando’s shirts.

My face assumed a concentrated look, as the man walked in behind me placing his hand on my waist.

“Sweetheart, we don’t need to put so much effort in choosing my clothes, you know? I’ll probably be wearing my suit most of the time, anyway” he chuckled, stroking my side.

“I know Lan, but it’s the first race of the season! You must look good!” I talked back, reaching for the Quadrant shirt.

I followed him out of the closet, laying his shirt flat beside his joggers.

I studied him silently as he was organizing the space in his bag.

“…Lando, will you be alone in Bahrain?” i asked hesitantly, nervously playing with the hem of my sleeve.

“Oh no, my team will be there, of course. Zack will arrive two days later than me, he mentioned a problem with his son or something. I’ll meet Oscar outside the airport there.”

I stayed hushed, quietly working out my thoughts as he locked the luggage.

“What if… What if i come with you? To Bahrain. To the race.” i tried to ask, timidly hiding my hands in my pockets.

He turned to me all of a sudden, eyes wide open like a deer caught in headlights.

“Did i heard that right? You’re not joking, are you? Are you serious?” he spoke quickly, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of what he had just heard.

I laughed at his reaction as he took my hands in his.

“Are you really sure y/n? I don’t want you to regret this. I won’t complain if you change your mind.” he sat me on the edge of our shared bed, reassuring me with kind words.

“I’ve never been so sure, Lan. I think it’s about time, i want to cheer you in person and show you all my support” i warmly smiled, and he started bouncing like a little boy. He bursted out of the room before i could process something to say.

“Where are you going?” i shouted, keeping an ear out to detect his distant voice.

“To take your bags!”

Saturday, Mar 2nd, 2024, present day.

A light breeze sways my dress, as I hold Lando’s hand through the paddock.

He never stopped chuckling like a baby since we’ve landed, and now he’s introducing me to every soul on the track.

He walks me to the garage, running to his car and patting the big “4” in the front.

“This is her. Isn’t she beautiful? Hopefully she’ll be a good girl on the track.” I laugh at his seriousness and he copies me, placing his arm around my waist.

“Look, this is where you’re going to sit during the race. You can hear me through the headset. Those are all the monitors through which you can see me. If you need something, let the guys know ok?”

I squeeze his hand reassuringly, and his mind seems to stop wandering for a moment. He has always been so good at hiding his thoughts and feelings, but the quick rise and fall of his chest betrays his calmness.

“Lan, breathe. I’m fine, you’re fine. We’re fine. And most importantly, we’re here together.”

One of the engineers calls for Lando and Oscar, but the light in his eyes is peaceful now.

“I love you. Thank you for being here with me”

I kiss him deeply, and watch him run away with his teammate.

The red lights go out.

The race finally begins, and he couldn’t be happier. He feels safe, and he’s so grateful to have by his side someone so brave and caring.

No matter how it goes, the only thing he cares to win is your heart.

#lando norris #f1 fluff #f1 smut #requests #f1 x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 drivers #f1 drivers x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #fanfic #fluff #f1 drivers fluff #f1 drivers smut #requests are open

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uncouth-the-fifth · 2 days

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i'd like to report a crime - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: anxious work stress + leon comfort!!, leon being a fucking goober Notes: when i'm at work I'm always picturing him swooping in to save me...... leon kennedy if you can hear me please protect me from 9-5 hell... and like I said before, I would LOVE requests or prompts for this fic, I have so many ideas but I can't commit to any of them lol.

Standing in the bullpen at work today, you had a thought. Maybe they called it “medieval torture” because that was a whole lot catchier than “a shitty day at the busiest police precinct in Washington DC.”

It certainly felt like medieval torture to you. Before you’d even stepped into your big girl pants this morning, you knew that today was going to suck. Plain and simple. Suck. Yet another presidential event was bringing the Secret Service’s jurisdiction into your already hectic station, meaning that big square dudes in suits were going to be breathing down your neck until quitting time. You had three huge active cases that needed your attention. One of those cases came pre-packaged with a deeply annoying lawyer, who, in your professional opinion, has his head shoved a foot up his ass. He will absolutely be showing up to bother you today.

And worst of all: in your haste to get to work (Leon had put some serious effort into making you late), you’d accidentally worn a pair of super uncomfortable shoes! So now every waking moment of your existence was bonafide torture.

Clamping your jaw, you glance up from the paperwork in front of you and check your watch. Three o’clock. Right, okay, you can work with that.

You slap your hands down on your desk as you push out of your seat, and it gets a satisfying yelp out of the man sitting cross-legged beside it. He bristles up like a porcupine and nasally complains, “Where are you going, Detective Kennedy? You said we could—”

“Coffee, Douglas,” you bite back to said lawyer.

The last thing you want right now is some of the lousy, watered-down coffee from the station’s breakroom, but taking mini-breaks at your desk is just not an option anymore. Douglas has been camped out there from the moment you clocked in, and since you both refuse to budge, he’s going to stay there. Breakroom it is. You wince the whole way there, cursing your shoes from hell.

Someone forgot to start another pot of joe, so you have the absolute pleasure of doing it yourself. A small blessing in disguise, really. You give the glass pot your best thousand-yard-stare the whole time it heats the water, and just when the outline of it is starting to burn behind your eyelids, you’re jolted out of your glazed reverie by a cheerful, “Detective Kennedy!”

The officer appears at your side like she was there the entire time, and you wouldn’t put it past her—Giana is the latest in a long line of rookies who have imprinted on you over the years. Good kid, but a little on the overeager side.

She gives you a sympathetic frown and launches into way too much bubbly talking for your aching head to handle. “Heyo! Man, it’s crazy today, huh? You look beat, detective. Hey, think of it this way—just a few more hours and we’ll be home free! Any fun plans tonight?”

The question triggers a movie-style flashback sequence in your mind, complete with black-and-white visuals and some tasteful dream fog. Leon, your husband, boredly poking around the aisles of a new Target by your place. Leon discovering the boys' toy section. Leon, your beautiful, amazing husband, going starry-eyed at the massive NERF Elite Titan CS-50 Toy Blaster, which you’re pretty sure you need a license to operate.

He’d tapped the Nerf box like a boy on Christmas morning. “150 foam bullets, baby.”

But it would take a lot of energy to relay all of that to Giana. So instead of explaining that you’re having an epic Nerf duel with Leon when you get home (no headshots, loser makes dinner), you cooly answer: “...Spending time with my husband.”

Giana hums. “It’s so weird to me that you’re married…” (Thanks.) “I can’t even picture you not grinding away at some case.”

The coffee machine burbles out its last sad spit of coffee. You pour a good amount into your mug, smiling, “Oh, Leon’s just as bad. We’re both married to our work. He’s just my favorite mistress, s’all.”

Giana opens her mouth to launch into another cheery tirade you can’t catch up with. You like the girl, but on top of being way too eager, she’s also painfully see-through. For example, you don’t even have to turn around to know that a gloriously hot guy has just walked into the bullpen behind you. It’s written all over Giana’s owlish look over your shoulder. Hell, you can even clock that he’s heading straight this way—not only does Giana cross herself to bid away impure thoughts of the stranger, but she evaporates into smoke out of pure shyness.

“Look out!” She stage-whispers.

Aw. Poor girl, you think as she waddles away. Considering who’s going to be unloading a clip of foam bullets into you later this evening, (what a strange double entendre), you’re basically immune to hot guys. You can handle this.

“Excuse me, detective, I’d like to report a crime?”

All sense of professionalism poofs off your face at that familiar voice. You whirl to face your husband, and in one swift slash, the ten ton weight of your stress is slapped clean off your back.

Leon’s resting stare has slowly been absorbed by his Serious Agent Face. But today, he’s smoldering less in the business way and more in the off-duty model way. In a white tee, jeans, and racing-striped leather jacket, he certainly looks the part, clean-shaven and dewy-skinned. Fuck him and his unblemished skin. What Umbrella moisturizer was he using back in the day, dammit?

You’re capable of joking again and fall flawlessly into the bit. “Of course. What kind of crime, beautiful?”

He isn’t really able to look flustered, but you think you get close to the impossible with the way his head tilts at that line. You notice that he’s hiding something behind his back.

“A theft,” he answers. The tiniest smirk twitches on his mouth. “My heart’s been stolen.”

…What a fucking cornball. The tragic part is that you find the joke pretty funny, and not completely in the ironic way. He waits for you to giggle and twirl your hair or what-the-fuck-ever, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction, ducking into his quick hug to grin into his shoulder.

You groan at his awful joke. “Jesus. You need a fork for all that corn, Leon?”

“I take mine off the cob,” he drawls in your ear. With that voice, he could make anything sound suggestive.

You’re about to pout at him for failing to return your hug, when you draw back and see that his hands are full. It’s then that Leon presents his bounty to you, bowing his head and holding his trophies aloft like a knight giving respect to his princess: in one hand, one of the stupid expensive coffees you like, and in the other… your comfiest work flats.

“How?” is the first thing your fish brain manages to say. Because, truly, how does he always know? The coffee, the shoes— “Did you put a tracker in me? One that tells you everything I’ve been complaining about all day?”

You go slumping down into the nearest seat, mystified by him. Leon sets the still-steaming coffee down in front of you and kneels, stooping to help you out of your shoes-from-hell. The strap around your ankle has rubbed the bone raw even through your tights. He gets the clasp loose on the first shoe with little fussing, then soothes the skin with tender brushes of his thumb.

“Mhm,” he hums. All you can see of him from this angle is the layers of color in his hair, deep browns and ash blondes blending into one another. The smug pride in his voice is obvious—he loves knowing he’s read you well. “Tells me when you’re hungry, too. Have lunch with me?”

Please god, your body begs. Just picturing it loosens some of the tension in your neck. Like last time, the two of you would play-fight over where to eat, and your cute little delivery boy would go pick up the winner. That way, you wouldn’t have to waste a single moment of your allotted thirty-minute lunch. Leon would pull up a seat at your desk (maybe scare Douglas off with a flash of his badge), and you’d get a blissful, uninterrupted dose of him. Enough to get you through the rest of your shift.

He’d be too deep in Professional Agent Mode to babble like he does at home, but Leon’s raspy chuckles and his hand on your knee would tide you over til’ five.

…But no, the universe is never that kind to you. You wince at Leon’s offer and drop an apologetic hand to his shoulder, still knelt at your feet and working on your other shoe. He’s too good to you. “M’ sorry, baby, but I think I’m gonna have to work through lunch if I wanna get home on time. Rain check?”

He doesn’t mind. He throws a squinty warning stare your way, not happy that you’re getting dangerously close to overworking yourself, but he understands.

A sly smile creeps onto Leon’s face as he helps you slip on a flat. “I could talk to your Captain. What if you were pulled away for a ‘federal emergency?’”

“Then I think me and my Captain would implode from stress,” you laugh. “He’d think I’d been drawn into some national crisis or something.”

Leon scoffs. “That’s only happened, like, once.”

The other flat welcomes your poor, aching foot like a jacuzzi hot tub, and you take a deep magical sip of the overpriced coffee he got special for you. It trumps the watery breakroom joe any day.

For a minute you’re so stupidly happy that you could easily punch a boulder clean off a cliff. Hell, you might even twirl your hair.

“One too many times!” You groan. Since he’s being all cute and kneeling at your feet, you can’t resist poking him a couple of times to be silly. In the chest. In the cheek. In the heart. Stage-whispering, you accuse, “I think you just like having excuses to work with me.”

Leon finishes helping you into your shoes, but he’s in no hurry to leave his spot. One of his rough hands finds yours in your lap and toys with your wedding band, twisting it, testing the groove where it’s been sitting for a few years now. Those big blue eyes fix on your face. You’re married to the guy, but something about being the subject of all his naked attention makes you feel like shrieking into a damn pillow. He’s the best. Judging by that mean little smile on his face, he knows it’s true.

He gives your hand a little squeeze and points out, “I was your partner before anyone else. We never got our buddy cop beat—so yes, I will shove myself into your world since I can’t pull you into mine.”

You’re grateful he still thinks that way. Getting him to talk about Raccoon is harder than pulling teeth, but this—your partnership, whether that be as cops in an imaginary second life, or as husband and wife—never fails to pry him right open.

You’d been asked before if it was frustrating, how your paths had split after the city had blown. The two of you had come from the same spot and endured the same things, but where Leon had soared up, you’d kept to what you knew. No part of you envied him for it. In his mind, the two of you were still the same unit you’d been then, endlessly loyal to one another. You watched Leon’s back and—clearly, he watched yours.

“You’re my favorite,” you tell him, sweetly petting his chin. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you at our Nerf duel when I get home.”

All the buttery tenderness wipes from his face, and in an instant he’s on his feet, clapping a scarred hand down onto your shoulder and bending to whisper fiercely in your ear. “I’d like to see you try.”

He smushes a kiss to your cheek, waves a friendly, “See ya,” and melts back into the current of the rowdy bullpen. You hate to see him leave, but by god, you love to watch him go.

A few seconds after Leon says his goodbye, Giana, your rookie, peers around the open door of the break room. Her patchy blush goes all the way down to her uniform collar. “...Nevermind. I can definitely picture you married, Detective Kennedy…”

Ask to be added to my Leon taglist!

#leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy/reader #leon kennedy x reader #uncouthre #leon kennedy #resident evil #user uncouth

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nahoney22 · 4 months

Text

New Years Kiss

All Bad Batch Boys X GN!Reader

Sharing a New Years Kiss with your favourite Bad Batcher.

warnings: none, complete fluff. Mixture of established and non-established relationships. Gender neutral reader, first kiss, love confessions.

authors note: HAPPY NEW YEAR! 🎉 (I wrote this on 28/11/2023 lol)

Echo 🎊

In the enchanting, snow-kissed ambiance, the town's New Year countdown becomes a magical moment, with you standing side by side by Echo.

As the countdown echoes, faces close, hands entwined, and laughter fills the air, Echo interrupts with a breathless revelation. "Can I tell you something?" he hurriedly asks, tightening his hold.

Amidst the dwindling seconds, curiosity lingers. "Of course, what is it?" you prompt, noticing his flustered expression.

"I know we've only been together a few months," he rushes, "but I love you. I love you more than anything in this galaxy."

With the cheer of "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" enveloping you, his lips find yours in a kiss that seals a confession of love. Among the celebratory chaos, your kisses ignite like fire on snow as you both exchanged whispered 'I love yous'.

You just can’t wait to see what the new year has to bring.

Hunter 🎉

As the countdown commenced, you sat at the bar, tapping your rings against the glass in frustration, abandoned by your supposed date. The prospect of entering the New Year alone dampened your spirits.

“Mind if I join you tonight?”

Surprised, you turn to find Hunter approaching, dressed casually and looking remarkably handsome, as always. "Hunter? What are you doing here?" you inquire with a laugh, standing to embrace the Sergeant in a hug.

"I heard you got stood up, and nobody should be alone on New Year's Eve," he smiles, joining you in counting down the seconds.

Shoulder to shoulder, the final moments arrive, and as the bar erupts with cheers, you share a glance with Hunter, a silent understanding passing between you.

He leans in and so do you, sealing the night with a soft kiss. It’s quick and simple but it spoke a thousand of unsaid words too.

"Happy New Year," he whispers against your lips.

"Happy New Year, Hunter," you reply, grateful for the twist of fate that brought him to your side when your plans fell through.

Wrecker 🎂

"I can't wait to spend New Year's with you," your boyfriend exclaims with a wide grin as you stroll hand in hand through the bustling market, alive with music, dancing, and delicious food—a perfect setting for both of you.

"I wouldn't want to spend it any other way," you reply, beaming up at him. The day unfolds with carnival games, your boyfriend's enthusiasm occasionally needing calming as he becomes determined to win despite your reminders of the games being rigged.

Time slips away unnoticed until fireworks light up the night sky. "Wreck! I think it's New Year," you call out.

His amazement mirrors yours as he gazes at the sky, then down at you. "I think it is too... and I owe my sweetheart a kiss."

You smirk, feeling your knees weaken at his charm. "That you do." He effortlessly lifts you, planting a warm, loving kiss on your lips, ushering in a moment that holds the promise of many more years together.

Tech 🎉

"I do not understand the importance of celebrating a day that leads into a new day," Tech explains for the fifth time, despite the lack of plans for New Year's Eve. You explain again the essence of celebrating New Year's as a way to mark new beginnings and enjoy time with loved ones.

"Because it's a nice thing to do, Tech," you explain, trying to convey the sentiment. "It's about celebrating new beginnings, having fun, and spending time with those you care about."

As you both navigate through hyperspace, Tech, stealing glances at you, detects a hint of dissatisfaction, realising that being stuck in a ship might not align with your desires for the occasion.

"According to my device, New Year commences in twenty-seven seconds on Ord Mantel," Tech informs, adjusting his goggles, sensing your subdued response.

"That's nice," you reply softly, masking your disappointment.

Fidgeting nervously, Tech clears his throat, breaking the silence. "That gives me fifteen seconds to prepare to kiss you."

Your eyes widen in surprise at his unexpected declaration. "Kiss me? What?"

"Isn't that what people do when New Year begins? Kiss someone they care for or are acquainted with," Tech rationalises, his desire to share that moment with you becoming apparent.

Your breath catches as realisation dawns. "Yes, I suppose they do."

As the clock strikes midnight, Tech moves closer, his hand finding your waist, drawing you near, and without hesitation, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender moment, marking the start of the New Year in a way neither of you anticipated.

“Just so you know, if we travel someone more the time zones will set to change meaning that we can do this again?” Tech mentions sheepishly as you both break away from the kiss. You like the idea of that.

Crosshair 🎆

In the quiet confines of the ship, you're ready to head out and enjoy the fireworks when you spot Crosshair meticulously cleaning his Firepuncher on his bunk. His piercing gaze meets yours as you ready yourself to step out. “Are you coming?”

"Why would I do that?" he retorts, his tone indicative of his disinterest.

With a deadpan expression, you suggest, "It's a good way to spend time with your brothers, sister... me," hoping to coax him into joining the celebrations. But Crosshair remains unimpressed, continuing to attend to his weapon with an air of indifference.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you stride purposefully toward him, deftly taking the weapon from his grasp. "Give it back," he demands, a note of irritation in his voice.

"Not until you've been outside," you insist, gesturing towards the gangplank. "Listen," you raise a hand to your ear, "they're counting down. It's almost New Year."

"I'm not interested in New Year," he grumbles, attempting to retrieve his weapon, but you effortlessly evade his reach, circling around him.

"Why's that? No pretty barmaid to kiss this year?" you tease, trying to crack his stoic exterior, earning a sharp glance from the Marksman.

"That was just a rumor," he grunts, crossing his arms defensively. "It's not even true."

Surprised by this revelation, you pause momentarily. "So, you don't want a kiss?"

Crosshair maintains his steely composure, replying with a raised brow, "Why? Are you offering?"

As he approaches slowly, you find yourself backed into the ship's doorway, the countdown to midnight resonating in the background. The explosive bursts of fireworks illuminate the sky, creating an enchanting backdrop as Crosshair leans in, allowing you a fleeting chance to retreat. Instead, you surrender to the moment, closing your eyes as his lips find yours, initiating a tender yet passionate kiss that leaves you breathless and unsteady.

"Happy New Year," he whispers as he pulls away, leaving a gentle peck on your cheek before swiftly retreating to secure his weapon. The odd and unexpected nature of Crosshair's actions leaves you in a whirlwind of different feelings. What a man.

Masterlist

My Ko-Fi

Tags & TAGLIST: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ezras-left-thumb @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san n @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @mssbridgerton @imalovernotahater @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @green-alm0nd (if your name is crossed you need to alter your settings so I can tag you 💜) @cw80831

#happy new year #the bad batch #bad batch one shots #Hunter bad batch #Wrekcer bad batch #tech bad batch #echo bad batch #crosshair bad batch #nahoney22 writes #tbb

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dreadwedge · 1 year

Text

The men who are searching my house are very impressed by my collection of legos. I can tell that the officers who are searching my home are extremely impressed by my large and well-organized collection of legos. The policemen who are ransacking my house (with warrant) keep getting distracted by my many shelves filled with Lego bricks, figures, and other parts, organized by shape and color. The cops are in my home looking for evidence with which to convict me of a certain crime but cannot help but gawk with amazement upon encountering my display room, which contains numerous Lego models of my own design. The fuzz are very careful not to disturb my elaborate lego constructions as they meticulously scan my clean garage for clues. The boys in blue involuntarily sigh at the sight of the 1:72 scale model of the very house in which we are standing, a near perfect replica, constructed entirely of Lego products. “She even has brick separators. That’s the real deal”, the detective murmurs as he shows me the crime scene photos, not even watching my face to see if my reaction is telling. The law marvels at a detailed diorama depicting a grisly murder quite similar to the one that they are currently investigating, only in miniature. The bastards are here for me and they didn’t even care about legos before today, but now they excitedly whistle and cheer as they compete to recognize various scenes from Star Wars and other pop culture properties rendered in carefully engineered plastic bricks in my living room. The bobbies are enamored with my Lego Fridge. I killed an evil man six months ago and buried his body in the park by moonlight. The Man is delighted by my Legoland memorabilia. The constables ask me what Lego sets I would recommend for beginners, as they think it might be a nice way to spend time with their daughters, whose birthdays are coming up. The coppers eagerly scribble the full web address of my blog on their arms. The police officers in my home have so very many questions about Bionicle lore, and I have all of the answers they seek. These men love my legos, and they love me. And they are very impressed.

#dreadwedge #skullduggery

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wholoveseggs · 3 months

Note

Can I maybe have an angst/fluff where the reader had turned her humanity off and Elijah is trying his best to flip it back on? Thank you!! Love your work 💕

Forgiveness

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a tragic event you flip your humanity switch and begin to terrorize the Quarter. You have to be put down for the good of the city, but your husband will stop at nothing to save you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) sorry it took so long! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: so so so angsty, violent, reader does some evil shit, a bit of sex but its not sexy, this is definitely the darkest thing I've ever written.. you want angst??? you get angst.

Marcel sat on a stool in a dimly lit bar, staring into his glass of whiskey. He wondered how much more loss he could take, and when it would finally break him.

He was experiencing a kind of helplessness he hadn't experienced since he was a boy, sneaking half rotten apples in his shirt, running home as fast as he could so he wouldn't be caught.

He couldn't outrun his feelings now. They followed him wherever he went, nipping at his heels, mocking him for the things he couldn't fix, the things he couldn't undo.

It wasn't his fault, not really, yet he felt guilty, because a part of him still cared for you. Even after all you had done. All you had become.

He was pulled out from his melancholy by one of his nightwalkers, a vampire called Arthur, a man who had served in the first World War, and came to New Orleans, looking for the easy life.

He sat down next to Marcel and placed a gold chain necklace on the table, it had distinct little jewels, each one a different color. Marcel recognized it instantly and his heart sank at the flecks of blood still clinging to it.

"Jean," he said softly, picking the necklace up and examining it.

Arthur nodded his head. "I found her in an alleyway, anyone could of come across it," he told Marcel.

"How bad?" Marcel asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not pretty. I got rid of the body."

"Thanks," Marcel said, and he meant it. He didn't want a bunch of human detectives finding the body and raising questions. "I told Jean not to go after her," he said, shaking his head, the weight of his regret was almost crushing.

Arthur poured himself a drink, and looked at Marcel with a raised brow.

"What else was she supposed to do? Sit at the bar and mope while her friends are slaughtered," he said, taking a swig.

"You know it's not that simple," Marcel told him.

Arthur sighed, "I know," he said, "but we gotta stop her, she's killing us off, one by one,"

Marcel finished his drink, his knuckles turning white around the glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice breaking, "I know."

He looked down at his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around, wondering if he could ever drink enough to forget who you used to be, if he would ever get you back. The ironic part was that he needed some solid advice and the person he usually would go to was you.

He threw his glass on the ground and it shattered on the floor, causing the other vampires in the bar to jump.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up, looking around at his people. "Listen up, she got Jean," he paused as the crowd murmured in shock, "and I'm not gonna stand here and let her kill anyone else," he announced.

"What about Elijah?" A young vampire asked.

"Fuck him," Marcel shouted, "he will let us all die before he hurts his precious wife."

"If you see her, bring her to me, and I will give you the daylight ring of your choice," he promised, and the crowd cheered.

"Now go, and do not approach her alone," he ordered, and the group dispersed.

"We got this Marcel," Arthur told him.

Marcel gave him a nod and watched him leave. His heart broke for what he knew he had to do. He would stop you, no matter what it took.

A soft low moan came tumbling past your lips as you rocked your hips forward, and dug your nails deeper into the neck of the man beneath you. His eyes were closed in a mix of ecstasy and pain, and his hips thrust upwards, chasing the pleasure you were giving him.

"Don't cum," you compelled him, and his body tensed beneath you.

"Please," he begged, his hands reaching for you, grabbing your thighs and squeezing.

You moaned and lifted yourself up, and then slammed down onto him, hard. He cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Please," he choked out, and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You were getting tired of him. His stamina was abysmal, and you assumed that since he was covered in tattoos he enjoyed a bit of pain. You had been disappointed when you had learned that wasn't the case.

"Don't be a bitch," you spat, "and shut up."

He nodded, and you could tell he was struggling. You sighed, and grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck.

He groaned, and you bit into his neck, making sure your teeth sliced deep. Blood poured from his neck, you could taste a hint of the endorphins rushing through him and smiled. You sucked on his wound, and began moving again.

His breathing hitched, and his whole body was shaking, you knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his orgasm.

"You can cum now," you told him, and he moaned, and his fingers dug into your hips.

You continued rocking into him, and a few seconds later he let out a strangled cry, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

You smiled through bloodied teeth then sunk your fangs back into his neck, tasting the flood of endorphins. You continued to drink, feeling him struggle underneath you.

"Too much," he wheezed, trying to push you away, but he was far too weak.

You kept going until his breathing slowed, and his body stopped moving. You pulled back and let his body slump onto the bed, looking down disappointedly.

"I don't even get an orgasm out of it," you complained, rolling your eyes.

You lifted yourself off him, stretching and cracking your neck.

You glanced over at the woman laying in the chair in the corner of the room, and frowned. You had forgotten about her. She was alive, her chest rising and falling, her heartbeat thumping loudly.

You had compelled her to be silent and still, she was doing an excellent job. You stood up and walked towards her. She stared at you with wide, terrified eyes. You were naked, and covered in blood, it dripped down your face, and neck, and coated your breasts and legs.

"Oh, honey," you cooed, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, was that your boyfriend?"

The woman whimpered, tears spilling out of her eyes, and you shushed her, gently running your thumb over her bottom lip.

"You shouldn't stay with a cheater," you told her, and she looked at you in confusion, "and you should choose better men," you advised, then snapped her neck.

You went to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, and stepped under the hot stream, letting the water wash away the blood and cum.

Your mind was calm, the only thought swirling around in your head was your desire to drink and fuck, and the two together was an amazing combination.

You washed yourself quickly, then found a dress and slid it over your wet body. It clung to your skin, but you didn't mind.

You put on some jewelry you found and checked yourself out in the mirror. You were beautiful, and the darkness behind your eyes made you look deadly.

You smiled, satisfied with your appearance, and left the hotel, deciding to find your next victim.

New Orleans was a big city, but it was full of sin, and you loved walking the streets, feeling its pulse, and knowing that somewhere there was a soul aching for you to feed on.

You could have compelled yourself a meal, but where was the fun in that? There was something so satisfying about hunting and the chase was exhilarating.

You walked down a back street, thinking about having a redhead for dinner when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your stomach clenched.

You were being followed.

You sped up and the person followed suit, and you smiled. Finally, something to cure your boredom. You took a sharp left, and the footsteps following you became hurried.

"Fuck," a male voice shouted, and you laughed, and took another left, and then a right, and a left again. Leading them exactly where you wanted.

You were back near the hotel, and you slipped into the alleyway and waited. You were going to enjoy this.

You didn't have to wait long, a few seconds later a vampire rounded the corner and stopped when he saw you.

"Arthurrr, it's been a while," you said, licking your lips. "I thought you and your merry band of idiots would have learned their lesson by now," you told him.

"Well, you know me, I'm a slow learner," he replied, standing at the head of the alley, his arms crossed.

"Jean was such a nice girl, you guys were together, right?" You asked, knowing full well they were.

"We were," Arthur said, his jaw clenching, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"She was so sweet, always so eager to please," you continued, taking a step towards him, "and so willing to do anything for those she loved," you said, pausing, "it's a shame that you're all so willing to die for one another," you finished, taking another step forward.

"Has Elijah seen you like this?" Arthur asked, taking a step back, his hand sliding into his pocket.

"What, covered in blood and looking sexy as hell," you replied, grinning at him.

"No, like a monster."

Arthur watched you freeze, a flicker of emotion crossing your face. It was gone as fast as it came and your expression went cold again and you smirked at him.

It hurt him to see you like this, you had been his friend for decades. But this wasn't about him and you, it was even about his beloved Jean. He didn't care if Elijah would tear him apart for it. He would not let you hurt another person he loved. He had to put you down, like a rabid dog.

"Isn't that what we are Artie? Monsters."

"Not all of us," he said, his voice cracking.

"Come on, don't be shy," you said, stepping closer, "I'll let you get a hit in."

Arthur reached into his pocket and felt the needle he prepared. You were much older and stronger than he was, but all he had to do was get close enough to you and shove the needle into your skin and maybe he could end this nightmare

Marcel knelt down over Arthur's body, or at least what was left of it. He didn't have anymore tears left in him to shed.

"I'm sorry, my friend, go be with Jean," he whispered, closing Arthur's eyes.

"And Mark, Jessa, Sean, Patrick..." Said a voice from behind him.

Marcel closed his eyes and sighed, turning around and looking up at Elijah.

"How can you be so fucking callous?" Marcel snarled.

Elijah didn't know how to respond. He was numb, and the pain had become too much. He was barely holding himself together, the only thing keeping him going was his promise.

He was going to save you, no matter the cost.

"Are you just going to stand there and act like you don't care?" Marcel spat, standing up, anger and resentment coursing through him.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is," Elijah said.

"You are killing us!" Marcel shouted, taking a step towards him.

Elijah shook his head and clenched his fists, and Marcel saw the pain in his eyes. He stopped himself and took a breath.

"Elijah, she is out of control, you need to do something," he said, his voice softer.

"I know," Elijah agreed. "But... she's... I can't, not yet," he stuttered, his voice breaking, "just a few more days," he pleaded, looking at Marcel desperately.

"A few more days," Marcel scoffed, "Elijah, if you don't stop her, I will have to kill her."

Elijah flashed forward and shoved Marcel into the wall.

"You won't lay a finger on her," Elijah growled, his face inches from Marcel's.

"I don't want to," Marcel told him, and Elijah could see the truth in his eyes. "But I can't let her keep doing this, you can't expect us to sit around and let her murder everyone we love."

"Marcel..." Elijah warned, his grip tightening.

"Elijah, this has to stop," Marcel said, shoving Elijah back, "I have to stop her, before she kills the whole fucking Quarter," he exclaimed, his eyes glistening.

"I know you Mikaelsons only care about yourselves, so let me put this in a way you will understand." Marcel took a breath, and tried to remain calm. "We can't hide what she's doing anymore. The humans are scared, and are starting to ask questions. If this continues, they will figure out that we exist, and the whole world will come down on New Orleans, and none of us will make it out alive."

Elijah's shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"What would you have me do, Marcel?" Elijah asked, his voice soft and defeated.

"Turn her humanity back on."

You felt like shit, cold yet hot, your throat was on fire and every limb ached. You sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and blinked several times. Your vision was blurry, and it took a moment for the room to come into focus.

You thought it was just vervain in that needle, nothing a couple of drinks couldn't fix, but when you started to see things that weren't there, you realized that Arthur must have dosed you up with wolfsbane.

You managed to crawl into some hole of an apartment to hide from the hallucinations, hoping when you woke up you would be feeling better.

But it didn't, you were dying. You could feel it.

"No," you moaned, falling back against the wall, the reality of your situation sinking in.

"You didn't think I would just let you die," a soft, familiar voice spoke.

"You're not real," you told him, refusing to look at him.

"That doesn't mean I'm not here."

You looked up and Elijah was standing in front of you. You sighed and closed your eyes, but he was still there, in your mind.

"What kind of monster are you?" He asked and you laughed.

"Child killer," you answered, looking at him, his expression was blank. "Murderer, adulterer, thief, blasphemer..." You listed, but he remained expressionless.

"Whore," he added and you laughed again.

"I'm a terrible wife," you said, smiling.

"You are a monster," he repeated.

"So are you," you snapped.

"I never claimed to be otherwise," he said.

"If you are real you should kill me," you suggested.

"I'm not real," he reminded you.

"I know, the real you would never call me a whore," you replied, and he chuckled.

"I'm dying Elijah," you stated, your eyes welling up with tears, "this is it, I can feel it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up, leaning against the wall for support.

"I'm going to go get the cure," you decided, stumbling out into the night.

The compound wasn't far from the apartment, and the cold air helped you wake up, and your head was clearer, and you could focus on your destination.

"Why not let yourself die?" Elijah asked, walking alongside you.

"Living is much more fun, so many possibilities," you said, "food, sex, money..."

"Family, friends..." He added.

"Waste of time," you dismissed, waving him away, watching him dissolve.

You pushed through the iron gates, trying your best to compose yourself. You entered the courtyard and saw a few nightwalkers scattered around, they didn't notice you and continued drinking and chatting.

"Where is Klaus?" You asked loudly.

Everyone turned and looked at you, and the room fell silent. All you could see was their fear and it amused you.

"I will not ask again," you said, smiling sweetly.

"In his studio," someone answered, and you gave them a nod, and walked past then, heading upstairs.

You barged right in and found him standing in front of an easel, painting. He only painted when he was troubled, and his canvas was filled with darkness and death.

"Lovely," you commented, walking towards him.

Klaus didn't turn to look at you, he simply continued to paint. "Elijah isn't home, but I expect you know that already," he said.

"How perceptive," you remarked.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked.

"I need your blood," you told him.

"Rather bold of you to ask, considering the circumstances," he said, finally turning to look at you.

You didn't know what to say. You had no words, and for once you were lost for a witty remark. You just stared at him, and he studied you.

"I've been hearing about your extracurriculars," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Is that so," you replied, and the corners of your mouth curled up.

"Killing a child, now that's unexpected," he remarked.

You ignored him, unable to respond, because it wasn't something you wanted to think about. You could see your hallucination of Elijah staring at you from the corner of the room. A small child appeared next to him, blood pouring out of her neck.

"Why didn't you save me?" She asked, her eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Shut up," you whispered, shaking your head.

"She died in pain, and you did nothing," the vision of Elijah said, and you closed your eyes, trying to will it all away. It was becoming irritating.

"I'm sure the mother will be most upset," Klaus said.

"Spare me the guilt trip, you've done far worse," you spat, opening your eyes, relieved the visions had disappeared.

Klaus observed your disheveled state and noticed how much you were sweating, and the dark circles under your eyes. You were clearly unwell, and it explained why you risked coming back to the compound. You really did need his blood.

"I have, love. But that's just who I am, it's not who you are," he replied, turning back to his canvas.

"Well, I've always wanted to try the whole serial killer thing," you said, trying to sound light-hearted, but the joke fell flat, and neither of you laughed.

"So you killed the child because you wanted to? Because you enjoy doing such things? I'm not even that diabolical." He chuckled, adding a bit of white to the canvas.

"Yes, Klaus, I wanted to kill her, I wanted her to suffer, and I wanted to see the look on her mother's face as I did it."

Klaus set his brush down, and turned back to you. "That's a lie, it was an accident, Marcel told me," he said, watching your eyes widen, and your face fall.

"It was an accident," the little girl's ghost said, appearing in front of you.

You stumbled back, bumping into the sofa, and the girl was right in front of you.

"Why didn't you save me?" She repeated, tears filling her eyes.

"FUCK!" You yelled, your hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Wolfsbane is one hell of a trip," Klaus said casually, watching you stumble back from something he couldn't see.

"If you won't give me your blood, just kill me, I rather not die in agony," you told him.

"Do you think you deserve it?" He asked.

"Deserve what? Death, mercy, life? Who knows, who cares," you answered.

"I think Elijah does," Klaus said, and you froze.

"I'm not talking about this with you," you said, turning to leave.

"Despite what you may think, I do consider you family, even in the state you are in," he said, and he saw the look of surprise on your face.

"Ahh, there it is," he said softly, "a flicker of feeling just under the surface, fight your way back y/n," he encouraged.

Frustration was the only thing you were feeling and you lashed out, pushing over his easel, knocking his paints off the table.

He raised his eyebrows at your outburst and laughed, it was a rough, genuine laugh, and he grinned at you.

"Very well, Elijah wouldn't be pleased if I let you die and I kind of like you like this," he admitted, "though, you are rather irritable."

You stopped yourself from talking back, just needing to get your hands on his blood. You didn't want to waste any more time with him.

"Now, what am I going to ask in return," Klaus said, stroking his chin, "something I've been wanting for a very long time."

"If you want to fuck you don't have to bribe me," you told him.

"As tempting as that is, no," he said, grinning. "I want a favor, in the future," he offered.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"That's the beauty of a favor, it can be anything," he said.

"Fine," you snapped, "blood now please,"

Klaus smirked and opened a drawer in the table, taking out a vial and handing it to you. You snatched it from his hand and uncapped the lid, gulping the blood down.

"What hallucinations were you having?" He asked, and you froze, and he laughed.

"Private ones," you replied, placing the empty vial on the table.

"You're no fun," he pouted. "You have my blood now, get out," he said, returning to his canvas.

You didn't argue, leaving him to his painting, and returned to the main courtyard. You stood there, trying to figure out your next move. You knew what was waiting for you if you turned your humanity back on. Guilt and self-loathing, and the pain of knowing what you've done, and not being able to take it back.

You needed to leave the city before they forced you to turn it back on. There was nothing here for you anyway, not anymore.

"That's her," you heard someone say, and looked around.

"Are you sure?" Another asked.

"I'm sure," the first one confirmed.

They were staring right at you, but the fear in their eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with anger and resentment. You smiled and flashed forward, snapping the neck of the vampire who had identified you.

The rest charged, and you were surrounded by vampires, but it wasn't a challenge. You were far older and stronger than them. The courtyard turned into a slaughterhouse and the floor was covered in blood.

You were standing over a body, tearing the heart out when Marcel called your name. You dropped the heart and slowly turned, your lips curling up into a smirk.

Marcel grabbed your arm, trying to break your hold, but it was no use, you were stronger than him. You smiled, digging your fingers deeper, and he gasped.

"Marcellus," you greeted, smirking. Before he could react you slammed him against the wall. "I was hoping I would run into you," you said, pressing your hand into his chest. "We have some unfinished business,"

"I taught you better than that sweet Marcel," you taunted, twisting your wrist.

Marcel looked into your eyes, full of emotion, and you couldn't tell if it was sadness or pity.

"Stop this," he said, his grip tightening, and he tried to push you back. "I don't want to kill you," he said, his voice softer.

"And why not?" You asked, digging your fingers deeper, his face twisted in pain.

"Because..." he choked out, his heart slowing down, and his vision blurred, "I know you are still in there, my friend, and I'm not going to lose you,"

"I was so boring, so full of weakness," you told him, "this is who I was meant to be."

"No, you're not," he gasped, struggling to breathe, his legs buckling under the pressure. "You were the woman who helped raise me, would bake me apple pies whenever I had a bad day, would let me sleep in the same bed as her and Elijah when I had a nightmare, the woman who taught me love and compassion," he told you, and his grip tightened on your arm.

"And now she is hurting because she made a mistake, and that is something that I can forgive, because I know her heart is good."

You laughed coldly, his attempts to manipulate you not working, and you tightened your grip. You didn't want to hear anymore from him, his words were getting under your skin in a way that caused fear to trickle in.

"Goodbye, Marcel," you said, squeezing his heart, and it was too late for him to stop you, his strength was leaving him.

"Darling, put Marcellus down," said the last voice you wanted to hear. The one that could make all your pain return.

You felt him behind you, his hand on your waist. Your breath caught in your throat and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"Let him go," Elijah said softly, his hand moving to your arm, keeping you from tearing Marcels heart out.

"Fuck off Elijah," you growled, struggling to get free, but his grip was like a vice.

"We can do this the hard way if you insist, I have no issue breaking your neck," he warned.

"You would never do that to your precious wife," you taunted, tugging in Elijah's grasp causing Marcel to cough up more blood.

Elijah let out a long sigh, then he moved faster than you could comprehend and everything went black.

You woke in a small windowless room, only a few candles illuminating the space. You were in a chair, your wrists bound by chains.

"You're awake," a voice came from the shadows, and Elijah stepped into the light.

"This is kinky, even for you Elijah," you teased.

He did not look amused, sadness and regret filled his eyes, and he had never looked so broken. He knelt in front of you, and rested his hand on yours.

"Turn it back on," he demanded, looking into your eyes.

"I can't," you lied.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip tightening.

"No, I can't," you argued, "turning it off was the best decision I have ever made."

"What happened was an accident, it wasn't your fault," Elijah said, and you could see the pain in his eyes, "and turning off your emotions does not fix things, it only makes it worse."

You let him talk, he was so good at it, his deep sexy voice creating a perfect melody of bullshit. But you let him think he was getting through to you as you subtly slipped out of your restraints. Your loving husband was so trusting.

"We can work through this, I can help you," he continued, "I love you," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"I know," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and without a word you freed yourself from the chains and sped to the door.

Elijah was quicker, blocking your path. You let out a huff and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back and grabbed your shoulders.

You felt anger again, the only thing you could feel and you unleashed it on him. Clawing, scratching, striking him wherever you could. He took everything you threw at him, and eventually, he trapped you against the wall.

You let you a high pitched scream, it was feral and animalistic, and you thrashed in his grip, but his body pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, keeping you still.

"Stop," he said softly, it was barley a whisper.

Your body was pressed firmly against his, and you could feel his heart racing.

"Please," he begged, his eyes filling with tears.

He didn't look angry or annoyed, he looked sad, and it wasn't until then that you noticed his blood, covering your hands and clothes, and you realized how much you had hurt him.

"Just stop, please," he said, his voice cracking, and you knew the pain was too much.

You looked up at him and felt your anger give way into sadness. It was just a trickle, a soft misting of emotion, but it was there. You knew what was coming next.

You felt the weight of everything that had happened, all the hurt, and the pain, and the death, and it consumed you. The dam broke and you wanted, no, needed; to turn it off again.

Elijah could see the torment in your eyes, the light flickering behind them, fighting to return.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you? Why I married you?" He said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You pity me, that's all," you said.

"Because," he began, taking your hand in his, "you have a heart," he said, placing your palm on his chest, "that's bigger than anything else, your kindness is endless. Even as a vampire you have always helped more than you've harmed, and that is a gift that not many have."

"Elijah," you whimpered, feeling the weight of his words and the force of your emotions bearing down on you.

"And I can't watch you destroy yourself any longer, because if you die, a part of me will die with you," he finished, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. "You have to feel all the pain, it's worth it, because you also can experience the love," he said, gently cupping your face, "the love I have for you."

You couldn't help yourself, the flood gates had opened, and there was no closing them. You let out a small gasp, and the tears streamed down your cheeks, and he kissed them away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sobbed, clinging to him.

"It's alright," he hushed, pulling away and brushing the tears from your cheeks.

You didn't respond, you couldn't. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, and your knees buckled. Elijah caught you, and pulled you close, holding you tight.

"I got you, it's okay," he assured, lifting you off your feet.

He sat down in the chair and held you on his lap. You couldn't stop crying, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and he cradled you.

"I'm a monster," you said quietly, and he held you closer.

"Not to me, never to me," he said, his fingers combing through your hair, and he felt you tremble.

"I killed her," you whimpered, your body tensing and your eyes clenched shut. "An innocent,"

"Shhh," he hushed, and you clung to him.

"How could I," you said, pulling away from him.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident, you tried to save her," he reminded, stroking your cheek.

"What's the point of having the power to heal when I can't even save a child," you cried, the guilt and shame tearing you apart.

"She fell, no one could have stopped it, not even Niklaus," he said, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling your head forward.

His lips brushed over your forehead, and he planted a small kiss. "Let's go home," he whispered, and your eyes widened.

"I can't, everyone will hate me, I deserve to die," you protested, pushing him away.

"You've been my wife for five hundred years, but only now have you become a true Mikaelson," he chuckled, picking you up and carrying you to the door.

It would take time, penance, and a lot of groveling to repair the damage you had done, and there was a chance some of them may never forgive you, but you had a chance now, to make amends, and that was all you could hope for.

It had been a week since you turned your humanity back on, and it was still painful, and overwhelming.

Klaus came to you one day, while Elijah was out. He had his hands in his pockets and he leaned against the doorframe. He could see how much you were struggling, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm here to call in that favor," he announced, and your eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to look at him. "I'm really not in the mood, so say it fast and get out."

"You need to promise me that you will fulfill it, no matter how difficult," he warned, and you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"Just spit it out Klaus," you said, glaring at him.

"Forgive yourself."

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