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#a little window into someone else's life into my life it's such a quaint idea
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I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: iii.
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“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”
tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn
pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader
summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.
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If you thought that on December 8th you would get a break from Gojou Satoru in your life, you were very much so wrong.
At this hour, there isn't even an opportunity to even try meeting up with your friends. They're all in school, one without the luxury of giving students the day off when a birthday or two comes around. You really do have to hope and pray for an opportunity to hang out to fall into your lap. It was one of your few promises to yourself when you entered the world of fighting against curses rather than passively living with them.
Even if you were living out an otaku's dream of fighting evil, you wouldn't forget the normalcy you were leaving behind.
It's just a lot easier said than done now that you're no longer in it ー not that you truly ever were as someone born to see curses.
At the very least, though, if things had been a bit different, you could have at least spent the hours leading up to your birthday with your actual friends instead of the class menace. I don't even know why he's here, you grumble as you skulk forward through the crowd. There are so many things Gojou could be doing besides being in your vicinity.
He could have gone to an arcade.
He could have stayed in his room playing video games. No, instead he's here with you smack dab in the middle of town because it would have been too boring on his own otherwise. Can't he be bored somewhere else? You again wallow over the fact your friends are in school at this present moment before deciding that is likely a good thing. Gojou does not need to meet your personal circle of friends.
"I'm bored," Gojou whines, lazily trailing behind you. "What's the point of doing this if we already know they're throwing us a party?"
My thoughts exactly, you huff. You pointedly ignore the fact that you've been completely fine with the arrangement prior to it being your turn. Birthday party set up is a different ordeal. There's usually plenty to keep you both separated from one another. "Take it up with, Fujioka-sensei and Yaga-sensei," you sigh, as you try to find something that can make time go faster. Your stomach growls and you bite your bottom lip in irritation. I shouldn't have skipped breakfast. But in their haste to boot you and Gojou out of the dorms, you forgot to grab something.
Gojou you could understand. But why you?
He's the one who shakes boxes of presents even if they're his.
You're as a mild-mannered as they come.
"Screw walking around, we might as well just find somewhere to eat," you look over your shoulder at the boy and he shrugs back, fine with the change of plans. "I'm pretty sure there's a Johnny's somewhere close by." Even a hole-in-the-wall restaurant will do.
"What about over there?" Gojou nods his chin far at the first building that catches his eye.
"There?" You raise an incredulous brow, resting your hands on your hips. It's no Johnny's, it seems a bit more cutesy than that with its quaint brick walls and frosted windows. The Christmas decorations leave little to be desired. "I don't want to deal with Santa in my ear the whole time."
Gojou points over to the establishment again and you trail after his finger until he stops at a bright, cherry-red sign, "but there's a discount."
Discount?
Christmas Lovey-Dovey Special: Couple's Receive 50% Off!
You share a look for approximately three seconds before your hands are clasping one another with much enthusiasm as you practically skip to the restaurant in question. "You know, darling, you really do come up with the best ideas, sometimes," you beam, eyes practically sparkling. If there is one thing people love universally whether rich or poor, it's a damn discount. And if holding hands and acting lovey dovey with Gojou means getting half off on a random discount for breakfast, you'll fold faster than Mr. Darcy in Pride & Prejudice.
"Only sometimes?" Gojou croons and you're sure he's fluttering his eyelashes. "I'm pretty sure you mean all the time, cupcake."
Don't push it, your eyes narrow.
You get a shit-eating grin in return. "Table for two please," Gojou holds up two fingers with his free hand as you approach the doors, just as a hostess passes by. "We're just celebrating our birthdays!"
"He's December 7th," you point over to Gojou with a dreamy sigh.
"She's December 9th," Gojou nudges you lightly with a grin. "We're soulmates, it's pretty much a sign we were born for each other. Celebrating on the 8th is a happy medium, right, honey?"
"Satoru, please," your grip on his hand tightens in warning as you chuckle sheepishly. You're being too extra, dumbass. Gojou grins despite that, squeezing back just as hard but twice as obnoxious. "You're embarrassing me. She doesn't want to hear all of that sappy stuff. Don't indulge him, he's just in a good mood because we're partying with our friends later."
The hostess, bless her heart, takes Gojou's excessiveness in stride. She definitely doesn't get paid enough to deal with your antics. "What a sweet coincidence," she smiles politely. "Follow me right this way," she says before leading you to a table not too far away by a window. She's tired of dealing with couples, you hold back a look of pity. May her shift almost be over.
Within seconds of looking at the menu, you already know what you want to order. "I'm getting the drunken udon," you tell Gojou unnecessarily. "And the grapefruit juice. It's got grapefruit chunks in it."
Gojou doesn't even attempt to hide his disgust. When it came to fruit, grapefruit is the only he hates the most. You weren't fond of grapefruit when you were younger, but in the past 6 months you developed a taste for it when you realized it was the one drink in the dorm fridge Gojou doesn't touch. It's not that bad once you get used to. "Right, I forgot you and Utahime hate sweets," Gojou clicks his tongue, unimpressed. "You have boring taste buds. At least look at the special menu before getting something this place serves all the time." He points at a sickeningly pink strawberry soda too large for one person and two heart-shaped straws. "We should get this one instead. And the waffles."
"I like sweets, I just don't wanna taste the diabetes when I consume it," you argue back. You even love strawberries. You just know that the amount of sugar in that drink is likely enough to put a caveman in a coma. There's sweet and then there's the unnatural abominations that Gojou eats on a regular. What's scarier is that his justification is that it helps fuel his brain power or something dumb like that. You're pretty sure he ripped the idea straight out of a manga and is hoping no one notices. "You drink most of it then if we get it. Talk shit about my udon all you want, I'm still ordering it."
"We're getting it," Gojou replies promptly, no room left for argument. Whatever, there's grapefruit juice back in the dorms.
I'm grabbing a water just in case then.
The water is a godsend five minutes later when you are able to confirm that the Lovers' Strawberry Cloud does, in fact, have enough sugar to put a caveman in a coma. One sip and you regretted all of your life choices that led you to this very moment. "You finish it," you mutter after gulping half of your icy water down.
He's so happy about it, you're sure this was planned from the start.
Thankfully, your food arrives not too long afterward. The only real hiccup about the customer service is the waiter giving you the wrong plates. "Here you go," his lips curled upwards gently as he placed Gojou's waffles by your hands. It's only when he tries to give your udon to Gojou that the birthday boy in question stopped the motion with a lazy hand.
"The waffles are mine, actually," Gojou deadpans, passing your plate in your direction with one hand. With a clumsy sputter, the issue is resolved in seconds and your respective meals are placed in front of the right person.
You grimace, holding back a gag of frustration when Gojou wastes no time is shoving his food down his throat. Ravenously as he eats, somehow his cheeks stay clear of sticky mess coating them. Of course, Gojou even eats pretty. You're a hater, but you can give credit where credit is due. Gojou Satoru is, objectively speaking, very pretty. To be honest, all of your classmates are hot. It's almost unfunny how there isn't one average person in their ranks, yourself included of course. Gojou is just the only classmate that's this annoying about it. It's such an insult that someone with such a shitty attitude is this pretty. Where's Utahime to rant and groan with when you need her?
When your stomach growls again, you shake your head. Eat first, hate later.
You relish the taste with an enthusiastic moan. Drunken udon is the absolute best.
"Give me a bite?"
You blink once,
twice.
"No," you look at the white-haired sorcerer like he's grown a second head. "Gojou, drunken udon has chili in it." And yet in spite of your explanation, the prodigal son of the Gojou Clan still leans over enthusiastically, mouth wide open expectantly. "Yeah, I'm not letting you eat this," you snort before taking another bite of your meal. The texture of the noodles and the bell paper, the blend of the chili and garlic. It really is heaven in every bite.
"Some girlfriend you are, you don't even care that I'm starving," apparently the lovey dovey waffle platter on the table means nothing to him. There's a pause and he must have glanced down at his plate because a moment later he added, "this means nothing."
You roll your eyes, "hey genius, a true girlfriend that cares about you won't let you eat something she knows you don't like."
"But [First]," he groans.
"Why do you even want this this, you can't even handle curry that's barely above mild!"
"You're making it look good!"
"Because it is," you reply like it's obvious. For anyone who likes spice, drunken udon is delicious. "Gojou, no," you barely stifle your snickers as you remember the day you were reminded that Gojou and spice weren't compatible in the slightest. All it took was one bite into a hot cheetoh he stole from a box of snacks your parents mailed to you for a small taste of home to send him into a coughing fit so bad you almost felt bad for the guy. "You can't handle the hot cheetohs my parents send. I really don't know what to tell you other than you are not built like that, please stop."
"First of all, I don't know what you're talking about," you shake your head with a sigh as the argument continues. How someone could be this persistent to eat something their stomach can't handle, you don't know. "And second, since then I've become a man." That was literally two weeks ago.
You shrug with a sigh, "if you really want it then." You did your part in warning him, the rest is on Gojou. With a whispered 'yes!' that was far too smug, Gojou opened his mouth expectantly once more and you finally relented in feeding him.
One second.
Two seconds-
That's all it takes before Gojou's face contorts in pain and displeasure.
"Geez, how you can eat this kind of stuff, you can't even taste it over the spice!" Wordlessly, you set down your chopsticks to pass over a napkin and watch as he spits the noodley mush into it. The amusement from watching Gojou fan his tongue and lips like they're on fire is indescribable. "Why would you let me eat this?!" If you were worried about sharing the much-too-sugary couple's drink beforehand, you don't anymore as your classmate makes quick work of ingesting it.
"You said your tastebuds had gotten stronger since the last time."
"And you trusted me?!" Gojou's sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose to show wide blue eyes in disbelief.
"I didn't," there are a few giggles from the table to your right and you have to purse your lips together to stop yourself from joining them. Your 'boyfriend' just looks at you in utter disbelief and betrayal, rambling on and on about his woes. "Oh stop being a baby, you spat it out so you'll be fine now. Here," you reach over to grab his fork, lifting a piece of whipped cream covered waffle with a thin slice of strawberry to boot. "Heal with the power of sugar." Grumbling all the while, your boyfriend of the hour clamped his mouth down on the goods. "Better?"
When you get another mumble but no complaints, you decide that's a 'yes' and go back to your own food. "Just try not to overdo it with the sweets. We still have cake and ice cream later." You love whipped cream on waffles as much as the next person, but the amount on Gojou's plate is unholy.
"This is better than the hellfire you call food anyway," your eyes roll but your mood is surprisingly at a high. Not even Gojou and his dramatics can spoil a meal, it seems. You also can't deny that knowing he won't be touching your udon the rest of your time there also lifts your spirits. "This is the perfect amount of sweet. The perfect amount of anything," your eyes dart between the whipped cream and your classmate, deadpan disbelief all over your face. "I'm serious. The strawberries aren't sweet so it all works out." When the disbelief doesn't leave your face, Gojou points his fork in your direction. "Try it."
Reluctant, you lean over to take a tentative bite. Oh.
You blink and make a noise of pleasant surprise. The tartness of the strawberries really balanced out the sweetness of the whipped cream. "Not bad," you lick the leftover whipped cream on your lips as Gojou continues gorging himself. From the corner of your eye, you see the people a table away giggling and whispering at your exchange.
You must be selling the couple's bit quite well.
"People in this country really make a big deal of indirect kisses," you say quietly enough for the two of you, returning to your own spicy goodness. "I didn't even know what they were when I moved here. I shared food and drinks like this all the time back home." Cousins, friends and other neighborhood kids that dance across your memories over the seasons from soda to ice cream to fruit. That came to a crashing halt when, during an after school heist at a burger joint, you nearly died drinking lychee soda and angled the straw for your friend Hide to try. Then everyone kept on making jokes about us being a thing and it started getting too awkward to hang around each other because he thought I had a crush on him. Food sharing politics were different from country to country, what a twist. "I guess that's a piece of culture shock no one ever really tells you about when you move to a new country."
Gojou shrugs at your nonchalant observations, "it's not a big deal for me. I just eat what I want."
"That's because you're a food thief."
Another shrug, a lack of denial. Details, details. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you continue eating.
This isn't so bad actually, you look out the window, watching as passersby make their own ways to their destinations. Living out their lives while you're some random extra eating drunken udon in a window.
To them, you're not [Full Name], you're just a random face they won't remember if they'll even see you in the first place. It's feelings like that fills you melancholy and fascination. No curses, no sorcerers and no Jujutsu Jesus. You wonder briefly if Gojou ever has such thoughts. To one part of the world he's the one who changed its very balance. To another part, he's just some guy. Just some random guy who happens to have a penchant for wearing sunglasses indoors. If it ever looms over his mind, you can't tell nor are you close enough you think he'd tell you. Maybe he tells Suguru or something. You see a flash of white and red in your peripheral vision and when you look, there's another mouthful of waffle in your face. This is such a weird combination of food, yet you take another bite anyway. You raise a few noodles of your own and mumble over a mouthful, "want another bite of mine?"
"Yeah no, I'm good," the white-haired sorcerer replies without missing any beats and you snicker. You wonder how much time will pass before he decides to test his luck with spice all over again. You have no doubt it won't take long.
A temporary truce between Gojou and the We Hate Gojou Alliance and on your birthday of all days. Well, almost your birthday. The small day set between you both to encapsulate both. Apparently, when his obnoxious levels and extreme lack of respect is dialed down to a 2, Gojou is a lot more tolerable than usual. Talk about a birthday surprise.
The rest of your lunch is eaten in relative silence but it isn't uncomfortable, you decide as you stuff yourself with a mixture of savory and sweet. Gojou tops off the last of the waffles with a satisfied with stretch of his arms before you split the bill. Good gods, I love a discount, you sigh in satisfaction as you finally make your way to leave. "We should probably start heading back to the school right?" It shouldn't take that long to set up a party. There's only one cake. "We probably have a few hours until they're done with the cake and setting up decorations."
"Might as well walk off all the calories so there's room for later," he shrugs and he's about to put his hands in his pocket before opting to grab your hand. "Let's go pet Hachiko or something."
Off to Shibuya you go then.
The grand finale of your pretending to be a couple is nothing special. You simply walk out the door, matching smiles on your faces as you pass by the staff.
When you finally exit the building, you shudder at the cold autumn wind that hit your face. Your hand tightens around Gojou's, clutching for warmth instinctively. Of course his hands are permanently warm. "What are you, a furnace?" Gojou grins smugly when you lift your intertwined hands, scrutinizing his with a squint somewhere between envy and curiosity. He has nice hands, you note. They're soft, but not so unbelievably soft you would think he was some civilian. His palms are a touch coarse, but nothing uncomfortable to hold, with no scars or blemishes to be seen. Must be the perk of utilizing Limitless at his leisure. "Why do you get to be blessed with warm hands?"
"Maybe the universe just likes me more," he replies with ease.
Considering his future is the one that's boring and yours is the one marked with death, that must truly be the case.
"Must be."
Happy Birthday to us.
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Extra
If you're wondering what you got for your birthday: Shoko and Utahime both tipped in to get you a Yamashita Tatsuro CD. Mei Mei just tossed over a gift card and called it a day. Suguru thoughtfully got you a book next in the line of a series you're fond of. And Gojou? Well, you got to be in his presence and it was actually tolerable. Congratulations?
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ungodlywords · 1 year
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KINKTOBER #16 CUCKOLDING
cw: nun kink | corruption kink | coercion kink | cuckolding | masturbation
word count: 797
KINKMAS MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MONSTERFUCKER MONSTERLIST
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Your life seemed to have been predetermined since the day you were born. You met your future wife at Sunday school and married her. You've been married to your wife for a long time, and while you never had children, your love for each other has never waned. For the most part, everything is OK, but time goes and you must admit that your body does not move as it used to. Your wife never complained. She has just accepted that both of you are becoming older and is content to spend the rest of her days with you.
You'd do everything as a loving husband to meet her desires. Since you discovered you'll never have children since you're impotent. Both of you explored the marvels of sex. You engaged in things that a normal couple would never consider. Let alone folks who routinely attend church. So, one evening, as your wife was fast asleep in the bed you'd shared with her for years. You had an idea. Why not enlist the assistance of another person? You've heard of people allowing their partners to have sex with someone else. You and your wife are both interested in this, but you've never found a man who is trustworthy enough to perform it. Until that is, a new priest came into your town.
This priest is young, so he would undoubtedly have the energy and rigor you want. He wouldn't refuse the offer as a man of God whose duty it is to aid the people. Also, your family is the church's primary benefactor. You'd undoubtedly be given this small favor.
You sent your servant the next morning to invite the new priest in town to an afternoon tea. You mentioned it to your wife over breakfast, and she was thrilled. The priest arrived 30 minutes earlier than agreed. You watched the priest get out of the automobile via your window. He's a brunette who stands 6' tall. Excellent jawline and physique. As you glanced at your wife, she squeezed your hand and gazed at you worriedly. You reassured her that everything was OK with you and that she had nothing to worry about.
You walked together and met the priest in one of the chambers. You introduced yourself and seated him down. You told the priest about your and your wife's predicament and asked if he might help them. The priest was surprised and rose up, outraged. How could he, a man of God, do such a thing? It is not normal. It is heresy. He yelled. The priest's reaction frightened your wife, who recoiled at your side. You despise seeing your wife in this state, so you started threatening the priest.
'I know why you've been sent here, Father. I know why you're here in our quaint little down. Why? Oh, yeah. Because you've been found partaking in the very same activities that I and my wife are offering you." you remarked. "We both know you're not a changed man. I noticed how you looked at my wife. Come now, Father. We promise you that we will not tell on you. Where's the fun in that? So, what do you think? " You grinned as you noticed the priest pause for a second before agreeing to your offer.
Minutes later, you found yourself sitting in your underwear, watching as a man of god mount your wife and slowly insert their long and hard cock into her wet pussy. The same pussy that your cock has many times entered many times. The same pussy that brings you such ecstasy is being pounded by another man's cock. You sat there listening to your wife moan loudly, something you could rarely make her do. You watch her eyes roll to the back of her head as a stranger pummeled her throbbing pussy.
You weren't meant to like it, yet here you are, with a tent between your legs with cum oozing through your underwear. You moaned as your palm brushed against the tip. It sent shivers down your spine, and you resisted the need to touch yourself, but you couldn't stop yourself. The view was just too good. So, in time with the pounding in front of you, you rub your tip, and not even minutes, you cum. Your face flushed with embarrassment. This was new. In frustration and lust, you began beating your own meat and watching her ride this stranger's cock, utterly forgetting about your own existence. You were driven frantic by the sight of her riding this man like a wild animal, and you came prematurely once more. You licked your lips and start stroking yourself again ready to cum any minute again. "Might as well enjoy this", you thought and you came for the third time.
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oldandirrelevant · 2 months
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🔀 Linzolt and Irohsami
I have never written anything for either of these pairings before, though a Linzolt idea has been festering in my head for a few weeks. This is going to be fun! Thanks so much for the asks 💛
Linzolt: Rebellion (Lies) - Arcade Fire
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Irosami: Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men
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AUs after the cut!
Linzolt: This song was difficult. But I am stubborn, and I have jammed to this song for the better part of two decades, so I am going to make it work, damnit.
She had always been told that getting enough sleep was important. 'It's good for your health. It's good for your mood. It's good for your brain.' But she had always struggled with sleeping. Even as a baby, her mom said she never slept.
There was always something else she would rather do. In school, she studied. In the police academy, she studied some more. In the RCPD, she worked overtime. But tonight, she wasn't sleeping because she had been dragged by her friends to a bar to celebrate her 20th birthday. A few drinks in, handsome, smooth-talker approaches her. He tells her his name is Zoltan. They get to chatting, he buys them shots of cinnamon whiskey. They keep talking and keep drinking the liquid embodiment of regret.
He asks her if she wants to get out of here. It's so unlike her, but she agrees. Her sister is always rebelling. Maybe she should give it a try. She is certainly rebelling against her normal tendencies, she had never thought of herself as someone who would just go home with some guy she just met.
They don't go straight back to his apartment. They stop along the way for some late night noodles from a food cart. Once they get back to his place they get down to business. She doesn't say mention it, but it's her first time. If this is what it's like, she wonders why she waited.
They both finish, satisfied. They cuddle for a few minutes, until she breaks away. Lin gets out of his bed and starts gathering her clothes. He asks her where she is going. She says she is going home. It seems like he wants to go to sleep, and she's not one to sleep. She can barely sleep at home in her own bed, let alone anywhere else. He asks her to come back, she doesn't have to sleep, but they can just cuddle for a few more minutes. But no, she has to go home. She leaves and heads back to the apartment she shares with her mom and sister.
She opens her eyes, the bright sunlight is pouring in the window. An unfamiliar window in an unfamiliar bedroom. She must have dreamt that she left. Sleeping leads to dreams, and dreams are just lies. She's shocked. She actually fell asleep. The man she went home with is making her breakfast. Wait? Is that lunch? How long has she been asleep?
Someday she will learn what he does for a living. And he will learn about her career. But for now, she is just rebelling against herself.
Irosami: On the picturesque coast of Ember Island, there was a quaint little cottage. It was thought to be empty by the locals, but that was simply not the case.
The woman who lives there is fairly self sufficient for someone in their mid 80s. She's rigged up a variety of machines to support her in her daily tasks. She didn't used to have to be so self sufficient. She is alone now. She retired here about 20 years ago with her husband, the love of her life. He passed away 2 years ago.
But in her heart, it feels like he is still in the house with her. She still talks to him like he is there. Sometimes she feels like she is losing her mind. She loved the house when he was there with her. Now it feels like a prison.
What she doesn't know, is that he is, in spirit. He hasn’t left since he died. He is always talking back to her. She just cannot hear him.
Asami dies peacefully that night in her sleep at the age of 86. She is finally reunited with her love.
🔀 & a pairing
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dreamerkitty · 2 years
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Is time for an iceberg baybeeee! I’ve seen some 2kki ones before but I found them both a bit too boring or tame so I tried my best to make my own! Sorry if I missed anything good..
I tried to order everything by how well they’re known as well as how creepy they are
Spoilers I guess, and cw blood, death, decapitation and scary imagery. I try to mention all the warnings in each point so please be careful if you’re sensitive when looking these up.
Sky:
Smile-san: A static npc in the Flying Fish World. Laughs creepily every so often and reacts strongly to the telephone effect with laughs of different speeds and tempos that overlap each other.
Not reeeally a sequel: A simple point. Yume 2kki doesn’t include any story elements, locations or characters from Yume Nikki and is simply a spiritual successor in style.
Ending -1: Around the dream world, Uro can find three secret rooms that are quite quaint. But if one uses the glasses effect in the rooms, it will reveal a green seed at the centre, spewing gas and playing an ominous tone. If one finds all of these and goes to the balcony in Uro’s room, she will return with a creepy face and go to bed. After the screen fades out and in again, the seed is now visible in the room and the door slams shut. This leads to a distorted and creepy credits roll.
Dogboa: A creature that can be seen in the Sky Kindgom that moves about sporadically at the edge of the screen in one section. It’s a reference to Uboa but a much less scary experience.
Zalgo: A secret room can be found in the Magnet Room if one follows certain steps. Inside you must find your way to a teleporter in a time limit with an ominous face in the background. This face glitches over time and more blood appears on the ground alongside ominous and stressful music.
Urotsuki is a doll: In ending 2, once Uro collects and drops off all her effects, she will find a set of stairs on the balcony in the real world. Jumping off these, Uro falls, with npcs from the dream world appearing. With a thud, it reveals that Uro was a toy that fell from a claw game machine and was won by a little girl. The girl takes her home and is next seen in bed with the Uro toy on the floor. A window that resembles Madotsuki’s jumper can also be seen in this ending. However, it’s never stated whether this ending is canon or not.
Surimuki murder victim: Surimuki is an npc found in the library and Broken Faces area. When interacting with her book, text appears that says ‘I got scraped’ followed by a giggle and an image of the girl with a gash in the side of her head and blood down her body. Her statement makes it seem like she was murdered by someone else but in a recent update she was added to the Monochrome school rooftop, perhaps implying she took her own life instead.
Numerous devs: Another simple point. Numerous people are allowed to work on Yume 2kki. This results in varying quality and ideas. Some critique this since some additions make the game feel very amateur and all over the place.
Dark Museum face: In the Dark Museum, one can hear a horrid sound and if Uro goes near it, she can see a red and white deformed face twitching.
2kki isn’t very original: What it says on the tin, some areas can be blatant rip offs of Yume Nikki worlds such as a neon area, a white desert monochrome area or a checkered tile path. Some areas do this better than others but some seem like the creator has no imagination of their own...
Dress up rooms: The Dressing Room from Urotsuki’s dream apartments lets Uro dress up in (cute!) outfits. Some of these are basic costumes, some are based on minigame characters and a majority are outfits of other fangame protagonists. They’re mostly a lot of early games but do include still popular ones like .flow and Yume Nisshi.
Grey Hoodie Boy: A boy found in the Glitch Ending, he was the original protagonist of Yume 2kki before Uro
Strangler eyes: Also known as Marginal Vivid Worker. They give the Marginal effect and overall have a very unnerving appearance. An image in the library shows the worker strangling three women(?) as blood spurts from their heads.
Kamen’s death is permanent: Kamen Eshi is a painter found in the Art Gallery, he is one of the rare npcs that once killed, will never come back in the current playthrough. Once killed, he will splash red paint(hmm) onto his canvas. Killing him unlocks a Kura Puzzle so it’s a tough choice to make...
Unused effects: Unused effects can be found as sprites or facesets in the games files. Some of these include: a camera head, a scooter, a bride outfit and a utility knife.
Variable 44: A randomised variable (number) that is decided at the beginning of each dream. This variable decides appearances of things such as the nexus background, the appearance of npcs and the appearance of areas. (Sounds cooler than it actually is...)
Combination effects: Visual changes to using two certain effects at once. They are wolf and bike, twintails and glasses, cake and haniwa, and teru teru bozu and red riding hood. They have unique animations but don’t do much too different than the original effects.
Uboa coming out your ears: Kinda linked to 2kki isn’t very original. The devs seem to loooooove girls in rooms with light switches that change into monsters. I’ve heard some people love Uboa clones but... I think it’s awfully predictable at this point... Events in 2kki like this include: Seishonen, older versions of Marina’s house and Ahogeko’s house.
Trans Uro: There are multiple effects that turn Uro into a boy which allows her to use male bathrooms. Unlike Madotsuki, she can’t use male bathrooms regularly in her dream. She also has feminine effects too like the Maiko or Twintails effects. One can theorise Uro is trans and that these forms in her dreams are what she prefers or who she once was.
Provost-san’s gender: An npc from The Docks. Provost-san has an ambiguous appearance with apparently the japanese fanbase preferring male and the western fanbase preferring female.
Majora Moon: A moon found in the Eyeball archives looks very similar to the moon from The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask. This moon also appears by the rabbit Usamimi and could be a reference to the japanese folklore of rabbits living on the moon.
Trans Seishonen: An npc from Urotsuki’s Dream Apartments called Seishonen takes on the appearance of a blue haired boy. However when using the glasses or invisible effect, they reveal themselves to be a red/orange haired girl. The fact they become a girl when they think Uro isn’t there (invisible) may show that they’re embarrassed or self conscious about presenting as female.
Dice Effect: A recent new effect and the first new one in a while. Urotsuki turns into a dice that can flip itself to roll a new number.
Aojiru has to die: In the Hospital, if Uro interacts with the bed in the room with Aojiru, she will be transported to an inescapable room. If Uro interacts with them, she will atomatically kill him with a chainsaw, even if she doesn’t have that effect yet. This could show Uro’s feelings towards Aojiru or perhaps reference to the illness they may have and that they’re going to die soon anyway.
Tip:
Blood Sacrifice: An event from Blood World. Uro will be transported to an area full of white ghost creatures with blood dripping from their eyes. Behind a bigger creature, an altar covered in blood and surrounded in swords(?) can be seen. If Uro chainsaws the big creature, the music will become darker and the small creatures will chase Uro. Once caught, Uro will wake up.
Old effect designs: Effects such as the spacesuit, bunny and insect effects used to have old designs. Some changes were simply better sprites but one notable one is the insect where Uro’s appearance has changed massively. The old effect seemed more of a costume than a full transformation.
Killing your reflection: In the Day and Night towers, there is a room where Uro will be reflected wherever she is. Certain effects will show her reflection with an opposite effect like the stretch and child effects. Uro can use the chainsaw on her reflection, however, it causes two screams with both Uros disappearing and Uro waking up.
Victim: An npc from the Snowy Forest. He can be found by his car in the early time of the area. However, due to the progressing time in this area, if Uro waits long enough, he can be found hanging by a nearby tree. If Uro uses the telephone effect however, he will pick up the phone and be saved.
High Priestess event: A stressful event from the Forest Carnival. In an area with faceless Virgin Mary statues, Uro must chainsaw dressers while being chased by numerous fast blob chasers. These dressers pour blood once chainsawed. If Uro is touched, the crowd will cheer loudly and the screen will go darker (which can happen around 1-4 times until she is forced to wake up). If Uro suceeds, the screen will fade to black and show six npcs, the exact same number as the dressers and it is implied that Uro killed them during the event to please the crowd.
The Monster’s Jaw: An ominous looking monster from the Forest World though it’s really quite peaceful. Uro can use any effect and interact with the edge of the jaw to see a scene from where she got the effect in the first place. A lot of these involve the npcs you get effects from sleeping which is absolutely adorable.
March of Progress: An event where Uro parodies the famous march of progress as different stages of mankind. A very unsettling event that ends with a giant, blank Uro head watching over a homosapien Uro.
Mother’s two screams: An npc from Urotsuki’s Dream Apartments is a mother with a foetus visible in her tummy. The room is also full of a pink liquid that floods the floor, blood stains in the water and a bloody tube emerging from the wall. If Uro chainsaws the mother, two screams will be heard, even though the baby is just a foetus.
Wataru: A developer who once worked on 2kki and their works were beloved. They stopped adding to the game and all their worlds have been removed.
Drowning: A removed event where Uro could drown in the Depths (although she got up again once the event ended). Since this was in a wataru map, it was too removed.
Underwater Amusement Park dungeon: A very well known event. In the depths of the Underwater Amusement Park, Uro will find a prison with children and later skeletons in. If Uro continues, she will find herself dropped onto a pillar on a conveyer belt. Two children are on pillars beside her and both are slowly crushed by pillars from above leaving an imprint of them on the pillar. A pillar appears above Uro and crushes her too, leaving her mark on the pillar and waking Uro up.
Oni Musume is Yume’s daughter: Yume and Oni Musume are two npcs from the Dark Room. Wallpapers call Yume the ‘Director’ and Oni Musume ‘Director’s daughter’. Yume also sits outside Oni Musume’s room, maybe keeping an eye on her.
Mary’s Song for Ib: In the Eyeball Archives, Uro can find a bar where a musician will play. If Uro pays them, they’ll play a version of Puppet/Mary’s theme from the rpgmaker game Ib, called Mary’s Song for Ib in the files. This can only be heard once.
Guts World: An eerie world that features ominous npcs and backgrounds. When seen from zoomed out, parts of the map seem to resemble hands.
OFF npc: An npc from the Monochrome GB World resembles the Batter from the rpgmaker game OFF. The fact he turns into a different being when the glasses effect is used and that he’s in a monochrome world both link to the Batter and OFF
Seishonen’s glitched room: Seishonen’s room has a 1/31 chance to glitch when entered. The music becomes eerie and the visuals become dark and glitched with the screen flashing every so often. Seishonen also turns into a mass of eyes and jumbled up parts of their sprite. A shadow figure can also be seen walking about in an inaccessible area.
Child Effect and Mado: In the room that houses the child effect in the Hourglass desert, one can find a rug on the floor with the pattern on Madotsuki’s jumper. Additionally, an illustration of a girl that resembles Madotsuki can be seen on the wall. She is holding a staff that has the same pattern as the rug and is joined by a cat that highly resembles the black cat from Yume Nikki also.
Hakoko has an illness: In the Visine world is an eyeball shop where a doctor, Megusuri Uri and a girl, Hakoko live. They’re both placid npcs with Hakoko hiding in her box if interacted with. If Uro chainsaws Megusuri Uri while he is in the first room of the shop and goes to Hakoko’s room, she will have turned into a large, mutated eyeball monster. This only appears if Megusuri Uri is killed so one could theorise that he is the one keeping Hakoko from turning into a monster.
Stop signs and traffic cones: The bane of any 2kki explorer’s existence... Some developers love to add their worlds to the game but not finish everything so for the places they haven’t implemented yet they can just put unpassable stop signs and traffic cones in the way. Finish your worlds first...
Shallows:
Uro kills Santa: In the Christmas World, Uro can find a person in a house wearing a Santa hat. If Uro kills them, they drop the hat and Uro can wear it (and a matching outfit) herself. She can then further pick up a present in this same room and gift it to a girl in the same world. This girl also resembles a palette shifted Uro.
Galaxy Town deaths: In the now removed Galaxy Town B, in a shopping mall, if Uro tried to chainsaw any of the shop workers, they would fight back and kill her instead. Regular workers would pull out a gun and shoot Uro, making her fall down and bleed on the floor. Buff workers would punch Uro, also making her bleed, and one shopkeeper would summon vines to ‘strangle’ Uro. Apparently, these were removed due to negative backlash. I understand the guns and blood but the ‘strangling’ of the vines is never shown, Uro is just covered in vines. Plus the punching death is just kinda funny because the punch animation is laughably slow...
Lolrust x 2kki: It has been stated that Lolrust, the creator of .flow contributed to the Guts World however this isn’t confirmed, what is confirmed however is that they contributed to one dream world computer screen.
Instructions wake up: The instructions (in the effects menu) have a 1/54 chance to show up as red, making Uro wake up.
Haunted cabinet event: In the Nostalgic House, when interacting with a cabinet, the screen will be covered in static then show a monochrome image of a woman sitting by a dark hole or lump with her head scribbled out. Ominous sound effects play during this.
Hallucination experiment: In the Laboratory, if Uro kills the head scientist, other scientists will chase her. If caught, Uro becomes the test for a hallucinogenic substance in a test chamber. Uro’s walking is slowed and the screen is covered in nauseating patterns. If Uro interacts with the glass in front of the scientists she will bang her head against it. After a few times, blood will spurt from her head and she will stop hallucinating but she keeps going. The scientists try to stop her but its too late and she falls unconscious, thus waking up.
Innapropriate wallpaper: An early version of wallpaper 149 showed Uro taking a bra off from the back. Not okay when her age is undetermined and she could be a child :)))))
Red Rock Caves event: In the Red Rock Caves, Uro can find two creatures over a rose. If she uses the Fairy or Rainbow effects on it, it will lead to a beautiful event where Uro travels down a river with more of these creatures and falls down a waterfall to a rose filled pond. However, if Uro uses the Chainsaw or Torch effects on it, it will lead to a dark version of the event with blood and dead plants. This destroys the original rose permanently, making either event inaccessible from this point.
Uro’s execution: In the execution grounds, if Uro chainsaws any grey npcs, a clown in the area will start chasing her. If caught, Uro will be executed with an applause, duh-!
Early Uro designs: Early designs of Urotsuki show her as a Mado lookalike, a brown-grey girl, a kid in check pyjamas and more.
Uro gets drunk: In the Underground Bar in Japan Town, there is a bar Uro can visit. She can buy drinks for 200 yen each. If Uro drinks too many however, the screen and area will warp and characters Uro has killed will show on screen. Afterwards, Uro will wake up.
Oni Musume book: If Uro chainsaws Oni Musume in the Dark Room and looks at the bookcase, she can see a book from the shelf. The left side of the book shows Oni Musume flying in the sky with books yet the image is scribbled out. The right side shows Oni Musume being pierced by numerous spikes.
The Woman and the Mirror: An event from the Ocean Storehouse. There is a 1/9 chance that a woman in a deep red room will be shown. She is sitting at a mirrored dressing table facing away. Static will flash on the screen and the woman will twitch while unnerving music plays.
fdjkkdjf: A youtuber who has been playing Yume 2kki since 2010. A great collection of the many areas of the game as well as how the game has progressed over the years.
Puppet show: In the Ocean Floor, Uro can find a puppet theatre at the end of a path. If she uses the child or stretch effects, depressing scenes can be seen where Uro is neglected by two adult figures. If Uro uses the glasses effect, the two adult figures will stare at her for a moment.
Take spacesuit off in space: An area called Space can only be accessed if Uro enters with the spacesuit effect. If Uro takes off the effect, the screen will go black and a falling sound will play for a long time. Uro will then wake up.
Flesh Paths: An unnerving world that features many strange faces that act as pathways to other areas. Some stand outs are a blank Urotsuki face, a bug-eyed long-necked girl and blood-dripping faces.
Depths:
Decapitation sheep: At the end of the Realistic Beach, if Uro chainsaws a black sheep, the screen will go black and more chainsawing sounds will play. You’re then shown an image of a decapitated Uro with a chainsaw through her torso. It’s.. really fucking graphic... how did they let this in but not the Galaxy Town deaths???
Fused Faces world: An ominous world with monochromatic faces horrifyingly fused together. An item that looks like a detonator causes the world to become photorealistic when interacted with. The monochrome faces become flesh coloured with realistic skin and eyes and the background becomes black. A simple premise, but pretty darn unnerving
TV Room channels: The TV room is a small area accessible from the Highway. If Uro sits down and watches tv, she will get a random channel shown in a full screen event. The channels vary from calm, to disturbing to downright scary. Channel 9 may feature a jumpscare (though its very tame), Channel 10 features Urotsuki riddled with holes that may trigger trypophobia and Channel 13 features flashing lights that may not be suitable for one with epilepsy
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shinbyeol · 2 years
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in true me fashion, i had too much going on to make it to opening but ‘sup party animals, it’s ya girl moon! ( s / h, 21+ )!! i’m here to bring y’all shin byeol, a lost bean who’s just trying to make it through without throwing up on this roller coaster called life 🤮 she’s generally very nice but y’know, fuckery in life shapes you as a person so she’s a bit jaded but like, who isn’t!! catch her on a monday morning and she’ll probably murder you but run into her as she pollutes the world with her Nth cigarette of the night and she’s more mellow 🥰 now to get the show on the road, drumroll pls for shenanigans under the cut........
shin byeol, 24, seoul resident but recently moved into maehwa (think....a month ish????) and just isa-ri in general
now you may be wondering why she’s there 🥴 same here buddy
tl;dr is that she used to be an idol trainee, jumped around many companies since she was 15 and was on a promising road to debut at her last company but she fucked around (literally) (i’m jk about that last part) and screwed up her achilles tendon
she got surgery and all should have been well but i mean, she injured herself when she was 20 and by the time she recovered 90% she was no longer at a good enough age to debut according to the company :////
ended up going to school instead and graduated from ehwa with a degree in communications and media studies (don’t ask me what this means)
should have been happy and moving on with her life but she still had a lot of trainee contacts or people who had already debuted in her circle which only seemed to cause her pain and made her feel like she failed at life 
heard about this quaint little countryside with a spacious sharehouse with cheap rent so she said fuck it, imma pack my shit up and go
didn’t really think this plan out, if you ask me, but she’s just vibing and trying to figure out what’s next
catch her making your coffee (possibly incorrectly but give her a break, it’s her second week 🙄) at dalkom café or if you happen to be wandering the premises, it’s likely she’ll be around with a camera in hand too 
personality-wise, she’s very straightforward and won’t do any of that sugar-coating business, it’s no nonsense with her and she’ll expect the same. snarky when she needs to be, bitchy because she can be, but if you have her on your side, she’s there for life 
currently occupying room 029, come bother her 😌
idk what else to put, it’s been a long day i’m 😴
plot ideas maybe????
you’re either on her floor, or above/below her and since you like sleeping with your window open, her disgusting cigarette smoke blows into your room and you’ve had enough
she’s out taking pictures and you happen to get in her frame - you want the photo, she’s not willing 🤕
someone from seoul that knew her back in her prime trainee days before she dropped off the face of the planet but o??? look who’s also here?????
her instagram is really just her life’s diary but somehow that intrigued you and suddenly you start seeing that she’s posting snapshots of very familiar areas.....wait, you’re both in isa-ri???
she’s allergic to pets (rip) and it’s her mission to find who in the sharehouse is out to get her by letting their pet roam free
gimme somebody she can have dumb 3am conversations with, like do aliens exist or why does elon musk want his child to be bullied in school
insert something about a relationship plot here blah blah blah we all know how this goes, but she isn’t in it for anything serious (or is she?????)
pls someone give her a coworker at the café 😭 #teamcantdoshit or #teamlifeoftheparty
she doesn’t have a car but some nice townspeople decided to lend her one for an adventure so now she’s strapping you in for a lil joy ride that has no real destination but that’s the point!!
ok idk man i’m supposed to be awake in 4 hours as i write this more like i slept for 3, so who knows what kind of garbage the above really is 😳 hmu either in the ims (pls pls don’t make this our main form of communication i beg you) for my discord or just drop a ❤️ and i’ll come to you so we can plot and get this party started 🤪
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prkrsbunny · 3 months
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mdni.
“C’mon, let me get your Snapchat for my friend,” a blonde man, whose excessive use of Axe body spray was hard to ignore, pressed Nymeria in the local coffee shop where she often found herself working. She had strategically chosen this location, a quaint brunch spot that transformed into a bar in the evenings, to avoid encounters like this. Bob Ross videos played on loop in the local café, and the soothing background noise of the painter made it difficult to formulate a response.
“No, thank you,” Nymeria repeated for the second time, her lips pressed together in a tight smile. She made a deliberate effort not to glance in the direction of the thumb the blonde man gestured toward his friend. His face soured, and she continued to stand awkwardly by her table, waiting to unpack her work bag until he walked away.
“Bitch,” the man grumbled as he left to rejoin the group of gym-short clad men near the exit.
That evening, the scenario replayed in Nym’s mind as she sat at her dinner table, staring at the blank journal page before her with today’s date.
The first words she penned were, 'I want to be consumed. I want to be devoured so entirely that when I part ways with someone, a piece of us will remain with the other person forever.' The ink smudged onto the side of her hand as she scribbled these incoherent, angsty thoughts into her journal. Her non-dominant hand hovered near her mouth, fingers between her teeth, biting off what little nails she had left.
Nym had experienced love, of course, but not in the way she yearned for. It didn't matter if her desires seemed selfish. Her family loved her unconditionally, her friends loved her conditionally, but her past relationships always left her craving something more. She wanted to be entirely consumed by another person. Cannibalized.
This yearning led to unhealthy fantasies, making it easy to imagine possibilities with a stranger she locked eyes with in the library. How, if given the chance, she would willingly submit to the person behind the old, forgotten DVDs that no one rented anymore.
Nym never closed the drapes of the French doors that led to her balcony while she changed. Her flat's windows faced the thick greenery of a park, and while she should have been concerned about potential creeps in the tree-line, she liked the idea of someone secretly following her home from ballet practice, observing her naked silhouette winding down for the evening.
Friends often teased her for reading vampire romance novels, an interest she had picked up from stumbling upon Twilight at a young age. The teasing didn't bother her, as she was enamored by the notion that someone would need her blood to sustain their life and choose her over anyone else.
“Ouch,” she recoiled, jerking her finger away from her teeth. A bead of blood formed under the nail she had just bitten off. The sharp pain drew her attention away from her journaling.
Nymeria would willingly give large parts of herself away to be desired that deeply.
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Rant 4
Whew that last one was a doozy. I think it’s good to have sorta watered down my thoughts enough to help them fade but, I might’ve done it too well that time. Probably good, means this blog is doing its job. Still though, I mention this because I knew I had a Rant 4 but I’d forgotten what it was about exactly. Hoping this little ranting itself will sorta, lead me to there. Guess I’ll just make this one a series of mini rants.
 I plan on having a nicer lunch today but I’ve been eating like shit lately. Not necessarily trashy foods just, not wanting to eat, and not feeling jazzed about doing so.
My internet’s been trashy and I feel isolated and frustrated not being able to do as much. I get so bratty with technology, so whiny. I want to throw my arms around and say “just WOOOOOOOORK damn you!” but obviously that brings me no luck. I dislike inconvenience much more often than actual hardship, and I’ve got little life or entertainment offline, so you can imagine no internet makes me a sad clown.
That said I’m getting pretty bored with my choices of entertainment. I’ve got backups, of course, and backup backups. But I’ve got that sort of refrigerator bias: I’m looking at my choices and nothing stands out, nothing says “pick me!” Maybe it *is* a depression thing; but also it’s just a lot of it isn’t new. I’m a little nauseous at the moment of fiddling with the same old shit, and even the different old shit. Not to say, while it’s still possible, going back to anything wouldn’t be fun. I’m just starving for the new at the moment, trapped in a loop. I’m sure In These Trying Times that a lot of people feel that way. 
Alright that’s probably all for now, for today even, unless I remember more. This post as mentioned was a little more impromptu due to a forgotten actual subject. But not everything here is going to be complaints nor sappiness, or at all emotional. I can just tell this blog anything, get the thoughts out of my head. I like being chatty and this will serve for when I’ve got no particular good target to talk to. Obviously I’m not gonna tell my whole life story or anything to this blog, both because of internet safety wisdom and because it’s not so much a full disclosure therapy thing. I’m also a little trickstery so even for a hidden little thing like this I’m gonna still keep SOME secrets ;)
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bxckybarness · 2 years
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Back in the Fight
summary: Bucky reaches out to an old friend for help
word count: 1300+
a/n: i’m back!!! is this even good? I don’t know. if you want a part 2, let me know. or if you have other ideas - let me know that too. thanks for sticking around while I took my seriously long break. life gets busy and it’s nice to come back to this little corner of the internet
read part II here
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“I know someone.”
“How very vague of you - who is he?” Sam retorts.
“She,” Bucky says, emphasizing his correction, “used to work as a spy. We met in Bucharest.”
“An ex-spy? And you think she has intel about the Flag Smashers?” Sam says, not believing that Bucky has a connection that could end up being helpful - especially considering he didn’t seem to talk to anyone else in his free time.
“I do. Just trust me.”
“Whatever you say robo-arm.”
Bucky walks up to a sleek looking apartment building that’s neatly nestled into a quiet corner within the bustling streets of New York City. He stops at the door and glances back at Sam, who’s only a few strides behind. Sam is quick to notice when Bucky pushes the only call button that doesn’t display a name and it seems fitting - a spy doesn’t want to be found when working, maybe they don’t want to be found when just living either. A few seconds pass without a returning noise from the doorbell system causing Bucky to eye Sam nervously.
“You’re sure this is the place?” Sam questions, raising his eyebrow with interest.
“Do you have to question everything I do?” Bucky shoots back.
“Always so gruff.”
Sam laughs as he hears the intercom pick up by the door. He hears a quiet female voice come through and looks to Bucky to make the next move. Bucky nods at Sam before turning his attention back to the door.
“It’s me,” he says to the intercom.
There’s silence for another moment before the pair hears a laugh from the intercom. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite man with a metal arm! Come up.”
The intercom cuts off and Sam lets out a laugh, knowing he and this mysterious ex-spy friend of Bucky’s could easily become good friends. Especially if they both were able to tease the ex-assassin together. Bucky glances over at Sam and rolls his eyes playfully, before opening the now unlocked door of the apartment building. The pair ascend the stairs and stop in front of yet another door. Bucky quickly knocks and takes a step back before once again, glancing at Sam. Sam nods in reassurance and turns his attention back to the door.
It quickly swings open to reveal you. You’re dressed casually and look like just an everyday, average person - hardly a spy, at least in Sam’s opinion.
“Hey Buck!” You say jovially, “Long time no see.”
Bucky lets out a small chuckle and gestures towards his partner, “This is Sam. The Falcon, ya know.”
You nod and reach your hand out to welcome him, “So good to meet you!”
Sam smiles and shakes the hand of the girl in front of him, “You too.”
Following introductions, you turn and gesture for the boys to enter your apartment. It’s a quaint little space - modernly decorated and very homey. The windows that grace your wall are big and overlook the city. It’s peaceful in the way that only New York can be.
“Anyone care for some coffee?” You ask, now standing behind the kitchen counter, pouring yourself a cup. With some nods from your guests, you pour two more and distribute them before sitting on the couch. With a small laugh, you speak again, “Make yourself comfortable, guys. You both look tense as hell.”
Bucky moves from the hall by the door to stand in front of the windows. He stares at the expanse of the city for a few seconds before turning to face you, a sigh leaving his lips.
“We have a reason to be tense.”
You take a sip of your coffee and nod, bringing the mug to rest on your left thigh, “I had a feeling this wasn’t just a friendly check-in.”
The room grows quiet and the sheepish look on Bucky’s face is enough for Sam to know he hasn’t spoken to this girl in awhile. He clears his throat awkwardly and chooses to break the slightly awkward silence, “We can get into that later. For now, I’d love to hear about how the two of you met. And you’re a spy?” He gives you a curious look, and for a moment you think he looks like a kid in the candy store.
You shrug and look over at Sam, who is intently waiting for your answer, “Spy, undercover agent, whatever you want to call it.”
Bucky finally moves to join you and Sam, sitting on the lounge chair in the corner of the room. He lets out a breathy laugh, “How about babysitter?”
“Babysitter?” Sam questions with a laugh of his own. “Okay, I gotta know what that’s about.”
You’re smiling now and you shake your head at Bucky’s comment.
“Well,” you start, placing your mug on the coffee table in front of you, “When the bionic brain over here went into hiding, I was hired to track him down and keep an eye on him.”
“We met in Bucharest,” Bucky adds, fiddling with the mug in his own hands.
“So I guess the term babysitter kind of fits,” Sam says, a smug look on his face.
You roll your eyes once again and look at Sam with a hardened look of your own, “Hydra doesn’t hire babysitters.”
Sam’s jaw drops and Bucky quickly moves to run a hand over his face.
“Okay one, that was intense. Two, you were hired by Hydra?!” Sam practically shouts.
Now it’s your turn to let out an incredulous laugh, “Oh man, you should’ve seen your face, Sam!”
It takes you a second to calm down before you can catch your break and explain, “To be fair, I didn’t know I was working for them at first. And a paycheck is a paycheck.”
The conversation continues for a while and you tell Sam about your days as an agent for hire and how you eventually got roped into Hydra’s business. Back then, you needed the money and you were good at hiding in the shadows both online and in-person. You started with small odd jobs.
When bigger cases started rolling in, so did the eyes of the various higher ups of the world - including Hydra. They had hired you under the guise of being a high-tech German company that needed surveillance on a potential security threat. You didn’t think twice about the assignment and took it - more than happy to go on the hunt for someone for the price they were offering. Once you had found Bucky, though, and realized what Hydra had turned him into (and that you were working for them), you stopped taking jobs for them and moved on with life.
Which is how you eventually ended up in New York.
“So,” you say. “I’m sure you didn’t come here looking for my babysitting services. What’s up?”
Bucky stands, immediately becoming tense again. “The Flag Smashers.”
You glance between the people in front of you, letting silence fall over the room. You place your mug on the table in front of you and stand quickly, “Come with me.”
The two men follow you through your apartment to a back room with no windows that is empty except for a desk and computer. You sit in front of the laptop and open it, pulling up a security scanning application in the process.
“I figured somebody would be needing my help with this at some point,” you say with a chuckle. “And before I tell you what I know - I have one condition.”
Bucky lets out a playful scoff, “This oughta be good. What is it?”
“Let me in on the fight.”
Bucky nods and smiles at you. He can’t believe he hasn’t come to see you sooner. Sam laughs and comes around to stand behind you, clapping a hand gently on your back in comradery. He can’t believe Bucky has been hiding you from him all this time. And your smile gives away your thoughts - you’re excited to get back to what you do best, especially if you’re doing it alongside your two favorite avengers.
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angie-likes-to-art · 3 years
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Fic Recs (9.25.21)
I wanted to share my favorite series/ one shots while I work on my own, please show some love to these amazing writers! These are in no particular order, some are older, others are more recent, all are amazingly well written. Previous Fic Rec
Method Acting (Series, Ongoing) by @kinanabinks (18+ Only)
Pairing: Frat!Steve x Reader Summary: “frat!steve and y/n are close friends, but the lines are starting to blur. if that isn’t confusing enough, enter beryl; a girl who’s hell-bent on making steve rogers hers, no matter what it takes.”
Couldn’t Be Me (Series, Ongoing) by @drunken-imagines
Pairing: College/ Fuck Boy!Bucky x Reader Summary: “college boy bucky”
Locked Out by @kayteewritessteve
Pairing: Firefighter!Steve x Reader Summary: “A much needed trip to the laundry room takes a turn for the worse when you realize you’ve locked yourself out of your apartment. The next move you make doesn’t play out quite like you’d hoped and ends up turning south, and fast. But, your luck starts to change when a neighbour finds you in a rather compromising position and offers his help.”
Astrophile (Series, Completed) by god herself @all1e23
Pairing: Firefighter/ Single Dad!Bucky x Bookstore Owner!Reader Summary: “Orion Rebecca Barnes's favorite thing in the whole world (besides her daddy of course) is spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house and the owner GIVES her any book she wants; she’s the coolest girl Orion has ever met. It doesn't take long for Bucky to notice his daughter’s sudden interest in constellations and the large stack of astrology related books piling up in her room. He’s spent her entire life trying to teach her about the stars and where her name came from with little interest from his little comet and all of sudden she’s in love. All thanks to the girl who owns the bookstore?”
Saving Grace (Series, Completed) by @revengingbarnes (18+ Only)
Pairing: Demon!Bucky x Angel!Reader Summary: “The reader loses her grace, loses everything she has ever known, and is cast down to Earth. Bucky is the demon who loves causing chaos in little human minds. What does he do when he happens upon a broken angel?”
2 Night Stand (Series, Ongoing) by @james-bucky-barnackle (18+ Only)
Pairing: Bucky x Reader Summary: “You found yourself at a club drinking away to forget about the stress of your shitty job as the assistant of the biggest Editor in New York, you end up hooking up with the man of your dreams only to wake up to a nightmare when you find out he’s the son of your boss.”
A Touch of Ink (Series, Completed) by @deamstellarus
Pairing: Single Dad/ Tattoo Artist!Bucky x Reader Summary: “After a breakup with your ex, you decided to move to the small town where your long-time friend Sam lives, hoping for a change of pace and starting a new chapter in your life. You were prepared for a slower paced lifestyle, quaint diners, and a change of scenery. However, you didn't expect to be swept off your feet by two stunning pairs of blue-grey eyes.”
Burn The Witch (Series, Completed) by @dreamwritesimagines (18+ Only?)
Pairing: Bucky x Spy!Reader Summary: “The mission was simple; get closer to the Winter Soldier and start a relationship with him to get the necessary information for your superiors to use. Everyone told you not to get your feelings involved. You should have listened.”
Real or Fake? By @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo
Pairing: Bucky x Reader Summary: “Nat and Steve try to set you and Bucky up by sending the two of you to be a fake couple on an undercover mission at a fancy gala. Will you two still be pretending by the end of the night?”
Blink Twice (Series, Ongoing) By @simmerandwrite
Pairing: Bucky x Reader Summary: “It was just an undetermined amount of time in a safehouse with a stranger: Bucky “I didn’t come here to make friends” Barnes himself. Would it really be all that different from your lonely life with your cat in the city? Bucky was basically a cat, anyway. He was quiet on his feet, only really made noise when it was dinner time, and you both seemed to just coexist without acknowledging each other. His mandate was to keep you safe. What could go wrong?”
The Stray By @bombsonboard
Pairing: Bucky x Reader Summary: “You make it a habit to feed the stray behind your building. Turns out someone else had the same idea, sickly meet cute ensues”
The Match (Series, Ongoing) By @babyboibucky (18+ Only)
Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Reader Summary: “You come across your boss’ Tinder profile.”
Untitled By @angrythingstarlight
Pairing: Construction Worker!Bucky x Reader Summary: “Beefy construction worker Bucky asking you out.”
The Boxer Next Door By @clints-lucky-arrow
Pairing: 1940’s Boxer!Bucky x Nurse!Reader Summary: “You haven't yet had the chance to introduce yourself to the group of young men who have moved in next door. Especially the handsome one who owns the bedroom window that faces your own. However, on a busy night working in the hospital's emergency room, that chance unexpectedly presents itself.”
Mel’s Cafe By @riverevelations
Pairing: Bucky x Reader Summary: “when a new dark-haired beauty makes his way into your daily life, he becomes the muse for your art. eventually, he becomes the muse for your feelings, as well.”
834 notes · View notes
Text
Cat Got Your Tongue
Chapter One
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Master List /  Series Master List
A/N: This series is set in the same world as Bare In The Woods (a one-shot were-bear Henry Cavill story). This series will be cross posted between Tumblr and AO3. As Tumblr has no way of preventing minors from reading the smutty bits (and there will be smutty bits) those chapters will only be available on AO3.
My archive work is available to Register Users Only. This means Yes, You Must Have An Account with Archive to read my work. If you'd like more information on how to acquire your Free archive account, please see this post. All you need is an email address to sign up. That's it. Just do it people.
Read on AO3 here!
Summary: The community of Salvation holds many secrets, not the least of which is the diversity of were-folk who call it home. Ember Porosha is one resident for who Salvation isn't just the town's name but her saving grace. After outrunning her past, she's resigned herself to playing surrogate to everyone else's children and never having her own. A mate was not in her future, and she was learning to live with that. Until he walked through the door of The Last Book and Brew.
Thomas Loki Hiddleston wasn't going to be in town long. Here for the naming of Henry and his wife's baby girl and presentation to the weres of Salvation, he planned only to stay a few days. A small town like this could never offer him the outlet he needed for his cat's dark desires, nor could he hide what he was for long. His nature would eventually need an outlet and Salvation held nothing for him. Or so he thought. One wiff of Ember's unique scent and he knew he'd found a long thought lost to him future.
But when she doesn't fall at his feet, and proves more stubborn than a mule, can he resit taking her in hand long enough to win her heart? Or will the bond between true mates not be enough to tame this wild hellcat.
Series warnings: Were-Creatures, Cats, Bears, Smut, Shameless Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dom/sub, Blood, Blood Kink, this one could (will) get kinky
***
When the sleek black car drove through town, Ember gave it only a passing glance. It was odd, sure, but anyone who drove a Jag was so far out of her league they were playing on a different ball diamond altogether. The car screamed money, something she cared little about.
Sure she needed it, everyone did, but Ember was content with what she had, and in this sleepy town cradled lovingly between the mountains, she didn't need much. She had her sweet yellow cottage, her bookstore, and a community of friends when she desired company. And now, with the snow falling thick on the ground, she would have another singular pleasure. 
Ember's little snow leopard heart leapt at the thought of running through the high passes and sliding down the long slopes, her wide paws keeping her above the snowpack instead of sinking in while her thick coat kept out the cold. It had been too long since she'd last played in her were form, and was looking forward to going out to the ranger station in a few days to visit with Henry, his wife, and their little cub. 
The sweet baby girl already had Henry wrapped firmly around her finger, and Ember couldn't help but laugh at the goofy smile that perpetually graced his face when he looked at his family. 
If a pang of jealousy jabbed her heart, Ember didn't let it show. She'd resigned herself to a lonely life a long time ago. 
The bell over the door of her little shop gave a merry jingle, and she placed the last of the new James Patterson novels on the shelf before dusting off her hands and stepping out from behind the bookshelves to smile at Lorraine, the town's most gossipy raven.
If she was fluttering into The Last Book and Brew, then Ember was about to hear an earful.
***
Tom swept into the charming inn and forced himself to smile at the woman behind the desk. He'd spent a miserable six hours on the road, driven through a blizzard, and killed his cellphone when he'd dropped it in an icy puddle two hours prior as he'd filled the car with petrol. But there was no alternate way to get to Salvation, buried deep in the mountains, except to drive. 
And Salvation was where he needed to be. 
His old friend, Henry, was celebrating the birth of his first cub, and Tom dropped everything to come and see the little darling Henry was blessed with. And to meet the woman who'd tamed the giant bear after all this time. Sadly, he'd been unable to attend their wedding, but he refused to miss the welcoming of a new were into the community, whether he belonged to the Salvation clan or not.
That didn't mean he wouldn't give Hen the gears for choosing to live in some backwater nowhere even if it was beautiful here. 
Still, Tom preferred the city for its indulgences and entertainments. No, he couldn't fall on all fours and run through the concrete jungle he called home, but he'd long come to terms with his destiny. It wasn't as if there was a panther out there waiting to run under the moonlight with him. 
He was going to be a lone cat, a bachelor. He'd resigned himself to it, for no matter what anyone said, no one - were or human - had ever submitted wholly to his dark desires and chosen to stay in his possession afterward. They were all far too soft for his liking, ending in no more than a one-and-done.
At least, he could stalk the clubs and play with those unaware of his darkest needs and wants in the city. Tom was not a Dom to be denied, and those who gave in to the allure of his pretty face soon learned all about the devil underneath his Gucci suit.
"Hello, darling," he purred to the desk clerk. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, checking in. I believe I have a reservation."
She blushed to the roots of her hair, sputtered, and nodded. "Of-of course, sir. If-if you'll sign a few things and put your card on file, I can get you situated on your back- In your room!" she corrected, staring at her hands. 
Tom couldn't hide his smile, but he swallowed his laughter. It was always the same. The sweet little birds flocked to him, but they had no idea a predator was stalking them.
He went through the incidentals, signed her documents, collected his key and listened intently when she told him about the room, breakfast, the restaurant, spa, and pool. His ears perked up at the last. He did enjoy a refreshing swim. 
"And if you fancy something other than regular coffee or black tea, there is The Last Book and Brew just down the street. Ember makes the best scones and tea."
"Does she now?" he murmured, eyeing Irene - her name on a little plaque pinned to her chest - as she handed him back his credit card. "Perhaps I'll check in on it. A cuppa does sound delightful." The drive had been long, and tea might be just the pick-up he needed before calling round to Henry's. 
He nodded to Irene and headed for the stairs instead of the elevator. Three floors were nothing for his long legs, the exertion minimal, as he hiked to the third floor and down to the end where he fit the old-fashioned key into the antique lock and pushed open the door. 
Tom was pleasantly surprised to find a mixture of well-kept antiques and modern furnishings decorating the space. While the bed and mattress were new and covered with clean, white duvet and sheets, the dresser - upon which sat a television - was a heavy mahogany buffet with curved Queen Anne legs. The bathroom was a revolution of modern plumbing though a cast iron tub stood on clawed feet beside a glass shower big enough for two. Gilt framed mirrors hung above dual vanities into which water poured from brushed gold fixtures. 
It was all very romantic with its old-world charm though the inn was showing its age. Wallpaper lifted at the edges, millwork was chipped and rubbed in places, and a few of the lovely old tiles on the floor in the bathroom were cracked. But with the likely age of the building, it wasn't so surprising. If the gorgeous stone building weren't at minimum a century, he would eat his scarf. 
She could be an absolute beauty with effort and enough money. Yes, he would be comfortable here for a time. The Salvation Inn would suit him.
Tom made his way to the windows that looked out on Salvation's main street. The road was a mess of dirty snow, sanded and salted for ease of travel, but the thick white flakes floating down turned the quaint replica gas street lights into white-topped monuments of winter. Storefronts glowed with welcoming light, still running their Autumn displays, creeping toward American Thanksgiving. The commercialization of Christmas had yet to appear, giving everything a cheerful, colourful cast he found pleasing to his senses. 
Cars moved without hurry, mimicking the people coming and going about their business. Everyone was bundled up, but no one seemed to mind the cold and the snow. To be expected, he supposed. They lived in the mountains where snow fell early and lasted late. 
As his gaze traversed the lane, his attention landed on The Last Book and Brew and caused him to tilt his head, intrigued. Unlike the other traditional storefronts with their brick faces and colourful awnings, gold filigree writing on wooden signs, the little bookstore had a distinctly different feel to it. 
The door, window frames, and brickwork that accented the front of the building were painted a shiny, deep black. There was no awning but three stunning lanterns hung above the windows on wrought iron arms, beautifully curved like the elegant lines of a woman's body. A sign in the same black iron hung perpendicular to the door. Shaped like a shield or some family crest, the words The Last Book and Brew glowed crimson outlined in gold, while a raven of the same black iron sat guard, casting judgement on all who entered. Red velvet mounded in the windows, lovingly cradling the displayed books like sacrificial offerings. 
Someone knew what they were doing, for that was the sexiest storefront Tom had ever seen.
Utterly enchanted and desperate to see if the interior matched the exterior, he left his leather valise unpacked on the bed, pocketed his key, and headed for the door.
Irene looked up as he passed her, but Tom paid the clerk little mind. He was on a mission, a hunt now, needing to discover the answer to the mystery of just who this Ember of Last Book and Brew was that she could create with such aplomb a store so alluring. 
There was no wind when he trotted down the inn's exterior stairs and out into the snowfall. Traffic was light, so he crossed mid-street, avoiding puddles and snowbanks in an attempt to keep the Italian leather of his shoes dry while large flakes of falling snow collected in his dark ginger locks. He reached the door and admired the ornate handle before opening the door into another world. 
Tom stepped inside and stared in amazement. He'd never thought a bookstore could be moody, but this one certainly was. The floors were highly polished ebony wood that led into dark railings which spiralled past the sunken first-floor cafe up a short flight of stairs toward the bookstore beyond. 
He admired the cobblestone floor in the cafe, again shiny with polish, sealed he suspected to make cleanup easier. Upon them sat a virtual Mad Hatter's Tea Party of chairs, all shapes and sizes separated by wrought iron tables topped with glass. And though the chairs were unique in shape, they matched for colour, upholstered as they were in the blood-red and black brocade that turned them into a sexy indulgence he prayed were as comfortable as they looked. 
And hung above it all, like a lady's magnificent fascinator, was a chandelier worthy of the name. Clearly electric, it appeared to drip ropes of black jewels and crystals as long as his palm, lit by three dozen candles that flickered with faux flames. It was spectacular.
Beyond, the cafe counter, like a walnut dream, appeared to be a repurposed and rehabbed saloon bar where elegant scrollwork on a pristine chalkboard announced the daily specials. He could see the cakes and pastries in their glass case, and while his stomach rumbled to remind him of the last meal he'd eaten, Tom was too enthralled with the decadence of the store to allow himself to be led by his nose when a small sign at the foot of the stairs requested no food past that point. 
Another small sign asked him to wipe his feet, which he did without thought, before heading up the short but wide curved stairwell to the second floor into the fantasy world of someone's most magnificent mind. 
He felt guided by the hand of a fae as he wound his way through ebony bookcases over hardwood floors, beneath more hanging lanterns and delicate chandeliers. The soft white of all the lights allowed him to read titles and leaf through pages without feeling as if the overhead lights would eventually dry out his eyes or buzz their annoyance through his brain. Every so often, he came upon stands of lightly scented candles, or soaps, or lotions made with all-natural products and tingling with the lightest touch of were-magic, causing Tom to look at the store with deeper senses. 
The corners and cardinal points of the space had crystal wards, he realized, and the soft pulse of benevolent magic left him at ease. Whoever this Ember was, she bid all who came to her sanctuary welcome. 
Even more intrigued than before, Tom found his way toward the counter where voices spoke in hushed tones, intent on finding the owner and congratulating her on the sensual, slightly erotic nature of her store. It left him breathless in a way that was hard for him to come by, and yet even as it pulled at his dark, seductive nature, he knew a family could come into such a place and find it magical, like falling into the rabbit hole of a dark Alice fantasy.
"That's nice, Lorraine, but I don't think Henry would approve of you gossiping about his friend."
Tom stopped in his tracks. Warm brandy and velvet bled over his senses, stroking straight through him to the soul of his cat. The panther purred and preened, wanting the owner of that voice to pet him and whisper words of seduction in his ear. 
"Poppycock! Some big-city fella isn't going to care if we mountain folk talk about him."
Ugh, raven. He'd know that grating tone anywhere.
"Besides, he's some fancy lawyer or something," the raven, Lorraine, continued. "I'm sure he's used to people talking about him."
"It is still impolite."
Tom shivered, eyes half-lidding. He had to roll his head, stretching his neck to keep from sprouting fur. What he wouldn't give for one night with the owner of that voice. 
Never one to hide in the face of scrutiny, Tom glided out from behind the bookshelf and smiled at the two women. "Actually, I run hotels."
The raven eeped and jumped, spinning to face him. She was older than he'd suspected, her dark hair thoroughly saturated with grey though her eyes remained clear brown orbs. The other, oh, the other, he could not help but stare.
Her face was the kind that would make angels weep with sharp, classic features, high cheekbones and a pointed chin like a sweet little fox. Her big eyes widened in surprise, showing off the shocking green, so pale and light they were almost neon when the light caught them. The heavy fall of thick curls that slipped from her shoulder left his mouth dry with the desire to sink his fingers into the mass that started black at the root and faded into tones of silver and dark grey, hinting at patterns like small rosettes. 
A sleek, lithe body lovingly caressed by a sweater of raspberry wool and leggings of black knit glided out from behind the cash desk, her steps silent in small silver ballet flats. "Mr. Hiddleston?"
"Indeed," he purred, accepting her hand when she offered it. He captured it between both of his rather than shaking it as presented and held it lightly. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, at your service, love. My friends call me Tom."
"Ember Porosha. Welcome to Salvation and The Last Book and Brew." She tilted her head, causing all that lovely hair to slide to the opposite shoulder. "Henry speaks highly of you."
"Mm," he chuckled, adjusting his grip to lightly press his thumb into the palm of her hand as he brought her knuckles to his lips. "Brags, does he?"
"Terribly," she agreed with a smile.
Tom smirked and pressed his lips to her skin. He inhaled and went rigid. That scent, the sweet smell of pine and snow somehow laced with the delicate notes of summer dreams, drowned him, flooding his lungs until he was sure he would never be able to breathe again without breathing in Ember's delectable fragrance. 
She tried to retrieve her hand. Tom growled, low and deep, more a purr than a reprimand, and opened eyes he knew would glow green with his cat. 
"Well, hello, pet," he smiled. "It seems I was wrong." He wasn't destined to be alone after all.
Sharp claws latched into his hands. "I've no desire to start anything with you, true mate or not."
He dropped her hands and brought his to his mouth to catch the blood seeping from the minor wounds. "We will see about that."
She hissed at him. 
Tom threw his head back and laughed before gliding into her personal space and threading his fingers into her hair. "Spit all you like, little kitten. I always get what I want."
"I think it's time you left, Mr. Hiddleston," Ember growled, her hand on his chest to keep him at bay. 
"Tea first," he smirked. "I'm gagging for a cuppa. Haven't had a decent one all day!" He stroked the silvery strands before letting them fall through his fingers. "Is your coat just as soft, Kitten?"
She glared daggers at him. "Leave."
He chuckled but stepped back, practically able to see her tail flick in anger. "Until later then, Ember."
***
He turned on his heels and sauntered away, leaving her seething behind him. How dare he. How dare he! How dare he assume such liberties when they'd only just met. When it was clear he was only passing through and would leave nothing but devastation in his wake.
"How dare he!" she hissed and stormed toward the back of the store to her office to calm down, forgetting Lorraine was still there.
Ember didn't slam the door, knowing he was still in the store, and she'd be damned before she gave him that much power over her. She would not be brought to heel like some… some… Kitten!
She growled a low sound and clenched her fists, determined to get control of herself and that snow leopard rolling like a damn hussy inside her.
She'd smelt him the moment he'd stepped beyond the books—dark spice and leather, mandarin and rosewood, with notes of cinnamon and vanilla. Ember's mouth watered with the desire to taste his skin and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
"No," she said firmly. Her cat scoffed. "He won't stay here. He's a big city panther, and we will never go back." She was determined to live alone, be alone because she was safer that way.
Salvation was, well, their salvation. When she was most desperate for a new start and a place to hide from her past, Salvation was there with open arms, and an established were community.
Her cat settled down with the reminder and left her alone to pick up the phone.
Ember dialed the number by heart and waited for them to answer. "Hey, Henry, it's Ember. About tonight. Something has come up… I'm… not going to make it."
Next Chapter
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pennylanefics · 3 years
Text
New Life - Isaac Lahey
a/n: thanks to @fifty-shades-of-grace for the idea! i’ve had this in mind for so long but never felt the motivation to write it, but her post pushed me to do so!!
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•••
“So what do we do now?” You and the pack were together at Scott’s house, hours after Allison was killed. None of you knew what to do or say. Scott was heartbroke and didn’t say much since Chris took her away.
Isaac was the same. They had just started dating and you could tell he was taking it hard. He was crying silently, tears have been streaming down his face nonstop. You wanted to comfort him and hold him, but you knew it wasn’t the right time.
You’ve liked Isaac for the longest time, ever since you first met. But he always made it clear that you were just a friend, and you dealt with it. And now definitely wasn’t the time to act on anything.
“I don’t know,” Scott whispers hoarsely. “I don’t know what to do now that she’s gone.”
“It happens, Scott. It’s something supernaturals have to deal with,” Derek tells him. You glare at the older man and scoff.
“Allison was human, Derek. She didn’t deserve to die,” Isaac defends.
“And when you’re human getting involved with the supernatural, you have to know the risk of being killed. They don’t have the strength or healing abilities that we do.”
“So that means you think it’s okay if (Y/N) dies because she’s human as well?!” Isaac shouts. Derek says nothing, glancing at you for a quick moment.
“Shit happens.”
“That still doesn’t make it okay that she died,” Scott murmurs.
The room falls silent, only sniffles and sighs being heard.
“I wanna move away from Beacon Hills,” Isaac mumbles. “I don’t think I can be here anymore and constantly be reminded of her.” You stare at him as he speaks, his eyes glued to the floor, though. He was nervous to hear everyone’s thoughts.
“If that’s what you feel like is best for you, then do it,” Scott tells him. “Don’t stay here and torture yourself.”
‘“I wouldn’t mind getting away either,” you say to yourself. Isaac looks up to you and smiles.
“Come with me,” he offers. Your eyebrows furrow and you think. The main reason you wanted to get away was because of Isaac. You didn’t want to stay here and be reminded that he’s gone because his girlfriend died.
“Oh, no. I don’t want to-“
“No, it’ll be good! We’ll be away from here but still have each other, someone who understands what the other has gone through.”
“Are you sure?” He smiles and nods.
“Yeah. We’ve always been good friends and it’ll be nice to spend time with one another without the rest of the pack. I feel like we never got a chance to grow close.” You grin a little, your heart cracking slightly as you nod.
“Uh, sure. I guess I’ll go with you.”
“Where are you planning on going?” Kira asks. Isaac thinks for a moment.
“Paris,” he announces. Your eyes widen in shock.
“Paris, France?”
“Know any other Paris’s?” You chuckle nervously.
“I guess not,” you respond. “It’s just far away.”
“That’s the point.” You don’t respond as the realization settles in.
“Okay,” you finally say. “I’ll move to Paris with you.” Issac smiles and reaches over to give you a side hug. He keeps you near him, though, needing the comfort.
After that night, you and Isaac spent your remaining days in Beacon Hills packing and planning flights and housing for when you get to France. On the day you left, the pack joined you two at the airport.
“I’ll miss you, Scott,” you whisper as he pulls you into a huge hug.
“We’ll talk soon. Just don’t forget about us.” You nod against his shoulder and pull back to give Kira a hug.
“Let me know if anything happens with you and Isaac,” she says, raising her eyebrows teasingly. You giggle and shrug it off.
“I don’t expect anything to. And I’m okay with it.” She frowns and rubs your back. You glance over at Isaac and see that he’s staring at you. Was he listening to your conversations?
You walk over to him, pushing your thoughts to the back of your mind.
“You ready to get out of here?” You ask him. He nods and picks his bags up.
“Bye everyone!” You two wave to the pack and walk inside the airport. Isaac wraps an arm around you and kisses your forehead, a gesture he’s always done, but this time, it sends butterflies to your stomach.
The trip was long and tiring. One trip from California to Atlanta, waiting in the airport for the plane to Europe, and waiting in customs once in France. But finally, around dinnertime, you were settled in the apartment in Montmartre you were renting for the time being.
“Ugh, I’m exhausted,” you flop onto the bed in one of the rooms. Isaac brings your suitcases into the room and joins you on the bed, looking out at the view of the city from the window.
“Me too. So,” he sighs, “what now?”
“We begin a new chapter of our lives without the supernatural?”
“I mean, I can only escape it so much, I still am a werewolf,” he laughs.
“That’s true, but you won’t have to deal with losing any more friends to crazy ass monsters.”
“Yeah. I can’t lose anyone else. Especially you.” You could’ve sworn you heard his voice waver a little, but you quickly forgot about it as Isaac announced he was going to pick up some dinner from a nearby restaurant.
A month and a half passes and although it’s a hard adjustment, you were starting to feel at home. The little village you lived in was quaint and quiet, and everyone was so nice. One of your neighbors offered to help teach you French, which Isaac was doing as well, since he’s been learning it for years.
Every other night, you, Isaac and your neighbor ate dinner together and she taught you questions, statements, orders, and etiquette, all the important stuff to at least get around.
“So, Isaac, have you found a special woman here yet?” Amelie asks him with a smile on her face. You raise your eyebrows at him and smirk. He chuckles nervously and looks down at his plate.
“Uh, no. I’m still trying to get over my last girlfriend’s death. I don’t think I’m ready to move on just yet.” He pushes around a piece of beef on his plate.
“You’ll find someone. There’s lots of sweet girls around here and a lot of them are very cute. I’m sure they’d love an American boyfriend.” You giggle as a blush covers his cheeks.
“I’m not sure about it just yet.” Amelie brushes it off and goes back to teaching you phrases. For the rest of the afternoon, you can’t help but notice Isaac’s distant behavior. He seems spaced out, thinking about stuff, or caught up with thoughts of Allison.
“(Y/N) and I were going to watch the sunset on the hill of the Sacré-Cœur,” Isaac says, standing up to bring his plate over to the sink. You get up and thank Amelie for the lesson today and walk out of her house.
Isaac makes a quick stop at your apartment to grab a blanket and a picnic basket before meeting back up with you and beginning the trek to the hill.
It was pretty empty for a weekend, but you figured everyone was at clubs and bars instead of having picnics and relaxing.
“Here we are,” Isaac lays the blanket down and opens the basket. He hands you a piece of chocolate cake from your favorite restaurant and grabs the other for himself. As you enjoy the dessert, the sun begins to set, creating a golden glow over the area.
“It’s so beautiful,” you murmur in awe. Isaac hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since you finished off the slice. The sunlight showered you in a stunning way, and he couldn’t help but finally come to the realization of how truly beautiful he thinks you are.
“Yeah,” he whispers, practically in a trance. You glance over at him and laugh.
“You alright, Isaac?” You place the trash back in the basket and take out a bottle of water for yourself.
“Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk about.”
“Okay,” you push him to continue. He pauses, fiddling with his hands.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and being here, I’ve been able to clear my mind and focus on it. I-” He hesitates. Your eyebrows furrowed together as he struggles to explain.
“I know I said that I’m not ready for a relationship because of Allison. But I’ve made progress and I think I’m ready to move on.”
“That’s great, Isaac! I think coming here was a good idea for you. I’ve noticed you changed a lot and you seem happier, with bad days here and there of course. But I can tell you’re starting to come to terms with it.”
“I have, all thanks to you.” You smile and rub his shoulder.
“I’m happy you asked me to come along. It’s been so much fun and I honestly can’t explain how refreshing it is to not have to deal with some supernatural being every few months.” He laughs, agreeing with you.
“That’s not all.” You nod and stare at him, waiting for the next topic.
“I’ve fallen for you, more than I was expecting to. To be honest, I never even thought about it until I heard you at the airport saying bye to Kira.” You gasp and smack his shoulder playfully.
“You were listening to us!” He giggles and swats your hand away.
“I didn’t mean to! Everyone got quiet and my hearing zoned in on you.”
“How come you didn’t say anything then?” He shrugs.
“I was still dealing with Allison’s death and it confused me even more. I guess I’ve always had feelings for you deep down, but we were always good friends, and I often heard you talking to Lydia about a guy you liked, so I didn’t make any moves.”
“You dumbass, that guy was you!” His eyes widen and he lets out a long exhale.
“I’m so stupid,” he face falms himself. You grab his wrist to move his hands away and kiss his cheek.
“You’re not. I was okay with being friends. If anything, I’m glad we were because I can’t imagine my life without you. I was okay with waiting for you to figure out that I am pretty amazing.” he laughs and caresses your cheek.
“You are pretty amazing,” he whispers. His eyes dart down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. With a small nod, you give him permission to do what he wants. He slowly leans in and presses his lips to yours, your heart bursting with love. You can’t help but smile, breaking the kiss.
“Fuck, I’ve waited for this for so long,” you breathe out.
“How long?”
“Remember the day I got attacked by the kanima? It threw me against the wall of the school and you took my pain away before taking me to the hospital?” Isaac swallows hard.
“I’ll never forget that day.”
“I won’t either. It’s the day I fell in love with you.” Isaac grins and kisses you again.
“Um, I’m sorry, but I can’t say that back just yet,” he tells you, worried of your reaction.
“I didn’t expect you to. i just wanted you to know that.”
“And when the time is right, I’ll be happy to say the same.”
You two stay on the hill for another hour, just talking while you lay in his arms. Once it started getting cold and more vacant, you headed back to your apartment. After showering and putting the picnic supplies away, you settled on the couch and turned the TV on.
Isaac stayed in his room, his head spinning with what just happened. He was so happy with how things worked out, but part of him still felt guilty and connected to Allison, so he called the one person who would know what to do. Scott.
You had fallen asleep on the couch while watching a movie when Isaac came out to talk to you. He quickly sees that you’re fast asleep and grins.
“Hey,” he whispers, shaking you awake. You groan and rub your eyes.
“What time is it?” You ask. Isaac checks the clock on the wall.
“Midnight.” You turn the TV off and stretch, getting ready to head to bed, but Isaac stops you.
“Can we talk in my room for a little?” He asks. You grin and nod, following him into the room across yours. You take a seat on his bed but he crawls under the covers, motioning for you to join. You immediately understand why he wanted you in here, so you join him and scoot into his arms.
“You know you could have just said you wanted me to sleep with you tonight,” you say. He lets out a small breath and nuzzles his face into your neck.
“I didn’t want to be awkward about it. I also wasn’t sure how you felt about being this close so soon.”
“I don’t have a problem, but are you okay with it?” He pauses.
“I called Scott and talked to him for a while. I told him that even though I feel like I'm ready to move on, it’s hard letting Allison go. I feel like I’m doing something wrong, but he assured me that it’s okay to let go. He’s done it and he’s with Kira, but he still has a place in his heart for Allison.”
“It’ll be okay. Letting her go doesn’t mean you have to forget her. I don’t expect you to suddenly move on so quickly. I know you really liked her and you were together at the time of her death. That’s a difficult thing to go through.”
“I really appreciate you,” he whispers. “And I’m so happy we’re finally together.” You pull back and stroke his cheek with your finger.
“So, we are together? Like, a relationship?” You confirm. He’s slow to nod, but when he does, he breaks out into a huge smile.
“I want that, if you want that as well.” You kiss him sweetly in response.
“I’ve been wanting it ever since you saved me.”
“So the whole knight in shining armor thing does work on girls?” He teases. You giggle and curl into his chest.
“When the knight is a wolf, who I’ve had a crush on for a while before that, saving me from a freaky lizard man and taking my pain away? Yeah.”
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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years
Text
Misread Details: Robert
CW: Dehumanizing language, BBU blanket warning, serial killer/death talk, descriptions of death/abduction/murder, blood, whumper death, some real vague implied noncon references, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper
Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert
The Dark Discovery in Robert Weber’s Basement: Box Boy Killer, Part 3
r/LetsTalkTrueCrime
•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee
3 days ago
After Part One, where we learned about the mysterious, but possibly entirely natural, death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, and Part Two, where we saw Henry “Brute” Hanlon’s double life lead to his untimely gruesome murder, you see the single thread that connects these two men who otherwise never met, interacted, or even shared a single person in common… a nameless Box Boy, present at the death of Nanda even if he isn’t responsible for it, and the proven killer of Brute.
It’s my theory that this Box Boy may have accidentally killed his legal owner, Nanda, and then picked up a taste for the act and moved on to taking shelter with those he turns into his victims.
With Brute, he simply didn’t know the man had a wife and children and entire other life, and may have assumed no one would come looking for him or recognize his death. With our third individual, Robert Weber, it seems like our Box Boy Serial Killer got in over his head.
I give you… the Accidental Vigilante death of Robert Weber.
You decide if our unknown killer is simply the unluckiest guy in the world or a killer who even now may be somewhere living with - and earning the trust of - his next victim.
-
One bright and sunny day in the quaint, old-fashioned California town of Rancher’s Rest, Robert Weber was late for work.
Weber worked in a vehicle repair business owned by lifelong “RR” resident Randy Niles, who had known Weber since his childhood and had been his boss since Weber was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school.
Niles, who is now nearly seventy-five and still spends his days in the shop with an Australian Shepherd named Cody and a blind pit bull named Sue keeping him company everywhere he goes, stated that Weber had no living family he knew of beyond his sister in Vermont, and he was just about the closest thing Weber had to a relative just from having known him so long.
“He didn’t have too much to do with his sister,” Randy said in an interview with Unsolved Mysteries. (You can see the interview on the new Netflix reboot of the show! It’s a really good episode, definitely recommend. It’s how I got into this case in the first place.) “Or nobody, really. Just us at work, the guys at the bar, that kinda thing. He was quiet, kept to himself really. You’d never just strike up a chat around town or anything. But he got on just fine with the boys here in the shop. He was a bit of an egghead, too, always going on about this thing or that he’d seen on the news. Little… odd. Little bit off, you might say. But really, who isn’t? In any case, you know, I’d known him since he was a little boy, so he was just Bobby Weber to me.”
Then, of course, one day Robert Weber didn’t show up to work. Randy Niles immediately felt that something was very wrong.
“When nine, nine-thirty came and went and he wasn’t there,” Niles said, “I knew someone needed to go check on him. Bobby showed up for work right on time or ten minutes early, rain or shine, for twenty years. My first thought was maybe he’d had an accident at home, or some kind of, you know, health thing. Almost never called in sick, took one vacation a year, that kinda thing. So I drove right on over there. This would’ve been, oh, probably ten or ten-fifteen when I got to the house. Had my dogs with me, and they never did like Bobby much, but as soon as I opened my door and got out of my truck they just lost their damn minds. Barking, growling, Cody’s hackles were up like you wouldn’t believe. I know it sounds damn crazy, but I’m sure those dogs could smell that evil had been done in that house.”
On camera, Niles goes quiet, here, his gaze slipping away from the interviewer as he scratches at the side of his nose. When he looks back, the hint of good humor that seems to be an eternal part of his expression is gone.
“I didn’t know what Bobby had been up to all this time. None of us knew. I’ve known Bobby Weber his whole life, and I… I had no idea.”
Randy Niles was unable to convince his two dogs to exit the truck, and eventually rolled down the windows to give them some air and a way out if they chose (he is insistent on this point in the Unsolved Mysteries episode - “don’t you dare say I left my dogs locked up in a truck on a sunny day, I sure didn’t - Cody even knows how to pull a door handle if it’s the right kind”) and got out to knock on Robert Weber’s front door.
No one answered.
Niles knocked again. Still no response.
The front door was locked, but Niles was able to locate an unlocked back door into the garage, where he found Weber’s car neatly parked and nothing out of place. However, once he used an interior door in the garage to enter Weber’s home, what he found was so shocking he still struggles to describe it today.
“The, uh. The first thing I saw,” Niles says in the Unsolved Mysteries episode, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief, “was a cage. Big old cage in the living room. Like a kennel for a big dog, Great Dane or something, except… except, you know, kennels’re usually mostly wire, not that heavy. You can fold ‘em up, put ‘em away. This was… geez. This was pure metal. Bunch of blankets all piled at the bottom, too. Here’s the-... you know, my mind just didn’t want to even make the thought, but I just, I looked at it and-”
In the episode, Niles has to take another moment, here. His eyes grow wet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “People cage. Bobby had a damn man-sized cage in his living room. That’s when my stomach just fell out. Even then, though, I couldn’t-... I just thought, oh, well, what people get up to in their own homes is their business. But still, I just. I just decided, find Bobby, figure the rest out later. So I kept walking around looking for him.”
Randy Niles continued to call out, hoping to hear Weber’s response, but received none… at first. The radio in the kitchen was playing a local public radio station (“Bobby always hated the country western and classic rock we played at work, he was a big news man, big into classical, jazz, you know.”)
Niles noticed, he says, that the cage next to the couch had a wooden top, as though it were meant to act as a side table, and on that table was a small woven basket. Inside the basket appeared to be several State IDs and Driver’s licenses. Niles took note of this but his first assumption was maybe that Robert Weber had stolen some IDs or something.
Which was technically true, just… not quite the way he thought.
The kitchen, hallway, and all three bedrooms were equally empty of life. Every room was clean, everything neatly in place. Empty bottles of Jameson whiskey, Weber’s favorite brand, were lined up like décor along the mantel, and one half-full bottle was next to two clean, empty glasses on the kitchen table.
Even the beds were perfectly made.
The only thing missing was any sign of Robert Weber himself.
The question of Weber’s whereabouts was answered when Randy Niles heard a sound coming from the open door to Weber’s unfinished dirt basement.
“Like a ghost,” Niles said in his interview. “Just this low moaning sound. Hardly even thought of it as human, you know. But I just-... I called out, ‘Bobby? That you?’ and the moaning got a little louder, like whoever it was was tryin’ to answer. I could still hear my girls in the truck just going nuts, probably worried about me knowing what they maybe could smell even out there. I figured… I figured I’d best call the cops and get them out here. Seemed like a plan. So I picked up my phone and dialed, and then I headed down those basement steps.”
What Randy Niles discovered in Robert Weber’s basement was a dying man, battered and stabbed eight times, lying in a half-dug grave.
Robert Weber had been beaten with the very shovel that had done the digging. The shovel lay off to the side, caked in dirt and blood. Police would find some of Robert Weber’s hair on it, too. Then, the individual who had beaten him had gone back upstairs - blood smears were found on the railing to the stairs - and taken a kitchen knife out of the knife block on the countertop. A bloody fingerprint was found on the side of the knife block. They had then returned to the basement where Weber was stabbed, almost entirely through the stomach and chest, twenty-six times, until the cheap knife simply broke from the force.
Randy Niles admitted in his interview that he became very ill at this time. “From the shock,” He elaborated. “I haven’t been able to smell much since I was in a car wreck when I was young, so I didn’t smell what-... what my girls prob’ly smelled from outside, and what the cops smelled. To me, it was just… just a little off, is all. It was the sight of it that got to me, not the smell. The sight of the-... the hand.”
Behind Robert Weber’s body, the hand of another person was sticking up out of the loose dirt, as though someone was trying to dig their way out.
“I remember… I remember her nail polish was pink. That’s when I got sick, actually, was when I saw that hand with the painted nails. That’s when it just hit me all at once what Bobby had done.”
Randy Niles went back up the stairs and waited for the cops to arrive. Rancher’s Rest is a small town where everybody knows just about everybody else, and Niles was on a first-name basis with every single police officer he spoke to that day and in the days after. He would learn alongside the investigation that Robert Weber was not simply the quiet, intellectual car mechanic he had always seemed.
Instead, Robert Weber was a serial killer whose potential final victim had managed a miraculous, deadly escape.
Robert Weber never answered a single question about his own murder - he never fully regained consciousness and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. His injuries were simply too severe. His autopsy showed that the cause of death was a stab wound that went deep into his chest and that he was first stabbed only after the beating with the shovel had taken place. Like Brute, most of his stab wounds were applied post-mortem in a rage rather than as part of the killing itself.
Medical examiners also found scratches on Weber’s face and arms, indicating that he had attempted to defend himself - or someone else had attempted to defend themself from him.
So why was Robert Weber killed, and why was there already a body in his basement? Investigators would piece together the story over the following days and weeks from a crime scene that only seemed to become darker and more baffling as time went on.
Excavating the basement was originally thought to be something that would be brief, but after the first body was removed, another one was found beneath it. Then another off to the side of that. And another, although this was simply bones.
Every time the forensics team thought they’d found the last human bone, they dug a little deeper or in a new spot and found more.
Eventually, the remains of twenty-two individuals would be removed from the basement of Robert Weber’s home, not including Weber himself. The oldest located victim was identified as Melinda Traxson, an Iowa woman reported missing by her family after she ran away in March of 1996… more than two decades before Robert Weber didn’t come to work one day.
Investigators are still working to match up every body with a missing persons’ case. For nearly all of them, the cause of death could not be easily ascertained due to the deterioration of the remains, but some showed signs of skull fractures. Identified individuals so far include:
Melinda Traxson, 19, from Iowa, ran away from home in 1996.
Billie Mortimer, 21, disappeared from a day out with friends at Lake Tahoe one year later in the summer of 1997. Her friends went to get lunch from the car after a swim and when they returned, she was gone.
Matthew Ranger, 22, went missing during a road trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1997 (only five months after Billie). His car was found abandoned by the side of the road with a flat tire.
Karl Janssen, 24, a tourist from the Netherlands who was also visiting Yellowstone, disappeared a month after Matthew. Last seen by an employee of the park who witnessed him speaking with another young man and getting into the man’s car. The employee said that the two seemed to be friendly with one another and did not seem like strangers.
Hannah Pointer, 26. She was reported missing in 1999 by her mother after failing to return home from work in Reno, Nevada. This disappearance occurred more than a year after Karl Janssen’s. Investigators would later discover that during this time period, Robert Weber dated a young woman from his hometown and he may not have wanted to risk her finding out what he was doing.
Isaac Jackson, 26, a Rancher’s Rest resident who disappeared after going out to a local bar to see his friend’s band play in 2000. His car was found submerged in a small pond two years later. This is the first time Weber apparently killed anyone close to home. He was actually briefly suspected in Jackson’s death, as he was the last person noted to see Jackson alive, but was cleared of suspicion at the time.
Dustin Swill, 21, who was driving from Colorado to California to visit his sister who had moved to Berras to work for WRU in 2001. He was last seen in a gas station near Yellowstone, where employees noted he spoke to a man who was smoking outside, who gave him a cigarette. When Swill left, employees saw the man put out his cigarette and leave shortly after. They did not find this unusual or noteworthy at the time.
Maria Vargas, 25, a Rancher’s Rest resident who was reported missing in 2002. Her family is intensely private and have shared few details about her, but it is known that her boyfriend at the time suspected Weber, who had attempted to convince her to leave the boyfriend for him and had apparently threatened her. He remained a suspect but there was never enough evidence to charge him.
Jennifer Striker, 28, from who never arrived for an appointment with a realtor in 2011. The long pause between Maria Vargas’s murder and Jennifer’s appeared to be due to Weber keeping a man named Finn Schneider within his home for more than a year after abducting him, as well as Weber serving five years in prison for a violent assault on a man he believed had sold him a defective vehicle. (Schneider was no longer in the home before the assault and prison time.)
Riley Nievelt, 25, was staying at the Big Meadow Campground with six friends during a weeklong vacation in 2012. She vanished while on a trip to purchase supplies. Her cell phone was found on the ground in the parking lot of the Food Lion in Rancher’s Rest, a short and easy drive away. At this time, with multiple individuals vanishing after being seen in Rancher’s Rest or being residents of the town, police begin to suspect and start hunting for a possible serial killer.
Alexander Peterson, 29, was a long-haul driver who vanished while working. He was last seen at a rest stop in 2014 on the California/Nevada state line, and would likely have passed right through Rancher’s Rest on his journey. He was reported missing by his ex-wife in South Dakota when he did not return as scheduled for a custodial visit.
The most recent victim, and owner of the hand that Randy Niles saw sticking up out of the dirt, was Yolanda Pierce, 26. She was a Rancher’s Rest resident with a troubled relationship with her husband, who had stormed out after an argument and was never seen again. She is believed to have died the same day as Robert Weber.
More remains exist but have not yet been identified. If you or anyone you know has a friend or family member who went missing during this time period in or near Rancher’s Rest, Yellowstone National Park, or Death Valley, it may be worth looking into, as those appear to be Robert Weber’s “hunting grounds”.
Disappearances in Yellowstone and Death Valley almost always matched up with Robert taking one of his rare weeklong vacations from work.
When investigators located three large diaries hidden inside a locked box in Weber’s closet, the first two fully filled up and the third nearly two-thirds finished, they found an exhaustively detailed record of Robert Weber’s crimes.
In these records, they discovered Weber’s first three victims were killed within 24 hours of abduction, with the rest being kept alive for longer and longer time periods. It is believed all of them met their end in Robert Weber’s basement.
Diary entries included records of two victims who were not a part of the bodies buried in Weber’s basement, both of whom may still be alive:
Finn Schneider, 19, a German tourist who disappeared in 2003 during a visit to Death Valley. Until Weber’s journals were found, it was believed he had perished in the park and had simply never been found. Robert Weber also visited Death Valley during this time. No one linked the two together. Evidence found in Weber’s home after his death, including the aforementioned diary entries and photographs, shows that Schneider was alive in Weber’s home for nearly sixteen months. It is believed Weber purchased the “human cage” that Randy Niles noticed around this time. The last diary entry that mentions Schneider states that he was “traded” on June 16th, 2005, to an individual only referred to as “Mouse.” What Weber received in exchange is unclear, but he was seen driving a new, custom-painted truck around this time, which he said he bought “from a personal ad” when asked by Niles about it. Schneider has never been found. However, his mother did receive a phone call in 2013 from an individual she believes to be her son, telling her that “Finn” was okay and to stop looking for him.
Our Box Boy, 334235, purchased by Nathaniel Benson years prior, whose whereabouts had been unknown since he murdered Brute Hanlon. Weber believed the Box Boy to be in his early twenties, according to his diary entries, and mentioned that he had picked the Boxie up hitchhiking and had intended to kill him before seeing the barcode on the inside of his left wrist and changing his mind. His diary suggests the Box Boy remained in his possession for roughly a fourteen months prior to Weber’s murder. Police have not released the details of what the Boxie was subjected to during this time, stating only that it is not the public’s interest for this information to be known, and they would like to locate the missing Boxie and interview him about certain details.
Four murders occurred during the time the Boxie was kept by Robert Weber. Weber noted that “the dog helped” with either murder or burial, suggesting that he may have worked as Weber’s accomplice in his terrible crimes.
Is it possible that they bonded over a shared urge to kill? Did the Boxie start a captive and become a companion?
Weber’s diary contained other disturbing facts, as well:
Weber also noted three failed abduction attempts in detail, in 1998, 2004, and 2017. In each he described with incredible precision of memory the appearances and descriptions of each person he failed to capture. He also appeared to do intensive research using their license plates and other information to find out where they lived and who they were. The names of these individuals have been kept quiet for privacy reasons.
Other failed abductions were noted, about one per year, without much detail. Or at least not enough for police officers to know who they were. Nearly all these failures were in one of three locations: Yellowstone National Park, Stanislaus National Forest and nearby campgrounds, and in or near Death Valley.
The last entry in Robert Weber’s diary was penned the day of his death.
NOTE: Weber referred to the Boxie as “the dog” in nearly all his journal entries. His last entry went:
May 6th, 20XX: The dog is pissed about something again. He’s always pissed about something. I think the thing in the basement probably kept him up all night with her caterwauling. He never gets used to the noises they make. God knows I can’t sleep either, at least not well. I’ll handle her tonight, have a drink with the dog after, see if that shuts up his nonsense for a while. Note: missed NPR interview with Senator Carlotta Grant on new leg. about the bb prohibition act. Find that on website later.
Found in Weber’s home, in boxes under his bed, were a series of restraints made of leather, high-quality items that appear to be custom-ordered to specific measurements. These included “gloves” intended to keep someone from being able to claw or scratch in their own defense, five sets of cuffs, a body harness, a leather half-face-mask that police referred to as a “muzzle”, several gags, some of which were deemed to be “designed to cause injury to the inside of the mouth”, and “other assorted items for use in torture and torment”.
You can find some leaked police docs online that go into more detail, but suffice to say they pretty much match the kinds of “toys” found in Nathaniel Benson and Brute Hanlon’s homes, too. And apparently, if you really know where to look, you can find some blurry low-quality photos Weber took, too.
While the items are a bit salacious, they aren’t entirely uncommon in consensual relationships, too, so it’s really not clear if they’re evidence of the Boxie being held against his will or not.
The investigation of the crime scene suggests that at some point after writing his final diary entry, Robert Weber made himself a pizza, which he ate half of and put the rest away in the fridge. His shaving cream and razor were found out on his sink, and Weber’s body was clean-shaven, suggesting he shaved shortly before his death.
He then watched three episodes of Law & Order: SVU. We know this because he texted during this time with his only living relative, the sister in Vermont. Little is known about Weber’s family and childhood, beyond his sister’s recounting of a quiet, strained home life with an overbearing mother and her mention that Robert endured several head injuries as a child and adolescent, including one that hospitalized him for days.
After he finished watching TV, Weber entered the basement and murdered Yolanda Pierce. It is believed he took the Box Boy downstairs with him, either as accomplice or witness. At some point while he was disposing of Yolanda Pierce’s remains, the Boxie became enraged for one reason or another, beat him with a shovel, got the kitchen knife from upstairs and stabbed him to death, and then left the house.
A neighbor remembers hearing odd noises around 3:30 AM and looking out their window to see a shadowy figure walking quickly down the road, but they weren’t able to see well enough to say whether or not the individual matches the description and WRU-provided photos of the Boxie. It does seem reasonable, though, to assume that the neighbor witnessed the Boxie fleeing the scene of the crime.
The Box Boy has never been seen again.
Police are pretty mum about the active investigation into the Box Boy’s whereabouts. I was able to get ahold of one source closely related to a member of the investigative team who said that there’s just not a lot of urgency. “Weber killed nearly two dozen people, just that we know of,” The source said. “The cops are a little bit ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ about the situation. Unless the Boxie comes back to RR, they’re just inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”
The sense of “let it be someone else’s problem” would be understandable… if this Box Boy weren’t responsible for one other direct murder, possibly two.
Police believe the Boxie has not left California, and is likely to be continuing to survive by engaging in prostitution or perhaps panhandling or some other hidden way of making money. Unconfirmed sightings have been located in three cities in central California, but all of these are unverified and should be taken with a grain of salt.
It’s also possible he hooked up with a pet liberation movement group, in which case he may be hiding out in a safehouse, protected from the consequences of his actions by the pet lib movement’s understandable insistence on total secrecy and anonymity for the Boxies they take in.
If he’s an innocent victim of circumstance, that’s fair.
If he’s a burgeoning serial killer with three victims under his belt and a taste for inflicting terrible violence on those who take him in… well… anyone who gives him shelter may be next.
Is our Boxie a purposeful killer or just supremely, almost incomprehensibly unlucky? Will he kill again? Was he Robert Weber’s accomplice or his victim?
Will he strike again?
Should there be an audit of WRU’s psychological testing on potential sign-ups to see if, perhaps, a Box Boy-wannabe with an urge to kill slipped through the cracks?
What do you think?
-
@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary
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thisismynerdyself · 3 years
Text
I’ll Be Your Safe House
Spencer Reid x Reader
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Warnings: mentions of food/eating, slow burn comfort
WC: 2.1k
A/n: my first spencer fic and tbh i’m pretty proud of it. let me know what you think 💕
***
“Come on, Y/N, you need to move faster, we don’t have much time. I shouldn’t even have brought you here.” The panicked voice of Agent Spencer Reid could be heard from the doorway of the bedroom in your quaint little apartment.
All you had wanted was a few minutes to stop in and pack a few of your meager belongings. Something you should already have had ready, if you were honest with yourself. But if you had to go into hiding, you wanted something to bring to make it feel like home, even if it cost you a few extra minutes. But with the nagging agent at your back, it was more difficult to think and move quickly. You grabbed a small bag from your closet and stuffed a few articles of clothing inside, not even looking closely at what you might have grabbed. A charger and a few books that lay on your bedside table followed the clothes and then you were already slinging the bag over your shoulder to race out of the room.
You followed Reid quickly back out the front door, carefully watching all around you for signs of movement. Then before you knew it, you were back in the car and headed off with no knowledge of where you would end up.
*
Strange surroundings, unfamiliar walls. The floor was practically unused, the carpet looking freshly washed or at least vacuumed. The decor was so basic you might have even seen it as the stock photo in a store-bought picture frame. But it was the darkness before the light switch was flipped, and the echo of the emptiness that swallowed you whole and solidified the fact in your mind that this was where you had to stay now, this was the safe house.
You shouldn’t have felt as out of place as you did considering the training you all received. But when the roles are reversed and you’re in the hot seat, things are more complicated. Forcing your feet forward, you ventured into the living room off of the entryway and dropped your bag on the deep red armchair. You let your fingers brush along the top of the cushion, your mind whirring with nothing and everything all at once.
“-are you even listening to me, Y/N?”
You came crashing back to reality with no clue as to what your friend and fellow agent had been saying to you. “I’m sorry, Spence. There’s just a lot on my mind.”
“I can’t imagine why.” The sarcasm was seeping out of his voice. “But you know how this goes. Everything is going to be fine.”
“Yeah, at least they gave me a fun bodyguard.” With a shrug of your shoulders, you made your way to the kitchen to explore the cupboards for some sort of sustenance. “Hey, do you know the last time they stocked this place? The layer of dust in here tells me it wasn’t very recent.” But then you had found it. “Aha! Jackpot!”
Spencer rounded the corner and joined you, curious as to what you had found. “That’s what you got so excited about? A box of crackers?”
Your mouth dropped in shock. “It’s not just crackers. It’s what’s behind the crackers.” You reached into the cupboard and pulled out the beloved can you had been seeking. “Crackers and sprayable cheese, Reid.” You waved the can back and forth. “Amazing shelf life and amazing taste. Maybe not so good for the body, but damn is it good for the soul.”
You noticed the arch of Spencer’s eyebrow and knew he didn’t share your taste in snacks. But you were determined. “Have you ever even tried it? Because I don’t want to hear anything unless you have.”
“No, I actually prefer my cheese a little less processed.”
In the blink of an eye you had the lid off of the can and slid the box across the counter toward Reid. “Open a pack of crackers.” He didn’t move. “Please?” you added. And while he tore into the box, you finished opening the can. Picking up the first cracker, you pressed the trigger on the tip of the can and watched with a delicious smile as the cheese sprayed out over the flat surface. You handed it to Spencer and made one for yourself as well.
The moment of truth. “On the count of three. You have to eat it.”
“Are you sure I have to-“ “Yes. Now one. Two. Three.”
*
“You know, I wish we had some wine to go with this cheese feast.” You pulled your feet up under you as you stuffed another cheese-covered cracker in your mouth.
“You know it wouldn’t be safe or smart to drink right now. And I can’t believe you got me to eat these things.” Spencer shook his head and downed another cracker as well. Together, you had almost gone through an entire sleeve of crackers and the cheese can felt significantly lighter.
“Just admit it, Spence, I have excellent taste.” You couldn’t suppress your laughter.
“I will admit that they taste better than I expected. But I don’t think I’d eat these if I wasn’t trapped in this safe house with you.” With that, he stood and picked up the food to take back to the kitchen.
“Guess I need to be in danger more often then.” You mumbled partially under your breath. Not that you enjoyed the threat against your life, but you certainly didn’t mind the time spent with the guy who never failed to put a smile on your face.
But Spencer heard what you said. “Please don’t make a habit of it. I don’t think my little heart could take it,” he called from the kitchen, thanking the fates that you couldn’t see the light pink that dusted his cheeks.
*
Hours had passed and there was nothing to do but wait for the rest of your team to find the man who was after you and put a stop to the madness. How you had gotten tied up in this case was still somewhat of a mystery to you.
To pass the time, you had browsed the old dvds left in the cabinet under the outdated television and had chosen some old black and white movie to try to keep your mind occupied. Spencer was engulfed by the film until the power went out, a storm raging outside being the culprit.
With nothing else to do in the dark, you sat on the loveseat under the window. The storm outside would usually mean nothing to you, but it simply matched with the storm within your mind, elevating the nerves that rose with each minute that you spent locked in a safe house while someone out there sought to end your life.
As you stared outside, you were only barely aware of the phone call that Spencer answered and the worry that you could hear in the echoes of the voices on the call. They were talking about you, about the case, about your pursuer.
You hadn’t even noticed the way your breathing intensified until a hand rested on your shoulder. “Y/N, are you okay?” Concern overflowed from his voice.
You turned around to face away from the window. You forced your breathing to slow and closed your eyes. You felt the seat cushion bow beneath the weight that settled next to you. “Y/N, that was the team. They’re doing what they can. They’re getting close. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I know that. I do. I just don’t like when I’m not in control. And right now I have no control.”
You knew it wasn’t something he was used to doing, but Spencer scooted closer to you and very hesitantly laid his arm around your shoulder. A show of comfort. And it was working. Without thought, you leaned your head over onto his shoulder, the close proximity oddly comforting. You sat like this for a few minutes, but the night grew colder and the cold bit into you, sending a shiver through your body.
Spencer drew away from you, “are you cold?” he asked. “Do you want me to get a jacket from your bag?” He moved to get up but you held your hand out to stop him.
“I didn’t bring anything like that. I was in such a hurry to pack, I forgot a sweatshirt. But I’ll be fine, really. Maybe we can just turn the air down.”
But he didn’t stop moving. He crossed to his own bag and pulled out a thick, knitted sweater. “The air wasn’t even on, and since the power is out, the heat won’t work either. It’s just that cold out. But here,” he stuck his arm out, the sweater extended to you, “wear this.”
You accepted the sweater and slipped it over your shirt, reveling in the instant warmth and the comforting scent of… well, Spencer. Something you couldn’t quite put a finger on, but it was comforting all the same. “Why are you smiling?” You asked when you looked back up at him. He had that look on his face, like he had been caught doing something he didn't know he was doing.
“What do you mean?” This smile instantly disappeared and he turned his face away embarrassed.
“Oh come on, Spence. What is it?”
This time, the little pink tint couldn’t be hidden. And he knew it. “You just look really… warm, that’s all.” Warm? That’s it? “I mean, that sweater looks really good on you.” There it was.
“Thank you, maybe I’ll just have to steal it from you then.”
“It’s not stealing if I give it to you.” You didn’t know what to say to that.
“Did you bring more than one? Because without heat, it’s only going to get colder in here.”
At that, he searched through his bag again. But he looked at you and said simply, “that’s the only one.”
You stood up and strode straight into the kitchen. There were emergency candles in one of the cupboards, so you pulled them out and carried them into the living room, striking a match and letting the flickering light fill the room. “This won’t do much, but it’s better than nothing.”
Spencer wandered over toward you but continued to stand in front of the sofa, like he was trying to decide whether or not to say something. “What is it, Spence?”
“It’s just that, statistically, sharing body heat is one of the easiest and most consistent ways of staying warm in the absence of electrical heat.” His eyes shifted from side to side, afraid to meet your own gaze.
“Well, if the statistics say it, it must be true.” You silently begged him to just look at you. You knew he was afraid to say anything but you couldn’t help but be glad he had. You patted the seat next to you. Slowly, Spencer joined you, sitting beside you. “Come on, don’t be shy now. This was your idea.” But you knew he wouldn’t move. so you did.
You slid closer and slid underneath his arm until it rested around you. Kicking your feet up onto the coffee table, careful not to knock over the candles, you reclined and got comfortable, but never broke contact. You snuggled in closer, enjoying the warmth and comfort that Spencer’s hold brought you, a comfort you never knew how much you needed.
“Can I be honest about something, Spence?” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke too loud, you wouldn’t be able to summon enough courage to finish. You felt him nod against you, so you continued. “Any other person, right now, would be terrified. I mean, I’m hidden away because there’s someone after me and with the storm outside, there’s no way of hearing them or even getting away.”
He interrupted you. “You know we wouldn’t let anything happen to you-“
“I know, but the threat is still there.” You took a deep breath. “Yet right now, I’ve never felt… safer. I’ve been in this safe house for hours, almost a whole day by now. But until now, I didn’t know just how safe it could feel.” You let your arm snake around him. He didn’t move away or even flinch. In fact, you felt his grip around you tighten.
Tilting his head down to look at you better, and with your own face tilted up to see him, he spoke the words that sent your heart soaring and your skin on fire. “From now on, I’ll be your safe house.”
***
cm tags: @doctcr-reid @hufflepuffhaze @breadqueen95 @g0lden-cth @shemarmooresfedora @spookydrreid @writingintheroses @samuel-de-champagne-problems @sparklinspence @spideygenius @reidsacademia @meganskane
general taglist for everything: @makebank @wonderwoman292 @dusk-darlina-demonic @lumos-barnes @miraclesoflove
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thekitschdiet · 3 years
Text
my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet
Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet. 
Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days. 
The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress. 
Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram.  Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it. 
Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm
In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is  actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even… 
If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!
My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.
Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera. 
Moving on; Decorating your room
Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.
 I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead.  Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit. 
Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an  inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read). 
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salazarslytherin · 3 years
Text
happy days (f.w x gn!y/n)
requested: nope! send in your own requests here!
summary: in which fred takes y/n on a special date
cw/tw: like maybe 0.5% angst, 99.5% fluff
word count: 2.9k
🃛 masterlist!
a/n: i'm pretty sure reader is gender neutral in this one! i made sure not to use any pronouns or prominent mentions to y/n's body or anything. i really hope y'all like it, i don't really ever write fluff so i hope it's good! please leave a comment, like or reblog to help boost xx
“Jump!”
“What?! Are you insa-”
⚔︎.
It was probably a bad idea to be doing this. Actually, it was most definitely a bad idea to be doing this. But when has a ‘bad’ idea ever deterred the infamous Fred Weasley? In fact, the thought of anyone calling one of his ideas ‘bad’ just spelt encouragement in Fred’s mind.
You’d learnt that lesson two months into meeting the Weasley twins, and it’s only engrained itself in your mind further since. There’s never been a point to try to dissuade Fred, it’s best to just go along and hope the ride isn’t too bumpy along the way. After dating Fred, these bad ideas had expanded themselves to different categories- risky places to be intimate, weird ways to cheer you up with confessions of love, and dangerously stupid dates.
The last category was where today’s bad idea landed.
⚔︎.
Three days ago, Fred had the “most ingenious, marvellous, uniquely exciting date idea Hogwarts has ever seen!” He’d disappeared in the middle of lunch, dragging George along with him, mumbling to himself, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner!”, leaving you confused, sat alone in the Great Hall.
“Where are they going?”
Harry, Ron and Hermione popped up behind you, seating themselves down in the twins’ now deserted seats.
“I have absolutely no clue.”
⚔︎.
That’s how you found yourself here, two days later. A Saturday, you were all set to go on a Hogsmeade trip with some of your Ravenclaw friends when Fred ambushed you. Popping up out of a closet and scaring the living lights out of you, he dragged you behind him, laughing as you shouted at him.
“Freddie! What are you doing? I’m supposed to go meet Renee and the others right now!”
Regardless of the fact that Fred was making you miss plans you’d already made, you were beaming from ear to ear.
“Georgie’s already told ‘em you can’t make it. Now hurry up
This being your OWLs year, you’d hardly had the time to see Fred this term, busy studying while he went off doing whatever it was he did when you weren’t around. Being a year younger meant he had already studied everything you’d studied, and while he offered to help you a lot, you’d rather he go have fun than sit around revising old material with you.
Combined with the Triwizard Tournament and the fact that the twins saw this as the golden opportunity to sell products to customers other than Hogwarts student, you’d only had three dates in the almost three months since school had started.
“Where in the name of Merlin are you bringing me, Fred!”
“You’ll see soon enough darling!”
⚔︎.
Soon enough turned out to be ten minutes later, the two of you panting as you’d finally made it all the way across to the other side of the castle and up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.
The sun was shining brightly down upon the two of you, the tall windows welcoming the late November winds into the room. A chest sat next to one of the ledges, Fred finally letting go of your hand for the first time in ten minutes, reaching down to open it.
He took a piece of cloth out, closing the chest before you could sneak a peek at the contents, tucking the wooden box under his arm.
“Is this the brilliant date idea you were talking about the other day? I’m not going to lie to you Freddie, cloth doesn’t really scream ingenious to me. In fact, it seems like you brought me up here to clean.”
Raising your eyebrows at the ginger, you gestured at the fabric in his hand as he laughed at you, stepping up onto the ledge.
“Fred? What’re you doing?!”
The boy turned towards you, holding out a hand.
“Come up here.”
Your eyes widened.
“No! Are you insane?”
Fred’s hand faltered a bit, arm relaxing against his body as he looked into your eyes.
“Do you trust me?”
Silent, you stepped up next to Fred, clinging onto his hip and arm, knees shaking slightly at the height you were at.
“I trust you with my life.”
Adjusting the chest under his arm, Fred pulled you into his embrace.
“That’s good to hear. Because it’s time.”
He looked down, dropping the piece of cloth, before tilting your head up to look at him, stepping one foot off the ledge and into the skies.
“Jump!”
“What?! Are you insa-”
You were cut off by screams erupting from your mouth as the ground disappeared below you- Fred pulling you with him, laughter bubbling from his chest.
“Oh my God, I’m going to die-”
You reached the ground a lot quicker than you’d thought possible, your eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the imminent death that would come.
Instead, you felt a weird, soft surface, almost like a water bed, rippling under you as you landed on your knees.
“Am I in heaven?”
Your eyes opened slowly, eyes meeting the clouds around you, only for a shadow to cover the sights surrounding you.
“No, but I think I am.”
A kiss landed on your lips as you fell back on the odd surface, Fred falling on top of you.
The kiss was short and sweet, but quickly forgotten as you remembered what had happened moments prior, hitting Fred on the chest as you took in your surroundings.
The surface you had landed on wasn’t a surface at all- in fact it was, a rug? It looked eerily similar to the cloth Fred had thrown off the tower earlier, only, about thirty times bigger, and flying.
You looked at Fred, confused. The tall ginger boy beamed back at you, gesturing grandly.
“Welcome, to your very own magic carpet ride!”
⚔︎.
After lecturing Fred on how incredibly dangerous the start of the date had been, you finally had the chance to process the reality of the date.
“Where are we going, then, on this magic carpet ride?”
The boy hummed, pulling out blankets and a pillow from the, now enlarged, chest, spreading them around the carpet that was hovering near the tip of the Astronomy Tower, awaiting further instruction from the two of you.
“Well first, I was thinking we could stop by Hogsmeade to get some snacks, maybe buy some of the Christmas gifts you wanted to go get today, then we’re flying off to explore Scotland! Well, the part of Scotland we’re in, anyways. Just for a few hours, then we’ll be back to watch the sunset.”
He looked at you for approval, which you granted with a wide smile.
“That sounds beautiful Fred.”
⚔︎.
Walking around Hogsmeade, Fred had shrunk the rug and tucked it into his pocket, the chest shrunk even smaller than it had been the first time you’d seen it.
“Alright, so I think you’ve gotten enough sugar quills to last you a lifetime. Where to next?”
Chewing on a sugar quill, you scrunched your nose in his direction, pulling him into the quaint little jewellery shop you liked to frequent.
The little old lady who owned the place was one you’d become acquainted with over the past five years, Mrs Kingston never minded that you rarely bought anything, understanding that most of her second-hand jewellery was still quite pricey for a student to afford.
Still, you tried your best to save up and buy the pieces you really liked. Recently, you’d been eyeing a necklace, a simple Celtic knot on a thin chain that shone brightly no matter how much light lit up the room. Mrs Kingston explained to you it was an old betrothal necklace, oft seen in pureblood families back in the Victorian era. It’s now seen worn by a lot of the heirs of these old families- in fact, you’d spotted Draco wearing an heirloom similar to it.
“Mrs Kingston!”
“Hello y/n, how are you?”
Fred nodded at the woman as he shuffled around the shop, looking in the display cabinets with vague interest whilst the two of you made small talk.
Your eyes wandered the familiar glass cabinet, landing on the soft velvet that was empty of the familiar Celtic knot, furrowed brows returning to meet Mrs Kingston's clouded eyes.
“The necklace!”
The woman nodded sadly, looking just as dejected as you felt.
“I'm sorry dearie. A boy came in a while ago to buy it. Might've been one of the ones you came with a few weeks back.”
Your head hung low, muttering out a soft 'oh' as she explained to you, nodding in response.
“It's okay Mrs Kingston. I'll see if there's something else I'd like to save up for instead. Thanks, see you next time!”
Thinking back to the last Hogsmeade trip when you'd come down to the shop, your heart lifted a bit, a smile returning to your face as you turned to face Fred.
“Alright, let's head to the bookstore.”
⚔︎.
The ginger's hand clutched yours tightly, the two of you cuddling under the thick blanket as you flew around mountains, pointing out animals, both magical and non-magical, that you'd seen around the place.
Fred looked at you quizzically. Since leaving Mrs Kingston's, you had seemingly forgotten the necklace. Even more, it seemed like you'd gotten happier since finding out someone had gotten the necklace. During the lunch you two had gotten at the Three Broomsticks, the both of you finding Madam Puddifoot's a bit nauseating, you were practically bouncing on your heels as you spoke to some of your friends about the upcoming Christmas celebrations.
“I thought you'd be more upset that the necklace is gone, I remember you talking about how much you liked it last time.”
You shrugged, a wider smile gracing your lips as you looked at him, nuzzling further into his chest.
“I love it! That's why I'm so happy Cedric got it for me. ”
Fred halted, pushing you away from him.
“I-, what! Why would Diggory be getting you a betrothal necklace?!”
You looked up at your boyfriend, furrowing your brows at his outburst.
“What! You know Ced's one of my best friends. Remember when we came to the shop a few weeks back? You, George and Lee were goofing around and then just bolted while I was telling Ced about the necklace. I guess he just came back to get it for me.”
Fred huffed, rolling his eyes as he heard you talk about Cedric, pulling away from you more.
“How could you be this blind!”
You looked at Fred, a bit hurt that he'd lost his temper at you for no reason.
“Why are you getting so worked up over this? It's not like he's proposing to me!”
The boy scoffed, throwing his hands up into the air.
“Well, it's clear that he'd do it without a thought! The boy's in love with you! That's the only reason why anyone would get you something that expensive!”
You laughed frigidly, shaking your head at how irrational your boyfriend was being, pushing the blanket off of you to move away from him.
“What, he can't just have gotten me the necklace because I'm a good friend? Merlin Fred, he's the only one who's actually been with me to go see the necklace, and is the only one who would logically know to get me the necklace.”
You turned to look him in the eye, your jaw clenching as he turned red.
“Besides, Cedric knows me best.”
Fred let out a frustrated 'ugh!', and grabbed the wooden chest that he'd charmed to stay in one corner, grumbling under his breath.
“You think Diggory's the one who knows you best? You think that he's the only one that could have gotten you the bloody necklace?”
A velvet box was brandished from somewhere deep in the chest, Fred propping it open to reveal a dazzling silver necklace, reflecting the afternoon sun into your eyes.
“The. I don't understand. But how?”
Fred snapped the box shut, moving to kneel in front of you.
“As I said just now, I know you best.”
He popped open the box again, this time moving to remove the necklace from the velvet, lifting it fully into the sunlight.
“I was listening when you were talking to Diggory, and even though I'd run away that day, I knew exactly what you wanted.”
He shuffled behind you, unclasping the necklace to bring it around your front.
“I said that he's in love with you, which I still think is true, by the way, and that's the reason why he would have possibly gotten it for you, is because I love you, and that's why I got it for you.”
The chain clipped around your neck, the cool metal contrasting your warm skin as Fred leaned down to press a kiss above the clasp, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Freddie, I had no idea.”
You spun around to face your boyfriend, pressing a deep kiss to his lips, hands landing on his neck to pull him impossibly closer to yourself.
“Clearly. I had this whole plan! All foiled by your cluelessness. I was going to wait until sunset, with the scenery all around us, then surprise you with it and ask you to be my date to the Yule Ball!”
You looked at Fred, your mouth falling open in shock.
“But you just had to bring up Cedric, and how he 'knows you best'. Maybe you should go with him to the Ball.”
You chuckled at the childishness of the Weasley boy in front of you, the pout framing his lips deepening as you laughed at him.
“Well then maybe you should go with Angie, I'm sure she'd be happy to have you.”
Fred gasped loudly, shocked at the audacity of you bringing up his old crush.
“Don't you even dare suggest that.”
⚔︎.
“How did you think of all this?”
The boy shrugged, opening the chest, to pull out a thermos. You were sat above the Black Lake, watching the setting sun on the horizon ahead, red bleeding into orange and blue.
“Honestly, I’m ashamed it took me so long. Remember this summer when you had me ‘round your place and we watched Aladdin with your parents?”
You nodded, fluffing the pillows to make yourself more comfortable, the setting sun casting shadows on the Weasley boy, making him look even more handsome than usual, if that was even possible.
“At that time, I’d already thought that the magic carpet seemed awfully similar to a broom. Then, that day at lunch some firstie was humming that one song they sang when flying the blasted thing, and I thought, blimey! Why didn’t I think to just recreate the bloody thing! So, here we are.”
While talking, Fred spread the thick blanket to cover more of you, pouring hot chocolate out of the thermos he’d brought into mugs that he’d gotten without you knowing, both shaped in little hearts.
“D’you, um, d’you like it?”
Handing the pink mug to you, a sheen of red descended on your boyfriend’s cheeks, not just from the cold, but also fear and embarrassment, scared you didn’t like the date he’d spent the last three days planning.
“I love it!”
You leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on Fred’s lips, leaving traces of cocoa on them.
“But I didn’t love the part where you made me think I was plunging sixty feet to my death!”
The boy groaned playfully, lying back onto the carpet with his head hanging over the edge.
“I know! I’m sorry! I just thought it’d be exciting! A nice surprise! Besides, did you really think I’d let my lovely little Y/N die? I need you around darling.”
You scoffed, sipping on the hot cocoa as you stared at the Astronomy Tower in the distance, your first and now, final destination of the day, a hand creeping towards Fred’s to hold it in a tight grip, unconsciously afraid he’d fall.
“I don’t know! Maybe this was your ultimate prank! Bring us both to heaven to fight God or something.”
Now it was Fred’s turn to scoff, sitting back up to shove his hands under the blanket, squeezing your hand in return.
“First off, if I ever fought God I’d need George there with me. I don’t think that just the two of us could take him. Secondly,”
Fred cupped your chin with his free hand, bringing you in for a deep kiss, catching you by surprise as you braced yourself on his shoulder with your free hand. His tongue teased your lower lip, making a moan slip out while his tongue entered your mouth. Exploring each other, your entangled hands fell apart- his coming to grasp your neck, bringing you closer to him, yours gripping his hip, drawing circles on the bone.
After what seemed like an hour, but also felt like seconds, the two of you fell apart, breathless as you panted, staring into each other’s eyes.
“I don’t think either of us are making it to heaven darling. Think we’re condemned to hell forever, you and I.”
You looked into his coffee coloured eyes, pupils dilated as he scanned your face, his favourite pastime, memorising every crevice and pore. Your hand found its way to the necklace sitting around your neck, fingering the knot that symbolised eternity in your hands.
“Well if I’m going to burn in hell for an eternity, then I’m glad I’ll be burning with you Freddie.”
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queenofimagines · 3 years
Text
Stranger from Out of Town
Summary: Arvin had no reason to be here. After the things he’d done, he had no reason to be blessed with an angel like you. But after spending so long on the run, after spending so long looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but fall in love with the one person who made him feel safe. All is well and good in Arvin’s life until one determined and obsessed sheriff decides it’s time to pay Arvin a visit.
Notes: Ya’ll, this one’s a doosey but I hope you enjoy it anyways. For the purposes of this pic, Bodecker is still alive.
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When Arvin woke up that morning he could feel that something was different. Arvin’s life had been flipped upside down by his own actions that had ultimately been what forced him to live his life on the run. He had spent the better part of a year running, zigzagging across the country in the hopes of shaking the authorities off; first traveling down to Georgia, then up to Iowa, then back down towards Texas and so on before finally finding permanent resident. Arvin knew what the rest of his life would look like from here on out. He understood that he would spend the rest of his time on God’s green Earth looking over his shoulder and never finding the quiet life he longed for. Arvin knew that he was cursed, from the moment his mother had died he had been plagued with loss and he was sure he was one of the unlucky souls who had come to be the Devil’s plaything. Arvin had expected that his life would forever be riddled with rot and chaos, damned to suffer through conflict after conflict after conflict. But when Arvin opened his eyes today to the sun streaming in through window and the sound of bacon sizzling coming from the kitchen, he finally understood what it felt like to be at peace.
Arvin swung his legs over the side of the bed, hauling himself up and making his way down the hall. His steps were heavy with sleep, shuffling against the floor loud enough to alert the person in the kitchen to his presence. As Arvin drew closer, he began to hear the hum of a song that was unfamiliar to him, just barely covered by the sound of someone flipping an egg, prompting him to hurry his steps to arrive at the delicious smell and the lovely voice that had almost lulled him back to sleep where he stood. Rounding the corner, Arvin couldn’t help but grin at the sight before him. There you stood in front of the stove, still dressed in your nightgown, cooking a breakfast big enough for two. 
Two. Such a simple word with such little meaning. An insignificant word that made Arvin’s heart swell with delight. It wasn’t just him anymore, alone and scared, no, now it was him and you. To Arvin, it was hope. Arvin watched as you plated the food you had prepared before turning around and flashing him an earth shattering smile. You would never know how much it meant to him, your smile, and that you were here, right now. You would never know the kind of stability you brought to him. And he planned to keep it that way, to keep you in the dark about all the things he’d done. To keep letting you believe he was just the stranger from out of town who stole your heart.
When you met Arvin, he was just a newcomer, a lost soul who had found your quaint little town practically in the middle of nowhere. He had stirred up quit a buzz when he walked into your parents’ little diner, asking if there was any place he could stay the night, but seeing as your town was so small, small enough that it could safely be left off of most maps and small enough that tourism wasn’t a main source of income, the answer was unequivocally no. Your father, who had been Arvin had the luck of plopping himself next to, informed him that the closest motel was almost a three hours drive away. Arvin remembered staring out the window, watching the last rays of light vanish, his hope along with it. It would be impossible for him to get someone to see him this late at night, let alone actually stop for him. Arvin felt like he could cry in that moment, but your mother, ever the good Christian woman, had offered to let him stay at your house until tomorrow morning. Arvin was grateful that your mother had been so kind, and in retrospect you were too, but you remembered how much you resented Arvin when your mother told you he would be staying with you. At first, you were all for it, one night with an attractive stranger from out of town in your house wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but the next day both Arvin and your father came home in the afternoon after they had supposedly left to take Arvin to the next town over earlier that morning.
“Turns out this boy knows his way around a car,” your father had said, beaming.  He had later told your mother privately that he had offered Arvin a place to stay with your family and a smaller than average wage in exchange for his help around the shop. Your father owned the only car shop in town and was in desperate need of a new assistant, and seeing as you didn’t want anything to do with being a mechanic, your father saw Arvin as a golden opportunity, someone to possibly pass the torch to. Your mother was more than happy to let him stay, finding his handiness around the house useful, but you were less  ready to welcome him into your life. Arvin had garnered a lot of attention, especially from the female population, and most of the girls at your school would pretend to be your friend in the hopes that you would invite them over, just so they could get a glimpse at him. It only got worse when your parents had commissioned Arvin to pick you up and drop you off to school. The girls would stare, trying to get a closer look at Arvin, a few of them even having the courage to go up and talk to him. It made you sick, that attention he got and how much he seemed to enjoy it. You had convinced yourself that it was skepticism about his character, but now that you look back on it, it was nothing more than petty jealousy that bubbled in your stomach. It was stupid, really, to be jealous that a boy was giving other girl’s his attention, especially since you hadn’t seemed very keen on the idea of him even being in your town, but what you didn’t know was that it wasn’t the attention that Arvin enjoyed, it was the fact that in the people around him, in the kindness that people showed him, Arvin could see a future here; a future with you.
From the moment Arvin laid his eyes on you, he was smitten, he would even go as far as to say it was love at first sight. Arvin wouldn’t confess this to you until almost a year after you’d met when he tried to ask you to prom (with your parents’ permission, of course). It was honestly a train wreck and did not go at all how he had planned. Arvin had invited you out to the town’s gazebo, he had strung up lights as best he could and set up a nice little dinner for the two of you. He saw a figure slowly approach, thinking it was you, only to be disappointed when Susan Hall, who Arvin remembered you hated with a passion, stepped into the light and flung herself at him, telling him how sweet it was of him to do this and attempting to kiss him. You had seen the whole thing and, devastated, you ran away, Arvin chasing after you. He had caught up to you in the woods behind your parents’ property and explained what had happened, confessing that he loved you and only you. You believed him, and rightfully so, as you later found out that Susan had crashed your plans on purpose to try and steal Arvin from you.
Looking back on it now, with you leaning against his in the small house that you had bought the second you graduated high school with the little money both of you had saved up and some help from your parents, Arvin was glad he had ended up in your dreary town, no matter how complicated your relationship had been when it first started. He watched as you admired the ring on your finger, smiling at it as if you had been missing it all your life, the now empty dishes sitting in your sink waiting to be washed. It was times like this Arvin remembered why he had to keep his past life from you a secret. He loved you and often found himself wanting to tell you all about his past life. Every time you asked why he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders Arvin wanted nothing more than to tell you everything, but Arvin loved you too much to let you go and he couldn’t bare to think of what would happen if you knew what he did.
“Darlin’, I gotta get ready for work.” He said, lips pressed against the crown of your head.
“Why don’t you call in sick today,” you suggested.
“I would but your dad would kill me.”
“You know he loves you Arvin.”
“Yeah, that’s why I don’t wanna disappoint ‘im.” With one final kiss to your head, Arvin stood up and made his way to your shared bedroom. You began to clean the dishes, not having to go into the diner until later that day. As you began cleaning the last pan in the sink, a sturdy knock came from your door.
“I’ll get it!” You yelled, hearing Arvin begin to hurry to the front door. You had opened the door just as Arvin arrived at the end of the hallway. In front of you stood a tall man with a sheriff’s badge pinned to his shirt.
“Mornin’ ma’am, my name’s Lee Bodecker,” The man said. “I’m looking for a man named Arvin Russell and I heard I might find him here.”
“Arvin?” You repeated, confusion written all over your face. You turned to look at your husband, eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. From where the sheriff stood, he couldn’t see Arvin, his figure being blocked by the door, but if he leaned ever so slightly to the left he might be able to peer into the house and see there was someone else there. You knew something was wrong, you had never seen Arvin look as scared as he did now, so without a second thought, you had gently closed the door so that your body filled the gap it created, leaning against the door frame in an attempt to feign nonchalance.
“I’m sorry, Mister, but there ain’t no Arvin Russell here. Whoever told you there was must have been misinformed.”
“You sure about that?”
“Sure as the hair on my head.”
“Oh, alright. Then may I ask who it was you called to just before you opened the door?”
“My husband.” You said after a long pause, caught off guard by the man’s question.
“Mind if I speak with him?”
“Well I don’t but I’m not sure how you’d feel about seein’ him naked. He’s takin’ a shower right now.” You began gently tapping your foot, your nerves beginning to get the better of you. You had never been all that good at lying, something about it made you feel wrong, dirty. But you needed to protect your husband, after all, it’s what he would do for you.
“Then would you mind if I waited.”
“Actually I would. I have to leave for work soon and, with all do respect, I don’t much like leaving a stranger unattended in my house.”
With a small nod and a tip of the hat, the man bid you goodbye, getting into his car and driving off. You closed the door and turned to Arvin. It was silent for a long time, you waited for Arvin to explain himself but Arvin didn’t know what to say. His worst nightmare was coming true and he was terrified that your love for him wouldn’t be strong enough to survive this.
“Arvin,” You said, as calmly as you could, not wanting to spook him or yourself anymore, though it proved a lot harder that you thought. “Why was that man at our door?”
Arvin opened his mouth as if to say something but for the life of him he couldn’t find the words. He was frustrated with himself, and from the looks of it you were getting pretty frustrated at him to.
“Arvin,” you said more firmly. “I just lied to a goddamn sheriff for you. Please, tell me what’s going on.”
Arvin took a deep breathe before explaining everything to you. He told you about Lenora, and how hung herself. About the preacher and Bodecker and about Bodecker’s sister and her crazy husband. He explained everything he had done with complete and utter honesty. And he cried, longing to reach out for you but knowing his hands were too tainted to be worthy of ever holding something as beautifully pure as you. You didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, you understood his reasoning. To you, it seemed like the people Arvin had killed had it coming. But on the other hand, your husband had killed people. It didn’t matter what the reason was, taking a person’s life was a sin, something unforgivable in the holy book. Despite your better judgement, your decision ultimately came down to this: Arvin was your husband, and you loved him.
You slowly approached Arvin’s shaking figure, gently wrapping your arms around his shoulders and threading your hands through his hair. Arvin broke down into sobs, holding you impossibly close to him as if he needed you more than the air he breathed.
“Arvin,” You said once he had stopped crying, your own tears beginning to fall as you realized that there was only one option left for you both. “Arvin, we need to go.”
“What?”
“We need to go.” He gently pulled away from you, looking into your eyes, checking to make sure he heard you correctly.
“B-but this is our home.”
“I know Arvin, but that sheriff didn’t believe a word I said and he’s gonna be asking around town for you. It won’t be long until word of what you’ve done begins to spread. We need to leave before it’s too late.”
You gently ushered Arvin towards the bedroom and told him to begin packing a bag, unaware of the figure lurking at your backdoor. Bodecker had listened in on your conversation, hearing every word you and Arvin had spoken to each other, preparing for the right moment to make himself known. It was now or never, he thought, hearing you tell Arvin to pack a bag. As quietly as possible, Bodecker broke the lock on your back door, slowly making his way towards your bedroom. The door was wide open, he could see you and Arvin darting around the room trying to find your essentials. It was almost perfect, how unaware you both were. How wrapped up you were in yourselves that you didn’t even notice a 6 foot tall man practically right in front of you. With a sadistic smile, Bodecker raised his shotgun.
You froze when you heard someone pump a shotgun behind you, whipping around to find Bodecker standing just a few feet from you, gun aimed at Arvin. Your heart was beating so hard you thought it might burst, the thought of losing Arvin only increasing the adrenaline that was currently coursing through you.
“You thought you could get away, didn’t you?” Bodecker asked.
“Please, your sister and her husband, t-they were gonna kill me I didn’t hav-”
“I don’t care! You killed my sister. My sister! You killed the only person I loved Arvin. And now, I’m gonna return the favor.” In one swift motion, Bodecker turned to point the gun at you, raising his gun higher to aim at you properly. You closed your eyes before hearing the bang of a gun. You waited, standing stock still as the terror of the situation slowly got to you, but you didn’t feel pain, instead you felt a set of hands holding your face, a voice softly telling you to open your eyes. You did as you were told, seeing Arvin in front of you, eyes frantic. You looked at the ground next to him, an unfamiliar gun next to Arvin’s foot. You came to the realization that Arvin must have used it to shoot Bodecker, your suspicion being proven correct when your eyes landed on Bodecker’s now lifeless body laying in a pool of his own blood.
“A-Arvin-” Arvin softly hushed you.
“It’s okay, you’re okay now.” Arvin pulled you closer to him, cradling your head and shielding you from the body. Soon you could hear sirens in the distance, the panic slowly rising inside of you again. You could feel Arvin begin to panic too, his breathing starting to pick up.
“H-his badge.” You said, pulling away from Arvin, scared that he would be taken away from you. “We-we need to get rid of h-his badge. A-and any identification he has. It has to look like an- like an accident”
“R-right. Right, okay, uh...” Arvin began searching Bodecker’s body, quickly finding both his badge and ID and hiding them in a small hollow under one of the floor boards where you kept your savings. You and Arvin quickly came up with a cover, agreeing to keep it simple. The police arrived not long after, conducting an interview and putting you both through due process. You told them what you and Arvin had agreed to say, that the man broke into your house and tried to rob you, but thanks to Arvin’s quick thinking, Arvin was able to get to his gun and shoot the intruder. The policemen interviewing you were  skeptical, wondering why neither of you called the police after killing the man. You blamed it on shock, saying that Arvin’s first instinct was to comfort you, the intruder did have a gun pointed at you, after all. The policemen eventually dropped the subject, seeing you begin to tear up as the adrenaline and shock of the day began to ware off. Your parents came to get you and Arvin, offering you both your old room at their house until they were able to get someone to fix your back door, an offer that the both of you readily accepted. That night you and Arvin held each other just a little bit tighter, neither one of you finding sleep to come easy.
“We can’t tell anyone what happened today.” Arvin said, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you.
“I know.” You replied, tightly clutching onto his shirt. “I love you, Arvin.”
“I love you, too, Darlin’”
You didn’t know what would come out of tonight. You didn't know if you were making a mistake by trusting Arvin after everything he had done. You weren’t sure if you were messed up for loving a murderer or if you were right in believing that Arvin was doing good, even if it meant doing some more than questionable things. But you knew one thing, you knew you loved Arvin and that he loved you, and that you both would always protect each other, no matter the cost.
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