#I don't really understand what they are proxying | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stsgooo · 3 months

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moonlit goddess.... maybe jinshi is wondering why his dear maid continues to pull away from him... and maybe gao shun lets it slip that "they shouldn't have been close that day anyway".... and jinshi pesters him until he folds n explains.... IDK I JUST WANT A HAPPY ENDING FOR THOSE TWO :((((( (not forced ofc!! i jus love ur writing!)

Bridge the Gap.

✩࿐ summary: life and death really makes a girl wonder.

warning(s): idiots in love, chapters 61-65 manga spoilers, master/servant like relationship, description of near drowning, suggestive content, ambiguous ending. wc; 9.3k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader.

a/n: tysm for reading my fics means the world to hear ppl actually enjoy them, anon!!! ;') i wasn't really going to make a 2nd part of moonlight goddess as i thought it was okay to leave off there, but i love jinshi sooo i'll take any excuse to write him. this was initially going to be a part 2 of clumsiness, but i figured my plans worked better with what you were envisioning! im not entirely sure how to feel about this, but i hope this lives up to the standards! i apologize for any mistakes, this was written mostly in the early mornings when i had time!

part i. m.list

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

"Y/N, please, stop asking me that."

"Oh, yes. My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry."

This were, admittedly, not going well. Both of you soaked, hair dripping, and standing in the cave behind a rapid waterfall, and a dull ache in your chest as you recovered. Partly your fault, partly the fault of some crazed marksman that was hiding in the forest, trying to slaughter Jinshi and, by proxy, you.

To understand how you two ended up in this situation, we would have to back up a bit.

"Oh? Y/N, I didn't know you'd be attending this as well?"

"It was a last minute switch with Suiren and I."

"You... enjoy these hunts?"

"I've done everything I could to avoid them in the years past."

Your lack of excitement was apparent and clear. It appeared to bring no ease of mind to Maomao who dragged her rather disgusted eyes from you towards Gaoshun. The older man just kept his attention on the moving scenery outside, a distant glaze over his eyes.

Maomao obviously wasn't optimistic. Just like you. You were almost proud that she had caught on so easily.

The sweltering heat outside seemed to seep into the carriage, cooking you alive in your rather formal wear. Something that you were spotted in far and few, having been years that you truly cleaned yourself prim and proper. You had been on the edge of declining even going when Jinshi, with a grin and a certain glitter in his eyes, had too happily informed you that it was a direct invitation from Shishou.

Your fate had been sealed.

Maomao peeked at you from the corner of her eye, head tilted, "Do you mind me asking why you avoided these events?"

You don't even spare her a glance, "I fear if I spoke my honest opinion, I'd stain Jinshi-sama's reputable name with my foul mouth." You reply flatly in return.

"Please don't." Gaoshun said softly from his seat, looking particularly tired.

You decided to ignore the slump of Maomao's shoulders as if disappointed by the swift interruption and decline on Gaoshun's part. Turning your eyes towards the shifting world outside.

It'd been exactly five months since Jinshi had danced under the moon and you came to the conclusion that any impure thoughts you held for your master would be safely tucked away in the back of your mind (and heart). Forever your secret. Only to be heard in your dreams and upon your death, when you repent for any ill thoughts to the Great Man above.

Everything had returned to its normal routine. You would get up in the morning, prepare breakfast alongside Suiren, eat, then proceed with any chores the woman gave you for the rest of the day, then repeat. Equally, your relationship (or lack thereof) with Jinshi had remained the same. Conversations filled with pleasantries. Simple things that had always lingered between the two of you since you were children. Pleasant and simple. As the world shall ever be.

It got a bit ruffled with Jinshi had cornered you and practically ordered that you come to the hunt instead of Suiren.

In the middle of scrubbing away at the floors, he had found you. Stood above you with that grin, “Y/N, you’re one of my most loyal servants, hm?” He’d begun with an inflection in his tone that made you horribly hesitant.

You had faltered in your scrubbing to stare up at him with confusion, “Uh…well, I suppose, Jinshi-sam’s.”

“Why don’t you join me for the Hunt this up coming week?”

Your had heart dropped. And, by the look Gaoshun had dawned, his had too. The Hunt, in your humble opinion, was a glorified weekend for the men in high positions to rub one off while killing animals. It wasn’t something you found interesting in or much grace. That’s why you had declined Suiren’s question on whether or not you’d like to take her place only three days prior. You had no interest in watching anyone, even Jinshi, size each other up while a defenseless animal bled.

“Jinshi-sama, I believe Suiren—“

Ever the gentleman, he had cut you off, “No worries, Suiren agreed to take over matters while you’re gone! She’s the sweetest, right?” He had appeared all to eager and all too himself for you to ignore.

So, with a heavy heart, you’d sighed, accepting defeat and his invitation.

Now, you would find your torture for a multiple day retreat with a bunch of men with their c—

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, bringing an unruly end to your thoughts as you all carefully exited and were greeted by the sunshine. The humid air heavy with the condensation of the area and already making a sweat appear on your brow. But, ever the lady, you pleasantly tuck your hands into your sleeves and follow behind Gaoshun and Basen.

You were a little surprised as Maomao stuck closely to your side; but not all too surprised to find her attention on your surroundings, vague surprise in her eyes. The area was as equally as beautiful as it was a burden to you.

The buildings weren't anything for you to revel at. Spending an entire lifetime within palaces and in buildings as equally or above standard to those, it just wasn't anything special. The nature surrounding the area, however, was something to stare in awe at. Lucious trees, beautiful grass, and beautiful array of plants and flowers. It almost made you regret all the time you had spent away from this place.

But it wasn't like you had the chance to truly return since the last time you were here. Nothing could bring back that little girl.

You deterred your thoughts away as Gaoshun slid the door open. Immediately, you were hit with a wave of heat that you made you tense up. It was apparent that you wouldn't find your much needed cool down you were desperate to find since you were confined in the carriage days prior.

You were the last to enter and when you did, you faltered at the sight before you.

Jinshi was sprawled across the couch, wisps of his dark hair framed his sweat glistened face, eyes closed in contempt. A small dent appeared between his eyebrows and a frown adorned his face. However, your attention was caught on a drop of sweat that made its way from his hairline, down his cheek, his jaw, his long slender neck, and past his— his collar.

His modesty was of no worry, apparently, as he laid with his robes parted open to reveal his chest. Itself was glistening with sweat. Delicate skin on showcase for all to see. It brought a soft blush to your cheeks, as you blatantly ogled him. Pressing your lips together to contain whatever thoughts you had about him from burst from your seams.

"Y/N," Jinshi's voice hit your ears, tender and smooth. You're suddenly hyperaware that he's staring at you with raised brows, lids peeked open to stare at you.

You straighten your back and offer a bow, "Jinshi-sama. Do you require anything?" You had to get it together. It was inappropriate to behave in such a scandalous way. "Request for ice? Tea?"

Jinshi shook his head, sitting up, "No, rather I'd like for you to rest after such a long journey."

You falter, your arms wavering from their position in front of your face, "Uh.... Wouldn't the room be more tolerable with some ice?" You spare a glance around the room and grimace. The windows are shut tight, only bits of sun peeking through the cracks. Basen looks rather miserable, but trying to appear his usual stern self. While Gaoshun and Maomao seem rather okay with showcasing their small discontent with the heat. A nice cube would help at least cool down a bit.

You also couldn't stand another second seeing Jinshi like that. As if he were some type of nymph testing your faith.

"Really, it's fine—" Jinshi attempted, but you were already turning on your heel.

"I will return with ice." You didn't miss the way Jinshi's face fell and his eyes cut to Gaoshun who shook his head in return.

Your fast paced adventure led you to the main hall, where people were moving in and out. Various officers and servants filled the area, finding their rooms or helping their masters and fellow officers to their own rooms. Everyone appeared to be feeling the heat as they wiped their brows. Much like you, they appeared to be attempting to defeat the heat.

You found your way towards an attendant who helped you get something situated for Kousen. Something that brought you both distaste and irritation. Something to be addressed at a later time.

Joy filled you as you turned around, ice would soon be in the room and you could crowd around it like it was a new lover.

As you were about to make your way back to the room, you ran into someone.

You were about to apologize when they whirled around and you let out an audibly sigh that conveyed your unwavering exhaustion for them.

"Hey, watch where— Oh, hey, " Lihaku blinked, kind face twisted up in vague recognition. “You’re that lady-in-waiting. What are you doing out here?”

“I’m on loan from Jinshi-sama,” you answered rather flatly, not missing the small frown accompanying the man’s face.

You were vaguely familiar with Lihaku. What with Maomao getting involved in the problems within the inner and rear palace, you were bound to make new acquaintances when she was dragging you around. Lihaku was the first one you had ran into. On orders to accompany the girl from Suiren, you had gotten to see her investigative skills firsthand. You were impressed, surely, when she had made the discovery about the potatoes. But the impression was overshadowed by Lihaku, who had spent the entire time chatting your ear off.

He was kind, handsome, and smart when it called for it. But you could tell that, like most officers, he had an airheaded vibe to him. One that deterred you from making things too complicated with him.

Friendly enough, and one of the few people that didn't seem to disinterest Maomao, you accepted his very vague and shadowed feature in your life.

"Well, that's nice of him." He said, clearly disinterested in where this conversation was going. "I'm glad to see a friendly face, though."

You offered a small smile, "As am I. Not many kind faces around here often."

"You can say that again." You hear a loud inhuman snort and a tug on your gown, taking a large step back, you look down. A large dog with drool leaking out from the sides of its mouth stared back at you. "Oh, hey, boy, no!"

"O-Oh my." You uttered, slightly breathless as you looked at the large beast.

Lihaku glanced at you, offering a withering smile, "Eh, sorry, he gets excited around new people— not a great trait in a dog like this, you would think, but he's a real gem. Just has his moments. Hey, now—"

Lihaku pulled out something metal and brought it to his lips, then blew. It emitted little to no sound, at least, any you could truly hear, making your perk up when the dog tilted his head and sat respectfully before the officer. He blew again and the dog laid. Again, and the dog stood on all fours.

You smiled softly, watching in wonder as it obeyed whatever silent orders it was getting from Lihaku.

"He's very smart." You observed as the dog sat down again.

"Right?" Lihaku beamed, "I can get him to come running from kilometers away if need be."

"Useful when you're in a bind."

"For sure!" Lihaku's demeanor reminded you of a proud father as he puffed his chest and looked distastefully towards the cages lined up outside. "He's real smart, yet they still want to use those birds in the end."

You didn't want to point out the various problems that could come with using a dog; as there were probably another list of various pros to actually use the dog. The hawks had been used for years and you doubt that some dogs would be taking their place any time soon. It'd probably be a long time before these arrogant men came to their senses and found better means. Despite dogs being loyal and determined to their cause, the hawk would always be chosen.

Or, the better alternative, they didn't do this hunt anymore.

But you knew that was a longshot.

It wasn't long after that you bid Lihaku a farewell and good luck on his duties, making your way back to the room. You exchanged pleasant smiles and greetings with familiar faces, but nothing that kept you from relaxing much longer.

When you returned to the room, everyone had found their own areas and activities to occupy themselves. Gaoshun and Basen were playing Go near the windows, Maomao was reclining on the floor where a sliver or air was flowing through (from where, you weren't completely sure). Jinshi was back to sitting on the couch, a book in his hands. Something that was quickly disregarded as you gently closed the door behind you.

"The ice should be up soon." You informed the room with a respectful bow.

Jinshi didn't look at all interested, "What took you so long?" It sounded like contempt. Irritation if you had to really dig. Something that made you falter.

You look up and see the pout on his lips— childish, as always. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jinshi-sama. I happened to run into a friend and got caught up in conversation." You apologized softly. The last thing you wanted to do was bring him more annoyance and disturbance.

He straightened considerably, "A friend?"

You didn't like the way it was spoken. A touch of disbelief was enough for you to eye him with your own distaste. Even if you and Lihaku were nothing more than strangers with vague familiarity with one another.

"Yes, a friend." You confirmed with thin lips. Despite your inner voice telling you to reign in your attitude, you upturn your nose and decide to join Maomao— whose eyes were shooting between the both of you with trepidation and vague sympathy. "He was being kind."

Jinshi huffed, "I didn't know you had any secret friends."

"Not a secret. Just don't find any time to speak about it with you, Jinshi-sama."

That made the man falter, a darkened shadow over his face. "I suppose." He frowned heavily now, squinting at you with something unreadable. "Who is this friend of yours?"

You, finding no reason to lie, continued on, "Officer Lihaku."

In an instant, three heads snapped to you with varying degrees of emotions. Maomao looked shocked, but welcomed the information with a shrug. Gaoshun looked pale and overwrought, for whatever reason you weren't entirely sure, but you had an itching feeling it had to do with Jinshi.

The same Jinshi that was now face down on the couch, letting out a miserable sound. Speaking into the fabric of it all, unintelligiable. But you swore you heard something along the lines of— "that second rate, again?!" As he continued to rant and cry.

With that, you decided it best to not involve yourself with whatever Jinshi was battling. You wouldn't win anyway.

You'd always hated Kousen-sama.

He almost always seemed to loom in the shadows. An masked man who held no personality or words of his own. Pleasantries offered out of necessity and not because that was simply the right thing to do. He was mysterious. He hardly appeared, but he was always there. A reminder for what things would return to one odd day. A symbol for exactly where your loyalties and master lied.

Kousen-sama was to always appear before others with his mask on. To avoid them seeing the ghastly sight of scars and blemishes that adorned his skin because of his sickness (whatever that may be) and spare him the indecency of stares. He was unmoving. Stone amongst he lively environment that ate away at their lunches and softly conversed with one another.

Prince. The respectable Kousen-sama. The great son of the empire. The brave prince against all odds.

Oh, how much you hate Kousen-sama.

But you still had woken up early to help him pin his hair back. To slip his robes on. To delicately place the mask on, fingering the bangs out through the slits to allow some type of familiarity. You were his confidant. His reliable and kind servant.

As always, you and Basen stood behind Kousen-sama with your backs straight and eyes ahead. A pleasant servant on loan and stern guard, you both were familiar faces against the unrecognizable figure in front of you. It reminded the people exactly who was before them. Exactly who had decided to grace their presence.

Still, it brought you discomfort.

You still eyed Gaoshun in the corner of you eye. The older man sat at the other end of the table. Maomao standing behind him with a distant look in her eyes, obviously not paying attention to the things happening around her. Not entirely surprising, but you felt the overwhelming urge to scold her for her lack in etiquette.

Oh, you're starting to think like Suiren, aren't you?

Suddenly, Basen is tensing up beside you and Kousen-sama is turning his head away from a scowling Shishou. Your eyes snap between the two with a scowl of your own. Whatever that man had said—

Kousen-sama's hand clenches. So tightly that his knuckles turn white and he shakes. You know something isn't right. You had missed something. Something so obvious and you were too concerned about Gaoshun.

The man stands from his chair, the legs loudly clattering against the tiled and stone floor. You watch uneasily as Kousen-sama raises, takes a moment to collect himself, then practically speeds away from the room. You don't waste a moment to bring your sleeve covered hands to your mouth and make your own exit.

As you pass a concerned Maomao and Gaoshun, you hear a barely uttered whisper from the girl— heat. Food.

You try to hide your confusion and worry as you follow behind your master.

It doesn't take you long to find him.

Down the path, up against a tree, the masked figure was hunched and obviously breathing heavily. You draw closer, outstretching a hand to gently press it against the large expanse of his back.

"Kousen-sama, are you quite alright?" You ask softly, hunching slightly to capture a glimpse of his eyes from that slit in the fabric.

When you do, you're almost breathless. His violet eyes are alight with something distant and scornful. Eyebrows furrowed as he meets your own gaze.

"Y/N...?" He sounded vaguely surprised under it all, breathless himself. As if he couldn't quite believe that you were here in front of him.

You nod once, reaching out and grabbing ahold of one of the ties keeping the mask all together. "I'm going to remove this. No one is around."

His hand is suddenly wrapped around your wrist. Not tight or unrelenting, but enough to make you freeze. Warm and clammy skin against your own to make you feel scorched. You don't need to see his entire face to know that his jaw was clenched now.

"I can't," he said in all his self-assuredness, "Someone might still come."

What a pain. You thought to yourself as you draw in a heavy breath.

You don't waste a second to slip under his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders and allowing him to lean most of his weight against you. "No worries, sir, I'll just find us some place where no one else is around."

You gently guide Kousen-sama from the line of trees and deep within it. Finding an oddly familiar path created within your mind to follow that takes you towards an overflowing waterfall. A loud crash of water hitting the rocks and body of water below that brought you a distant sense of comfort. The refreshing smell of the water hits your nostrils and you take a deep breath.

With Kousen-sama against you, you felt the sweltering heat hit you tenfold. But the mist from the waterfall brushed against your skin like a gently caress from an old lover.

This is it.

You stumble over to one of the few trees next to the waterfall and gently guide Kousen-sama to sit up against it. The man took a heavy breath and you finally felt a little at ease. Reaching forward, you moved to take the cloth off once again and then—

A loud thud and chunks of dirt hit your cheek.

You frowned, looking to the ground only a could feet away and saw a small crater. A sharp smell filled your senses and you stiffened. It was an unkind and almost putrid scent. The smoke from the small crater was the main cause.

"Eh—?"

You were suddenly cut off as Kousen-sama wrapped his arms around you, jerking you upwards and away from the tree. You would've basked in the way his body was pressed against your back or the way his fingers seemed to mold into your abdomen— you would've if it weren't for the loud crack in the air then the pieces of bark that flew through the air around you.

The tree that he had been pressed up against only moments ago was now split open with a piece of metal imbedded into the wood. It looked eerily similar to the same that had been in the ground moments ago.

"Is that a feifa?!" His voice pierced through your thoughts, oddly frantic and uneasy as he moved quickly from the tree and towards the river.

You glanced up at him and found him already staring down at you. Eyes narrowed and, if it weren't for the mask, his entire face would be scrunched up in that familiar distaste and panic. Yet he seemed eerily calm as he dragged you through the trees and into the water.

"Sorry, but this is gonna get a bit dramatic." His voice was soft against your head, warm breath caressing your hair as he wraps a protective arm around your head.

Your eyebrows raise, "Dramatic— WHAT?" You should've known his tone and choice of his words were a warning for what was to come, but you were still caught off guard.

He gave no indication that he was going to jump off the cliff.

"Jinshi, you goddamn idiot!"

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

The water was oddly clear. Even with the mix of the overflowing waterfall, under it all was peaceful and calm. Fishes and water like insects lived in harmony.

Cool and calm. Always.

You are there to serve your master.

The little boy's head burst from the water with a big grin, short hair flat against his head and dripping. The sun reflecting off his violet eyes and almost blinded the little girl curled up on the side shore. Her face set into a scowl, clothes drenched, and a looming unimpressed older man behind her.

"It's so nice out, why don't you come in!" Beckoned the boy from the water.

The little girl shot him a nasty look, "You know why, you jerk!"

The boy's grin faltered, tilting his head at his friend, "Eh? Why are you being mean?" His voice wavered on the ends, still just floating in the middle of the basin.

"I'm not mean! You're mean! You're the biggest meanie!" The little girl stood up to throw an accusatory finger at the boy, her sleeve heavy and uncomfortable as she moved.

The boy's face reddened, eyebrows scrunched together, "I'm not mean! You're mean!" He repeated.

"No, you are! You're the biggest meanie in the whole wide world!"

"No, you are!"

"You are! You pushed me into the water!"

"You are! You should swim!"

"I hope you drown, meanie!"

The boy's expression fell completely. A heartbroken glint in his eyes flooding them. His lips trembled. But, before he could do something like cry, he was already swimming deeper

Nothing less, nothing more.

"Now, now," a large hand rested on the little girl's shoulder and gently tugged her back, turning her around to face the man. He seemed to be trying to appear as tender as he could to try calm down the girl's high nerves. "No need to get angry."

"But, Gaoshun—" The little girl whined.

Gaoshun shook his head, patting her shoulder, "No, we don't argue. Try to forgive and forget, yeah?" He reminded the lessons that he'd attempted multiple times to teach the two children. "No reason to walk around with resentment for others, right?"

The little girl scoffed her shoe against the ground, a pout on her lips, "Do I have to, Gaoshun?" She knew what this would call for. Exactly how this would end for her.

The man heaved a sigh, nodding, "Yes, you do. Now, go reconcile. I'll wait here."

The girl faltered as the man raised to his full height, cupping his hands behind his back. She dragged her feet through the soft soil and found her way towards the boy once more. He was grasping onto the edge of the bank, sniffling and snorting. His shoulders shook and his face was stuffed into his arms.

The little girl frowned. "Um... Are you okay?"

The boy stiffened, not turning around as he answered, "No."

"I'm sorry, I said something real mean." The little girl uttered, stepping closer as she clutched her wet clothes. "I just... You pushed me into the water, I can't..."

"I thought you were my friend!" The little boy whirled around on her, face red and eyes filled with big tears. He looked enraged but incredibly disheartened. The girl blinks in return as the boy glares. "You say such mean things to me. Friends aren't supposed to be mean!"

The girl clenched her jaw, "You were mean to me first!" She accused.

The boy sniffled, wiping under his nose with his forearm. "You're my friend." He repeated as if that cleared up any anger.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The little girl slowly sat beside him, her feet dipping under the water. "It is nice." She whispered.

The little boy dragged his eyes upwards, looking hurt but hopeful. "Right?" he asked, equally as quiet.

"You're my friend too, Jinshi." The little girl nudge him with her leg.

Jinshi's eyes twinkled, wide and all too bright, "Really?"

"Really." The little girl confirmed with a toothless grin. "My friend forever and ever!"

Jinshi positively beamed, the water sloshing as he jumped happily. "Forever and ever, and ever!"

"And ever!"

"It's no longer... appropriate for you and Jinshi-sama to be friends."

"I don't... I don't understand. He's my friend."

"His mother no longer finds it appropriate for you to concern yourself with Jinshi."

"But, Gaoshun—"

"No, Y/N. It's over. Come along. Suiren has a present for you."

"He's.... He's my friend...."

"I'm so sorry."

You are to give your life to your master.

The woman paused, back pin straight, as she entered her master's office, finding him curled up in the corner, muttering nonsensically to himself. The guard of said master was watching on with a pitiful expression of his own, only breaking his eyes away when the woman entered the room. His expression only seemed to deepen.

She didn't need to ask. There was an unspoken understanding as to what their master's breakdown was regarding. The Apothecary. The one that had gotten the attention of everyone in the palace as of late. The one that had been causing her great grief as of late— and was about to create more.

"Jinshi-sama?" The woman called softly, stepping closer.

Jinshi's lifeless eyes continued to stare at the floor below him. A gentle rocking seeming to soothe himself from the rages of his mind. "I don't need anything, Y/N. Thank you, kindly." He uttered just as lifelessly.

The devoted servant's chest clenched. Her face flushed as she reached out a wavering hand. To place it delicately against his hunched back. To offer her best comforting words that she could. To distract him away from her.

Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

She faltered. This wasn't her place. This wasn't a part of her duties unless Jinshi said so. Inappropriate behavior wasn't called for. It will be punished severly.

Retracting her hand, she stands, and offers a respectful bow. "Please call me if you need anything, Jinshi-sama." And left him in his dark corner.

"Gaoshun, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Jinshi-sama."

"You have been in my life for as long as I can remember. You remember more than I possibly could about my younger years. Whatever happened to cause me and Y/N to fall apart?"

"...."

"It had to be around the time I was eight that I noticed we were growing apart. Even now, I see it so clearly."

"It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. You're no longer children."

"All the more reason to know, isn't it?"

"I don't know...."

"Gaoshun, nothing will come of it. I'm simply curious."

"..."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position. Please return to what you were doing."

"Jinshi-sama.... you might not like the truth..."

"I usually don't."

"Where to begin.... Before her eighth birthday—"

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"H....E—"

Everything felt so muffled. Faraway. Featherlight.

Was that a pressure against your chest? A thump that came into quick successions, then stopped. For something soft and ever so delicate to press against your lips?

Everything was distant. So far away from your grasp. From your state of being. As if you were already long gone from whatever reality you were in moments ago.

"H—"

It was almost like floating. A gentle sway and a crack.

A joyful gliding against the sky that soothed you away from worries and woes.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

Repeating endlessly. Happily. Wetly?

Thump. Thump. Lips.

You welcomed it. Whatever it was. Whatever kept the rhythm. The wonderful rhythm.

Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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Thump. Thump. Lips.

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THUMP. THUM—

You shot up with a cough.

Your throat burned and head ached terribly. Your eyes almost felt like they were about to pop out of your head and roll away. You felt horrible.

It didn't help that you were drenched from head to toe either.

Beside you, there was a heavy and loud sigh of relief as he fell to his backside. He let a silence fall over you both as you recovered, hand pressed against your throat and heaving.

Jesus. Had you almost...

The thought alone almost made you sick.

"I'm sorry. I thought.... I didn't think you still couldn't swim." His voice was soft, barely heard over the waterfall. Kind and cautious, worried and terrified. Things that seeped from his tone as if it were bleeding out and bearing all its insides to you.

Exposing him to you.

You peeked over your loose strands of hair to glare viciously at him. "When would I have the time to learn to swim?" You shot back ruthlessly, not entirely caring from etiquette in this moment. "You've lost your mind."

"Right." Jinshi immediately agreed, almost looking fearful as he watched you.

You push yourself up and take in a deep breath, coughing slightly at the burn of your throat. Taking in your surroundings, you swore that this was that—

"Are you really alright?"

You glanced back at the man and found him still sat on the damp ground. His eyebrows are furrowed and a small frown on his lips as he stared up at you. It made you uncomfortable. To see such a glittering violet staring back at you earnestly. Honestly.

You instead clutch onto your dress, "Suiren is gonna kill me." You scoff, tugging the garments apart.

You could hear Jinshi sputter behind you. The gravel and dirt below him crunching as he probably scrambled up from his spot.

You spared a feeble look over your shoulder to find him with his eyes clenched slowed, hand covering your body from his gaze. You snap your gaze back around and tug the fabric a little too hard as you scoff.

You wouldn't deny the pang of hurt that clenched your chest.

"Don't worry, Jinshi-sama, you won't have to see my unruly body of mine for long. I just want to make sure Suiren doesn't slaughter me when we return."

"I— No, I'm just— okay." He finally muttered.

You are stripped down to your underthings, placing the dress and various pieces on the ground as delicately as you can to avoid too much dirt being stained into the fabric.

As you place the last bit of clothing down, you hear the flutter of fabric behind you.

Jinshi is a bright red, gently tossing his robe down behind him. His back is facing you and you know its for whatever mock sense of modesty he wants to give the both of you. You instinctively reach out and take his robe in your grasp, twisting it and squeezing it to watch out a fair amount of water drip out.

"You worry about mine later. Take care of your things first."

Yeah, right, You think as you twist it with an unrelenting grip. You are there to serve your master. It's one of the first things you learn. His needs came before your own. His needs were your needs.

Jinshi snatched the robe away and squeezed the fabric tight, an overflowing amount of water released from the cloth and into the ground.

Okay, so maybe he was better at it than you.

You nod, turning your attention towards your own garments and try to ignore the overwhelming feeling that you had eyes on your rear.

"So, um—" Jinshi cleared his throat when his eyes dragged away from you, cheeks a bright red. "What now?"

"Well, we could attempt at trying to swim back—"

"You can't swim."

"I was going to say that."

"Oh, sorry."

There's a soft silence between the both of you as you finish up. Gently redressing, you make your way towards the entrance of the cave, where the waterfall is blocking it from any negative eyes. You press your lips into a thin line and regard it bitterly. You remember this waterfall.... you could recall the times you whimsical pondered what it'd be like to ride down it like in those stories.

Jinshi had promised such when you both were too young and too dumb to realize how naïve dreams like that were.

You couldn't really judge that mini-you, for you had your own dreams of—

"Remember when Gaoshun first brought us here?"

You hadn't realized that Jinshi made his way over until he was standing beside you. Robes lose over his shoulders and tugging on his top layer. Violet eyes were watching the water as if it were a canvas of memories in the long distant past. Something to be admired and viewed with daisies and smiles. Not to be addressed as anything but good or amazing. Not to see the truth of it all.

You press your lips together, drawing in a heavy breath, "I remember you pushing me in the water and Gaoshun having to pull me out."

Jinshi's face screws up slightly, a faint blush on his features as he almost looks around with shame. "Right...." He straightens, "I'm sorry."

You blink, "Huh?"

Jinshi glances at you with a small smile, "I, uh, never really apologized back then. Made you apologize like you did something wrong." He explains weakly.

You raise an amused brow, "I told you I wished you would drown."

"I kinda deserved it!" Jinshi counters, his lips cracking into a grin. That charming grin he gets that makes your heart flutter. Make you hopeful for terrible and wistful. "I'm real sorry."

You smile softly, eyes kind and soft as you regard him, "I forgave you a long time, Jinshi-sama."

Jinshi's expression faltered, "Don't call me...." He trailed off awkwardly, turning his attention back to the unrelenting waterfall. You watched him for that moment. That split second where it looked like he was actually going to say something that would make you lightheaded. His jaw working and the muscle jumping as he seems to contemplate his next words.

Say anything and I'll cling to it, You think, watching his lips part, I always have. I always will.

"I'm surprised you were the one that followed me out. I thought the Apothecary might've done it."

You tense. That was certainly not what you expected him to say. Of all the things he could say? The Apothecary.

The waterfall in front of you is suddenly much too loud and violent. The cave seems to darken and your eyes drag from Jinshi to stare at your bare feet. Of course. Of course. Why wouldn't he want Maomao? Why had you even came here? Who were you to get between whatever silent signal he was trying to send to the other girl.

Him and Maomao. It was nicer than him and you. Jinshi and Y/n.

You straighten, pushing down any ill thoughts and heavy feelings into the dark pits of your chest and mind. "I apologize for the intrusion. I thought it'd make more sense for me to accompany you, Jinshi-sama."

"Why are you apologizing....?" He trailed off and then made a noise that sounded eerily similar to that of a caught man. "No, wait, I'm really glad that you're the one who came! Like really glad!"

"You don't have to spare me, Jinshi-sama. I'm a woman now, not a little girl."

"I'm not—" He visibly slumps, closing his eyes and trying to collect whatever thoughts he has and place them appropriately. He draws in a breath and faces you, looking oddly serious compared to his usual self. "I'm not trying to spare your feelings. I was just trying to say that— Well, it's not— I want you here, Y/n."

He's sparing your feelings. He's being kind. He doesn't actually want you there. You can't be friends.

You don't spare him a response. Instead, walking further into the cave. You raise your eyebrows, looking at the gaping hole above you where light and the sounds of nature filtered in. What could possibly get you both out of there...?

Whistle. Sit.

Of course. Him.

Jinshi sighs, "I spoke to Gaoshun before we—"

You place your fingers in the corner of your mouth and blow. A loud whistle bounces off the cave walls and out of the hole. You wait and hope to hear a bark or see the familiar tall man, but there's nothing.

"What are you doing?" Jinshi asks slowly, glancing between you and the hole above.

"Hello?" You cup your hands over your mouth and shout as loudly as you can. "Is anyone out there?"

Jinshi frowns, staring at you uneasily, "Y/n, please, we don't want to attract them this direction."

In the mess of almost drowning and seeing peeps of Jinshi's bare skin, you'd almost forgotten that you both had been chased down here by some violent assassin. Rather foolish, if you were honest.

You place the tips of your fingers against your lips and try to force the blush spreading across your cheeks off. "Sorry." You offer a bow of your head, despite the position you both find yourselves in.

You receive no response which causes you to peek at him. The stare that he's leveling you with doesn't bring you any type of comfort. It usually meant he was about to say something that—

"Hop on my back and see if you can reach up there."

—you wouldn't like.

Your eyebrows shot upwards and you stared at him with wide eyes. If Suiren was here and knew what he just proposed, she'd positively lose her mind. No matter how long she had known you— she'd think it improper. He was your boss and you were his lowly servant. To be in an position above him or treating him like a mat, it was...

It was simply ridiculous.

"But—"

"If you're the one below, you'll get crushed." He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Do it."

And that's how you ended up here. Legs wrapped around Jinshi's shoulders and heads, hand reaching out for the dirt above. You dig your fingers in and glance down at the man below you.

"Are you sure I'm not hurting you?"

Jinshi sighed for what seemed the hundredth time that day, his hand on your thigh squeezing gently. "Y/N, please stop asking me that."

You grimace, "My apologies, Jinshi-sama. Sorry." You shakily raise from your place, ignoring the soft and deep grunt Jinshi gives as you stand on his shoulders.

You dig your nails into the damp dirt and begin to tug yourself up.

This is it. Finally, you could get into the open forest once again. You're not going to be suffocated by his presence. Everything will return back to its rightful places—

You froze when it smacked you in the forehead.

You tried to keep calm as you felt the slimy breathing thing rest on your skin. Body tensed up and eyes staring widely at the bright sky above.

"Y/N?" Jinshi softly called, noticing the way you tensed.

"F—Frog." You utter, jaw clenched tight and you felt it shift as you take a deep breath. "A frog."

Jinshi blinked, looking up at you with his own wide eyes, "Hey, don't-don't freak out! Just shake your head and it'll hop off."

You shake a little, but follow his instructions. However, you may have overestimated the shake as you lose your grip on the dirt and begin to fall back.

"Hey!"

The tumble down is short and not all that hurtful, like you had been expecting. You had closed your eyes in anticipation, fear of having to watch the ground quickly approach too much for your tiny heart. You expected to feel the damp mud to be seeping into your clothes and little bits of stone and bark digging into your skin. However—

Nothing.

There was nothing except the soft silk under your fingers. The scent that resembled a sweet fruit, one that you had smelt quite often in the mornings. In the noons, the evenings, the nights, repeat. You knew that smell and that familiar beat against your own chest.

Peeking your eyes open, you find that Jinshi is already staring back at you. The first thing you notice is that you both are extremely close to one another. His breath fans against your dewy face, making goosebumps raise off your skin and a shiver sent down your spin. Next is his tender expression, Eyes gentle and twinkling. His expression isn't filled with pain or anything that would indicate that he was uncomfortable with the very short distance between you both. The last thing you notice is the fact that your body is pressed against his.

Your complexion flushes and you blink down at him.

He's warm. Incredibly warm. A sharp contrast to his damp clothes, which are open and pooling under his shoulder blades, revealing his bare chest to you. Your breath is ripped from you as you stare at the plump skin. You've seen it a million times. Every day as you help him get ready for the day. It should be normal. Should be something that doesn't make you lightheaded.

But it does.

He's right there. Right against you. You can feel his heartbeat ramming against his chest and into yours. You can feel every small breath he takes—as if hanging onto this moment with, what? Trepidation? Unease? You weren't entirely sure but you knew that you felt light.

Was it so bad that you felt nice in this moment? That this warmth was wrong? Was it so out of your reach that you simply couldn't imagine a man wanting to embrace you in a way?

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

Yes. It was.

You clenched your jaw, ignoring the tender look in Jinshi's eyes as you try to bring your mind into the present.

The frog.

It wasn't anything that you wanted to touch, but Jinshi was your master. Your discomforts and fears must be pushed away for his sake and needs.

Reaching down, you feel for any signs of the frog. It wasn't large, but it wasn't entirely small either. It wouldn't be hard to find in all it's slimy and— There it is.

Your hand brushed it and you feel almost elated to find it. Your hand cupped around the bulge from Jinshi's robes. It feels much bigger than the average frog that'd been on your forehead. It was unmoving to, except for the small twitch it gives as you rest your palm down. You gripped it.

"Hng," Jinshi grunts, his eyes close. You're a little shocked as his hips shift, his hands at your hips dig into your flesh, almost too eager. You snap your eyes upward to his suddenly sweating and flushed face. "I-I'm sorry, but... but could you move your hand? It's making things, um, rather difficult."

Difficult?

You grip onto the twitching frog below you—

"U-Uh—" Jinshi moans in a deep and guttural way that would make anyone, especially you, malfunction. It doesn't help that his hands latch onto you harder, pressing you closer and releasing a stuttering breath against your ear.

Why was he squirming so much? Why was his face so red and dripping with sweat? Why was his chest heaving and his hands flexing around your skin? And why was this thing twitching and getting bigger in your hold....

Oh.

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

You felt a little sick at your intrusion. At the gall. You couldn't believe yourself. You had violated one of the single rules you were ever given. You violated Jinshi's space. His entire being. You were to be punished and hated— ousted from your position.

Disgusted with yourself, you slowly stand up. Jinshi's softly panting from his position on the ground, running a hand through his mused hair.

"S-Sorry, I haven't— I'm a bit—" Jinshi's obviously embarassed and uncomfortable. Look what you've done. You've ruined it all. "Hey, where are you going?"

Before you could think much more as his hands grip your hips once again and pull you down.

You're sat on his his lap and you could feel it.

"J-Jinshi-sama, I'm so-I'm so sorry!" You tucked your head down, shaking with trembling lips.

Jinshi's hands fall to your thighs, limp, "Eh...?"

"What I did was truly inappropriate and-and I will take any and all punishment!"

"Punishment...?" He sounded terribly confused, still a bit breathless. You keep your head ducked and he remains unmoved. "Why would I... you're not getting punished."

"I give my life to you. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished." You repeated softly under your breath, tucking your hands against your face to hide away from his gaze. From the judgement and hatred. "It's only just."

There's a longstanding silence between the both of you and you're hopeful that he's coming to his senses. That you'd be released and freed. That you would finally accept the gap and space between them. To fall away, finally, to the shadows.

It was tarnished the moment Jinshi wraps your hands around your own, gently prying your hands away from your face.

He doesn't look vengeful or angered. No. No, he looks kind. As he always has been. Kind and considerate. Honest and open. He'd always been so...

He'd never really been angry with you. Not without sadness being overbearing. Always so quick to forgive you. To push everything away with a smile and crinkle of his eyes.

"Y/N..." His words are as soft as his expression.

Your hands shake, "Please... Please hate me." You pleaded quietly, pressing your forehead against his hands as if he were a monk to be begged to.

"I'm not going to punish you or... or anything of the sort. Why would you want that?"

You draw in a watery breath, shoulders shaking, "It's easier to let go that way." You admitted.

"Let go of what?"

"Of my love for you."

"What?!"

His shout echoed off the cave walls. Your humiliation and embarrassment was quick to follow once it bounced back at you. Made you flinch back and try to push yourself back from his lap. Why did you say anything? Fool. Disgusting fool.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jinshi's hands wrap around your wrists and tug you forward a bit. You refuse to meet his eye. You refuse to be humiliated and demeaned— "Don't do that. Don't close off."

You clench your jaw and try to push the humilation deep within you, taking a deep calming breath as you stared at his bare collar. "You're so kind and so... you. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable or disgusted, but I need to tell you. And then I would hope that you would let me go."

Jinshi's eyebrows shot up. "Let you go?"

You've been thinking about this for some time. That it all would be better if, in the end, you were to serve someone else. That you were pawned off for some soldier instead of this slow torture. This uncomfortable, unbearable tiptoeing.

"I would like for you to offer me to a soldier or anywhere else."

The reaction is instant. The way Jinshi's complexion darkens and he stares at you with wide eyes. He slumps into the damp ground and almost turns into putty. His hold on you slackens and gives you ample opportunity to move away. But you're frozen in your spot.

"Why would I do that?" Jinshi's voice is quiet, slow, "You're... You're mine."

A blush takes over your cheeks, "Jinshi-sama, It's not appropriate! I shouldn't be like this with you."

"What if I like it?"

You blink at him. "Huh?"

Jinshi leans forward, his thumb gently skirting against your skin. "What if I have some love for you too? What if I don't care about what's appropriate or follows the rules."

I would ask who you are. You were tempted to say but your mouth was clamped shut in shock. Following the rules had been completely him. He was put in his current position now to ensure the rules in the rear palace were being followed diligently. The thought that he would love someone like you when there were people like Maomao or princesses out there. People much more deserving of his devotion. It wasn't right.

As if sensing you're not believing him, he pulls away and presses his lips thin. "Okay, I'll convince you." He straightens up and takes a breath. "I spoke to Gaoshun not too long ago. Before we came here and I know everything now."

A pause. Everything. He knew everything now? Everything is so much. Everything is... well, everything. What exactly had Gaoshun told him?

"What's everything?"

"That my mother didn't want you around anymore. That Gaoshun told you that you weren't allowed around me anymore. That you stopped being my friend and became my employee."

Your stare up at Jinshi with wide eyes. "That's not...Us being friends wasn't right anymore."

Jinshi frowned, shaking his head and his hands slide up to your arms. "If I had my way, I would've had you by my side all that time. Not as some lady-in-waiting, but as my equal."

You shake your head, ignoring the erratic beating of your heart against your chest. "Don't say that. Don't say things you don't mean, Jinshi." You beg softly.

Jinshi reaches out, wrapping his hands around your own, pressing it against his chest. "I mean it with everything in me. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have ever been separated from you. Forget what my mother said." His words were sweet, tempting. They made you lightheaded. So did the sudden brightness and tender smile on his face. "That's the first time you've called me Jinshi since we were kids."

"What? I've always called you Jinshi."

"No, you've always called me Jinshi-sama."

"Oh."

You suppose you had.

"Jinshi," You utter, unsure of what else you both could say.

Jinshi's expression, if possible, softens further, leaning forward an inch. "Yes?" He whispers back just as softly.

Your eyes trail between his eyes before moving to his lips, parted and glistening, "Jinshi..."

Jinshi's hand slides up your thigh and his lips are ghosting against yours, "I'm here. I promise." He whispers before pressing your lips together delicately.

Your heart soars. Your hands shakily press against his cheeks, drawing closer as his own press your hips together. He's soft. He's tender. He's cautious and all encompassing. Filling your senses and making you lightheaded.

As you both part for a breath, he flips you onto your back. His hand grips the underside of your thigh and presses you close enough that he lets out a soft and broken sound.

His eyes are heavily lidded as he gazes down at you, lips pink. "I just want you. No one else. I promise." He utters.

You twist your hands into his hair, eyes fluttering. "You're it." You pass back.

His lips are back on yours. Wet and eager. This is sudden. Fast. But you've been waiting for so long. Had been clinging onto the smallest of things. Desperate to have this closeness that you had now. To feel his skin against yours. His breath mixing with your own. Everything him and everything you intertwined.

You just wanted to cherish this—

WOOF!

You and Jinshi both tense up, jumping. Looking over his shoulder, your eyes widen upon finding a familiar dog staring down at you both, wagging tail eager and happy to see you.

Jinshi's eyebrows furrow, "Huh...?"

There's not much warning before the dog is jumping down. Landing straight on Jinshi's back, causing the poor man to let out a pained sound. He's squishing you against the ground as the dog stands on his back, happily lapping his tongue against your cheek.

Vague disgust and disappointment wash over you, but you smile all the same. "Oh, boy!"

He barks again. A greeting you're sure.

Above, Lihaku and, surprisingly, Maomao appear. Both of them stare down at you with varying degrees of emotions. Lihaku looked excited and kinda like his dog, while Maomao.

Well, Maomao looked all too knowing.

"Well, you look rough!" Lihaku called down with a grin, "Glad to see you're not dead."

"As am I!" You huff out a laugh, then look to Maomao. "Hello, Xiaomao!"

"Hello." Maomao said flatly, she looked lower and her face screwed up distastefully. "Is Jinshi-sama okay?"

Lihaku then he spots his dog and slightly pales, letting out a sharp whistle. "C'mon, boy!"

The dog eagerly jumps off Jinshi, going to sit by your head and wag his tail. The man above you sighs in relief, pushing up off you. He sits up and you try not to focus on the bright blush on his face.

"Why did he do that?" The royal asks.

"Must've thought something was wrong." Lihaku rubs the back of his neck, frowning down at you both. "What... exactly where you two doing?"

You and Jinshi glance at one another, furious blushes flushing over you both. Despite anything that Jinshi said, there were things that you weren't allowed to do. Rules and laws that forbid something like this form happening the public eye. For a man like himself from being with a woman like you. A servant with a beautiful prince.

Protecting him was the priority.

"Nothing!" You shout back, ignoring the eyebrow raise that garnered from both Jinshi and Maomao.

Everything was better left alone. A secret between the both of you. To cherish and hold for however long it may need. You could deal with the anger and longing later.

#✩࿐ t writes #jinshi x reader #apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries x reader #jinshi #jinshi x y/n #jinshi x you #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto x reader #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto #request #anon

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yeyinde · 1 year

Text

past and pending | John Price x f!Reader

"Fuck, love," his voice carries the taste of cigars and scotch when it rumbles in your ear. You smell the heady Maduro on his skin when you sink your teeth into the freckles on his shoulder. He tips his head forward; his rasping groan is heavy with smoke. "The things you do to me."

(you haven't stopped thinking of what it would feel like to burn your lips on his cigar, and numb the sting with the scotch on his tongue.)

warnings: smut; literal filth; kiiiiiinda an illicit relationship(?) but ya'll are consenting adults; power imbalance by proxy; breeding kink (slight); gendered reader; female anatomy; little substance just pure filth

notes: alt title was: when ur boss has baby fever and ur like, well damn, i guess i'm taking one for the team; this man is sooo damn fine, and Barry Sloane is a 1.88m snack (and tbh, scousers always make me a little weak in the knees)

Price looks like he smells of cigars whiskey cheap leather and hickory and i am feral.

It starts in Madrid.

(Though, if you're being honest with yourself, it really starts on a motorway outside of Dorset.)

Scotch in one hand, cigar in the other, he stands on the balcony, and gazes out at the water in the distance. Eyes fixed, crystalline, on the families below playing in the sand. A gaggle of children. Their mothers lean over the railing of the tapas below, shooing them off to find their fathers.

The sounds carry through the streets, bouncing off of the stucco. High-pitched giggles from the kids playing in the cobblestone roads. The admonishing calls of their parents. Laughter from passersby.

You watch him from the doorway. Catch the longing in his eyes; wistful and melancholic.

A family. Children.

It's not your mission—this isn't what you're here for—but there is an ache in his gaze that makes you bite your tongue, words stifled in your throat.

You've never seen your Captain look like this.

He notices you—has probably known, you don't doubt, that you were there from the start—but there is something almost painful about the way he gives himself one more moment of this, one more fleeting glance, before he has to take up the mantle of a commander, of a leader.

When he turns to you, it lingers in his eyes. A shade of mourning you can't quite understand. Can't quite reconcile about the man who, hours earlier, was barking out well done! and nice shot! when you took down an enemy operative. A bullet an inch below the eye. He clasped you on your back, grinned wide under the moustache, and it tasted of gunfire when he leaned in close.

("Mm, got 'em right in the fuckin' head!")

John Price is a man you'd never thought could feel anything except the high of the challenge, the chase. He smelled of scotch, Maduro, and gasoline. His voice was always ragged, and hoarse, from how loudly he bellowed on the battlefield, a roar that echoed in the distance.

This—

This is new. Different. It's both softer and sadder than you'd ever imagined him, and how it fits inside the man you'd known as one of the only people you could genuinely trust, is jarring. And simply put: it doesn't.

The idea of his longing fills you with a visceral ache.

(You're a good soldier. You wonder if you could—)

"Ready, then?" He asks, and digs his teeth into the cigar until it dents. The glass is placed on the dresser, empty. His lips stain the rim, and you think about bottle caps and Iceland.

You can't stop staring at him, now. Like an idiot. Like a—

Silly little girl with a crush.

You fluster. Force a nod when his brows buoy, bunching in concern. Bewilderment. You're not acting like yourself.

(You really haven't been since Reykjavik when he turned to you, and said—)

It's pushed aside when he takes one last drag, chest swelling with the inhale, and breathes out, words a plume of smoke.

"Let's get these steamin' bastards."

If Madrid started it all, then his hand on your thigh is certainly the cataclysmic finale, the end.

Well, that isn't entirely true.

It's the offer of a cigar. A little scotch.

(Maybe more than a little, really.)

Alone in a tapas in Madrid, he orders too much food for two people, and a bottle of their best scotch.

Asks, gruffly in aborted Spanish, if he can have a smoke, too.

(You end up having to translate both his Spanish and English to the befuddled waiter; the heavy accent renders his words to nothing but growled smoke.)

The mission was a success. Gaz perched on the loft across the street, the man cornered by Price, his only exit cut off by you—it was as smooth as one could go. Easy, almost. Effortless.

It should have been the first sign that things were going to unravel, quite quickly, from that point on.

Gaz declines the invitation. Laswell in your ear, well, you've earned it. You should have said no, too. Stayed in your room, ordered out, and poured over the piles of documents that will be waiting for you sooner or later. Red-tape means every moment must be noted down, each breath counted. Each step. Each choice. It's a mountain.

But Price had his face turned toward the streets when he asked. The breadcrumbs of his gaze led you to a woman holding a blue swaddle in her arms, cooing down at the lump hidden under soft cashmere. Old ladies congregated around her, faces lit up with joy.

He watched for a moment, and you saw that aching thing in his eyes when the woman peeled back the layers, showing off a ruddy-cheeked baby with a smattering of curly brown hair on his tiny head.

A catch, then, in your throat, when the words were out before you could stop them: I want to.

"...to go," you added hastily, flushing brilliantly under the lights in the hotel room. His hotel room. The one used to reconvene, to plot, to plan. The one that reeks of him—

The man you captured is held in a prison by the authorities, departing tonight under the cover of darkness. His weapons sit in the corner. Focus. You stare at them to ground yourself. "With you, that is."

Price turns, eyes finding yours when you lift your chin—automatic, magnetic: your Captain looks at you, and you offer a nod in response.

The longing is thick, palpable. It burns, and it aches, because it isn't for you. It's for some unattainable thing he's decided not to pursue.

You taste the flavour of it when he speaks, when he clears his throat, and gives a gruff good in response.

It, of course, is not good.

It's very bad.

Dangerous, even.

The attraction you feel toward Price—Captain, boss; off-limits —isn't anything new. It's not incipient, but it hasn't had a chance to take root, to hold firm. You haven't let it.

You'd felt the same swell of intrigue before; a fledgling thing that always dissipates before trouble starts. This should have been no different.

(But trouble comes quicker than you'd expect.

And you've always been rather good at lying to yourself.)

The look in his eyes. The tightness in your chest. Scotch on your tongue.

It festers when he leans over, eyes pools of cerulean, and says, want a cigar?

And now—

Now:

Your lungs are heavy with smoke that, apparently, isn't supposed to be there.

Not supposed to inhale, dove, he tells you, words rough from his own puff, and drenched in humour.

You sputter, knuckles pressed to your mouth to stop yourself from looking foolish in front of your Captain. Too late, of course. His eyes dance with mirth, lips crooked with the tang of it.

You duck your head. "Fuck, that's disgusting."

"Don't blame the cigar." He grins, easy, relaxed. The bucket hat on his head looks out of place in a tapas in Centro, but he's never felt more touchable to you when he's bathed in the mundane.

(At least it isn't the leather jacket, the beanie—)

You swallow down the acrid taste of tobacco on your tongue, sending him a sharp glance from the corner of your eye. "Who do I blame, then? The teacher?"

Price lets out a soft huff, a little chuckle under his breath, and tips his head in concession. "Yeah, alright. My fault, love."

Love. It makes your chest feel tight. Head dizzy. You can blame it on the pungent concoction of cigars and scotch, but it sits too heavy in your chest for you to pretend.

You drop your gaze to the table, to the half-eaten plate of setas al ajillo that sits in front of you as if it will somehow have an answer in the oil. That you might find god amongst the sauteed mushrooms, and he'll smack sense into your head. Don't be stupid. Don't be—

"Another?" He rasps, the word sticks to his throat.

The smoke from the cigar makes your head feel gummy. It's a balm that soothes over all the little voices in the back of your head that scream at you to stop. This is a bad idea, they say. You'll regret it in the morning.

But—

You want to impress him. Stupid. Price meets your stare when you lift your head. A smile. A nod.

He doesn't mention the way your hand trembles when you take the cigar proffered to you between a thick thumb and forefinger. He has a burn scar on his first knuckle. A round circle.

It's not the way you'd hold a cigar.

Your eyes linger for a moment on the burn, mind startlingly empty, as if refusing to partake in piecing together whatever it means, if only for his privacy. His own sense of untouchability.

Price is the core of the group. The man who everyone—even Ghost, to some extent—relies on, and absolutely respects. It's ironclad. Unshakeable.

He's the man who is always looking at you, at others, first. When something happens, his eyes are drawn to everyone else, making sure they are stable on their feet as the world around them crashes, and burns.

You know because, now, you're always watching him.

A silly little girl with a crush.

It began in Reykjavik.

A slurry of imported chemicals drafted by a man with an abhorrent agenda led you, Price, and Laswell on a chase through the city. It was close, down to the last nanoseconds. And then—

"You alright?"

Shaken. Terrified. You turn to him, and he's there, watching you. Eyes drawn tight. Taut, humourless smile pulling on the corners of his—for once—clean-shaven face.

It's hard to begin to grasp the words necessary to properly convey what you felt at that moment. Panic. Horror. Dread. Fear. They come close, but they miss that unnameable feeling of your heart leaping into your throat when the seconds ticked down to five, four, three…

Too late. Too—

And then a gunshot. A bullet in the man's head. Success. It felt too close to be considered a win. Like grasping at victory with the tips of your fingers as it fumbles from hand to hand. Narrowly snatching the win from the jowls of defeat that nipped at you.

"S-sir—"

He's there. Hand on your shoulder, firm and steady: it's the only thing that keeps you from toppling over.

"Mm, stay alert," he mumbles, eyes cutting back to the throng of agents—on loan from Norway as Iceland hadn't the means to take care of it on their own, the very same people whose pride refused to allow you any intel, almost leading to—

"Eyes, ears are everywhere."

It's the solid weight of his presence, his unmovable utilitarianism, that reinforces the liquid relief in your knees, giving it the stability needed to congeal, to harden.

Iceland was the first taste of reality. The first mission where you realised every single second mattered.

"Did good," he says under his breath, and nods at you when you turn, bewildered, to him. "Might not seem like it, but you held yourself up. Did what needed to be done. Good job."

There is a softness in his eyes, one that you can't place, but it makes your pulse race.

And now, that same something swims in his cerulean gaze, slightly misted from the scotch, but remarkably the same.

You drop your gaze again. His stare is heavy—its not oppressive, or intense, but its—

A lot. Weighed down by something that has been steadily building since you bunkered down in a frozen bivouac on the fringes of the Arctic. Each breath of plume of pure white. Nestled tight together under a single insulated blanket, sharing heat. Keeping each other from the white death looming at the edge of the door.

It sits there, now. The tendrils of frostbite in his eyes: memories of when the snow piled so high outside your door, you'd begun to fear that this little shack was going to be your icy prison.

His chest under your chin. Heat bleeding into you.

("Gotta stay warm," he'd rasped, gaze flickering to you in steady intervals. "Can't turn the heat on. They'll see us.")

In the morning after everything, he found you on the terrace overlooking the landscape, the rolling hills of white in the distance. Back in the sanctum of your hotel. The one free from tundra and sleet. From the howling winds that slammed against the shack you both holed up in for the night. Surveillance. Your first taste of it.

"You good?" He murmurs. It's a loaded question, and feels more like a test.

Still—

"I will be." A lie.

"Go on." He calls it.

You turn to him. "We—;" the words are heavy on your tongue. Blame, and anger, and— "if they shared information with us, we would have gotten to them sooner."

And then you bite your tongue, eyes darting across the barren balconies. Eyes and ears are everywhere, he'd said. Test: failed.

"Mm, yeah," he mumbles. His presence is comforting. A kinship born from ice and darkness. He leans against the railing beside you, fingers looped into the straps on his tactical vest. "Could have done a lot of things quicker."

"Why did we need to wait?"

His laugh is caustic. "Bureaucracy."

"Sounds pointless when people are waging chemical warfare on the innocent."

"Mm, you're not wrong." He adds, his breath a plume of white when he huffs. "But red tape is the line that keeps us in check. Can't go around shooting whoever looks at us funny."

"But—"

"I agree, though." His words are low, and doused in the residuum of anger from missions you've yet to experience. A chasm is carved between you. An uncrossable moor. "Fuckin' politics."

His hand is almost as heavy as the steel in his eyes when he pulls it free from the strap on his chest, and lays it on your shoulder. "Get some rest. Maybe a bloody drink if you can. They only got vodka," he spits the word out like it's blasphemous, and considering he's never too far away from a cigar in one hand, and a scotch in the other, you think, to him, it might be.

It's a dismissal. A nice chat, have a lovely day, ta. He's your Captain, a man who shares each success with everyone, but bears the weight of each failure on his own. This debacle only reinforced the notion that you can't keep operating in the strict lines given to you, but there is very little you can do to stop it.

Fuckin' politics, you think. And then—

Cacoethes.

"I mix a mean vodka cranberry," the offer is out before you can swallow it down. "I mean—it isn't scotch, but—"

He pauses by the door, hand in stasis over the handle. The silence is stifling.

"Sorry," you murmur, chastised. Embarrassed. "I didn't—I hope I didn't cross a line."

He turns his head, brows drawn together.

(You wonder if he, too, thinks of the cabin. Of the bottled water shared between you, the heavy breath that settled in the middle of the negligible space that separated you, turned toward each other to protect your vulnerable pieces from the frigid cold.)

Then, a flash of teeth. His moustache wobbles. "Sure," he murmurs. "If you can make it taste like it isn't vodka, I'll go for one. Not much of a pint, but…"

"Should have taught me how to smoke in Iceland," you say, reaching for the proffered cigar in his hands. Your eyes slide over the burns, the pock marks in his flesh that could not be self-inflicted, but you turn from them; your gaze, instead, fixed on him. "Might have kept us warm."

A rasping chuckle falls from his lips. He has a smear of ash in the corner. A dollop of oil on his beard by the seam of his mouth. "Iceland," he repeats the word, and it sounds like an old friend, filled with a touch of fondness you can't quite capture when you think back on the time spent there.

(A panic attack in the shower stall, head full of vodka and cranberries— definitely not a pint, he rasped, but still took another swallow; your eyes were fixed on the bob of his Adam's apple—and him. Run. Run. Don't look back—

Alright? His eyes are on you. On Gaz. Laswell. He makes his rounds between everyone, silently checking in. It warms you, and makes you think of the taste you caught on the rim of the water bottle. Hickory. Smoked sandalwood. Scotch. Your nose pressed tight to his chest. The heavy weight of his arm around you. Gotta get up, lo—

Love. You wonder if that's what he was going to say before he cleared his throat, and looked away from you.

A lie. Yes.

He calls it. Yeah?

No. Never. The way the amber light from the early morning sun caught the lazuli in his eyes made your heart shatter, and ever since he pulled you from the wreck years ago, you haven't stopped thinking of what it would feel like to burn your lips on his cigar, and numb the sting with the scotch on his tongue.

A tight smile. Distant. Hidden. Always, Cap.

He relents.

You wished he pushed. Gave you a reason to spill your vodka-filled guts on the tarmac to rid yourself of this rut you'd fallen into. An endless stasis of does he, he can't, could he, he might, don't get your hopes up—

His hand is between your shoulder blades. A soft smile in your direction.

—too late.)

"Ah, Reykjavik," it's a slow burn when he speaks, heavy with smoke. Voice thick, full of static. His eyes catch yours. Price leans in close, as if he's sharing a secret; something confidential and meant only for you. The heady scent of hickory fills your nose. You roll the scotch in your glass, but taste vodka on your tongue. "Might have, but then we would've had to keep it lit while running away from the terrorists in the snow."

"I've seen you keep one lit in a hurricane, sir."

There is something coarse in the way he huffs; a gravel-filled husk of droll mirth that rumbles from his chest. His knuckles brush yours when he passes the cigar over. "Only time I ever lost one was when our heli went down in Mexico. Simon got an earful that day."

"Amazing."

The cigar is less intense when you let it fill just your mouth until the smoke is stagnant between your teeth. It's—sweet. Robust.

"You sound very impressed," he husks again, words pitched low. "But I'll have you know it was my last good one. Quite a shame."

Fingers touch again. You wonder if it's on purpose. If he, like you, can't get enough of the warmth on your skin. If it makes him think of the chill—

"It sounds like one. I don't know how you finished the mission at all, sir."

"I had a spare." He smiles, but it's taut around the edges. Then: "none of that—," he stops, clears his throat again. Lower, barely a whisper, he adds: "none of that sir stuff here. Just call me—"

"Cap?" You breathe, heart thudding in your chest. The scotch. The cigar. Maybe, it was packed with weed. A little nicotine. Something that might make your heart race, your palms sweat. Your stomach burn.

"John."

Your heart pounds, but it's off-rhythm. An irregular beat. The pattern is wrong, the crescendo stutters. It's not—

"John," his name is caught in your throat; a corrugated wobble of a breath barely recognisable as a word, but he finds it, anyway. His eyes lift, catching yours. It's heavy. Oppressive. You think of his arm on your waist, his breath in your ear—

Another tight smile. His eyes are liquid sapphires. "Yeah, love."

Love. Love. Twice, now, he slipped and uttered it.

(Lo—

Thrice, then, if you count Iceland.)

"John—," you need to stop. To put distance between yourself and this man who is wholly off-limits before the wet tip of the cigar, once clipped between those full lips, will become a crutch. Addicting.

You don't know where it starts.

The cigar in your mouth makes him groan low in his throat. Your eyes drop when he shudders. His hand on your thigh. Voice in your ear.

"Gotta stop this, love."

The first thought: he knows.

The second: he knows.

There is a chasm between them. In that paradoxical degree of separation lingers a firm, judicious no. It is resolute. Ironclad.

But the sheath is made of latex. Your hands feel the sting of the rubber bands when your fingers pluck at the bonds holding it all back.

"And if I don't want to?" Your lashes fan your cheeks, eyes peering up at him through the wisps cresting over your pupils. Tongue peaks out. A tease. "John? "

His pupils dilate in response, blown wide until pits of coal eclipse the sapphire; a black hole lined with a thin halo of blue. The hairs on his upper lip flutter when he heaves out a breath through his nose.

John's smile is tight. A fleeting thing that flickers across his face before disappearing into a hard frown. "You don't know what you're getting into, love—;" he stops himself, clears his throat. Your name falls from his lips, saturated in smoke.

You meet him. One step back, one step forward. A dance until those blues fix themselves solely on you.

Maybe, it's the scotch. You've always been more brazen with amber than clear.

His Adam's apple bounces when your hand drops, covering his. Your fingers stroke the powerful hands that hold your flesh firm between scarred fingers; nimble and dexterous despite the thickness of them.

"Then show me."

His groan tastes of tobacco and ash.

It should be awkward, and uncomfortable, but it isn't.

Price's hand curls over your waist, tucking you to his side as you lean against him, hip bumping into his thigh, hand settled on the warmth of his back.

You wonder if everyone around you can tell that you're going home with this man, your boss, and he's going to fuck you when you get there. It feels sacrilegious. Wrong.

But not even the spume of trepidation that wells inside of your gut is enough to stop you from getting this. Him.

You want it. Need it.

Your hand slips over his chest on the corner of the street. His eyes flash, caught in the light from the veranda.

Does he feel it, too, you wonder? All those moments that lead up to this? Soft words over the comm. Late nights spent pouring over coordinates and maps, reaching for something at the same time. Hands brushing. Eyes meeting over the median. Smiles shared. A world in the dead of night when everyone else had long gone to bed. You should have, too. You didn't. You stayed up as long as you could, soaking up his company.

Mornings met by the coffee maker.

No tea, it seems.

They have tea, sir.

Not the good kind.

You're just picky.

Look at this—it almost makes you ashamed to be British.

Only that?

He's untouchable—well: should be, rather; but Price is anything but. He's a constant amid many raging storms, a rock in times when the world feels like it's spiralling down toward some cataclysmic abyss and your fingers aren't quick enough to reach out and catch it.

But he is.

Always.

Your failsafe. Your security net. The only man on the planet who will rage against insurgents and terrorists, and politicians and red tape in equal measure for his team. He'll risk his neck, offer his jugular, if it means you can finish the mission.

Gaz in your head. He said something to me once… stuck to me, y'know? We get dirty, and the world stays clean.

It bludgeoned into you then just like it does now. It's the perfect iteration of exactly who Price is. He's not a hero. He doesn't pretend to be one. But if him gunning down a man on the fringes of society means that innocent people in the cities get to sleep at night without even knowing what he, and his men, sacrificed, he's content. He never asks for anything except the freedom to keep peace—however it comes about: in a hail of bullets, a fist against a man's jaw until he spits out blood and teeth and the truth, or in cuddling together on the verge of hypothermia so people in a country he has no connection to can continue to live without fear.

John is—

Well. It was inevitable, wasn't it?

They can't forge a man like him into existence, and expect you not to feel overwhelmed in his presence.

This feels inevitable.

And sure—human resources and internal affairs might have opinions about that, but it's been brewing since he pulled you from a burning wreck on the motorway (a small travesty in what could have been calamitous had you not decided to trust the SAS with an impeccable moustache, and your gut, and broke every rule in the book), and then looked you in your soot-covered face, and asked: have you considered a transfer?

Your drug enforcement days slipped into the past when he offered you a spot on his team.

And now—

Your lip is raw from the cigar burn, but the taste of scotch on your tongue soothes the ache. His hand is heavy on your waist, flesh hot to the touch like he is burning up in a fever.

A woman wanders past, the same one you saw earlier with a baby swaddled in blue, but—

Price only has eyes for you.

"C'mon, love," he husks in your ear, his breath heavy with smoke and scotch, and sending shivers racing down your spine. "Wanna come back with me?"

And you—

("I'll follow you—")

"Anywhere, John."

His hands are reverent when they brush across your skin. The heavy weight of his palms pressing against the back of your thighs makes you tremble. His rough skin feels good as it grazes yours, touch softer, more gentle than you thought he'd be.

It's a strange contrast—you'd come to expect gruffness with your Captain. His voice, his words, his practices all carry the same abrasive lilt to you, and you assumed that he'd fuck you the same way. Rough hands, brutal commands barked out.

It's none of that. It's—

His eyes peer down at you, spread out below him, and he carries the same tenderness in his eyes as when he stared at the women from before. Families. It settles inside of you. This unexpected way he handles you so gingerly makes your heart pound, and makes your core knot.

He looks at you as if you're the best thing that has ever happened to him.

And you can't be. It's impossible, isn't it? This man who'd lived many lives before you even knew how to shoot a gun, or tie your shoelaces, should not be looking at you as if you'd offered him salvation.

But he is.

You press the back of your forearm to your crown, arching your back for him. His eyes are drawn to your body, to the way you open up for him, and the darkening of his eyes makes you pant.

Your hand reaches up to his chest, palm pressed against the thick bed of unruly auburn hair that covers his pulse, and the feel of his thick body over you makes your cunt throb with need. You want him. You want him so badly that it hurts.

"This what you want, love?" He husks in your ear, beard tickling your skin. "Want me to fuck you, yeah?"

It had sprung up when you first tumbled into the room. The dance is familiar—the steps ingrained in your head, now muscle memory—but he isn't just any partner. You stood before him, unsure for the first time since you caught that aching sense of wishfulness in his eyes and knew that you wanted whatever permeated in those cerulean depths to look at you, and hold you in the same regard.

Now—

Your body is fever-hot, and he stands by the minibar, offering you scotch.

"I want you—," the words tumble out, a breathless lull in the otherwise silent room, broken only by the glass nozzle clanking against the side of the cup he set out. You've shocked him. You swallow thickly when he turns, brows lifting.

"I want you." You repeat, firmer this time.

"Are you—"

You skip the introductory waltz and immediately jump into a tango when you breathe: I want you inside me, John.

You know he aches for it. You can feel him twitching inside of you; deep and full. The head of his cock nudges against something soft in your cunt that makes you spasm around him, whimpering.

"Yes, sir…" you pant, heavy and breathless. The way you address him makes him grunt, makes his hips cant into you, the movement tinged in desperation. "Fill me up."

Price groans, rolling his hips into you. Each thrust knocks the air from your lungs until only the cloying smoke from his cigar resides inside. You're dizzy, dazed. He fucks you like he's worshipping you—each time he moves inside of you, he aims for that gummy place that has your nails digging into his sides, legs locking around his waist, caught on the bend of his thighs, as he rides you through it.

He tastes of smoke. Loam. Sandalwood. Butterscotch. "Please," you murmur, tongue laving over the indents of your teeth in his skin. You wish it was permanent. "It's your own fault, Captain."

"Yeah?" He grinds his cock inside of you until your eyes roll back, mouth dropping open as white-hot pleasure spools in your core. "Sounds like you need some discipline then, soldier."

Fuck —

He does it again, thrusting into you this time until he's seated in deep. You whine at the bliss flooding your core.

His hand lifts from your thigh, and you blink your eyes open, watching as his tongue sweeps across the pad. His eyes are wicked in the soft light spilling from street lights outside; bluer than the wide, open ocean.

You shiver when they drop to your cunt, spread out for him and stretched taut over his twitching cock. A frisson passes; waves crashing against the shores, frothing white.

His hand drops, thumb pressing against your clit. "Gonna cum for me?" He murmurs, a sonorous knot in the quiet room. You hear the roar of the ocean in the distance. Humid breeze flutters through the open balcony.

Anyone can hear you. Can hear how badly you want your Captain to fill your cunt, to make you see stars, and swaddles of blue—

You keen low in your throat when his thumb rubs tight circles over your throbbing clit, cock knocking against the gummy walls of your cunt. His head brushes your womb, presses there tight for a moment until your back arches in that deep-seated ache, that quiver of pleasure-pain that lacerates through your core.

"Fuck, fuck—," you whimper, needy and breathless, hips working in time with the insistent press of his thumb, working you in small, shallow circles. "Cap— Captain, please—"

"Fuck, love—," he throaty words a bitten, jagged plea that sticks, thick and molten, between his molars. You can feel him twitch within you. Feel the way he batters into that spongey nook inside of you that has the Aurora Borealis flashing behind your lids. "You're a cheeky little thing, aren't you?" He pants, bending down to press his teeth over your raw neck, already bitten and bruised, chafed by the coarse hair of his beard.

His groan rolls out of him; dredged up from deep within his chest. The rumble of pleasure, the sloppy way his hips snap into you, now, all practise and control dissociating with his desperation to get you to cum on his cock so he can fill your pussy up with cum, deep enough that it floods your womb—

"Cum for me—!" He snaps, the words chewed out and broken, punctuated by a deep grind of his cock. "Need to feel your pussy cumming on my cock, love; you want it, don't you? If you be a good girl and cum for me, I'll fill your pussy up—"

Your toes curl at the wrecked, raw tone of his voice, breaking over the end. He wants it. You feel him throb within you at just the thought.

"Yeah," you whine, that spooling coil in your belly pulling tighter and tighter with each brutal thrust, each nudge of his cock as it bludgeons inside of you. "Want you cum inside my pussy, John—"

His head tips, forehead dropping to rest on yours as his eyes roll back, fluttering with the sultry plea that drips from your cigar-singed lips.

You taste smoke when his thumb presses against you, the other sliding over your body until he has a palmful of your breast in his grasp. Each roll of his hips makes you see white; tendrils and wisps of smog fill your eyes until all you can see is a hazy blue through the curtain of snow. Fog on your breath. His words in your ear.

It pinches taut when he turns his head, beard scraping your skin, and presses his lips to your temple. Slurred words that taste of tobacco. "Need to feel you cum on my cock, love —"

Liquid bliss spumes deep when you cum—a deluge of euphoria richer than scotch, and more addictive than nicotine.

His name is a choked sob into the thick blanket of desire that weighs down on you.

He drops, his torso flat against your chest as he slots his mouth over you, tongue delving deep as he ruts into your pulsing cunt, fluttering like a heartbeat as you cum around his cock. He groans into the messy kiss—hickory and smoke and the bitter tang of scotch—and you feel him jerk within you before he pushes in as far as he can. He doesn't stop until your cunt swallows him to the base, where he sits taut against the seal of your cervix. And then you feel it. You feel him throb deep inside of you, stuffed full of his cock, and a molten spume spills out when he cums.

He's cumming inside of you, filling your pussy up—

Your cunt clenches, a soft flutter against him at the thought of it, the feeling.

His head lifts, then, and you can see the draw of his brows, the clench of his jaw, the grunts that slip out, deep and punctured, from between the grit of his teeth, and you think you could get addicted to the sight of him in bliss.

Your hands slide over the slick bulk of his back, nails raking softly over the skin as he shudders against you, heaving from exertion.

"Christ," he rasps in your ear, whiskey-timbered and heady with malt. "You're gonna make me lose my goddamn mind, love."

You tip your head back, grinning. "What is it you like to say, Cap?" You purr, fingers dancing over the indent of your teeth. "We're all a bit crazy."

You lay with your head tucked on his shoulder. His arm is bent at the elbow with his palm under his head; your hand rests on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart under your skin.

It's—

Cosy. A little moment where you feel liquid and blissful, eyes lidding as you peer at his naked chest—flushed roseate, peppered with auburn that that runs all the way down to the indent of his groin—and map the dusting of rust-coloured freckles that peak through the wisps of coarse hair. It's domestic. Basking in the acrid afterglow of your illicit coupling.

Your index presses into a thick patch of hair just below his pectoral, catching the curls on the tip until they wrap around your finger. He rumbles deep in his chest, and pulls the lit cigar up to his mouth, biting it between his teeth, before dropping his hand down on yours.

Cerulean peaks through a thick breath of ashen smoke. You feel shy, suddenly. Demure. Maybe, it's the scent of sex and tobacco thick in the air, the taste of spice and scotch on your tongue, or the way his cum stains your inner thighs, leaking out of you, and drenching the sheets below. Proof, then, that you fucked your Captain.

Most people start at the bottom of the totem and work up. It was a running joke amongst your class when the physical demands of the role became too much, and the drills got harder, and harder the more you sloughed through the ropes.

All the way to the top. The easy way. On your knees, soldier, you'd pass between each other in covert secrecy, eyes fatigued but grinning wide. How easy it would be, comparatively, to just lay back and let your drill sergeant have his fill. It was all chatter. Jokes. None of it was real, and if anyone of you ever had the notion to act on it—

That has never been your goal. Sergeant, Lieutenant, Captain—none of it meant anything to you until a hand appeared out of dense, black smoke, a gruff: c'mon, now, I got you following. It still doesn't. Not really. Does he know that, though? That you'd followed along dutifully behind him, not over some sense of grandeur or hero-complex, but because you admired the shape of him, the grit.

John's hand slides over yours, fingers tangling between the brackets of your own until you're locked together, palm pressed against palm.

There are years worth of things you want to say, but they dissolve in the malt still saturating your tongue.

Price's hand is rough. Scarred and weathered; aged and worn.

Your hands don't quite fit together. His brackets are too wide for your slender digits to rest without being swallowed whole by him. His fingers are the exact opposite: too wide, too thick. The seam between your knuckles aches when he slides his into the gaps. Like everything about him, this, too, is stretched taut.

Still. Still—

His hand folds over yours, devouring your palm, and suddenly all your listing axes are righted, centred. The ground you walk on is firm, solid.

It's always like that with him, you find.

His warmth bleeds into your palm.

Price shifts. His hand slips from behind his head to take hold of the cigar in his mouth. The knob of his wrist rests on your shoulder, cigar dangling between his fingers.

You wonder if this is the moment when we shouldn't have, we can't come in.

He clears his throat, always a low rasp as if he'd just gotten done screaming. Hoarse and rough. You don't think you can go back to before when you didn't know what your name sounded like falling from his lips when he cums—

"You don't know what you do to me, love."

Don't hope—

"And what is that?" You peer up at him through the wisps of auburn.

His eyes make your pulse race. A lagoon in the middle of the Arctic. A deep, endless pool of blue.

Price offers you the cigar, and bends down to press his sweaty forehead against your temple when you lean up and take it.

Scotch. Hickory. Smoke.

A motorway in Dorset. Your superiors snapping at you to leave it alone. You followed him then, and when he mumbles in your ear, words drenched in malt and petrol, you know you'll follow him even now.

"You make me want things, love. Things I shouldn't."

You catch his clear blues in yours. The cigar burns when you press it to your bottom lip, catching the taste of him on the end.

"You have no one to blame but yourself," you whisper, squeezing his too-big hand in yours. "I learned from the best, you know."

"Cheeky—"

—he takes you back to Iceland when your allotted off-time mysteriously syncs together: a fumbling romantic at heart. he has no idea what he's doing. wooing, courtship, and long-lasting were never words in his vocabulary, but he tries.

—on his phone, you catch a glimpse of what he was looking at so intently on the plane: romantic places in Iceland: romance for idiots

—it doesn't surprise you, then, when you find the article yourself that he sticks to each individual one like it's a personal mission. flowers. chocolates. "don't know what's so special about these bloody things. do you really like them?"

—it surprises you, even more, when you press your lips to cheek, murmuring, "i like you more," and see the flash of roseate flooding his cheeks.

—Gaz is firmly on team "i don't want to know" but too bad for him, he's the only one you can really tell.

"please tell me he doesn't wear The Hat... y'know...," his face looks a little ashen when he says it. You smile. "...Please. No, you can't—hey! You can't just walk away—!"

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erinawritesheadcanons2 · 1 year

Note

Hello, I came because I was looking for things about creepypasta, it's been so long that I really think it's already a little dead- and I saw your writing about them so I came to ask something about that if you still write for them well am I lucky? Anyway, here I go…

slenderman with someone who hangs on him like a koala-

you can include his reaction when it first happened if you want

Slenderman, Jason The Toy Maker, Laughing Jack and Splendorman with S/O who Hangs On Them Like a Koala

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A/N: Thank you Anon for requesting this HCS! I'm sorry for the long update, it has been such a hectic day because of college and research. I hope you understand! Also, this is one of the funniest requests I have received and this makes my day. Thank you for requesting.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: None except profanities

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Slenderman

It is canon that Slenderman is very tall, above than ten feet tall so it was no wonder many people are scared of this faceless creature and no one has a gut to mess with him.

So it is no surprise that you are imagining yourself hanging onto your romantic partner like a monkey that is hanging onto a tree, it is quite an amusing sight.

Because of these thoughts, you finally have the courage to do it just to see your boyfriend's reaction if you are hanging onto him and latching him like a koala would.

Slenderman's first-time reaction when you hung onto his arm like a koala, he was not only surprised but he was also quite confused about why are you hanging onto his arms.

"Darling, why are you hanging into my arms like this. Do you realize that...I am not a tree?" He raised his unexistent eyebrows in confusion.

The second time you are latching up to him and hanging onto his arms like a koala. He is not as much as surprised as before but he was still confused like the first time you were hanging onto his arm before.

"Why do you hang onto his arms like that? Is there any purpose? Or are you just bored and want to entertain yourself by clinging to my arm?" That is mostly what would Slenderman ask himself when looking at you while you are still hanging onto him.

As time goes by and you're always latching up to his arms like a koala would, he would just gonna let you be even though it would annoy him sometimes when he is busy.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Having Slenderman as your romantic partner has its own perks, especially if you are a book and literature lover because your boyfriend does collect some fiction books with great plot stories and characters. You have free access to your boyfriend's private library and his office room without getting killed in the place.

However, that does not mean you can be fully entertained even if you have this access and you need more than just Reading books to make yourself not get bored. The poor (Y/N) NEED more, it could be going outside and wandering around in the forest, interacting with the other proxies, or anything that just can kill your boredom.

The grandpa clock on the wall still ticking painfully and Slenderman is busy reading the books that he got from stealing other creatures' libraries, for what? Who knows, you never understand your boyfriend's mindset and goal.

Not wanting to die out of boredom, an idea popped and crossed into your mind and the corner of your lips tugged upwards but it was stopped immediately by Slenderman's words."(Y/N) darling, please don't even think like that. I am busy reading this book and don't bother me." But that did not stop the (Y/N) (L/N). Walking very slowly towards your tall faceless boyfriend, there was a buzzing noise in (Y/N)'s head but she/he/they decide to ignore the sound as it gets louder and louder whereas you were getting closer to the faceless giant in front of you. Without any second thought, you leapt into the air as the calves of your legs used as a spring.

"(Y/N)-!" Slenderman accidentally threw his book away seeing you suddenly tackling him. Both of your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso as well as both of your legs. An innocent smile adorned across of your face with a twinkle in both of your eyes that shows 'mischief." He was standing there, frozen in surprise seeing you acting like this but it did not last long before Slenderman takes a deep breath.

"Fine....just don't bother me while I'm reading," Slenderman mutters.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Splendorman

Now Splendorman may be as tall as his older but he was a little bit shorter than his faceless stuck-up brother so it also means you can hang onto your boyfriend, Splendorman.

Unlike his brother, Splendorman has also more patience than his brother so it was no surprise that you didn't get unpunished by his reaction when you were hanging onto his arms.

There would be even a time he is encouraging you to climb him and then hanging onto his arms like a koala, then. He would laugh because he thinks it was rather funny.

The first time this happens, Splendorman was very surprised by you climbing and hanging onto his arms like a koala. He did not expect it but he did not mind it instead, he find this sight amusing.

He could not help but let out some small giggles here and there while watching you do that. he thinks you look adorable like this and even sometimes even offers you some candy while you are climbing his arms.

Not only he does gives candy to you to make you happy but he also swings his arms gently to rock you if you are getting bored and need some kind of challenge, he wong swings too hard to make you fall off.

He won't get annoyed like Slenderman does if you keep swinging or climbing him like a Koala every day, he just genuinely thinks you are bored and need entertainment or be affectionate.

Thus, if you want to cling to someone like a koala? It is better having him as the 'tree'. He genuinely thinks you look cute doing this to him.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Lights are everywhere inside the carnival as well as sounds of people chattering around despite the sound was not from a real human. Those loud and lingering sounds actually came from the radio and the speaker just to make the carnival less lonely. A certain peculiar person with (H/C) hair colour and (E/C) eye colour had a date with a certain smiling man.

The two of you hold hands together with a blush adorning both of your cheeks, smiling happily and walking with the certain giant with a polka dot suit. He has been spoiling you since Valentine's day and today he brought you to his personal carnival which is less creepy than Laughing Jack's carnival.

"(Y/N) Sweetiepie. I have a surprise for you but you need to close your eyes and follow me," Splendorman's grin widened.

"What kind of surprise?" You ask him.

"Oh honey, it's a surprise. If I tell you, it wouldn't be a surprise anymore," he puffs both of his cheeks playfully, making himself look like a squirrel.

"Alright, fine. Just don't give me a poisonous candy like that jerk, Laughing Jack," you told him

"I promise I won't," he gently put the blindfold over of your eyes before tying the end of the cloth.

His large and cold hands gently held both of your smaller hands before gently pulling you, "Follow me..." he whispers. Believing your boyfriend, you began stepping forward and following his voice as well as his lead, wondering what kind of surprise he is going to give you.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

It was quite a long walk and (Y/N) could feel both of their/her/his feet began aching in pain after a long stroll together with Splendorman. His voice reaches out to your ears once the two of you stop together, "Now, you can open the blindfold." Your heart began beating like crazy as if it was just gonna pop out of nowhere but you knew Splendorman will never endanger you in any way.

Lowering the blindfold carefully, both of your eyes widen in surprise to see several boxes laid on top of the tables with a pair of chairs facing each other. Of course near the table, there is an enormous teddy bear holding a red heart with a written 'I love you.'

(Y/N) could not help but the smile across your face brightens seeing all of the surprises that Splendorman gave you before you jump up to your boyfriend, squealing in happiness and wrapping your arms around his torso, nuzzling your head on the crook of his neck and hugging him as if he was a soft teddy bear.

The smiling man could not help but he was utterly surprised seeing your reaction but it did not last long as a chuckle escapes from his throat, wrapping his tendrils and arms around you and hugging you closer before his lips placed on top of the crown of your head, "I'm glad you like it, (Y/N)."

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Laughing Jack

Laughing Jack might be one of the tallest proxies in the mansion among the killers after Splendorman and Slenderman but he's also a little bit shorter than them.

Thus, he is also can be climbed like a tree and hugging him like a koala when you are getting bored. Unlike Slenderman, he did not find this strange.

He also did not find it annoying either. Just like Splendorman, he thinks this sight might be really amusing because he did not think you are going to pull this kind of stunt.

However, he is not as nice as Splendorman who he just gonna let you be hanging onto him like a koala peacefully. Nope, Laughing Jack can be a little bit of an ass.

The reason I am saying this is because he will in fact gonna swing your pretty hard just to scare you off and pretend he will gonna drop you just for shit giggles.

Oh, you are still not getting scared by that prank that he just pull out on you? he will do so much worse than just swinging you hard. Laughing Jack would even try to tickle you out of nowhere until you laugh your ass off and let him go.

He's not going to be ass forever though so don't worry about him keep being an annoying piece of shit. WHen he was nice, he would offer you a candy that is not poisonous and save for you to eat.

Sometimes would let you hang onto him while he is watching his favorite shows and would be sweet enough for cuddling you closer to his arms

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

it was never a boring day having Laughing Jack as your boyfriend, he always had a bright idea to make the day more fun and enjoyable despite it can be sometimes really chaotic and could make Slenderman angry because of the mess. But it did not last long until recently.

Today there's supposed to be a mission given by the faceless man to you and your boyfriend by killing people who found out about their secret but those people already got handled by Jeff and Eyeless Jack on the day beforehand so the two of you had a free time after all of those dramas.

(Y/N) and Laughing Jack currently sitting on the couch together with the middle of the sofa are a bowl of wrapped hard candies that Laughing Jack had made for you and himself while watching whatever in front of the TV.

Both of the lids of (Y/N) eyes were getting heavy and heavier with each second, the boredom slowly going to kill them/her/him and going to make (Y/N) fall asleep at any second whereas the certain clown enjoys the horror show about a clown dismembering children. It's not really a TV show, it was a recorded video of him torturing children.

But it did not last long as your eyes opened once again and both of (E/C) eye colours landed on the monochrome clown who keeps giggling like a madman and an idea popped across your mind. The clown did not notice that you were moving very slowly, getting closer to him with each second.

BAM!

Laughing Jack yelped and then his eyes shited at the certain (H/C) hair-coloured killer who already tackling him down. Both of her/his/their arms wrapped around the monochrome clown torso and a smile danced across of (Y/N)'s face. Instead of getting angry, Laughing Jack laughed out loud, seeing what (Y/N)'s just did was hella hilarious.

"HAHAHAHAHA! YOU LOOK LIKE A KOALA!" He pointed out.

"I'm aware of that," you retaliate, popping the tongue out from your mouth.

"Hehehe, were you bored? I'm sorry my little kitten getting bored," he said before one of his fingers took one of the candies and put the sweet inside of your mouth. Accepting his gesture, your lips parted away and let the sweet glide inside of your mouth with a lemon-like flavour covered your whole mouth.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Jason the Toymaker

Just like Laughing Jack, Jason the Toymaker might be a little bit calmer than Laughing Jack but that doesn't mean he hates physical touch, especially by you.

He might be not as tall as Slenderman and Splendorman but his height is almost the same as Laughing Jack (Which means, he is quite really tall).

So seeing you hanging onto him and cuddling him like a a koala latching on the tree makes his cold heart box melt seeing you like this.

Although he does finds it a little bit weird you're doing this because just like 'Am I really climbable? Why is (Y/N) clinging to my arms like a koala?'

Cuz he never sees adults doing this, he only sees kids doing this and his ex-friend too but that girl was when she was still a kid too although he did not mind it in the end.

He's less of a jerk like Laughing Jack because he's not going to scare you off on purpose just for shit and giggles but he does find it annoying if you do this when he is trying to make a doll.

Just don't hang onto him like a koala when he's working or he will give the scariest glare at you before he kicks you out of his room for distracting him from his job.

Overall, just like a Splendorman and Laughing Jack but much calmer than the two of them. Loves you when you're clingy like this, especially when the two of you hanging out together.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Tonight was the day after all of the children he had brought turned into a doll and the certain doll maker finally had free time to hang out together with his S/O. Sweats have been trickling down from the scalp of his forehead and those dolls got sent away. Jason the Toymaker is definitely tired after all of the missions that Slenderman has given to him.

He could not wait to just hang out with you and spend the rest of the time together doing something relaxing or maybe going out to ease his upcoming headache. The certain red-haired killer trudges slowly from the abandoned hallway and leaves the dark hallway before he went to the closest room which is the living room.

Inside the living room, he can see the certain killer with (H/C) hair colour with a (H/L) Hair length, the particular person also has a pair of (E/C) eye colours as well as (S/C) skin colour on the screen in front of them/her/him. (Y/N) could not help but yawn as their/her/his finger keeps pressing on the button of the remote TV, keep changing the channels to find an interesting show but none of them made you get excited enough.

Jason could not help but silently chuckles as he sees your condition, he found it was a little bit funny but also a little bit sad that you're bored out of your mind. Even the news that shows the recent kill that proxies had done did not make (Y/N) giddy at all. Instead, it makes (Y/N) yawn harder than before.

Jason slowly approaches you as your ears pick up the sound of his footsteps getting closer to you and your eyes shifted to the certain toymaker. Despite he was grinning creepily, it was just his happy smile as he sees you, "Are you bored, darling?" Jason the Toymaker asks.

You did not say anything to him but to answer his question, you gave him a brief nod before you shifted your butt away from the couch, letting your boyfriend sit next to you. But your next action made the poor red-haired killer startled a little bit. Both of your arms wrapped around his shoulder with legs also wrapped around his waist, gently placing your head on his cold shoulder and nuzzling your head on the crook of his neck.

"Uhh..darling? What are you doing??" he asks, raising his eyebrows a little bit but also smiling a little bit, finding this scene to be amusing.

"Hanging to you like a koala...now shut up," you mumble.

Hearing your answer, Jason could not help but rolls his green eyes playfully at you before he places his long slender fingers on top of your hand, gently giving a soothing rub on the back of your head. He's glad that you're acting a little bit clingy today despite you look like a koala hanging onto him.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

#creepypasta #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta scenarios #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #slenderman #slenderman x reader #slenderman headcanons #splendorman #splendorman headcanons #splendorman x reader #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack headcanons #jason the toymaker #jason the toymaker x reader #jason the toymaker headcanons

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legless-fish-on-rollerskates · 9 months

Text

So with the disney series on the way and one of my friends currently in a production of the lightning theif musical I've been getting back into pjo, and I've been listening to the newest olympian podcast (guy named mike who's never read pjo reads pjo and talks about it chapter by chapter with longtime fans), and in episode 8 he talks about how the cosmic threat (gods) is really different from the malicious threat in other books (eg voldemort) and it makes the stakes have a really different energy because it's not someone evil intentionally hurting people for personal reasons, it's larger powers at play who don't really care if they hurt people because to them it's just collateral damage.

Now of course mike is still early enough in book one that the cosmic threat is the only threat and we all know that changes as the series goes on, but it made me think about the difference between the godly antagonists and the human antagonists in pjo and how they're portrayed, and I sort of realized for the first time that, in the case of the fate of humanity, pjo doesn't have "bad guys".

There are two types of antagonist in pjo. The first are the gods/titans/other mythological beings who don't care about humans beyond what they can do for them and are mostly just fighting amongst themselves. Yeah, big bad villain Kronos isn't really a fan of humanity, but destroying humans isn't his main objective in the war. His objective is destroying the gods and taking back control. Destroying humans is a happy bonus for him, but even if he knew he wouldn't be capable of that he would still be fighting the gods.

The second type are the half blood traitors, and this is what I really care about, because Luke is an antagonist but he is NOT a villain. He's a victim. And that distinction is the entire point.

Throughout the entire series Percy shows he understands this concept. Our first minor human antagonist is Clarisse. Percy doesn't like Clarisse, but he understands she's a product of her situation and he treats her with genuine compassion even when he's not being very nice to her. He knows how important her quest is to her, that her anger stems from insecurity, and he makes sure she gets to take the fleece back even though he won't get any credit.

As the books go on we see more significant demigod antagonists who don't just bully Percy but actually betray him. It would be easy for Percy to hate them, to write them off. But he doesn't.

Nico turns on Percy several times throughout the series, always for the same reason (seeking information on his family/bianca). Someone else might see that repeated betrayal and be furious, and yes Percy is a little pissed, but his first conscious reaction is guilt that he wasn't there for Nico and his first instinct is to try and help him. He continues to trust Nico despite everything. And Nico fights alongside Percy in the very end when it counts.

Silena doesn't just betray Percy, but all of camp and by proxy all of humanity. And instead of seeing a traitor Percy sees that, just like Clarisse, just like Nico, Silena is a victim of this life they've all been forced into by their godly parents. Percy understands that the human threat has been created by the cosmic threat, and Percy turns around and says "no." He has Clarisse's back. He forgives Nico. He makes sure Silena is honored as a hero. He gives the knife to Luke.

And this is what sets pjo apart. This is why the story is so important. Luke is the ultimate traitor. He was Percy's first friend at camp after Grover, and at the end of book one he tries to kill Percy and nearly succeeds. He turns his back on the gods, offers himself to Kronos, and forsakes all of humanity. And instead of building up that animosity throughout the series and culminating with Percy killing Luke, Percy spends years trying to help him. He learns Luke's backstory. He meets his parents, the godly and the mortal. He sees Luke's experiences as what they are: trauma. He finds him and asks him to come back. He offers him his trust. Luke declines, multiple times. But Percy doesn't stop trying. And at the very end, when killing Luke is the only way to stop Kronos and Percy has the opportunity to do so, he doesn't. He is not the hero, and he knows it. Instead, he forgives Luke. He gives him the knife. He offers his trust. And Luke finally accepts.

So Luke dies, Kronos is defeated, and Percy is not victorious. He sees it as a failure that they all let it get far enough that saving Luke wasn't an option. The gods offer to grant Percy one wish as a reward for his heroism, with immortality as the implied correct choice. And Percy shocks them all and says "no. This isn't about me. It was never about me. I don't want to be a god. I want you to make sure that what happened to Luke never happens to anyone ever again."

#mike schubert #the newest olympian #percy jackson #pjo #luke castellan #clarisse la rue #nico di angelo #silena beauregard #long post #pjo meta #percy jackon and the olympians

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creepy-friday · 1 year

Note

Ok ok hear me out 👀

What if, instead of fem! Proxy, we got a fem! Human maid 👀👀👀

Like the Slenderman chose her to take care of the mansions needs such as: cleanliness, general functioning (like electrical management, house repair, etc...), food management, etc...

But she isn't a demon nor proxy, but a human dragged into this life (The Operator is a cruel silly guy)

The Proxies have to watch over her so other residents don't mess with her, and also so she doesn't run away.

THE POWER DYNAMIC WOULD BE THROUGH THE ROOF 😭

YOU'RE BACK<3 this prompt is interesting ngl👀👀 I included more characters for the spice

Creepypasta x Maid!Reader

Characters Included: Proxy focused

Warnings: suggestive/NSFW themes,non-con/dub-con mentions,violence,misogyny,drugs and mental illness references

The difference between the power dynamics between you and the other residents are catastrophically huge

Once Slenderman took you in,he made sure that you understand what your role is from the start.It was a cruel time for him to make the decision to bring an innocent human in a manor full of deranged people,but in his mind he took the right decision

The first sick people who viewed you as a fuck toy would be Masky and Jeff

Since you're in the care of proxies,you are somwhat lucky,the others would mostly keep their hands to themselves

Maybe except Ben who has no restrictions by being a literal ghost,so I can totally see him messing with you for a while

The fact that you are a maid might give the others the opportunity to discover a new kink btw

Masky would slap your ass as you clean the windows "good job,get that body moving"

He's a whiny little bitch.He would scream at you if you missed a spot,if you were late to cook dinner by a minute or if he simply needs your assistance with whatever bullshit he makes up

He even called you to prepare him a bath and harassed you in the bathroom,even threating to drown you for his sick entertainment

The way you look up to him makes his dick hard,he doesn't care if the others find gross that he gets off on the power imbalance,he feels good about it

The only good thing he does is not letting the others fuck with you it doesn't apply to Hoodie

Sure,he might threaten to punish you by letting Jeff has his way with you,but we all know his pride won't let him to let you get fucked by another man yeah,once more,it doesn't apply to Hoodie

Right after a bloody mission he would bring you to his room and make you suck him off "How's it feel to have the dirty work done?Right where you belong"

Washing the blood off of their clothes it's a nightmare.Sometimes,the white masked man would try to scare you by saying all the messed up things he did to get them this red

Toby was happy he can look after a girl ngl.After seeing how scared and lost you are,he decided to make himself your safe space

But even then,he saw you as an opportunity to break himself into,it was a selfish tought,but he really craved to be your "knight in shining armor"

He actually started to stand his ground whenever Masky would start to harass him in front of you,and even if he would get beat up and would shame retreat in his shell for a few days,this boy doesn't give up

I can see him letting you escape in the forest if you pull the right strings,but the fear of what Slenderman would do to both yourself and him made Toby to get you back crying

INSTEAD,he goes on walks with you in the forest whenever you are free,just to give you that false sense of freedom

Even if it's just your job to clean,cook and do household chores,he views them as more intimate and might get romantic feelings towards you he has no self respect

Hoodie would play a lot of mind games with you,sometimes he would make you think he's your ally,sometimes he would give the impression that he's just another wolf from the hungry pack

He actually let you run free in the forest for a few minutes and waited for you to get your hopes up until he would show up from behind and get you back

"Gothca" he said,tackling you to the ground as one of his hands rested on your waist and the other one on the back of your head "let's get you back,shall we?awwwh,don't cry now,you know I wouldn't hurt you!Now I can't say the same about the others if they knew you got this far..so let's keep this between the two of us,what do ya' say?"

The son of a bitch would also blackmail you into having sex with him so that he can "protect you" or so that "he wouldn't snitch about your plans of running away"

Even if your plans would be top tier,he would know about them and would make sure to tear them down as slow as the light in your eyes fade away

If you're feisty he wouldn't feel the need to fight with you,but would rather keep him interested into bringing you down

But if you're on the docile side he would still take it as a challenge to himself,to see in how much time he can make you his loyal puppy

The manor is huge,four floors with large windows where a lot of dust piles up,especially on the inhibited last floor where The Operator works

I can see Masky making you work naked at a busy hour of the day, just for his fucked up entertainment,throwing some nasty comments while burning cigarette buts on your soft skin

EJ would watch from a distance,mercy and guilt piling up in his chest.Altough he doesn't see you as prey,he would certainly think of you as a safe resort to call when his heats/bloodlust appears

Jane would nod her head and advert her eyes,often even asking you if you're okay,just trying to make you feel..a little cared for

Natalie would argue a lot about you with Masky,but after all she's just a resident and Tim is still a proxy at the end of the day.She can't do anything about it.

All in all,your life in the mansion would be assured to be a long one,and depending on your behaviour you can make it a less traumatizing pressuring experience

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta #headcanons #y/n #tim wright #tim wright x reader #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #toby x reader #marble hornets #jeff the killer #jane the killer #clockwork #ben drowned #creepypasta scenarios

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sophieinwonderland · 4 months

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5 minutes??? That's impossible!!!

First thing... I really don't know where the myth that alters always take a long time to switch comes from.

But as far as I can tell, it is a myth.

Second, even if it wasn't, many systems experience co-fronting, where multiple alters can front at once and the body can be controlled by any alter in front.

More than that, there's a practice you can do, tulpamancers call it proxying, where you write things for other headmates.

At its simplest level, people hear voices in their head say things, and then they write down what those voices say. If you understand how journalism this works, this should be easy to understand. I have no idea why this very simple concept seems so hard for r/systemscringe and r/fakedisordercringe to process, but it's one they seem to struggle with a lot.

Something coming from a given headmate doesn't actually mean that particular headmate was fronting at that exact moment!

#syscourse #plural #plurality #multiplicity #plural system #pro endo #pro endogenic #tulpamancy #system stuff #sysblr #systemscringe #fake disorder cringe #fakedisordercringe #r/systemscringe #r/fakedisordercringe #system #actually plural #actually a system

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twig-tea · 2 months

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TsukuTabe S2 Is Perfection

I’ve been waffling about what to write about Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna s2, which completed last week (and which we have access to at all thanks to the hard work of @furritsubs). I have had to just give up on getting across how much this show means to me; there's no way I'll be able to communicate these feelings with words. Season 1 was excellent but Season 2 was everything I wanted and more that I didn't know I needed. This is going to be more disjointed than usual because I don't know how to be coherent about this show (and because tumblr ate my first two attempts).

At its core, Tsukuritai Onna to Tabtetai Onna asks what if we were all just a little bit more conscientious and kind to one another? What if women were given space to be themselves and to make the choices that were best for them? This is the world of TsukuTabe, and I'm so grateful to have had the chance to inhabit it over these last four weeks.

I have so much love for the way Nomoto and Kasuga develop their relationship in conjunction with their relationships with the other women in their lives. Nagumo, Sayama, and Yako are integral to the success of Nomoto and Kasuga’s relationship, and they're also important relationships for the happiness of Nomoto and Kasuga in their own right. The found family vibes are immaculate.

The conflict between Kasuga and Nomoto this season was so perfectly them; the way they struggled with the transition from friends to lovers and being two people who are kind and giving in a relationship together and how that requires honesty and trust were both familiar conflicts that hit me hard in the feels.

Kasuga's conflict with her family also hit me really hard. I once did the wrong thing and showed up to support my family in caring for someone who abused me, and it was a horrible experience that was ruinous to my mental health and took years to get over (and in the end they had to find a different solution anyway, which they could have done in the first place). Watching Kasuga refuse to make a similar decision, standing strong in the face of the social pressures of her parents and her aunt was so healing for me. And then to have her decision affirmed by someone of her parent's age? I sobbed in those scenes.

I also loved the way this season handled Nagumo’s anxiety issues and how she was given space to decide to get professional help on her own time and terms. The way her parents tried to help was also very familiar to me and realistic, and it was just a little heartbreaking how they tried and didn't understand how their attempts at helping added pressure in a way that wasn't helpful.

The way this show covers this important beats in a person's life through these small, everyday moments, and in such a gentle way, is what I love so much about it. The show itself makes a safe space so that these subjects can come up and not feel overwhelming.

And it's also really important to me that all of the characters get to have these moments. Sakae not only reflects on her insensitivity and the unfairness of Japan not having marriage equality, but she also reflects on the pressures on her to marry and whether she actually wants that for herself. Fujita not only helps Kasuga gain proxy acceptance for her choices but gets the same back for herself around her decision to divorce. All of these women live in ways that invoke social stigma, and the way this show gives explicit permission to these women to live their best lives is both cathartic and critical.

I can't end this disjointed ramble without talking about the character I most identified with this season, Yako. Yako is an older, self-actualized asexual lesbian who makes friends with Nomoto on the Internet, recommends lesbian films to her, and mostly listens and affirms as Nomoto goes through her own process of discovering herself. I ran a GSA and have been on the Internet a long time, I've been in Yako’s position a lot (though I can only aspire to be as kind and wise). She is so patient and so genuinely happy for Nomoto when she and Kasuga get together, and she seems so quietly thrilled to have more wonderful people in her life willing to indulge her random party ideas. Her sharing a connection to a LGBTQ+-friendly real estate agency while being angry on their behalf that she even has to was perfection.

It's so important that these characters say the things they say aloud. I want to inscribe every sentence of this show into everyone's brains. This show is perfect, and lovely, and a warm bath, and a hug, and a cup of your favourite warm beverage perfectly fixed to your liking all in one. If you haven't done yourself the favour of watching yet, I highly recommend that you do so immediately.

[not an ID: Real footage of the entire audience's satisfaction and catharsis after watching TsukuTabe S2. Actual ID in alt text].

#tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #tsukutabe #gl meta #sapphic media #typed so that I can stop thinking it

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coexistentialism · 5 months

Text

I realized what it is that I dislike about words like "monoconscious" and "non-possessive switching."

At least for me, I was constantly told that I probably have OSDD or partial DID or neither DID, OSDD, nor partial DID, all because I would explain how "I always feel Conscious, it's all Just Me", "I'm always just the same", etc. I would get told that it sounds more like OSDD/partial DID/etc. because of these things.

And each time, it was frustrating, because it goes directly against everything I know about DID. It made me question what I thought I knew. Even while being diagnosed, people still continue to treat my experiences as if they seem to be OSDD/partial instead of DID.

And I think I realized why.

People see the Hollywood media depiction of DID with this "cool", "flashy", "out there" drastic type of switches where every alter is their own extremely different "person" with extremely different names and personalities and when you don't experience that, you get labeled as someone with OSDD/partial DID instead of DID.

DID is treated like this rare club where only the people with the "coolest" switches and shit are welcome. And if you don't have that, it can't be DID.

Because people see DID as more severe as OSDD, and people see the Hollywood depictions as if it's the absolutely most severe presentation, if you don't have that, you clearly can't have any kind of Severe experiences and by proxy it means you can't have DID.

That's where things like "non-possessive switching" and "monoconscious" come in - the way these words are treated feel like they are treated as if they aren't "really" "true" switching. They're treated like it makes your experiences "less bad." Unless you get thrown into a black void and wake up in, like, the next neighborhood, you clearly don't have it that bad and because OSDD/partial DID is/are treated like less bad forms of DID, you get labeled with those instead.

People straight-up treat these experiences as if they aren't "true" switching. That it can only be real switching if you just blackout and wake up like 10 months later.

And this only happens in system communities and with people who are uneducated about DID.

Professionals consistently say that DID is not this "flashy", "cool" thing that media depicts; professionals consistently say that DID is very hidden and that it often does not feel like some outside source possessing you, it can for some people, but that feeling is just as much switching as "feeling like you become another person" is and "feeling like you just Are a specific alter for a certain amount of time" and so on.

You doesn't share one consciousness, you just doesn't personally, subjectively perceive your switching to be as if you are unconscious or that you're "always awake" or whatever. And that doesn't mean you have OSDD/partial DID. And saying that these experiences are OSDD/partial experiences just shows a lack of understanding about DID, to be honest.

#my posts #controversial post i think tbh

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inevitably-johnlocked · 6 months

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I’m so sorry if this question is ignorant or stupid I really just want to understand so I can become educated. When someone is asexual would they still gain something from reading explicit fic scenes? Again sorry if I’m ignorant

Hey Nonny *HUGS*

SO SORRY it took so long to reply to this one... Kind of started and then it got forgotten, and I am sorry for that. No better time than Ace Awareness Week to help you understand!!

So, short answer to your question, is YES, SOME aces do, whether to facilitate in self-pleasure, or because seeing their faves happy, or as placeholders because some aces take pleasure-by-proxy, or a variety of other reasons, it just simply makes some of us happy. You'd be surprised how many of those smutty authors are actually ace themselves. It's one of those funny misconceptions that aces are all woobie-uwu-innocent-pure-thoughts-only magical creatures, and I'm here to shatter that illusion... Aces are some of the smuttiest-minded people you will ever meet. Why, I have no idea, maybe it's because we don't fantasize about sex the same way allos do that we can come up with increasingly hornier ideas? LOL No idea.

The thing about asexuality is that it's a HUGE spectrum, and no one ace is exactly the same. A sex-negative ace might get something out of reading smut because it's not involving them. Or they might not at all. Same with sex-positive/neutral aces. It's ALL a matter of what makes us tick.

BUT here's where I go into my LONG answer, and get you REALLY into the Ace Lore™.

I want to introduce you to the microlabel of Aegosexuality (formerly autochorisexuality), which is a term that loosely translates to "sexuality with oneself". The expanded definition, from the Sexuality Wiki, bolding is mine:

It is [...] a disconnect between oneself and a sexual target/object of arousal; may involve sexual fantasies or arousal in response to erotica or pornography, but lacks desire to be an actual participant in the sexual activities therein.

Aegosexuals are known to:

Become aroused by sexual content (at times) without wanting to personally engage in sexual activities.

Masturbate, but feel neutral or repulsed by the idea of having sex with another person.

Fantasize about sex (with varying frequency), but envision people other than themselves, and/or view it in third person, as if watching it on TV, instead of imagining it in the first person, through their own eyes.

Predominantly—or exclusively—fantasize about fictional characters or celebrities in place of people they know personally.

Identify as asexual, feeling little-to-no sexual attraction to people though enjoy masturbating (with varying frequency), are aroused by sexually explicit content, and/or fantasizing of such.

[/end quote]

====

Basically, smut turns them on, but some aces don't want to engage in the smut for-reals. This microlabel makes it ESPECIALLY confusing for newly-figured-out-aces because there hasn't been a lot of information about asexuality's huge spectrum until recently. Aegosexuals can initially believe that they AREN'T ace, BECAUSE they get turned on by porn or smutty stories, but then they're SUPER confused because the idea of having sex themselves is appalling or undesirable. It's a bizarre contradiction, understandably, to outsiders, but it makes COMPLETE sense once an ace figures this out, I promise you.

This is the microlabel I myself fall under. It's not from any trauma or past problems or medical issues. It's just me. That's it. And because of the confusion that this sexuality can bring, it often takes us a LOT longer to have ourselves figured out. For me, it was an accidental stumbling upon the "autochorisexual" label (before it became Aegosexual) and reading up on it that EVERYTHING fell into place. Before that, I thought I was maybe demisexual. After learning about it, I felt okay FINALLY calling myself ace, that I finally found the "right fit" for me. It was the piece of the puzzle that I was missing. I felt really liberated of my self-doubt after that.

And, of course, aros have their version as well called Aegoromantic, which is exactly the same but in a romantic sense.

Here are some more resources for Aegosexuality, if you'd like to learn more about this lesser-known branch on the spectrum:

What Does It Mean to Be Aegosexual? (Cosmopolitan US || November 24, 2022)

WHAT IS AEGOSEXUAL? MEANING, HISTORY, AND USAGE. (Gayety.co ||July 11, 2022)

History of Aegosexuality (The Michigan Gayly || February 1, 2021)

EVERYTHING YOU NEED TOO KNOW ABOUT AEGOSEXUALITY (Live Love LGBTQ+ Blog || October 27, 2017)

VIDEO: 5 Signs You Might Be Aegosexual (Lynn Saga, YouTube || August 6, 2022 || 6m20s)

VIDEO: What is Aegosexuality? | Aspec 101 (Slice Of Ace, YouTube || July 15, 2022 || 3m54s)

VIDEO: Asexual Identities: Aegosexuality (Ace Dad Advice, YouTube || May 22, 2022 || 12m27s)

====

AGAIN, I'm SO sorry I put this ask off for SO long, but I'm glad that I did, so that I could educate you guys on my brand of Asexuality during Ace Awareness Week!

And, finally, no offence taken at ALL! I LOVE educating y'all about stuff I learned through my journey, and you were very respectful in your ask :)

Hope you are well, Nonny, and hope you're still here to see this 🖤💜

#steph replies #asexuality #asexual awareness week #aegosexuality #ace week #my ramblings #links checked 2023-10-26 #lgbt resources #lgbtqia #about me

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max1461 · 5 months

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What’s the deal with Basque. It’s a language isolate but are the Basque people like an “ethnic isolate”? Are the Basque people significantly genetically different than neighboring peoples? Is there any particular reason everyone else in Europe was either exterminated or assimilated by the Indo-Europeans, at least to the point that they adopted IE languages—but not the Basques?

Regarding genetics, I can't really say. Genetics is way outside my area of expertise, and looking online it doesn't appear that there's a real consensus. It appears that the general picture is that they have some amount of local hunter-gatherer ancestry and some amount of admixture from steppe populations, which is qualitatively the same as the rest of Europe. They may have these things in different proportions(?) than other European populations, or something like that; it sounds like a number of the studies disagree with each other. I think I'd have to have a better understanding of human genetics in general to give a more confident assessment of what is going on.

Linguistically speaking, Basque is the only non-IE language spoken in Western Europe today (Uralic languages, such as Finnish and Hungarian, are spoken in Eastern Europe, although they are probably later arrivals to the region than even IE), but it is not the only non-IE spoken in Western Europe within recorded history. The collective name for the languages spoken in the Iberian peninsula before the Roman conquest is the paleo-Iberian or Paleohispanic languages; of these, several were not Indo-European. Aquitanian in particular is generally identified as a direct ancestor of Basque. But there were also others, scantily attested, that may or may not have been related. These existed alongside Continental Celtic languages in the region.

There was also Etruscan, in Italy, which was non-IE. Etruscan civilization largely predated the Romans in the area and was highly influential on them; the Latin alphabet is principally adapted from the Etruscan alphabet (itself adapted from Greek), and Latin borrowed a number of words from Etruscan. Some of these have even made their way into English, for instance the very common word person, from Latin persōna "mask", possibly from Etruscan phersu "mask".

Anyway, whether or not any of these languages represent holdovers of the pre-IE linguistic environment in Europe is hard to say. For instance, some have argued that the Etruscans or their ancestors were actually late arrivals from somewhere south, possibly Anatolia. But I don't think there is any conclusive evidence for or against such ideas.

It is worth noting that ethnic and linguistic groupings very often don't align. Groups may remain ethnically distinct while adopting a majority language, or may remain linguistically distinct while losing a sense of ethnic identity, and so on. So genetic studies are often-useful-but-highly-imperfect proxies for linguistic relatedness, and vice versa. For instance, most of the "Negrito" peoples of South East Asia are highly genetically distinct from neighboring populations, but many of them speak Aslian languages related (distantly) to Vietnamese and Khmer. These languages are clearly distinct, but should not be misunderstood as holdovers predating the spread of genetically East Asian people to the region.

My understanding is that the evidence regarding Basque points to it being as pre-IE holdout in Western Europe. However, this need not say much about the genetics of the Basque people.

In any case, as to the question of "why" it held out when other pre-IE languages disappeared? I think it's kind of impossible to say. Presumably the mountainous and isolated nature of the Basque Country played a role; indeed all the studies I looked at seemed to say that genetically Basque people showed signs of isolation within the last thousand years or so, suggesting that they did not have as much contact with other European populations. But, beyond that, if you look at the fact that other pre-IE (or at least non-IE) languages survived in Western Europe until the historical period (Etruscan and some paleo-Iberian), it is perhaps not so surprising that at least one of them would make it to the modern day. Basque looks like a complete outlier now, but going back even 2000 years and there were a number of other languages in its position. In some sense the Indo-European migration into Europe was "not that long ago", on archeological timescales, so perhaps things like this are to be expected.

#linguistics #the world

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part-time-zombie · 3 months

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It's honestly heartbreaking how little we see of who abigail really is. So much of her is merely a reflection of what other people want from her or who she pretends to be for them, but there isn't very much about her authentic self and who she is when she's alone.

Will wants to see a survivor in her, proof that if she can endure this trauma and emerge whole and without corruption then so can he. He saw her as a manifestation of his own struggle and guilt, he needed to protect her since he never felt safe. He placed himself as a nurterer to her, someone who can understand her and help her grow into someone good so he can too.

Hannibal saw himself in her. Wounded, terrified, alone and betrayed, he saw the child he once was and sought to mold thos new child in his image. He saw the look of recognition on her face when she ate at his table, and understood that she had also fed on others the same way he fed on his sister. He saw the opportunity to guide her through this darkness in a way he never was, and all of his attempts at helping her also isolated her and kept her reliant on him, so he could better craft her in his image.

Alana saw the good in everyone, and she fought to prove that goodness in abigail. When she knew she couldn't help will, she turned to abigail as another wounded bird to nurse back to health. Alana wanted to protect her long shattered innocence, and as so coddled and cared for her even when it wasn't in her best interest.

Jack wanted answers, and hoped he'd find them in her. He needed to solve every case and lock every killer up in the hopes that it would somehow make up for his inability to find and save Miriam. The shrike case, though closed, was not solved in a satisfying enough manner for him, and he looked to abigail for answers when she clearly was not able or willing to provide them. She was just another peice of the puzzle to him.

Freddie saw opportunity in her. She saw a glimpse of abigails resolution, her drive to keep her be clean, and found a chance at fame by proxy, using her desperation for deliverance to further her fame and maybe even take up a prodigy as eager to write as she is.

Even with her father she is pretending. She waves cheerily at him when she visits him at work, she is warm and casual during breakfast. She focuses on the hunt and never questions him. She let's him guide her, pointing out the next girl for her to meet, who she wears a practiced smile and performed friendliness to, even when she knows what will happen.

I don't know much about who she is when she is alone. What music does she listen to, what shows does she watch? Does she read and if so, what? Does she like puzzles or games or animals, did she ever like hunting? How did she learn to escape the hospital, and why could t we have joined her on one of those nights out? Who is abigail hobbs, when she is herself?

#abigail hobbs #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal #will and hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #jack crawford #alana bloom #freddie lounds #garret jacob hobbs

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nerdpoe · 11 months

Text

TWINcognito mode Part 4 (Tim and Danny Pretend to be Twins AU) (is it still pretending if they genuinely consider each other as twins?)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, AO3

Danny had a bandage on his hand.

Tim stared at it, then his twin, then the hospital room around them, and finally at Jason.

“Jason what the fuck,” he breathed quietly, gesturing helplessly at the hospital patient on the bed.

“No, you’re what the fuck,” Jason hissed, shoving a finger in Tim’s chest, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Well fuck you Replacement, I know where you keep your precious BatMobile and I’m not afraid to torch it.”

How the hell did Jason know where the secret BatMobile was?

Wait, not important.

“Danny, you good?” Tim asked, pushing Jason’s hand away and moving towards his probably slightly high twin, “Did he cut off any fingers?” Did Tim have to cut off any of Jason’s in return?

Because he’d do it. He’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.

Jason could stand to lose a few fingers.

Danny’s too-wide eyes gazed into his, and then the little shit started giggling nonstop.

“Oh yeah, they gave him morphine. Did it even though I told them that giving a meta morphine is a bad idea, but I think they thought he was you, so. They learned the hard way.”

There was energy dancing in arcs around Danny’s fingertips, and Tim was fairly certain he knew that the fake incident of blasting a hole in the wall had just become a real one.

“Tim?” Danny asked, reaching out and burning the lapel he’d managed to grab with the energy running unchecked through his hands.

Tim was so suing the hospital for this.

“Yes, Danny?” He sighed, delicately removing the sparking appendage from his clothes.

“Tim, I think I broke a wall.”

“That’s fine, they deserved it for not listening to your medical proxy.”

Tim heard Jason distantly give a flat “What”.

It was fine, a few seconds of typing and it’d look like Jason had always been a listed emergency contact and medical proxy. He could figure out how to explain that to Bruce later.

He’d also need one of Jason’s aliases.

“Everything is moving, and the ceiling is melting.”

Tim frowned. Usually when he saw shit like that it meant-

-Danny abruptly leaned forward and emptied his stomach on Tim’s shoes.

Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the sound of Jason’s hysterical laughter.

He could also hear a few shutter clicks, god damn it, one of the vultures had trailed in after him.

"Jason, two mill to play bodyguard and handle the vulture behind me."

The laughter stopped abruptly, and Jason went after the paparazzi with far too much enthusiasm.

Tim listened to the distant sound of a bone breaking and agonized screams as he reached forward and rubbed Danny's back.

Danny whined, leaning into his stomach.

"Don't worry; I've got everything handled," Tim was already texting his team of lawyers in one group chat and the Wayne Industries PR team in another.

He'd take care of it; taking care of family was what he did best.

~~~~~~

The phone rang exactly twice before it was picked up.

“Bruce Wayne speaking,” Bruce Wayne answered, not really paying attention to his work phone as he focused on the blueprints to Black Masks newest HQ in front of him.

“Mr. Wayne, we understand that you have a good working relationship with us at the Daily Planet, for all that we’re from your sister city,” a nervous voice sounded on the other side, and Bruce was suddenly paying attention, “And we were wondering if you would be willing to have an interview concerning Tim Drake-Wayne’s hidden twin? The public has many questions, and you know that we’ll treat the story with the respect it des-”

“Danny doesn’t like reporters,” Bruce lied through his teeth; he had no idea what Danny did or did not like, and he would address the lack of press coverage later once he found out what was going on, “How did this get out?”

“Ah, well there may have been a slight incident at the local hospital, and it’s a little hard to hide a wall with a hole blown in it from a high meta.”

What.

“What hospital?”

The line went quiet.

“I…I’m feeling a bit like I’ve just ratted them out, sir.”

“I’m their father, it’s fine; what hospital?”

“Gotham General, sir. Mr. Daniel’s bodyguard broke a paparazzi’s legs as well, so…there’s also questions about using excessive force.”

Bruce allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and lament his quiet evening.

That was Jason. That was 100% Jason. This was absolutely something that had happened between the twins and Jason that they hadn’t wanted Bruce to know.

“I’ll get back to you on that interview,” Bruce said, hanging up without waiting for so much as a goodbye.

Without a word, he walked out of the BatCave and headed towards the garage, trying to occupy his mind to steer it away from imagining catastrophic injuries.

How unfortunate that his brain was insistent on catastrophizing something, and if it wasn’t allowed to imagine injuries, it was going to find something else.

Danny had been largely unknown to the press.

Gotham press Bruce could understand; they would understand the unspoken rule laid out by Janet and Jack to Not Talk About The Twin. But Metropolis news? They wouldn’t care at all.

There would have been reports on it. The Daily Planet would have called to ask for a story on property damage, not about the ‘hidden twin’.

There were other inconsistencies.

There were no pictures of Danny in the Manor, aside from the new one on the mantel that Alfred had managed to get the boy to sit still for. However, he was in the background of all of the photos he’d found of the Drake family online.

If it wasn’t for Barbara stating that she knew him, and for Tim’s easy familial interactions with him, Bruce would swear that Danny really hadn’t existed prior to-

…

Danny hadn’t existed.

He didn’t want to consider the possibility that Barbara lied, but if he did…

Tim enjoyed pranks. Danny was confirmed to have been captured by Ra’s. Danny had escaped. Tim had found Danny. More than likely, they had moved forward from there, and Tim was prone to becoming obsessively protective of family, and Danny was…

Ra’s had reached into a different dimension and grabbed that universe’s version of Tim. Except he hadn’t, because in that universe Tim had been born with an identical twin, and it would have been an easy mistake for someone not expecting that.

Tim and Barbara were trying their hardest to make sure that Danny had a place in this universe. They were trying their hardest to keep him.

Tim was absolutely not researching how to send Danny back; if he had been, he would have started refusing cases for the sake of research.

Bruce hauled himself into his car, started it, and took a moment to rest his forehead on the steering wheel.

He understood it, really. He did.

Danny fit into their family like a missing puzzle piece; he belonged with them.

But Danny was from a different dimension. He had to go home, no matter how much they wanted him to stay. His version of Bruce was probably tearing the laws of reality apart to get him back.

Bruce would do the same for any of his children, especially if it had been a kidnapping and not an accident.

Bruce sighed and slammed the car into reverse.

He didn’t have enough evidence, he would have to ask for further information.

And how he loathed admitting he did not know something.

In the meantime, he called the one person he would never have thought he’d have to ask for help.

He called John Constantine and told him, as Batman, that the Wayne family had a situation.

~~~~~~

John hated the rich.

Unless they were paying him, of course.

Which Bruce bloody Wayne would, if he wanted his help.

It had taken a bit of wandering, fending off hospital security, and walking past a smoking hole in a wall-fucking Gotham-before he’d managed to convince someone to just guide him to the room in question.

And because John was a snoop, and he knew he was, he stopped outside the door to listen in.

“-I know you’re from a different dimension, Danny, we just want to help you go back.”

“I don’t understand what I did wrong, why do you want to kill me?”

“Bruce what the fuck-”

“Old Man you’ve got it wrong-”

“John Constantine is on the way to pinpoint what Dimension you’re from. Danny, this hurts, I don’t want to do this, but you have to go back home.”

“But if you do that I’ll die!”

“Yeah Bruce he’ll-wait you’ll what? What?! Back the fuck up Old Man!”

“B, calm down. Your conclusion is inaccurate and you need to step back.”

“Danny, stop overreacting; your version of Bruce is probably very worried.”

Well this sounded like a lovely family conversation to walk into.

He opened the door without any fanfare and…yup. Rich people.

There was a revenant standing in front of an eldritch being waving an unused IV pole at Bruce Wayne while the CEO of Wayne Industries was trying to pull the old CEO away from the people in front of him.

Bruce Wayne was not moving.

“Right, so…I’m here to take a look at the…” John trailed off, finally getting a good look at the eldritch thing behind the revenant.

That was no kid.

That was an Ancient.

That was not just an Ancient.

That was the High King of the Infinite Realms, trapped in a mortal body and shackled to life.

This was not a God of Death, this was The God of Death; but tiny and human. Tiny, human, and for some unknown reason had chosen the Wayne family to live his life with.

John wasn’t going to pretend to know what went on in the mind of an Ancient Spirit turned God, but he did know how to take in what was in front of him.

The soul was seamlessly integrated into the body, only barely leaking out. There was a tether, presumably to the Infinite Realms, for the overflow of power that the mortal body could not handle. This looked like any other reincarnation, but with something more powerful than a normal soul.

Which meant that this was deliberate, and usually the reincarnated only held bare bone memories of their past life. If John actually did send the kid back to his home dimension, it was literally going to kill him. The only way for the tiny Royal in front of him to go back was through dying.

For all intents and purposes, this was just a kid. A kid acting as the eyes for a literal God.

And Bruce Wayne was about to royally fuck up said God’s judgment of their world.

“Wayne,” John whispered, eyes not leaving the Royal in front of him, “Wayne, we need to talk.”

“Ah, Mr. Constantine, you’re here. If you could-”

“Wayne,” John snapped, voice hoarse, “Get your bloody arse out of the bloody room right bloody now and listen to me!” by the end of his demand, John was not ashamed to admit that his voice had started hitting some very high notes.

Bruce Wayne’s eyes widened, and the fool finally acquiesced.

“Why is that guy always so gross?” He heard behind him as he closed the door.

He elected to ignore it in favor of setting the pompous rich arse in front of him straight.

“He isn’t lying; you send him back to his home dimension, he dies.”

Wayne looked stricken. Good. Now he had his attention.

“He’s a reincarnated soul from the Infinite Realms, and for whatever reason he decided that your family was the one he wanted to have. Why is he this old and a twin to someone who did not have a twin before? No idea. Not my business. But Wayne,” John walked forward, resting his hand on the man's chest before gripping his suit and yanking him down to eye level, “That kid is acting as the Eyes of a God. If you bugger this up, you bugger us up.”

John let the man go and walked away, throwing his business card over his shoulder.

“The JLD will keep in touch.”

~~~~~~

Tim had miscalculated.

Danny was still too high to be of any use.

Jason’s eyes were a luminescent green, so his cognitive faculties were essentially gone as well. Honestly it wasn’t a huge loss on his part, he doubted Jason would have had valuable input anyways.

His only saving grace was the occultist that had actually done something useful; he’d bought Tim time.

A quick text to Barbara that Bruce had catastrophized into the worst case scenario, again, and Tim got to work.

He stripped out of his suit jacket and pointed at Danny, catching Jason’s eyes.

“We’re switching places; help him undress and escort him out. Pay raise to-”

“You don’t have to pay me fucking money to make sure one of my brothers isn’t killed, Replacement,” Jason snarled, dropping the IV stand and turning to make quick work of Danny’s hoodie.

Danny tried to help, really, he did, but he couldn’t seem to find the coordination for it.

Regardless, in the three minutes it took for Constantine to lay into Bruce, he and Danny had managed to not only swap clothes, but to place an identical bandage on Tim’s hand.

Jason had only just managed to get Danny’s hair in the same style as Tim had when he’d walked in before they heard the door start to open again.

Jason took a half step back and placed himself squarely in front of the twins.

Tim was not surprised.

Jason's second worst nightmare, after all, was Bruce becoming a version of Willis he could not protect his siblings from.

From the look on Bruce’s face, he knew it, too.

Tim curled his hand around the batarang he’d hidden up his sleeve, fully prepared to do what he could to buy even more time for whoever Barbara had called as reinforcement to arrive.

But Tim didn’t get a chance to do that, because between one second and the next he was outside and being handed off to Kon by an only slightly winded Bart.

“Guys,” he started, feeling the migraine starting to build.

“It’s okay Danny we’ll break you out of Gotham and then Tim can come with you and then you can live with us forever because Speedsters are the best and-”

“Oracle said you’d been dosed with morphine, so I’m gonna have to carry you like Tim for a bit man. Sorry.”

“Guys-” Tim tried, but was manhandled into Kon’s arms.

“Don’t you worry about a thing Dantheman we’re gonna make sure you’re safe and then you can share your house with Kon because no one messes with Kon and you’ll be safe forever and-”

“You have the wrong twin, buffoons,” a young voice cut through, drawing their attention to the youngest Wayne.

Damian looked thoroughly unimpressed.

The look deepened when they heard the fire alarms start going off in the hospital that were more than likely, statistically speaking, courtesy of Jason.

“Come, Timothy; we must clean up the mess your poor planning has made,” the little demon brat ordered imperiously, turning on his heel and marching into the chaotic hospital.

Tim managed to wriggle out of Kon’s hold and patted his chest.

“Thanks, man,” he sighed, mentally preparing himself for the bullshit he was about to walk into.

Kon gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I’ve decided that I’m gonna hang out in Gotham for a bit; just call my name if you need me, bro.”

Oh, Tim would.

He paused as he watched a very familiar motorcycle tear down the street.

In fact, Tim was tempted to call for Kon right that very moment.

“Timothy!”

…But he would have to face the consequences of his actions first.

@terzatheunderscorerima @darkbiscuitvoidstudent @akikkobara @reach-for-the-horizon @bitter-coffeecup @moodycow210 @kisatamao @thefantasmarex @fisher-with-the-morbs @jaguarthecat @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @moonshell25 @tundra1029 @hoarder-of-gender @depressed-bitchy-demon @kisatamao @countessdragon

#dcxdp #dpxdc #TWINcognito mode #tim and danny pretend to be twins au #phanfic

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erinawritesheadcanons2 · 2 months

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Heeey~ can I have a request of Homidicial Liu, Jeff The Killer, Jane the Killer and Clockwork with S/O who are Mysyerious? kind of like Raven from teen Titans. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

HOMIDICIAL LIU, JEFF THE KILLER, JANE THE KILLER and CLOCKWORK with MYSTERIOUS S/O

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A/N: Hello there Anon!!!! I hope you like the final result of these character headcanons and I would like to apologize if there are any OOC Characters inside of this Headcannon. I am trying my best to put the Reader as the portrayal from Raven Teen Titans.

Warning: Cursing from Jane the Killer and Jeff the Killer

Gender: Neutral

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HOMIDICIAL LIU

Liu finds that you are a bit too cold and a bit distant because you don't like to interact with the other proxies. Instead, you often shut them off and distract yourself with other things.

But Sully finds you interesting, he also finds you to be not annoying. He doesn't really like loud people and push-over people as he finds that the two of you have a bit of similarity (You two prefer to be alone).

And as someone who is introverted and loves peace, it was no surprise you prefer Liu over Sully more. Sully can be really an asshole sometimes and when he screams, it is REALLY LOUD. Of course, Liu is going to apologize to you on Sully's behalf for pissing you off.

Liu would most likely leave you alone as he respects your personal space. However, it would be not the same case as Sully who would sometimes bother you just for shit and giggles.

I can see Liu as someone who enjoys music and reading books so he sometimes hangs out with you together in peace by reading and listening to music together.

But Sully finds your hobby of reading, listening to music, or other calming hobbies boring so he would just watch you from afar with a bored face and then decide if he should leave you alone or just throw the book or earphone away to distract you.

Actually, the two of them surprisingly prefer an introvert and calm S/O instead of an extrovert/overly friendly one. Sully finds them really annoying but Liu just prefers doing things together with you in the house instead of going out.

Liu is disappointed when you are sassy/snarky/sarcastic with other proxies and roasted the fuck out of them but Sully finds them to be hilarious and gives a score to all of your roasts from one (boring) to ten (Funny as fuck and very destructive).

Sully finds it adorable underneath that mean and cold facade, you're not as asshole as how people portray you to be. Sometimes even teasing you about how 'cute' you are.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

As (Y/N) sat in the pleasant nook of the kitchen, stools standing behind the countertops, the world around them/her/his seemed to disappear into a peaceful haze. With each sip, the lovely scent of the tea swirled surrounding (Y/N), mixing with the subtle murmur of conversations and the soft hum of the espresso machine.

Suddenly, a loud splitting sound broke the silence, jolting you out of your peaceful tranquillity. Startled, (Y/N) gazed up, their/her/his eyes meeting Jeff the Killer's terrifying gaze, known for his demonic grin and creepy presence. His sneer twisted with excitement as he leaned in, his words piercing the air like a cold blade. "Hey nerd," he commented, his words tinged with mockery. "What book is that?" His presence cast a shadow over the peace you had been enjoying.

With a measured glance, (Y/N) broke the silence by saying, "It's a classic, but I doubt your brain could even understand what this is about." The words hung in the air, a challenge filled with intellect that sliced through the suffocating atmosphere. The unexpected answer caused a collective gasp and shush from the other proxies, and even Jeff's sneer faltered for a moment.

The room fell silent, the everyday noises of the kitchen and living room receding into the distance as all eyes focused on the unexpected debate. Even Jeff, known for his unsettling demeanour, looked surprised by the unexpected response. The air crackled with tension as the challenge hung between (Y/N) and Jeff the Killer, sending a wave through the previously quiet surroundings.

From a distance, a guy stood watching the drama develop, his piercing red eyes blazing with unamusement as his younger brother, Jeff, approached (Y/N) with his typical challenging attitude as he tried to scare his partner. However, when (Y/N) replied with unexpected wit, a grin pulled at Sully's lips, a subtle acknowledgement of respect for the unexpected change of events and (Y/N)'s retort.

As Jeff's brother watched the conversation with satisfaction and glee, he let out a quiet guffaw causing an angry glare from Liu, who stood close. Despite Liu's disapproving expression, the alter ego couldn't help but find humour in the situation, his laughter bubbling just beyond the surface. He rolled his eyes and remained composed, hiding the delight with a more neutral face.

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❀

JEFF THE KILLER

As someone who always goes out to kill people and hardly goes back. Jeff the killer and you could be a great match since you have the personality of water whereas he's like a fire.

He is secretly thankful but not admitting that he has a S/O who could stop him from doing reckless shits and stopping him from his own shenanigans so he would not get into deeper trouble since you have a cool head.

But also finds you a bit too stuck up since we are talking about you as "Mysterious". He wants to know about you more but he finds it frustrating that you don't let him find out about you (The hypocrisy amazes me).

Also, he could be as asshole as Sully. He finds it hilarious to annoy the fuck out of you when you want to be alone. So, there would be a time he would just be touchy when you don't want to.

Also finds your calming hobbies like reading books are boring so he would just grab it out of nowhere and throw it somewhere else when he wants your attention.

He finds it funny when you are being nonchalant and roasts the hell out of anyone who pisses you off in a calm manner. Especially if you did it to Jane or to Ben.

He doesn't like it though when you roast him and would throws a temper tantrum or gives you the silent treatment. He does not care even if he's in the wrong one. So, you have to be the emotionally mature one.

But there are also some times when he is not butt-hurt. He actually throws a playful banter with you as he tries to make you laugh. And when he sees you laugh, not only does he think your laughter is cute but he will fist-bump

As an introvert, he actually prefers to spend his time with you and if you are a serial killer. He does not want to be paired up with anyone except you since no one can control him.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Today is Saturday, a day of quiet for all the proxies in the abandoned residence. Taking advantage of the tranquillity, (Y/N) chooses to remain in their chamber. They/she/he sits within the chalk-drawn pentagram, focusing on clearing their minds and relaxing. Yesterday had been very frantic since Slenderman had given multiple jobs. Today, however, gives an excellent chance for meditation.

A massive book sat open in front of (Y/N) as they/she/he began reciting ancient runic words, the meaning of which Slenderman alone knew. The air appeared to resonate with the weight of these mysterious incantations, giving the place an unearthly feel. With each statement, (Y/N) sensed a link to something beyond cognition, as if they were entering a realm beyond mortal comprehension.

As (Y/N) continued to meditate, a sense of calm flooded over her/him/them, illuminating their being with a peaceful glow. Their bodies began to glow softly in the darkness, throwing ghostly shadows on the walls. It was as if the very core of their existence was combining with the universe's cosmic forces, transcending worldly concerns and soaring to a state of complete peace. In the middle of this celestial embrace, (Y/N) felt weightless, as if hanging in a timeless abyss, surrounded by uncountable stars. As the door blasted open, (Y/N)'s idyllic meditation turned into chaos. Jeff the killer, her/his/their serial murderer boyfriend, stood at the doorway, putting the room with unpleasant energy as he yelled, "I'm back!" (Y/N)'s gaze hardened with rage as you stared at him, your peace broken by his unexpected presence.

The white hooded killer ignored your glare and proceeded to speak, his tone nonchalant despite the tension in the air. "(Y/N), come with me. I'm bored out of my mind, and I want you to go out with me," he said with a huff escape from his mouth. "No, I'm busy meditating and I need to focus. I want you to get out," The girl continued to glare at him. "But I dont's have anyone to killing spree with me and the only one who doesn't fuck up is only you," Jeff began to whine at you.

Fueled by anger and annoyance, (Y/N) determined to take action. She began chanting a strong spell, her words echoing with old magic. Jeff was pulled off the ground with a burst of energy, his objections drowned out by the spell's power. (Y/N) led him to the doorway, her eyes burning with resolve as she levitated him out of the room. Jeff's whining grew louder as he was propelled out, his voice echoing through the corridor. "Hey! Let me in! Why are you kicking me out?! I just want to hang out with you!" he cried, his words falling on deaf ears as (Y/N) remained steadfast in her decision.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

JANE THE KILLER

Jane is obviously less of an asshole than Jeff. She is much more understanding than you think. She doesn't tease you or think your hobby is boring.

Actually, she is more sweet than Jeff or Liu. She thinks your hobby of reading, writing, drawing, or other calming activities is fun, so she would sometimes join you.

Because she is also an introvert, just like you. She actually enjoys spending time with you when the two of you do these activities together and would rather anyone not bother you.

Also, enjoy it when you are being sarcastic with someone, especially Jeff. You don't hear her snickers of anything, but underneath her mask, she is grinning at your retort.

Since you are her soft spot, she does not mind you roasting her. She does enjoy a little banter with you, as she knows that you are just joking around. She understands that's just how you play around, despite seeming as if you are being rude.

Respect your space; she will leave you alone when you need to be alone or are in a bad mood. Secretly leaves sweets or tea to cool down your head when you are in a bad mood.

Although she finds it a bit difficult when she has to communicate with you because you are too close and you don't often open up about how you feel, she does find it a little bit annoying, but she is not going to force you to talk.

Sometimes this could lead you two into an argument or a fight, but unlike Jeff, She is not going to just throw a knife at you unless you go too far. It was mostly just an argument, and you two stayed out until the two of you cooled down.

Overall, she is just a sweetheart around you and more respectful than other proxies. But sometimes, getting into an argument with her is sucky because she could give you a silent treatment for an entire day, and you had to be the one who apologised.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

In the dimly lighted room, (Y/N) sat in the corner, perched on the bed, a book laid open in front of them. The sole light came from a lantern, which created faint shadows over the walls. Despite the lack of air conditioning, a cold persisted in the air, adding to the spooky atmosphere.

With a flick of their/her/his hand, (Y/N) flipped the page of the dark fantasy novel they were reading, the plot unfolding before their eyes. The story spoke of an evil dragon who chased humans behind the walls of a city consumed by terror and gloom. Each word seemed to pull them more into the story, bringing them vivid visions of hazardous encounters and epic fights between forces of light and shadow. Lost in the world of the book, (Y/N) sought peace in the frigid seclusion of the room, relying on the tale for escape.

As a faint tap echoed through the room, (Y/N) removed their gaze from the pages of their book and shouted out, "Come in," enabling whoever standing outside to enter. The door creaked open, showing Jane, (Y/N)'s girlfriend and the one person they/she/he had a soft place for. Jane's presence added warmth to the space, contrasting with its coldness. "Are you busy?" Jane asked her voice calm, as she moved farther into the room. "No, but I am reading a book right now. Would you want to read with me? (Y/N) replied with a tinge of happiness in your voice.

Jane nodded as she scanned the titles on (Y/N)'s bookcase, her eyes eventually settling on a book with a striking red cover. It was a novel about an evil hero and a kind villain, a story that intrigued her. Holding the book in her hands, she turned to (Y/N) and asked, "Can I read this book?" (Y/N) looked up from their own book and nodded with a smile. "Yeah, you can read Vicious. It's one of my favourite books," they said, their voice filled with warmth and fondness for the story.

As the girl nodded in agreement, a smile graced her lips. Remembering she had prepared some tea earlier, she spoke up, "Wait, I made tea for us. I hope you don't mind Earl Grey." With a gentle kiss on (Y/N)'s cheek, she then made her way to retrieve the tea kettle. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile at the gesture, feeling a slight blush creeping onto their cheeks from the sweet kiss. Setting aside their book, they eagerly anticipated sharing a quiet moment over tea with Jane, grateful for her thoughtful gesture and the warmth of her affection.

When Jane returned, the room was filled with the soothing scent of Earl Grey tea. She gently poured the hot liquid into two glasses, placing one in front of (Y/N) and took her seat next to them. As they sipped their tea, the warmth of the beverage matching the warmth of their bonding, they fell into a comfortable stillness.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

CLOCKWORK

She is in between understanding but also as a menace as Jeff the Killer. As an extrovert, she sometimes would not leave you alone when she is bored and doesn't have anything to do that day.

Well at least she will not be throwing your books away when you are busy or repeatedly calling your names when you are meditating but she definitely going to stare at you all day which can be bothering you sometimes.

Despite not being noisy, the sound of the ticking clock in her eyes can be a little bit loud. She would also sometimes go around your room and just skim a few books and if there were no pictures, she's just gonna put it away instead of putting it back which is why this can be annoying.

To be honest, she finds your hobbies to be boring and she really just wants to drag you out so the two of you could go on a killing spree together or just hang around the forest. But she doesn't want to bother you so she just waits for you to be done.

The reason she can be understanding is because she would also give you some space if you need to be alone. She understands that you hate getting distracted or bothered, especially when you are in a bad mood.

As a result, she would also probably not let any proxies interact with you and ask you if you are fine. Just like Jane, she can be protective so she won't let anyone bother you at all and she will scare anyone who tries to mess with you.

Also a bit annoyed that sometimes you shun yourself and you are too close to yourself and not interacting with her at all even though the two of you are dating. She wants to communicate with you, ya know?

Enjoys bantering with you and has a tough shell so you can roast her and she will not be easily offended by your roast. Instead, she just will sass you back and snickers, and would be laughing if you cannot retort back.

Also would enjoy seeing you roast someone else, calling out other killers or people's stupidity. To the point, she will clutch her stomach and she is crouching down while letting out a tea kettle-like laughter.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

As (Y/N) climbed the stairs to prepare her breakfast, she noticed an interesting sight. Nurse Ann and Clockwork stood facing one other, arms crossed in a protective position and staring furiously. The tension in the air was apparent, and (Y/N) felt a sense of unease. Clockwork, your girlfriend, was not known for getting into fights with others.

(Y/N) listened intently as Nurse Ann and Clockwork's argument escalated, each accusation escalating the tension in the room. "Because of your dumbass ticks, the victim escaped and probably going to tell the police," Nurse Ann accused, jabbing her finger in Clockwork's direction. "Me!? You're the literally slow one! I told you to bring something smaller but no! You bring your chainsaw! You know those are heavy!" Clockwork retorted, her voice tinged with frustration. "But they are portable! Besides, you have an axe and those are heavy!" Nurse Ann countered, her tone defensive. "These are machetes!" Clockwork defended herself, her words dripping with exasperation.

Now, you are not the type to start an argument but this Clockwork is your girlfriend and no one can harass her. Deciding to step up, you came from the shadow and stood in front of clockwork while facing the red-headed nurse. "(Y/N)? What are you doing? You don't need to do this" Clockwork said.

The nurse wasn't even fazed that you were there. Instead, the nurses think it's ridiculous that you are trying to intervene between the two of them. "Aww, is someone who cannot protect herself and needs their baby? Fucking grow up, Clockie," Nurse Ann rolls her red eyes at the two of you. "So what, at least she is not miserable. No one even wanted to kiss you, heck. Even take doesn't want you to be his," (Y/N) leaned to the counter. "W-what?" The nurse's eyes widened in surprise.

Clockwork who heard that immediately tried not to laugh but failed, even you could hear her snickering in the background. Those words escape like a river, you do not even control them, they just flow out. "Just try to ask other proxies if they want to date you. They probably going to say no to your face. Do I have to say more?" (Y/N) continued to roast the hell out of Nurse Ann.

The nurse could not help but bite her own lips, her eyes glaring into your eyes that were staring at her with boredom. She pointed her finger at you but no words coming out from her lips and she glared at your girlfriend since she was speechless. "You two will regret it, both of you. I promise that" she storms off, knowing she could not even give any comeback to you.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

#creepypasta #creepypasta scenarios #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta fluff #creepypasta x you #homicidal liu #homicidal liu headcanons #homicidal liu x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer headcanons #jane the killer #jane the killer headcanons #jane the killer x reader #clockwork #clockwork headcanons #clockwork x reader

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