#and HE is the one who has that?? and has mutilated it (along with his soul) to the point that it is unrecognisable and evil? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

em-prentiss · 15 days

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Ice cold

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In which you have freezing hands, and Aaron warms them up for you.

Cw: fem!bau!reader—I think it could also be read as gn reader, getting together, fluff, first kiss, no use of yn

Word count: 1.7k

This is my first time writing a reader insert, so please be gentle with me lol. I’ve been wanting to write an Aaron x reader for ages and this idea finally came to me last night. Idk if I’ll continue writing these, but if you have any prompts let me know! It took me ridiculously long to come up with this one haha <3

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The cold bites at your exposed hands and you shiver, dropping your pen and notepad into your coat pockets because they’re all but useless now, your fingers close to snapping in half. You leave Aaron to jot down notes of the crime scene you’re in, keeping your hands in your equally freezing pockets in a poor attempt at keeping them warm.

Who has the energy to dump and mutilate a body in the woods in the middle of January, anyway?

“Isolated and hard to find, safe to say he’s a local.” You murmur, tucking your chin into the collar of your coat. You curl your numb fingers into your palm, cursing quietly at the stiffness in them.

“Yeah,” Aaron agrees. “One with experience, too. No blood spatter, no drag marks. He could’ve wrapped them in tarps.” He clicks his pen closed and slides it into his pocket along with his notepad, making you sigh in relief at the thought of leaving soon. “We’ll know more once Morgan and Rossi come back from the ME.”

You nod silently, clenching your fingers around the cold fibers of your coat pocket as you shiver again. Aaron’s gaze slides to you.

“You okay?” He asks.

“It’s fucking freezing,” you grumble, hunching your shoulders and trying to wrap your coat tighter around your body. Your hands have gone fully numb now, clenched into icy fists inside your pockets. “My hands froze over. They’re like ice blocks.” You frown, your jutted bottom lip scratching against the wool of your coat.

Aaron smiles amusedly, his heart warming at the sight of your furrowed brows, your chin tucked into your coat for warmth. You shift slightly from foot to foot, subconsciously huddling closer to him and his endless, blazing warmth.

He turns his back on the deserted crime scene and focuses instead on you, his eyes lingering on the flush on your cheeks, your skin bitten from the cold. He looks perfectly warm, you think grouchily, in his stupid large coat and his stupid neatly wrapped scarf.

“And yet when we went to literal Alaska you didn’t have any complaints,” he says.

You huff indignantly, “Excuse you, at least in Alaska I knew it was going to be—” You cut off as his fingers wrap around your wrists and gently pull your hands from your pockets.

Immediately the cold bites at them again, but that’s not what makes you falter. “What are you doing?” You ask as he cups both of your hands between his. Distantly, you think it’s a stupid question. But his hands are so warm, large and completely engulfing yours, making you feel like you just stuck them in an oven. You let out an involuntary sigh, your brain going blank at the sudden heat from his hands.

Aaron ignores your question. “You weren’t lying,” he says mildly, bending his head to look at the way your nails were turning blue. He brings your hands up to his face and blows warm air on the blue tips of your fingers, massaging them with circular motions to force the cold out of them. Your heart picks up at the way your hands disappear beneath his, what’s visible of them looking small in his gentle grip.

Your skin is icy beneath his own. “Jeez, are you anemic or something?” He looks up at you and his lips tilt upward at the flush on your cheeks, deeper now than it was before, and you both know it’s not from the cold.

“No,” you squeak, the excessive heat of his hands rendering you incoherent. His thumbs rub gentle circles onto your palms, slowly forcing the warmth back into them. “Just terrible circulation.”

Aaron hums and looks back down at your hands, massaging them thoroughly until you start to regain the feeling in your fingers. You waggle them experimentally and he smiles a little, moving his thumbs up to your knuckles and rubbing them slowly.

You can feel your blush deepen as you look at him. His gaze is fixed on your hands, utterly focused on his task as if it were the single most important thing on his mind today, as if you didn’t have any pressing concerns like a team waiting for your feedback or a serial killer needing to be caught.

By the time he’s moved to your wrists your whole body is warm, your blood buzzing under your skin. He’s involuntarily shifted closer to you, your hands held so close to his chest your fingertips ghost against his shirt.

His warm fingers brush over your wrist, catching your fluttering pulse, and your breath is trapped in your throat. Aaron presses your palms together and secures his hands over yours, finally done with his task. The warmth of your joint hands travels to your cheeks, the way his thumbs absently skate over the heel of your hands making your whole body flush. “Warm enough now?” He murmurs.

Just about to catch fire, actually. But you nod. “You’re a useful partner in conditions like these, Agent Hotchner. What with your furnace-like hands.” You try to joke through your racing heartbeat.

He chuckles lightly, his dimples digging into his cheeks. His hands are still holding on to yours. You’re glad for that, because otherwise you’re sure you would’ve risen on your tiptoes and pressed a thumb to each dimple, watching the way your fingers dip into the crevice.

“Happy to be of service. Anything else I can warm up for you?” His eyes are like sun warmed honey, gazing into yours, and the words leave your mouth before you can think about them.

“My lips are cold too.”

Oh god.

You drop your gaze as your cheeks start to flame, a jittery nervousness suddenly making your stomach hurt. You try to tug your hands out of his grip but Aaron holds on tighter, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and holding you in place.

You’re still looking down at your joint hands when he clears his throat. “I can help with that,” he says evenly, as if his own heart isn’t racing abnormally fast.

Your head snaps up. “What?” You breathe, frozen in place as he lets go of your hands. You don’t even register the sudden cold, your whole focus on the way he takes your face into his palms, his warm fingers pressing against your cold cheeks.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Aaron asks. His face is serious, all hints of his previously playful smile gone. Briefly you start to wonder if this is one of your many dreams about him, but his hands sear your skin, the icy air burns your lungs as you raggedly breathe in and out.

You swallow, your throat unbearably dry, and nod. “Yes.” You grip the lapels of his coat, feeling the soft fibers between your fingers.

His face transforms. The hard lines soften, his seriousness melting away as he smiles again. The breath returns to your lungs. “Thank god,” he says bluntly, and you laugh, butterflies in your stomach, in your veins. You grin at him as his thumbs stroke your jaw, his fingertips sliding into your hair as he tilts your face up to his.

“Your efforts at flirting are tragic, by the way,” he murmurs, just before he presses his lips to yours and steals your indignant reply. Immediately you melt into his arms, one hand slipping into his coat and the other resting on the hard line of his jaw. You always wanted to touch it, and as your fingers skate over it, wander over the skin that meets his neck, you feel his erratic pulse beating.

It’s good to know you’re not the only one ridiculously affected.

Aaron reluctantly pulls away when you both are breathless, his lips turning up into a grin at the sight of your dazed eyes. He leans in close and presses soft, gentle kisses on your lips—just to make sure they’re properly warmed up.

You slip your hand into his hair and sigh—the cold has nothing on you now—just about to kiss him properly when his phone rings.

Aaron steps back and the biting cold replaces his warmth. You shiver as he digs his hand into his pocket and takes out his phone, your lips abnormally warm and your hands slowly returning to their once freezing state.

“Yeah Dave,” he answers, his eyes still on you. You jut your bottom lip and he grins, his hand reaching for yours. He links your fingers together and softly runs his thumb over yours, making your cheeks flush again. “Sorry, we ran into traffic on the way. We’ll be there in an hour or so.”

Aaron ends the call and you laugh as he tugs you to the car, your fingers still linked. “What?” He smiles and you beam back.

“Traffic?” You raise your brows.

He rolls his eyes. “What did you want me to say? ‘Sorry I got carried away kissing my beautiful subordinate’?” You reach the car and he opens the door for you, but you don’t get in.

Your heart skips at his words. He smiles and you finally reach up and place your thumb into his dimple, your own smile spreading. “Yes,” you say simply, unable to believe you can finally do this. “You know they have a running bet on us.” You murmur, leaning forward to kiss the divot in his cheek.

Aaron’s skin warms beneath your lips. His hand falls to the curve of your waist and he squeezes lightly. “I know,” his voice comes out a little tight and you smile. He clears his throat and gently pushes you into the car. “The faster you get in, the faster we can collect. And we’ll use that money for our date, yeah?”

“Deal.” You grin and get into the car, Aaron’s gentle hand guiding you into the seat. He can’t help but give you another kiss before he closes the door, your lips sweet and soft between his own.

You sigh as he climbs into the driver’s seat, your cheeks delightfully warm and your hands only slightly chilly. Aaron pulls out onto the road and his hand finds yours again.

You thread your fingers between his and look out the window, feeling absurdly grateful for the cold woods you were in.

#emily is crying in the club lmfaoo #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x you #soft aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner drabble

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aphroditelovesu · 6 months

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Yan!Mom Rhaenyra Targaryen/Yan!Dad Laenor Velaryon Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🐉— lady l: hi... So, it just freaked me out and I needed to write this, kind of like a base for Valyrian Heritage part 2... I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, unhealthy platonic relationships, mention of mutilation and war, messy writing.

❝ 🐉pairing: platonic!yan!mom rhaenyra targaryen and yan!dad laenor velaryon x gender neutral!reader, platonic yandere!hotd x gn!reader.

Rhaenyra and Laenor have always gotten along well, although not so close, they were always friendly with each other and even came to an agreement after their marriage. They would live their own lives and be free to love someone else.

The few times they slept together were not for pleasure, but to try to conceive an heir. And it worked, when Rhaenyra discovered she was pregnant just a few months after her wedding, much to everyone's delight.

You were the only child born of their marriage, well, at least the only legitimate one. There was no doubt about your legitimacy, since you were a copy of your father when you were born and became more like your mother as you grew up.

They loved you unconditionally, there are not enough words to describe how much they love you. They say you never love anything on the world the way you love your first child and that's true when it comes to your parents. They love all of their other children, but it's pretty clear how attached they are and favor you more than anyone else.

Laenor is the most attached to you, however, as you were his child. Really his. And although he loved your brothers who were born after you, there was no doubt that he preferred you above them all. You were the apple of your father's eye, you could never do anything wrong in his eyes and he will fight anyone who says otherwise.

Rhaenyra loved you with all her heart, the first moment she placed you in her arms for the first time was like a blessing, a gift from the gods old and new. You were her precious, her most precious treasure and nothing and no one will take you away from her. No one steals what belongs to a dragon and gets away with it.

You were not only spoiled and loved by your parents, but also by your grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys adored you, simple as that, they spoil you more than anyone and always take you to Driftmark when Rhaenyra allows it. Corlys always makes a point of reminding you of your heritage, that you are a Velaryon, and Rhaenys tries to participate as much as possible in your upbringing.

Viserys loved you deeply too, considering that you are his first grandchild and he tries his best to be present in your life. He would often pick you up and sit with you on the Iron Throne, reminding you that one day everything would be yours. And he doesn't even try to hide his favoritism. He knew that if Aemma was still alive, she would love you as much as he does.

Alicent was excessively attached to you too, and although she had grandchildren of her own, she didn't even try to hide how much she preferred your company. Although she has no patience for children, she loves you with all her heart and strongly believes that Rhaenyra is not a good mother for you, a belief that became stronger after the birth of Jacaerys. Otto encourages Alicent's tendencies while cultivating his.

You were the example for your younger brothers, Jacaerys, being the second child, is the clingiest and most protective towards you. He had you first, so you were his first. Lucerys is extremely possessive of your attention and sulks when others get it. Joffrey is the baby and the youngest and so he wants to receive more attention from you.

Your aunt and uncles were very close to you, mainly due to age and because of Alicent's encouragement, who was always sure that you would grow up surrounded by her children.

Aegon is very emotionally dependent on you and is almost always leaning around you, looking for comfort. Helaena loves you with all her heart, she wants to be by your side all the time and she trusts you completely. Aemond is the closest to you, always seeking comfort and confirmation from you, he wants to impress you at any cost. You didn't spend as much time with Daeron, but he misses you and cherishes the memories he has with you.

You were the anchor of your family after the years passed, the only person capable of bringing them all together. Viserys and you had this in common, the desire to reunite the family and you managed it, although it never lasted for long.

All servants were instructed to do your whims and desires. Laenor and Rhaenyra are extremely protective of you and suspicious of anyone who approaches you, especially if it is one of the Greens.

You loved your family, you really loved them, but sometimes all you wanted was to be free from so much pressure. You found fun and ''freedom'' in associating more with your great-uncle, Daemon, who was always taking you away with him, causing your parents to panic. You always came back unscathed, though.

However, you knew you would have to choose a side. After Aemond's mutilation, you found yourself at an impasse when your father sneaked into your room that night and asked you to run away with him. Running away with him means you would be free from your burdens, but the conflict would never stop and would only escalate.

You didn't have any more time. You had to choose between running away with Laenor and escaping the war or staying with Rhaenyra and dealing with the conflicts between the Blacks and the Greens, as well as your overwhelming and possessive family.

Choosing between your father and mother was never something you thought you would do, until this day. The thought of never being able to see Rhaenyra again and hear her reading to you or never seeing your father teaching you how to fight again filled you with fear and anguish. You knew what you had to do, but could you bear the consequences of your choice?

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tojivu · 4 months

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nightmares ⋆ nanami kento

an. my finals start in june i'm gonna explode yall

cw. sfw. gn!reader. kento has nightmares and he needs you

playing. oh my god by fog lake.

nanami's been getting more sleep ever since he left jujutsu tech and that shitty nine to five he used to slave at every damn day — along with the fact that he's able to spend more time with you. he likes to say that it helps him sleep, having you within arms reach (something that was extremely rare in the past, considering he had no time to rest).

kento thinks you resemble closely to a human sized pillow, and he often treats you as such. his arms are wrapped around your frame, one of his legs laying on top of yours — his chest rises and falls slowly, small snores leaving his lips — and you're thankful, very thankful; nanami was never able to sleep this soundly when you two lived in tokyo.

you try your best to push his heavy weighted figure away: you groan and complain that he's too big to be sharing this bed with you and that he should be sleeping on the floor instead. yet, you welcome him with open arms every night — pressing kisses to his forehead and running your fingers through his blonde hair.

you'd rather clingy and sleepy nanami who uses you as a personal bolster pillow in the night than sleepless nanami who locks himself away in his office, or exhausted nanami who drags his feet through the entrance of your home with bloodied limbs. it broke your heart more times than you could really count, seeing kento that way.

nanami kento saw his life flash before his eyes in shibuya, and all he could really pray for was to make it out alive so he could see you one last time — even if it were just for a few minutes. he clung desperately onto the last bit of energy and will he had in hopes of making it out alive; even if he was mutilated to a point beyond recognition, he needed to be with you. that was the only way he could let himself go — he would crawl back to your home if it meant he could kiss you one last time.

he never told you how long he'd be gone, or if he'd even come back at all: so you waited anxiously, refreshing news pages and watching the television every night for some sort of good. any sort of indication kento was okay.

he doesn't return home. you only see him when you rush down to the hospital they take him to — barely conscious, holding on to hope he didn't know he still had. nanami regains his full consciousness in the weeks following, the first thing he says being that he's done.

yes, nanami didn't want to risk it. never again.

it's 2 in the morning and you're unable to sleep, nanami's groans and sudden flinches are keeping you up.

"ken?"

the expression on his face is horrific — you feel the guilt wash over you like a wave, high and then crashing; so your fingers find his arms and you try your very best to shake the man awake.

your husband wakes up with a whimper; tired eyes almost brimming with tears at the fact that he is awake and you are real. his mouth is sealed, unable to utter a word, but the way his lips tremble tells you everything he cannot say.

"are you—"

soon, calloused fingers are gripping the flesh of your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. a nightmare, you can already tell: his hands feel clammy and his breathing is laboured.

"ken," you whisper. "'s okay. i'm here."

he sucks air through his teeth, trying to catch his breath. his body shudders at your touch as you graze over his skin — tracing circles on his bare back, your lips on his forehead. kento feels like he's about to cry, but he's not sure from what: at the fact that he had the worst dream of his life, or the fact that he's not dead and you're still here.

"'m s-sorry," he mutters. his voice is strained, still that deep and low tone that you're familiar with — but your heart still breaks as he apologises. "i'm sorry for waking you."

"don't be sorry," you comb your fingers through his hair using your free hand. "you know i don't mind it."

he sniffles and you yearn to hold him even tighter, but you think he would suffer broken ribs if you went through with that; so you settle for his head on your chest and your arms wrapped around his back.

"love you," nanami mumbles, voice getting softer and his grip looser — he feels his heart calm and his mind empty when you touch and hold him just like this. "i love you so much."

nanami wanted to be your protector. he hoped he would be for the remainder of his life — he likes to think he's doing a decent job at it now — but sometimes, it feels as though you are his; you fit awfully well to the title.

he supposes that's why he sleeps longer with you in the same bed as him; it's a peaceful thing knowing you're next to him if he has another bad dream, or if he feels cold and needs your warmth — or if he just wants to lay with you.

"i love you more, ken," you lulled, the tips of your fingernails scratching the skin of his trapezius; he recognises the heart shapes you trace on him. "get some rest."

"okay," he hums, his nose poking at your collarbones — his lips slowly leaving trails of kisses along them. "goodnight, darling."

your lips curl into a smile almost instinctively and you think it's embarassing, but it's much too dark for kento to see you blush at the name he calls you. you're thankful.

"goodnight, baby."

he's thankful that it's close to pitch dark, as well — kento thinks you can't see the smile he has on his face — but what he doesn't realise that you can feel him on your skin; feel the way his cheeks puff and his lips form the small smile you are so familiar with.

090124 — happy new years Tartaglieo fandom my gcse's are upcoming.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami x reader fluff #nanami kento x reader fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #nanami kento #nanami kento jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x you #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk gf

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chaoticbardlady99 · 6 months

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Could you please do some comforting fic? Like, Tav is crying because of stress (or maybe a painful memory) and Astarion has to console her being an absolute emotional support vampire?

Dying Star (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Your wish is my command!

Synopsis: While exploring the Shadowlands, you run into Arabella and she asks you to find her parents. Unfortunately, you don’t have good news to deliver and Astarion tries to navigate your feelings with tips from Karlach.

Character Class- Cleric of Lliira

(I’m really obsessed with this concept because I’m a Social Worker and I refer to myself as the “positivity police” so this is a character type I have grown fond of)

TW: Grief, Trauma, Parental loss, PTSD, Panic Attacks, mentions of violence and gore.

*I really like the nickname Little Love (I know it’s for Ascended only but…..) so I will be using it as a pet name that Astarion uses for the reader.

Companion song: Dying Star by Ashnikko (feat. Ethel Cain)

It was supposed to be easy. You had an extra skip to your step as you headed in the direction Arabella told you her parents went.

Finally, you had thought, I can do something good for someone. I can reunite a family. No morally gray bullshit to navigate.

You were grinning the whole way there despite your argument with Astarion before sending him with Arabella.

“We don’t have time to go parent hunting.”

“There is always time to go parent hunting.”

He had expressed his disdain about finding Arabella’s parents. He told you it’s a waste of time- they were probably dead anyway. Arabella had whimpered and teared up. That was enough for you to lose your patience and you ripped into him for saying "something so awful and in front of a CHILD, nonetheless!"

You sent him back with Arabella and Wyll, telling him that if he had no desire to search and rescue, he didn’t have to. He had looked hurt and insisted he go, that he needed to be there, but you were fed up and a little girl was crying.

Dejected, Astarion had gone back to camp. The guilt sat heavily at the bottom of your stomach, but you had a personal mission to complete and nothing was going to stop you.

You were orphaned as a young child. The nightmares had gone away (for the most part), but you still remember your father dragging you away from your mother’s cold body as Loth Drows ambushed Silverymoon. They had had a whole army and their druids had control over giant creatures from the Underdark. You remember losing your father in the haze, an arrow to your back, running and slipping into a river. Then nothing. Until a nearby Cleric of Lliira (Leer-uh) had saved you, taking you to Selgaunt (SELL-GAUNT) on the coast of the Sea of Stars. Lliira had healed your heart and saved you- you hoped to pay that debt forward and help Arabella have a better outcome than you did.

No one in your party knew your past and you hadn’t brought it up to Astarion. It feels so long ago and it was a topic you preferred to bring up in a more hospitable place than the Shadowlands and after you help Astarion kill Cazador. You wanted to prioritize his joy and help him finally be free, so why would you burden him with your past while he is suffering far more from his?

It didn’t take you and your party long to locate Arabella’s parents. You found them in the House of Healing- dead. Along with your hope and joy.

You had erupted in a tearful rage and you stabbed the Sister who killed them over and over.

You didn’t care what the Joybringer would do if she saw how senselessly you mutilated the sisters and Malus. You had made them suffer as you saw fit. Mutilating them, using more painful methods of killing (stabbing in painful, but not lethal spots), and your crying came out as painful, angry screams.

Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart eyed you with concern as you walked back to the camp. Usually you were singing or whistling a tune, cracking jokes to relieve the tension.

Instead, you were focusing on how you would break the news to Arabella that her parents are dead and she is all alone.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion paces around his tent, trying to distract himself from the pit of fear in his stomach. You had never snapped at him that way- usually you just roll your eyes at him and give him a chaste kiss with a soft, “I understand if you don’t want to go, but I would appreciate it if you would come along.”

He wasn’t sure why Arabella and her parents had been a sensitive subject or why you had insisted on looking for them when they were likely already dead. No one survives the Shadow Cursed Lands without a light source and mediocre tactical skills.

That didn’t stop him from rooting for you though- he hopes he is wrong and that you come back victorious. He wants you to be happy. Astarion enjoys seeing you succeed because that’s when you flash that brilliant grin that he has (silently) adored since the moment he met you. The reason he protested in the first place is because he knows how destroyed you would be if Arabella’s parents are dead. He doesn’t want you to hurt- for your heart to lose it’s optimism.

He hears you, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale come into camp. He steps out of the tent- hoping that you were able to achieve the outcome you wanted, that you would come parading into camp victorious.

He sees you talking to Arabella in a quiet whisper and he watches as your face contorts to hold back your own feelings as Arabella screams at you. He watches you take it- as she punches you in the stomach over and over. You just let her before she runs off. Withers says something to you quietly before you walk into your tent, closing yourself off from everyone.

Astarion feels stuck in the entryway of his tent. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey fangs,” Karlach says, offering a sad smile as she walks up to him, “you should probably know- they went over the rails after seeing Arabella’s parents.”

A look of confusion spreads across his face. What does that even mean? You were barely capable of hurting a fly!

“Like they became upset?”

Karlach nods with weary eyes,“They became upset and… well very, very, very violent.”

The tadpole behind his eyes begins to squirm as he allows Karlach to show him the scene.

He didn’t think you were capable of that much destruction. He saw angry tears slide down your face as you destroyed everything in your path. His gentle, joyful Cleric had broken in the House of Healing.

How ironic, he thinks bitterly.

He feels his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he watches you suffer through the battle- screaming and crying. He should have been there for you. He should have gone and let you be mad at him for disobeying. He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“She really needs you Fangs,” Karlach says to him, interrupting his train of thought.

Of course Karlach would say that as if it was the easiest thing in the world- like he hadn't been tortured and unloved for the past two centuries.

“I don’t know how to be what she needs right now,” he says in a soft voice.

It was true. He had only just expressed his feelings for you and he barely felt confident doing that to begin with. He spent two centuries seducing and manipulating whoever he could to survive. How could he be what you need right now? When he is just as much of a monster as the individuals that killed Arabella’s parents?

Karlach contemplates this, searching Astarion’s face as if the answer to all his problems would be there.

“You don’t need to do anything other than being there- tell them you are sorry. Tell them you were rooting for them because I saw it in your head. Tell them that they aren't alone,” Karlach pauses before saying, “And remind them that they are a good person- that Lliira wouldn’t abandon her in her suffering.”

Despite his fear and reluctance, he thanks Karlach for the advice and walks towards your tent.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Your body is shaking violently as your chest tightens and painful, silent sobs come out of your mouth. You are trying (and failing) to use your hand as a sound barrier.

It’s not about you, it’s about Arabella, you remind yourself, stop being so selfish.

Except the images are back, you are small again, helpless again, alone, and afraid. Despite your effort, Arabella has been given the same fate and in the same breath, you turned away from your Goddess. You lost yourself in the fight, you were aware of this while it was happening. You just didn’t have it in you to care anymore.

You hear footsteps approach your tent- you do the best to rub away the tears and snot.

It’s not about you.

You hear Astarion’s voice on the other side of the tent flap.

“Little love,” he says softly, “can I please come in?”

You laugh, your voice hoarse, “Come to tell me ‘I told you so?’ To gloat and laugh? If that is your intention, then no. You will need to wait one to five business days before you can do that.”

You don’t hear him laugh at your humorous response as he usually does. He enters the tent and you feel him sit down behind you, his legs on either side of yours. He’s tense as he puts his arms around you from behind, pulling you in between his legs. He slowly relaxes against your body, putting his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry Little Love. I wanted to be wrong. I just knew how much it would… hurt you if the outcome wasn’t… well.”

You sniff, choking back a sob as he begins drawing shapes on the back of your shaking hands.

“It’s okay my love. You can let it out. I’m here for you. You aren’t alone.”

Despite how clumsy and awkward it was said, that sentence alone broke whatever composure you still had. You cry and scream into your hand as Astarion holds onto you as if you are about to fly away and he is your anchor. Your breath is shallow and it’s hard to breathe as you suffocate on your grief and panic. You feel him ask for access to your mind, wanting to know how to help. So, you show him and you let all your grief pour into your cries. You feel his own tear mix with yours as he cries into your neck as he endures how you feel with you- as he watches your whole life fall apart because of one ambush over and over again.

He continues to trace patterns on your hands, asking you to focus on him and what he is doing, reminding you to breathe as you do for him when he is distressed.

You begin to calm as you focus on his voice, focus on his delicate fingers tracing your skin, and for once, you don’t feel so alone. You scoot forward, gently removing his arms , and turn around to face him, your tearful eyes meeting his.

He grabs your face gently and kisses your forehead as silent tears roll down both of your faces. You look down at your hands before speaking.

“I thought… I thought I could help Arabella be reunited with her family,” you say in a gravely whisper, “I had hoped she wouldn’t be alone like I was, but now…”

You suck in a harsh breath and look at your hands, “Gods, I am naive and stupid.”

“No- you do not get to talk about my favorite person that way,” Astarion says sharply.

You look up in surprise at the intensity of his words. He matches your eyes with a look of adoration, guilt, and a ferocity you have never seen before.

“Little Love, you are not naive and you are not stupid,” He pauses, to kiss one of your hands and intertwines your fingers together, “you are so good without trying because that is who you are. You experienced hardship and you didn’t let it destroy you. You didn’t become a monster.”

He looks at your face to gauge your reaction. You sit quietly, letting him continue to speak if he chooses so he does.

“You… you are amazing and a bright light in the darkness. You are my moon, my compass, and you have shown me parts of myself I didn’t know existed,” he clears his throat before continuing.

“ I hate to see you hurt, but I promise I will be here to help you through your suffering,” He stares into your eyes intensely, “for as long as you will have me.”

You pause, taking in everything he has just said to you. You felt like a star dying, exploding in the cosmos. You feel evil and wrong for the violence you inflicted on the Sisters and Malus in your need for revenge. Your actions were not of Lliira's will.

“I don’t know if that’s who I am anymore, Star. I engaged in senseless violence… I don’t think Lliira will forgive me- and if she does, it won’t be easy to obtain her forgiveness,” you say glumly.

He grabs your other hand in his and offers a soft smile.

“Then we will work together to get you back into favor with your Goddess and I will remind you everyday who you are until you believe in yourself again,” he says before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

You smile despite yourself, your chest glowing with warmth as you stare into his eyes. You know Astarion detests the Gods, but the fact that he was willing to help you made your eyes tear up again. You are horribly desperately in love with him and as much as you want to tell him that, you practice restraint. There is a time and place- that time is not now, not when the relationship just began.

“And what if I need it everyday for the rest of your Immortal life?” You say half-joking and half-afraid of his answer.

A wide, genuine grin spreads across Astarion’s face as your words register in his mind.

They want me to stay. They want me to be by their side-even when this is all done.

Astarion pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he pulls you into him and presses a soft kiss against your neck before laying his head on your shoulder.

“Then I will stay by your side. Forever.”

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion x gender neutral reader #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #karlach

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sheeple · 4 months

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Miracles don't exist | 35: The cellar

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Torture / mutilation / time is weird in this one [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

The Death Eaters drag you kicking and screaming down the hall. They've managed to disarm you before you could do sustainable damage to any of them. You trash in their hold, trying your best to get out and run. Maybe you even have a chance to snatch your wand.

You let out a groan as they throw you on the ground. A hand reaches out and grabs a fistful of your hair. You whimper and move along with the hand. Bellatrix has a sneer on her face as she presses her wand into your neck.

"For how long have you been spying on us?"

You shake your head as much as her hold permits. "I haven't-"

"LIAR!", she screeches and raises her wand. A hot red flash passes over you before your body contorts painfully. You let out a yell. The feeling of millions of knives piercing your body. "TRAITOR!"

By the time the curse had let up, you're breathless. Your head lulls to the side, tears in your eyes. And to be honest, the only thing you can think about is that you're glad Theo isn't here.

She shoves something in your face. A letter. The same one you wrote during the Ministry hearing. It must have fallen out of your pocket during the chase. Yaxley for sure must have picked it up.

"That isn't... mine." Determined, you look at Bellatrix and give her a sneer.

Bellatrix raises her hand and strikes you. Your cheek stings and flares up as you feel your nose starting to bleed again. "You dare to betray the Dark Lord?! Betray your own kin?! You should be killed!" Bellatrix raises her wand again, a murderous glint in her eyes.

You don't flinch. If you're going to die, you'll die fighting. Collecting the blood in your mouth, you spit it in Bellatrix's face. An audible gasp goes around the room as they watch the red glob hit her face.

"Go ahead, kill me. You were never my family", you hiss, giving her a cold stare, "I wish you would have rotted away in Azkaban."

Bellatrix shrieks, going absolutely ballistic. She summons a knife and holds you down. First, you’re hit with another round of crucio so you stop struggling in her hold. You can handle that. But then… The point of a knife gets slowly pressed into the flesh of your collarbone before the spell has run its course. You try to wiggle away, crying and sobbing as the pain only multiplies as Bellatrix carves something in your flesh.

It feels like it goes on for hours. At one point you stopped moving, seeing no will to do so. You stare off into the distance, seeing the Malfoy's stand huddled together. Draco looks horrified while Narcissa clings to Lucius.

Is there no one who would stand up for you? No one would save you from this torture? Yes, but you’ve sent that someone away. For his safety. Yes, everything for Theodore’s safety.

By the time Bellatrix is done, you're halfway passed out. You barely notice how you are grabbed and dragged somewhere. Somewhere dark where the door slams loudly and a heavy lock turns.

You lay curled up on the cold floor, your body twitching and gasping for breath. In between the ringing in your ears, you hear footsteps approaching you.

"Please", you gasp, "no more. Please..." Rolling to your belly, you do your best to crawl away from whomever it may be that is ordered to do your next round of Crucio.

"Miss Black?", asks a soft voice and you stop. You roll back and look at the person who said your name. Mr Olivander

A relieved sob escapes you. At least he won't hurt you.

The older man — who looks worse for wear — gives you a small smile. "Miss Black- or should I say Mrs Nott? Cedar, almost 13 inches, swishy, with a core of unicorn hair, if I am not mistaken." Mr Ollivander nods and walks off, returning with a lantern.

With much difficulty, you push yourself into a seated position. "Oh... you're bleeding, dear." He points to your collarbone. You reach out but hiss as the flesh is still tender.

You look around, your eyes adjusting to the dark. "Where are we?"

Mr Ollivander hands you a small bowl of water. Your hands still shake as you take it gratefully and take slow sips. "We're in the cellar." The old man groans as he goes to sit against a wall.

He looks deadly pale and his cheeks are fallen in. "How... how long have you been down here?", you ask carefully. He must be the one you've heard screaming a while back.

Mr Olivander's shoulders slump. "I'm afraid I do not know. Time moves differently down here. It's made so no witch or wizard can use their magic to escape."

The wandmaker spoke the truth. Despite the once-a-day meals — at least, you think it is. Could be a once-in-many-days with the way your body aches — there is no indicator if it's day or time.

Draco often sneaks you and Mr Olivander extra food. It's mostly in the form of an apple which he rolls through the bars of the door. You turn away every time he whispers your name, his hands clutching the bars tightly. Only after he leaves deflated, do you scramble to eat the apple.

As time passes Mr Olivander and you get cellmates. At first, it's Griphook. He's a sour man who distrusts any who's a witch or wizard. He mostly sits in the corner and grumbles to himself.

Next is Luna. You're actually happy and at the same time sad to see her. You throw your arms around her and squeeze her tightly. "Are you okay? Are you broken? Does something bleed?" You turn her over and rake your eyes over her front to see if any blood has seeped into her clothes.

"I am fine. I however do not know where I am." She looks around before her eyes fall on Mr Olivander. She makes her way over to him and strikes up a conversation as if it's a normal Tuesday at tea time.

Running a hand over your face, you turn towards her. "What date is it?"

"The Christmas break has just started."

The shock dawns upon you when you count out the months. It's been three months. Three months trapped in this blasted cellar. You knew it was more than a couple of weeks, as your wound has healed and is only a scar now.

Oh Merlin, Theo must think that you've died. That either Bellatrix or Voldemort have killed you. Tortured you before ending your life abruptly and too soon.

You slide down a wall, hand clasped over your mouth as tears spill out of your eyes. You stay like that for Salazar knows how long. The heartache of the idea that Theodore mourns your death makes you immobile with sorrow. It feels pointless to move if you can't communicate with him that you're indeed alive.

What you can only assume are months passing by before something happens. There is screaming from upstairs before someone's coming down the stairs. You hide in the dark, pressing yourself up against the wall as two people get pushed inside.

The two figures rush towards the gate. "What are we gonna do? We can't leave Hermione alone with her."

Luna slowly creeps forward and calls out a name. "Ron? Harry?"

The two figures turn around and as a light flickers on, it indeed are Ron and Harry. Harry's face looks pretty busted up.

Slowly everyone comes out of their hiding spot now. The two boys' eyes fall upon you. Harry rushes towards you, wanting to hug you. But you flinch away, hiding behind a pillar. Harry stops with a frown on his face. "What happened to you?"

An agonising scream is heard from upstairs and your stomach drops as you recognise the voice. Hermione. "Oh no", you whisper, moving closer to the door. You flinch as she screams out. Involuntarily, a whimper escapes you. You can imagine what Bellatrix is doing with her.

"We have to do something!" Ron turns towards the group, a distraught expression on his face.

Mr Olivander shakes his head. "There is no way out of here. We've tried everything! It's enchanted."

Another whimper escapes you and you lean your forehead against the icy bars as Hermione pleads and screams.

Harry crouches down and takes something out of his sock. A shard or something. He speaks to it, begging for help.

Wormtail comes scurrying down the stairs, wand in hand and pushing Ron and Harry away. He takes Griphook before he's gone again.

Ron returns the light and at the moment Dobby appears. He stumbles a bit but is overall happy to see Harry. "Dobby? What are you doing here?"

"Dobby has come to rescue Harry Potter of course! Dobby will always be there for Harry Potter!"

You take a good look at the elf. It has been some years since you've seen him. Harry actually made Lucius free Dobby in your second year. You know that because your uncle loudly complained to the whole manor how annoying it was that they lost a house elf.

Dobby seems to spot you and bows to you. "Miss Black! It is good to see you alive."

You give him a small and tired smile. "Happy to see you too, Dobs."

"Wait- are you saying you can apparate in and out of this room?", Harry realises. Of course, the Dark Lord's minions didn't house elf-proof the cellar. They're idiots.

And so a plan is hatched. Dobby firstly take you, Luna, and Mr Olivander to some address Ron provided.

"No", you protest, "I want to help. I want to fight. I want to hurt them like they hurt me!" Tears fill your eyes.

Harry shakes his head. "You're in no condition to fight. You have to go to safety."

Reluctantly, you hold one of Dobby's hands with Luna and you are pulled and squeezed before you land on something wett. Sand.

Hurling, you puke up the joke of a meal you've been provided with. Falling over, you lay on your back and stare up at the sky. Never once in your life, you've been so happy to see it being overcast.

Pressing the balls of your hands into your eyes, the first whimper escapes you before you start to weep. You're okay. It's finally over. You're out of that blasted cellar.

The only clear though is that you have to find a way to track down your Teddy and hope he hasn't been doing anything stupid in your name.

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly @padf00ts-l0ver @fandom-life-12 @prettyb1tchsblog @pari-1 @f14ever @nopedefe @randomgurl2326

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amuseoffyre · 7 months

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"I don't even know who I am"

What I have loved about the show from day one is that it has been an unflinching examination of identity and what makes it: the things that shape people into who they are and how that impacts on how they act and react to the world around them.

The exploration of Ed’s sense of self has been so beautifully handled and I know that if/when we get a third season, they’re going to do even more with it.

This is a character who has been raised with violence and cruelty his whole life, who was told “we’re just not those kind of people” when he yearns for something better, who killed to protect his mother, who ended up under the heel of a brutal tyrant of a captain who used sadistic punishments and death to keep his crew in line.

It’s the only life he knew and it’s the only option he sees himself as having. He has no concept of any other alternative until along comes Stede “there’s always another way” Bonnet and he’s fascinated. He even tells Stede as much the first time they met – “do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone doing something original out here? It’s impossible, man.”

Ned Lowe cements that fact in 2x06, describing Ed as a generic pirate and Ed immediately calls him out on the fact that he’s as messy as the rest of them even if he’s trying to act like he’s not, observing “It’s usually family stuff”. Stede even observes “A lot of your friends are troubled” and Ed fully admits “Yeah. Well. They’re pirates.”

There’s so much juicy meta to be had about the fact that Stede wants to desperately be a pirate and Ed doesn’t even catch that not only is Stede fully troubled but that it’s got Family Stuff etched all over it. He even says “you’ve got it all figured out”, but the Stede meta is for another day.

In S1, Ed’s in a pretty depressed space and finds a bit of a respite from it in Stede’s company. It lets him try out new things, things he didn’t think he was allowed/able to do, but he still follows a lot of the patterns of behaviour and actions that are standard in the pirate lifestyle that has been 80% of his lived experience.

He can switch violence on and off when he needs it (“next one goes through your fucking eye”), he doesn’t see anything wrong in talking about the violence he’s inflicted (“Well, this one time I was gouging an eye out of this lad’s skull”), he has a deep well of punishments that he can draw from (force-feeding body parts, mutilation, skinning, maiming) and all of these things are just so normalised for him that he’s desensitised to how horrific they are.

He’s still doing all those things while also telling stories, having fun, teaching people about fuckeries and generally being “more open and available than I’ve ever seen him”. He hasn’t wanted or needed to shed that side of his life because he’s getting the best of both worlds.

Only then Calico Jack pays a visit and ramps Ed’s behaviour up to 11 and this is the first time Stede – who is dealing with his own issues at the same time – says that there’s something wrong with the way he’s behaving.

Ed says to Stede, confused and stung, “This is who I am. This is me” when Stede points out all the behaviour he isn’t enjoying. And for him, at this point, this is him. This is what he’s grown up knowing and being. This is his lifestyle and part of the culture of the pirate community. We see it repeatedly when we see Ed encountering people from his past or in the Republic. It’s the frog-in-the-pot scenario. He’s been in the pot so long, he doesn’t know it’s been boiling the whole time.

Only the very next episode, at the academy, pared back to just be Edward Teach, born on a beach, he admits “I don’t know if I want to go back to the old days, drinking all day and forcing some bloke to eat his own toes for a laugh”. He’s been played and double-crossed by people who trusted him and he sees an alternative in Stede – “I’m your friend” Stede told him, and he wants that. He wants a friend he can trust. They can go off together, away from all that and everything’ll be fixed, right? That’ll make it all good.

And then…

And then we all know how that goes.

Briefly, very briefly he thinks he might be able to hold on to that different kind of thing, that softer, brighter world, but Izzy reminds him of the reality of their situation. That people he considers allies and friends can and will warn him to “watch his fucking step” and that this is not a world where he can let his guard down.

Either you’re part of that world or you die. Izzy said it as far back as episode 4. The only retirement they get is death. And so that’s the option Ed takes: either watch the world burn or die trying. Not like he can have anything else. For ever and ever, trapped in his life and world he has come to hate.

He sinks him into the worst of it to try and end things faster. He’s crueller. Relentless. Brutal. And no one seems to care that he’s shattering under the weight of it, until he forces their hand and goads them into killing him or letting him kill all of them.

Izzy says “we did this to him” to Stede, but neither of them seem to realise how much deeper Ed’s hurts go. Yes, they both had an impact on Ed, knocking away his sense of place and self and acceptance, but the wounds are far older and far deeper than they know.

It’s only when Ed is first forced to confront himself in the unsettling not-reality of the gravy basket that he takes the first step in understanding himself better. He’s forced to face the stuff he’s done and the worst parts of himself. He even tries to kill them, over and over again, until he realises.

I find it especially interesting that Buttons describes getting out of purgatory as “escaping”. That this is a place where you’re flayed down to the bones and forced to face the worst parts of yourself.

It’s so vital that he – and Stede – have the encounter with Anne and Mary. He’s reminded of the world that he was part of and the casual brutality that came with it. He’s shown that he and Stede could easily fall into those patterns, but instead Stede offers him honesty, comfort and the assurance that he is loved.

“A lot of your friends are troubled” Stede observes after and Ed admits that yeah, they’re pirates. He recognises that this is part of the social culture he grew up in and that it’s still impacting on him now.

But what happens next is so sweet and important. Buttons talks to him of learning to change, that nothing is fixed and that if you want to, you can change your path. And then Buttons shows him it’s possible and Ed’s face just lights up. Yes, brother. Fly. You can change things. You can choose another way.

Only it’s not simple. It’s not straightforward. With the probation period, Ed looks for quick fixes – offers to let Lucius push him overboard to get it over with and the like – but part of him still doesn’t quite get why some of the stuff he did was wrong because it was so normalised to him.

It takes Fang saying “I was terrified” to make him see it and coming from someone who has been with him for 20 years, realising someone else from within his own world was terrorised by him brings things into focus for him. That the things he thought were games weren’t. That the stuff he told himself was normal in context absolutely wasn’t normal.

And this is where Ed’s entire world view pivots. Fang shows him how to sit with himself, how to reflect. Ed takes this lesson to heart and he’s still working through it, gazing out to sea and thinking about it at the beginning of episode 6. He goes from never apologising for anything as a captain to telling both Fang and Izzy quiet, but meaningfully, “I’m sorry”.

He’s known for a long time that he’s tired of piracy, but the Ned Lowe situation is the thing to put the final nail in the coffin: this man hunted him down because of his pirating. This man hurt them all because of it. And worst of all, Ned took the man Ed loves and pushed and provoked him until Stede killed him. This was Ed’s “you defile beautiful things” moment. His face in those scenes, when he said “don’t do it, you can’t come back from this” is a call from his own experience. Stede is taking that step onto a path that Ed desperately wants to get off.

That night makes the decision for him.

The next morning, his leathers go overboard, a symbolic end to Blackbeard (and I will yell another day about him putting the proverbial beast back under the waves. Ed and his sea metaphors are gnawing me alive) and he’s happy about it, humming and hurrying back down to join Stede in their bed.

Stede doesn’t notice, though. Stede never would notice something like that being important because for him, Ed is Ed. Whatever he wears, whatever he does, he is Ed. A change of clothes doesn’t change him in Stede’s eyes.

But other people notice. Hell other people not noticing Blackbeard and only seeing some hobo dude is such a change. There’s something so significant that the people he chooses to talk to about it are the old guard in his field. He tells Jackie “it’s not a phase” and Izzy that it felt “fucking great” and both of them get it. Both of them have been there, seen it, experienced it.

Only it happens as he’s seeing Stede become what he used to be, stepping into the space he’s willingly leaving, and Stede is so happy about it. And he’s happy for Stede to have his moment and be appreciated, but it just throws into stark relief that this is absolutely not what he wants or needs right now. He still has a lot of figuring out to do and unfortunately, they’re both highly-emotional people and when they’re emotional, their communication goes down the toilet.

Once upon a time Ed said “this is who I am, this is me” to Stede, when he was acting exactly like Stede is now: raucous, drinking, chaotic and loud. Only time and reflection has let him see that wasn’t necessarily him but the environment and his circumstances shaping him to be like that, just as it's now making Stede act that way.

“I don’t even know who I am,” he admits in this argument. “I’m not ready for whatever this is”. He knows he has a lot more to figure out and because he’s latched on so hard to fishing as a place to be quiet and contemplate, that’s why he runs there. He wants to work himself out without the weight and pressure of the pirate world breathing down his neck.

Only he doesn’t talk about it, he doesn’t explain, he just tells Stede he’s leaving and Stede immediately sees it as something he’s said/done, rather than something that Ed is trying to figure out. They both hurt each other because Ed has always worried that Ed isn’t enough – the loss of the beard still weighs on them both – and that Stede is only humouring him to get Blackbeard, while Stede is so convinced that being a great pirate will mean he and Ed can be together as equals instead of him being a bumbling amateur who isn’t worthy of the man he loves, only to see it slip through his fingers.

They both need to talk to each other, but they don’t know how. Ed’s made quick, rash decisions, but they’ve come on the back of a lot of reflection and he just didn’t explain it. He’s right that he doesn’t know who he is himself. He’s never had the chance to just… take the time and figure it out. He needs that time, but they just don’t have it right now and they end up hurting each other more because of it.

I’ve said from the beginning that both of them are coming from opposite ends of the spectrum and that they’re destined to meet somewhere in the middle. Ed got his fantasies of a fancy life shattered in season one and now, Stede is seeing the impact of his pirate fantasies on the life he made for himself in season two.

Both of them are on the edge of a catastrophe curve, misunderstanding each other’s motivations and totally at odds with who they are versus who they have been told they need to be. They will get there, but two little lost boys finally taking off the rose-tinted glasses and dealing with the mess that they have carried with them their entire lives isn’t easy.

And I will fully admit I am loving it.

#ofmd s2 #ofmd meta #ofmd #ed teach #long post

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freddysglove · 1 year

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slasher reactions to an s/o with nipple piercings

includes: billy lenz, herbert west, pinhead, amanda young, chucky + tiffany, candyman, and freddy krueger.

insipired by @sl4shcelebr1ty's post about this. i loved it but wanted to add my favorite slashers too :)

tw: mention of body mutilation. nsfw !!!

billy lenz

- absolutely flabbergasted

- billy is from the 70s. and sheltered.

- PLEASE. MAKE IT COMPLETELY CLEAR. HE CANNOT YANK ON THE BARS.

- they will become the main focus of every lewd comment he sends your way

- "pretty piggy. do you want billy to hurt you too? pull on them?" while he's sitting on top of your shirtless body

- non-sexually, he just thinks it's another exciting thing that makes you unique and interesting.

herbert west

- he's seen much more drastic things in and on a human body so i can't imagine he'd be too shocked

- it would probably be a turn on for him, though, especially if he didn't expect it

- might tease you about it a little bit

- would probably make a little comment in the moment after he took your shirt off like, "oh, hmm. you could've warned me, y/n. i'll have to be careful not to chip my teeth"

pinhead

- ...

- i mean

- LMAO

- yeah i don't think they'd be too fazed

- would probably praise you a little for it since they know it was most likely very "painful" for you

- would ask you how the pain felt

- they'd definitely want to put more piercings in your body

- obviously they wouldn't want to stop there, though.

- "you like them there, why wouldn't you like them covering you, my dear? coating all of your flesh? please, wait here, allow me to gather the pins-"

amanda

- she would be both adoring and jealous

- with her line of work, she couldn't deal with the healing and the possibility of getting them snagged and ripped out by a victim when attacking them

- so she'd have to get her joy by playing with yours instead

- would probably love to tug on them just enough to where you were in pain

- "oh poor baby, did that hurt?"

- then she'd immediately do it again

chucky

- would literally go, "oh ho ho."

- he would be so excited.

- like amanda, he'd want to tug on them, but he wouldn't be nearly as gentle.

- please establish a safe word because he seriously might tear them through your nipples.

- not purposefully but just carelessly.

- naturally, your chest would be his new favorite thing

- even when you're fully dressed he'd be staring at them and smirking to himself because he knows something other people don't

tiffany

- i picture her as a soft praising dom

- she'd touch them so gently and kiss them while talking about how pretty you are

- would leave so many lipstick marks over your chest

- if you wanted more piercings she'd be so supportive

- but would want to do them herself

- yes she has no former training, and ???

- if you were adamant about getting them professionally done, she'd still come along to hold your hand

- don't be surprised if your piercers go missing after touching you though.

candyman

- would speak in poems about how beautiful they are

-youlookabsolutelyalluringmybeautifuliwanttobeonewithyou

- would show you how much he adored them by spending hours worshipping and kissing them

- there are no bounds to his love

- might wish he could get matching ones so that he could have something constantly inside his body that was a part of you as well

freddy krueger

- you'd wish you never told him

- would make so many dirty, violent jokes that you'd be nervous being too close to him

- when you finally let your guard down to be intimate with him he'd be all over your chest

- top focus

- "it's only a dream, doll. come on. let me play a little?"

- the only one who would purposefully and shamelessly rip them out of your body while fucking you

- sorry :(

#slashers #billy lenz x reader #herbert west x reader #pinhead x reader #hellraiser 1987 #amanda young x reader #chucky x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #candyman x reader #freddy krueger x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers/reader

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ellethespaceunicorn · 30 days

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The Howling in Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: A flashback into the love life of Sy and “Bug”, and a look toward the future with Wolfie and Pup.

Warnings: mentions of military deployment, p-in-v sex, creampie, emotional moments

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me, guys! And I see y’all reblogging the masterlist for the series. And I thank you so much for keeping this story alive! A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this story.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

The rumble of that old truck coming down the lane had you leaping off the couch to run to the front door. You swung it open, followed by the screen door; your bare feet padding on the old wooden porch warmed from the sun. You saw your man scramble to park before he jumped out and ran across the lawn to you. You threw open your arms as he took the stairs in one step to meet you.

The feeling of his lips against yours was just like the first time. And after he had been gone for the past six months, it felt glorious. Your arms around his neck allowed your hands to slide over his shaved head. You hated when he got rid of his curls before he shipped out, but you understood that it was less fashionable and more functional.

At least he got to keep the beard that you loved so much.

He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along the seam of your lips, and you obliged his entry. He savored every little moan that escaped your mouth, putting on quite the show for his neighbors, who were surely looking out of their windows at this point. They hadn’t heard his truck in months, and now it’s back to annoy them.

When his hands started to wander from your hips to your ass with a healthy squeeze, you knew it was time to bring this show of affection indoors. You broke the kiss and pulled him into his house. He had given you a key shortly before leaving so you could look after the place. You had only been together for less than a year, but you liked where you were headed.

After you are both inside, he pins you against the front door. He’s kissing your neck before pulling away to sniff in the direction of the kitchen. He sighed when he turned around to look back at you.

“I have missed your cooking so much. I’ve missed you so much, Bug. Every night, I wished I could be back here with you so I could hold you close and kiss you goodnight. Every morning, I would wake up with the goal of making it back to you,” he professed, getting down on one knee before taking your left hand in his. “I wanted to wait to do this; I did. But I don’t want to wait anymore. While this ring may have been an impulse buy, I know that yours is the only hand I would ever take in marriage. That is if you’ll have me. What do you say? Will you marry me, Bug?”

He holds up the ring, and your eyes blur from unshed tears. You truly had not expected this, but you couldn’t be happier. Sy was the man of your dreams. He was funny, loving, and protective; you wouldn’t have picked anyone else to spend the rest of your days with. You realized you had been quiet for almost a minute and spoke up.

“Yes! I will marry you, baby,” you gasped, nodding furiously as he put the ring on your finger.

Standing up, he wrapped you in a giant bear hug before picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, so happy to feel his warmth against you again. Once he started toward the bedroom, you knew you weren’t going to be having your meal any time soon. At least, not until after some unfinished business took place.

Sy made love to you, worshipping your body, and leaving hickeys everywhere he could. The man was never subtle in his lust for you. He missed you, and he was going to make sure you knew how much. Rocking his hips into you, he had you right where he wanted you. In between huffs of air and moans of pleasure, Sy kissed every part of you that he could reach.

As he brought you over the edge repeatedly, he talked you through it. Nothing was better than that moment, having him so close as he played your body expertly like he always did. Listening to him grunt as he chased after his release was music to your ears as his hips stuttered soon enough.

Between moaning your name, praising you, and his filthy dirty talk, he had you wrapped around his little finger. Well, technically, he had you wrapped around something substantially bigger…and that’s why your brain short-circuited when he began whispering sweet things in your ear.

“Look how fuckin’ beautiful you look takin’ me so well, Bug. Missed you so much, and couldn’t wait to be with you again. Just like this, watchin’ you fall apart so pretty for me,” he praised, one of his giant hands coming to rest on your tummy while he continued his onslaught. “All I could think of was coming home and starting our little family. Bug, I want you to make me a Daddy. Please, please, please…” he trailed off.

The guttural groan he made as he finished was beastly. And you loved every second of it. What can you say? You were a fan of when men weren’t afraid to be especially vocal in the bedroom, be it moaning or speaking. More often than not, it was Sy’s voice that the neighbors tended to hear when you two were hot and heavy.

You waited until he had come down from his high to ask about what he said. He rolled off of you and laid next to you, opening his arm so you could lay on his chest. This wasn’t the first time he had brought up starting a family. He had the same idea before he deployed for six months. But this time seemed different. He was practically begging you to get pregnant, and you wanted to slow the brakes a bit.

But you can’t always get what you want.

“Sy, can we put a pause on baby talk? You only just got back. I want some time with you before I’m knee-deep in diapers and midnight feedings,” you confided, hoping post-nut clarity would come to him.

“So, before I left, it was because you would be alone. And now, it’s because I’m here with you? Come on, Bug,” he scoffed, running a hand over his buzzcut.

“That’s not fair. It’s not exactly like your body is gonna be the one going through changes. And yes, I am worried that you want to start a family, and we don’t even know when you could be called upon. Then what? I just sit here and wait for you to meet your kid after missing my whole pregnancy?” You supposed, picking your head up from his chest and meeting his eyes.

“You’re right, ya know? I might have to be deployed again. But don’t forget that I’m fighting for my country. That’s not easy either. And I would still be providing for you, Bug. Does that mean nothing?” He countered, leaning on one elbow.

“I appreciate what you do; don’t get me wrong. But I refuse to start a family until I feel comfortable enough to do so. I mean, we got engaged an hour ago, and you’re already planning children. I love you, but this is too much for me right now,” you reasoned, pulling yourself up to a seated position and staring at your ring.

He took your hands in his as he sat up. “I love you too, and I want to start a family with you. That means marrying you and having kids together. I wanted it then, I want it now, and I’ll probably always want it. But if you don’t feel ready, I won’t make you. All I ask is that you think about it,” he implored.

You promised him that you would think about it, and he gave you the space and time that you needed. Two whole days spent in your house, ignoring your phone and your life. Two whole days of thinking about how to make up your mind. You’d never wanted children until you met Sy. He would make a great dad, which wasn’t what you were worried about. You were worried about how much time he would get to be a dad. Or whether he would make it back to you at all.

When you made up your mind, you went over to Sy’s house to talk with him. Very few words were said, but the point was made when you gave him back his ring. As much as you wanted him, you couldn’t be the perfect little Army wife that he wanted, and quite frankly, that he deserved.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, the memory of Sy’s distraught face behind your eyelids. With a heavy heart, you decided to drown yourself in work and forget about love. And it was working so well, at least for a while.

You are awoken by a deep voice calling your name and a hand shaking your shoulder. Opening your eyes, you come face-to-face with a steaming mug of coffee. You sit up fully and accept the mug, looking up to thank who brought it to you.

Sy’s face is neutral as he lets go of the mug. He sips from his cup as he motions for you to let him sit next to you. Neither of you speaks for a minute or two, unsure of what to say. The last time you two shared a bed was pretty eventful, and now it’s the only thing on your mind.

“How long have you been awake?” you ask, not knowing what to say.

“Couple hours. Just couldn’t sleep. Went for a run to clear my head, and that worked for about five minutes. Now, all I can think of is the last time you were here. Then, I think of last night and how good it felt to have my arms wrapped around you,” he laments, sipping his coffee before continuing, “Anyway, I figured it would be best if I let that ship sail long ago. But you just had to come back into my life, didn’t you? You don’t make it easy, woman.”

“Technically, if it wasn’t for Liv, I’d still be out of your life. Maybe I should thank her. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you,” you admit, looking into your coffee mug.

“Yeah, thank her for me, too,” he laughs, bumping your shoulder with his.

You giggle, looking up into his eyes. “Do you think we can try and be friends? I know last night was fucking strange. And I can’t guarantee it won’t be weird sometimes. But you’re important to me. You always will be,” you confess.

“Of course, we can be friends. I want you in my life, Bug. And if that means that I had to be a damn wolf to get back to you, then I guess I can live with that,” he jokes.

“You’re a handsome wolf if that’s any consolation,” you say, holding in a giggle.

Sy fixes you with the look he used to give you when you were being bratty, and it still works. You can feel the heat rise to your face as you look down and sip your coffee.

“Well, look. It’s just about 10. What do you say we stop procrastinating and get you back to your boyfriend before he comes sniffing around? I’m sure he’s beside himself waiting for you. I know I’d be doing the same,” he insists.

“You’re right. I’ll get changed, and we can head out,” you sigh, feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.

Sy nods, taking your mug. He exits the bedroom, pulling the door shut, and you hear his footsteps leading away from the door.

You get dressed quickly, your mind running through different scenarios of how this could all go down. Your anxiety level rises when you think of having your first fight with Walter. Unsure of whether or not you are still upset with him, you push all thoughts away and exit Sy’s bedroom.

Sy notes your solemn expression and pulls you into a hug, whispering into your ear, “Trust me, if anything, he’s gonna be so happy you’re back in his arms that I’m sure he’ll wanna be done with this little fight o’ yours.” Giving you a little squeeze before he lets go, he pats your back, and you appreciate him for trying.

Soon, you and Sy are on the road to the cabin. He drives while you direct him on where to go. The closer you get to the cabin, the more your leg bounces up and down. When Sy reaches a hand to rest on your knee, you stop only to start biting at your thumbnail. He pulls your hand from your mouth and holds it for the rest of the drive.

As Sy pulls into the driveway, the front door swings open. You’re suddenly frozen in your seat until Sy reaches across you to open your door. “Go on, now,” he directs, a sad smile on his face.

You exit the truck, gravel crunching below your feet. Walter jumps off the porch, stopping on the lawn just past the house. You look up at him as you approach, your feet moving faster once you see the hurt puppy look on his face. You throw your arms around his neck, his scent strong in your nostrils. His arms wrap around you, picking you up off your feet.

You don’t see when Walter and Sy exchange a nod. A lot can be said in one simple head tilt.

When Walter places you back on your feet, you both start to talk at the same time. “I’m so sorry, Pup, I-” “Wolfie, I’m sorry-”

Apologies give way to surprised laughter, and you rest your forehead against his.

“Gimme a sec, ok?” Walter asked, stepping past you to walk over to where Sy sat in the truck. You watch as they talk for a minute or two, unable to hear what is said. They shake hands, and Sy smiles at you. Walter walks back to where you stand, kissing your forehead and smiling down at you. Before you can speak, he lifts your arm and ducks his head under it to heft you over his shoulder.

“Ooof, Wolfie!” is all you get out as Walter makes his way back into the cabin. You watch over his shoulder as Sy drives off.

As Walter kicks the front door shut, you hear Jace’s laughter at your predicament, followed by a snort from Olivia.

“Good luck, bestie. Have fun!” Liv chuckles from her seat, cuddled up against Jace.

You’ll have to ask her about that later. Right now, you are being carried upstairs by your boyfriend, who missed you something fierce. Ending up in his bedroom, he plops you down on the bed and jumps you. Leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw to your collarbone and back. All the while whispering how much he missed you.

“I missed you too, Wolfie,” you gasp as he sucks on a particularly sensitive area of your neck.

Putting himself between your legs, he finally kisses your lips. When you moan into his mouth, his clothed sex comes into contact with yours. You feel each other’s body heat, and it’s mere seconds before you are both undressed.

With the thrust of his hips, you feel his apology. With each kiss and nip, you feel how much he cares for you. He brings you to the brink over and over, until you are an emotional mess that clings to him. You’re impossibly close and you wish you could be even closer to him. Wrapping your legs around his waist tighter, you tangle a hand in his hair as he rips one more orgasm from you.

You throw your head back, a long whine exiting your throat as you ride out your high. When you bite down on Walter’s shoulder, his hips falter and he buries himself deep inside you. You can feel every twitch of his length and every spurt that paints your walls. He fills you slowly but surely, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he comes down.

Rubbing his back, you kiss where your teeth barely made a dent in his skin. His tired groan vibrates through your body, and you can’t help but shiver. His softening girth slips from you, and you both gasp. Walter starts to move off of you, but you pull him back, not wanting to lose his warmth.

He chuckles, happy to be your weighted heating blanket. He settles in with his arms around you until you hear soft, grumbling snores. Feeling his breath puff on your neck, you let out a yawn and give in to your own tiredness.

Everything else can wait for now. You are right where you want to be.

To be continued...

A/N: I would love to know what you think of this chapter!

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greenandhazy · 21 days

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okay but it's the fact that CQL is in large part about what you would sacrifice for the people you love, and in almost every other instance in the show, that sacrifice is portrayed as, if not necessarily the Right decision, at the very least evidence of fundamental goodness. the Yunmeng trio, Wen Qing for her brother and Nie Mingjue for his (Fatal Journey counts 100%), Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, they make difficult choices for love and that makes them Good even if it doesn't make them happy.

and then there's Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang. whose identities are so fundamentally wrapped up in being His Mother's Son and The Little Brother, respectively, and they are so singularly devoted to the legacy of their relative that they will continue to fight for it long after death. they will sacrifice others in a heartbeat. they will lie, they will scheme, they will cause others pain. they will endure humiliation after humiliation. they will put on a persona that makes their true selves unrecognizable even to the people who know them best. ultimately they will sacrifice their own morality, their own goodness, in a way that would probably horrify the people in whose names they make this sacrifice.

I am falling asleep and these are random disjointed thoughts but other things that drive me feral about them is:

the backstory CQL gives, Meng Yao being at the Unclean Realm for (?) a length of time, and allll the visual signifiers of a close, basically familial relationship between them

(I know fanon likes to talk about "the Nie braids" as a sect-wide thing but they ARE NOT. they are a HUAISANG AND MINGJUE AND MENG YAO THING. litcherally no other Nie disciple wears them, not even Nie Zonghui! that's so significant!)

CQL/FJ leaning hard into the suggestion of the brothers being more or less on their own, very little discussion of their parents, leaving room to lean into the idea of NMJ fulfilling a parental role as well as a brotherly one, and the parallel between him and Meng Shi being even stronger

the final flashback to Meng Yao and Meng Shi, and how it's framed to suggest that as coming from Huiasang--a cherished memory Meng Yao passed on to him?

I've seen this floated around on tumblr before, about how it's very likely that Jin Guangyao underestimated the depth of Huaisang's love for his brother, based on how his love manifests as overachieving. so that moment of revelation in the temple being not just "oh, you're the one who was behind this the whole time" but "oh, you and I have this same sickness, this same depth of feeling."

the character songs. I'm obsessed with them. the fact that Jin Guangyao's is a constant litany of questions, uncertainty, revolving around "How many people are willing to know your true face?", while the Nie brothers' song has their relationship as this unshakeable foundation, to the point that they're the only two characters represented by one vocalist. the Unclean Realm being unquestionably "a place of deep love" and the only uncertainty being "when will we see each other again?"

(...and that being answered in part by the title, the repeated use of farewell with connotations of permanence. Huaisang defying death, wanting his brother back in any form possible, while Jin Guangyao literally meets his doom because he is so concerned about earning his mother an easier time in her next life.)

mutual obsession over Nie Mingjue. Meng Yao keeping his head in his treasure room. there are lots of jokes about how LXC is left out of the get-along coffin, but can we talk about the fact that Huaisang sacrificed his moral compass, the reputation of his sect, the life of a troubled teenager, and 10+ years of his life all so he could free his brother's mutilated body from Jin Guangyao's clutches... and at the end of it all, Jin Guangyao is the one who will be with him for eternity?

in conclusion: I love them, your honor.

#nie huaisang #jin guangyao #the untamed

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zorosdimples · 6 months

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pairing ⛧ creepy medical student! law x gn! reader

warnings ⛧ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. while there’s no smut, this is suggestive, and everything that happens is nonconsensual (law is gross). mentions of masturbation, fucking inanimate objects, bruises, and death. additionally: cum sighting, cursing, knife play, a little blood, some spit, manhandling, and general grimetown weirdness.

word count ⛧ 1132

notes ⛧ this is another installment of the garden of earthly delights series, as well as a contribution to @bastardblvd’s house of slimy horrors collab—my prompt was “pumpkin patch”! the plot is nonexistent… just go with it <3

something isn’t right.

the early evening sky is hazy, the sun obscured by a leaden film that shrouds grimetown’s pumpkin patch in a deathly hue. the barren field before you is more of a squash graveyard than anything else—the vast expanse of dirt is littered with a few dozen orange carcasses.

this is certainly not what you were expecting when your date suggested a fun autumnal outing.

“this has to be the world’s most depressing pumpkin patch,” you grouse, craning your neck to look up at law’s stony expression; as usual, his face doesn’t betray his thoughts. you can never get a good read on him. you don’t know him well enough to tell if he’s simply awkward or if he genuinely doesn’t emote. “we should go somewhere else.”

the jet-haired man places a firm palm on the small of your back, urging you forward. “c’mon, we’re already here. we can’t make jack-o-lanterns without pumpkins. toji joe’s is out of ‘em.”

there’s a peculiar lilt to his words—a faux positivity that makes you hesitate for a split second. but you move forward anyway.

the blustery air ruffles your clothes as you drift across the dark earth with law, searching for a pumpkin that isn’t in some state of decomposition. this is exactly the sort of scenario you hear about on your favorite podcasts and documentaries: a careless person accompanied by a man they barely know in a remote area, not so much as a whisper of nearby life on the wind.

all you really know about law is that he’s a handsome medical student who shares similar interests, namely in true crime and literature. that, and he had been unusually pushy about this outing.

“hey, that looks like a good one.” law points to a suitable carving prospect. crouching down to get a closer look, a gasp leaves your lips when you find a hole a few inches in diameter bored into the side of the pumpkin. what appears to have once been a pale cream fluid is now a flaky crust, caking the opening. “is that—”

“probably,” law cuts in, resting a cold, tattooed hand on your shoulder. startled, you nearly topple over, but his strong arms catch you and pull you to his chest. now standing, you jerk in his embrace; he releases his hold and you take a few steps back. “it’s one of kappa upsilon mu’s fall festival activities.”

it’s impossible to hide the disgust that furrows your brow and creeps into your voice. “they mutilate pumpkins and fuck them like fleshlights as a frat tradition?”

law shrugs. you swear you see a glimmer of humor flit through his amber irises. “it’s not even close to the weirdest thing they do. ever heard of a ‘cum fountain’?”

you hold up a hand to stop him. “i don’t even wanna know.”

but something isn’t adding up you think with a frown. “if you knew all the pumpkins were going to be cut up and…violated, why did you bring me here, law?” you tried to measure your words carefully, but now that they hang in the open, your accusation is evident.

your date’s lips curl into an ominous smirk. the familiar chill of dread nips at your heels and paws at your chest. “well,” law starts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a switchblade. your eyes rivet on the tool—the weapon—as he fiddles with it, nimble fingers gliding along the handle before flicking it open with ease. his bored, yellow gaze unnerves you; his words ooze calculated confidence. “i’m gonna practice my carving skills with you.”

his statement rips the breath from your lungs. unsure of what to do, you chuckle uncomfortably, praying that he’s still talking about the goddamn pumpkins.

law edges closer to you, a hunter testing his prey. you don’t move—you don’t think you could if you tried. your mind is racing in countless directions, but you can’t settle on an action, a plan. and this freak—your date—is one small thrust of the blade from you, crowding your space. so you stare down the predator’s maw.

“you’re beautiful,” law states, though it doesn’t sound complimentary; it’s an observation. there’s a clinical coldness to his words that makes you feel like you’re trapped in a microscope slide. he gestures to you with the knife, the unspoken threat palpable.

“oh. um, th-thank you,” you stammer, eyes darting wildly, cornered prey.

you force yourself to think: how do you escape this fucker? you had to take a shitty taxi to get to the pumpkin patch, but the driver could barely keep the car in its lane and tried to proposition you for sex. is everyone in grimetown a slimeball? you don’t realize your nails are biting so deeply into the skin of your palms that blood is dripping onto the dirt.

as though he can read your thoughts, law says coolly, “i wouldn’t run if i were you.”

options dwindling, you remember your lifeline. slowly, you inch a hand toward your back pocket where your phone sits. but your opponent is perceptive; law cracks a wide smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, running his tongue across his sharp teeth. he raises the knife and presses the flat side of the blade against your neck.

it’s an effective warning.

“there’s no signal out here—the only cell provider that services grimetown is slime mobile. you can check, though, if it makes you feel better,” law taunts.

to your horror, your phone reads “no service” at the top of the screen. your skin itches, nerves buzzing with adrenaline. your hands shake, fear and rage coalescing into an unshakeable tremor that has sweat beading at your temples. hot tears of frustration singe your cheeks. but the cold steel of the blade against your throat saps the fight from your body.

your final resort?

“fuck you,” you hiss with all the venom you can muster. and, before you can stop yourself: ptui. you launch a glob of spit that lands squarely on law’s cheek, punctuating your insult.

law doesn’t flinch. rather, he swipes two calloused fingertips through your precious gift. he holds his wet digits up, admiring the glistening pads of his fingers, then pops them into his mouth. the groan he emits while enjoying your taste makes you lightheaded. he pivots his blade so that the honed tip scrapes an angry line up the column of your throat. the pressure isn’t enough to slice your flesh—yet.

you shriek when law forcefully grabs your jaw and pulls you to him. bruises in the shape of his fingers will bloom on your face tomorrow—if you live that long, anyway. for the first time, his wide grin crinkles his hawkish eyes.

his voice is thick with desire as he murmurs, “i’d like to fuck you first.”

#house of slimy horrors collab #the garden of earthly delights #kinktober 2023 #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #༄ kae writes #law <3 #grimetown #tw knifeplay #tw knife play #cw knifeplay #cw knife play

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foliosriot · 6 months

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Scream

pairing: ghostface!noah sebastian x reader

warnings: talk of death and murder. brief knife-play. vaginal fingering. p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it, my friends). pre-kink. fear-play i guess. let me know if i missed anything else! 18+ only MDNI or i’ll block you.

a/n: (that one tiktok sound like-) “he was the best guy around” “what about the people he murdered?” “what murdahhhh”

tags: @starsomens @fvckmeorchokeme @cncohshit @concretenoah + everyone else who didn’t know they needed ghostface!noah in their lives ;)

masterlist

You will admit: the recent string of murders have had your guts twisted with fear and anxiety. Because what if it’s someone you know next? What if it’s one of your friends? What if it’s you?

It has been terrifying just trying to exist the past week and a half. Three people were already dead, and who knows when the next person would be found mutilated? The last one was just down the street from you, for fuck’s sake! What’s stopping that masked psycho from claiming every other life — including yours — on your street?

Nothing, you’re sure. Serial killers are hardly ever satisfied. And this one is absolutely fucking insatiable.

However, right now, it’s a little hard to think about a psychotic killer with your boyfriend looking the way he does. He’s standing in your little kitchen, a mug of tea in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea if you stay over, Noah,” you finally manage to say. Noah had asked if he could stay over for the night what felt like an eternity ago. You had struggled to comprehend what he had said, and were only able to respond when your best friend and roommate, Olivia, had walked up next to you.

“Why not?” Noah asks, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

“There’s a murderer on the loose, remember, dickhead?” Olivia snaps at him. “I would rather not come back to find my best friend all dead and bloody, then adding you into the mix just to make it worse.”

Olivia had a family reunion she had to go to, something that had been planned in advance long before any of the murders had taken place. She wasn’t able to get out of it, nor was she able to convince her parents to let you tag along, even though they love you like you were their own. She was heading to the airport later tonight and coming back in two days.

You watch Noah shoot a glare at Olivia as he says, “Yeah, I’m aware there’s a murderer on the loose. But I, also, would rather not come back here to see my girlfriend dead.”

As Olivia is clearly gearing up to launch herself into a heated debacle with Noah, you stop her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Guys, I’ll be fine,” you assure them, hoping they can’t hear the waver in your voice. “After I take Olivia to the airport I’ll lock the doors and windows, turn off all the lights, then sleep with my dad’s old baseball bat next to my bed. Besides, Noah has a label meeting early tomorrow morning, so he should just head home to get some sleep for once.”

Neither of them look particularly convinced. But the mention of the metal bat seems to be enough for their tense limbs to relax.

This is the exact reason your dad gave you his bat when you first moved out, anyways. He wanted you to be safe and to protect yourself in case of an emergency. And this seems to be an emergency worthy of the beloved metal bat.

Olivia sighs dramatically from beside you. “Fine. The bat is better than nothing.” She returns Noah’s glare. “You better be gone by the time we leave for the airport in an hour.”

Noah clenches his jaw. “Got it,” he says.

With an annoyed grumble, Olivia turns on her heel and stomps towards her bedroom. Your boyfriend and your best friend have never really gotten along, simply because they both want what’s best for you and they both tend to believe they know exactly what that is. They butt heads a lot when it comes to you. Thankfully, they know they can’t have you without the other, so it’s become a resigned acceptance between them, however uncomfortable they may be about it.

You are finally able to relax your shoulders after you hear Olivia shut her door with a loud thud. Olivia is very overprotective of you and would just have you attached at the hip if she could. But sometimes her worry is suffocating. Like now. So you know she just needs a few minutes to herself before she gets on her flight.

“Did you have to be such an asshole?” you say to Noah.

“How was I being an asshole?” Noah fires back as he sets his mug down by the sink.

“You never seem to know when to stop antagonizing Olivia.”

“Well, excuse me for being worried about your safety. She’s not the only one who gets a say in this shit.”

“And you do?” you scoff, resting your hands on your hips. “So would you be okay with me unlocking every door and opening every window? Turn on each light so I’m just a fucking beacon for the murderer to come and get me next?”

Noah narrows his eyes as he stares at you. You’re now beginning to forget any thought of a psycho killer, and instead thinking of letting Noah stay tonight anyways. Let him keep you safe while also letting him do whatever he wants to you. The idea is very enticing.

“But if you don’t want that to happen, just stay the night, ‘cause I know you want to,” you encourage Noah, a small smirk making its way onto your face. “You’ll still be there for the label meeting. Olivia doesn’t have to know. Come over and keep me safe.”

Silence falls around you. Noah just continues to look at you with a dark gleam in his eyes, and you can feel a white hot knot beginning to coil down in the depths of your stomach. You shift slightly under his gaze.

“You’re being a brat.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you spit at him immediately, knowing with 100% certainty that he is going to make you pay for that comment.

“I will if you stop being a fucking brat,” Noah counters sharply. “Unless you want to keep being one, and end up being punished for it.”

You remain where you’re standing. You have zero intentions on obeying Noah, nor do you plan on dropping the bratty act. Noah loves it when you’re being a bratty bitch and defying his orders, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it. You know what it does to him, so why stop?

“Stay tonight.”

Noah doesn’t say anything. His eyes remain fixed on you, and you can feel the searing sensation of his irises roving over every inch of your body. You shift once more, hoping he doesn’t catch the movement, but you know he does.

“Come here.”

His tone is almost casual. It catches you slightly off-guard that he appears to be mildly bored, when he would normally be demanding you to approach. But you’re feeling defiant, because what is he gonna do if he doesn’t get dominant with you?

“No, I’m okay,” you say with a sickly sweet smile. “I’m not feeling very passive at the moment. Thank you, though.”

That earns you a glare. You can see the way Noah takes a grounding deep breath as his gaze darkens even more. You watch him cross his tattooed arms over his chest as he settles his weight back against the kitchen counter. He angles his head downwards, his eyes still trained on you.

God, is he trying to scare you? Because if that’s the case, he needs to rethink his fear tactics.

“I’m not afraid of you, Noah,” you practically scoff at him.

“Have I ever given you reason to be afraid of me?” he asks lowly. The tenor of his voice hums in your ears.

“No.”

Noah doesn’t say anything in response. He just continues staring at you intently, his dark gaze fixed on you wholly. You aren’t able to detect any emotion in his eyes or facial features. If you couldn’t see the subtle rise and fall of his chest you’d think he were a statue — a man carved from marble with numerous, intricate paintings spanning across the beautiful stone.

As the silence drags on you begin to grow uncomfortable. Noah staring at you isn’t what’s causing you discomfort; no, it’s the anticipation and sense of the unknown he’s letting fall over you. You roll your bottom lip into your mouth and begin chewing on the skin.

But then the corner of his mouth twitches upward. The action is sly and riddled with intention.

“Then I won’t start now,” he finally says. “Unless you want me to.”

His word choice is deliberate, each one laced with a level of teasing you don’t think you have ever heard come out of Noah’s mouth. He knows what he’s doing. And he knows it is finally getting to you in the way he had initially wanted.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Noah asks. His voice is firmer as he speaks. “You gonna come over here like a good girl … or will I be giving you a reason to be afraid of me? Either way it’ll be worth it, I’m sure. But hey, your choice, princess.”

Now, there is the commanding voice you had been expecting from the start. And your heart is pumping uncontrollably now. The pulse buried beneath the surface of your neck is throbbing and vibrating, making the blood roar loudly in your ears.

He’s giving you an obvious choice: admit you were being a brat and surrender. Or, run like your life depends on it. Because it might at some point, in a manner of speaking, you realize.

“Oh, but I don’t wanna scare you too bad,” Noah continues nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather or something. “Especially with that psycho killer on the loose and everything, y’know.”

You’re gonna kill him. He’s being a complete ass but being so unreasonably cool and collected about it. He knows he’s getting under your skin, burrowing further beneath your veins and tendons. It has you growing enraged and annoyed with his antics, despite that searing hot coil deep in your belly.

When Noah casually pushes away from the counter, you stagger back a few steps. His grin slowly grows as he makes his way in your direction. Your feet seem to be glued to the floor as Noah is now towering over you.

“You’re gonna pay for that, by the way,” he murmurs. He brings his hand up to your face, and grips your chin between his fingers. “But not tonight. You said it yourself, princess: I have a label meeting early in the morning.”

Noah uses his grip on your chin to tug your face towards his. Your lips meet in the middle, and Noah already has his tongue in your mouth before you can process what’s happening. And you have half a brain to kiss him back, but he’s pulled away by the time you manage to catch up. You can’t control the whine that bubbles up from your throat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Noah says with a grin. “I love you.”

Then he’s stepping out of your space and leaving through the front door.

He leaves you breathing heavily. You nearly sprint outside and stop Noah from leaving when you hear someone walking up behind you.

“Oh, good. He’s gone.” Olivia’s voice nearly startles you. “I’ve got my stuff ready so let’s just go now. I don’t wanna get stuck in traffic.”

You nod in acknowledgement, but your brain feels fried. Your entire nervous system just got short circuited because Noah thought it would be fun to mess with you. He knows you want him to stay over while Olivia’s gone. And, you know he wants to stay over. So why did he just blow you off like that?

You don’t give yourself time to think it over before you’re following Olivia outside. You let Olivia drown you in conversation on the drive to the airport. She doesn’t appear to notice your weird behavior, or, if she has noticed, she doesn’t mention it.

But then she’s getting out of the car with her bags and you’re hugging her and you watch as she walks inside the airport and leaves you behind.

You feel like screaming.

The drive home feels like a blur. You wish you would be arriving home to see Noah waiting for you, but the house is empty. Annoyance strikes your intestines as you do what you promised initially: lock the doors, close the windows, turn off all the lights, put baseball bat at bedside.

It still feels wrong somehow. You want Noah with you, even though he has that meeting very early in the morning. In order to remedy his absence you tug on one of his sweatshirts before climbing into bed.

The next day drags on. Olivia had texted you when her flight landed and when she was reunited with her family. Noah had sent a good morning text and nothing else. You were growing increasingly angry as the hours ticked by.

You were off work today, so you had the entire day to do what you want. But your brain was vibrating with anxiety and had you stuck on the couch. You were able to get through an entire season of your favorite show, though! It still didn’t feel right.

The sun had long since fallen beyond the horizon by the time you’re rummaging through the kitchen to find something to eat for dinner. You settle on making some mac ‘n cheese, and get to work.

You’re pouring the small pot of hot noodles and water into the colander that sits in the sink when the phone rings. Another thing your dad had insisted on when you moved out: a fucking landline phone. You thought it was ridiculous, but you had humored him anyways by getting one.

With the noodles in the colander and the hot metal pot set aside you reach for the phone. You press answer and stick it between your ear and shoulder as you continue making your dinner.

“Hello?”

“Can I help you?”

“Who are you?”

“I dunno, who are you trying to reach?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay. Must be wrong number. Don’t worry — it happens.”

You’re quick to transfer the phone back in to your hand and end the call. Dialing the wrong number happens all the time, so the oddity of it doesn’t irk you.

Not until you have the mac ‘n cheese all ready a couple minutes later and the landline rings once more. You furrow your eyebrows as you go to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number again.”

It’s that same voice. There’s a familiarity to it you can’t quite put your finger on.

“It’s alright. I’ll let you go so you can try again. Third time’s the charm, right?”

You’re about to put the phone down when the person on the other end stops you, saying, “Wait! Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Just in case I accidentally call you again, of course.”

“Well, I’m confident you won’t. You’ve got this.”

“In the meantime, as I’m trying to remember the correct number, let’s play a game.”

You roll your eyes. “A game? Why?”

“‘Cause it’s fun,” the person says simply. “Plus, I think we’re friends now, so it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“I guess…”

“Good. Answer a series of questions correctly and you win. Answer incorrectly, and I win.”

“What does the winner get?”

“Whatever they want.”

You consider this for a moment. Because what’s the harm in answering some meaningless questions from a stranger? But you find yourself anxiously rethinking your decision even as you agree.

“Good. I’ll give you a couple warm-up questions. Starting with: do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do.”

“Hm. Pity. What’s he like?”

“First you wanna know about me, and now my boyfriend?” You’re growing more and more irritated with every passing second you are on the phone with this person. “You planning on stealing him from me?”

“No, of course not. Just tell me about him.”

“Oh, my god. I’m hanging up now—“

“Hang up and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The sheer aggression and violence that ripple through this stranger’s voice forces you to stop. The phone begins to gently rattle against your ear and you can’t suppress the shaking that overcomes your body. Panic is now flowing through your veins as you stand in your kitchen in silence.

“Good girl. Now, where were we? Right: tell me about your boyfriend.”

“Um, he… He has tattoos, a-and he’s really tall. Uh, he— He’s in a famous metal band, and—“

“Yeah? What band?”

“B-Bad Omens.”

“Oh, I know them. Don’t they sing that song Just Pretend?”

You nod, even though you know they can’t see you. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, that’s them,” you murmur.

“Well, let’s start the actual game, shall we? First question: your boyfriend was at a meeting this morning with his band and their label. Who’s their label?”

The question stuns you. You’re suddenly frozen in place and you can’t gather the air in your lungs to even breathe, let alone speak. How the fuck do they know that? Why do they want this information if they obviously already have it?

“S-Sumerian,” you choke out.

“Correct. Next question: what band member left before the production of their second album began?”

You now feel sick to your stomach. You suspect this has to be some crazed fan with an unhealthy obsession with Bad Omens. If that’s the case, they should know already know the answer to this particular question. So why are they asking you?

“Vincent.”

“Good. Final question: where am I?”

“Wh-What? What do you mean where are you?”

“Where. Am. I?”

Dread floods your body. “Are you in my house?!” you practically yell in to the phone speaker.

“Come find out. But if you find me it won’t count as answering the question.”

You’re quick to tear the landline from your ear and jab your thumb against the end call button then tossing it onto the kitchen counter. Your hands are shaking as you take a few steps away from it, silently hoping it won’t ring again.

But it isn’t the phone’s shrill ring that makes you jump. It’s a sound coming from somewhere else in the house.

Your fight or flight response kicks in immediately. You rush to flee through the front door when you hear slow, heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. They sound calculated and deliberate, and you have no choice but to stand there in terror.

From the direction of yours and Olivia’s bedrooms comes a dark figure. They walk out of the shadows and into the dining room. Their body is covered in a black cloak, with a hood up over their head and a white mask on their face. The mask is a simple depiction of a screaming face. But it’s not any less mortifying as you watch them.

The figure comes to a stop when they catch sight of you. Their head tilts to one side, almost they’re considering their next move of action.

But you move first, suddenly booking it for the opposite end of the house towards the laundry room, the extra bathroom, and the garage. You hear them give chase a moment later.

You scramble your way into the garage in hopes of getting the large door to slide open. But the masked figure is one step behind you, and prevents you from hitting the door controls. They have you tripping forwards, and you nearly face plant into the concrete but you catch your weight on your hands. You push yourself up just as the intruder goes to grab you.

Darting around your car, that still sits idly in the middle of the space, you are being taunted by the figure in the hood. They stay near the door back into the house which keeps you on the other side of the car.

Then they’re skirting around the vehicle straight for you. You make a last second decision and make a break for the door inside. The intruder races back after you.

The figure chases you down the hall towards your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut before they can reach you, but you didn’t anticipate their strength. They shove the door open all the way, making you scramble back to your bed. You’re panting as you scoot backwards on the mattress.

The black-cloaked figure says nothing as they slowly stalk towards you. Adrenaline in coursing through your veins and you’re panicking. You are rendered silent as they reach the bed and continue their hunt across the sheets until they’re looming over you. The white mask is haunting as it stares down at you with that soundless wail.

“P-Please… I-I don’t wanna die…”

No response. Whoever is underneath that mask does not seem interested in listening to your pleas.

One of their hands reaches back behind them and reveals a shimmering hunting blade. The metal is clean and shiny, and you can see your fear reflected back at you through it.

Their unoccupied hand goes for your shirt, and you flinch at the contact. Your heart is pounding relentlessly as your shirt is lifted from your body. You couldn’t help but be compliant, especially with how they’ve got you situated between their legs.

You watch as they point the knife at you, then have the fine tip poking at the indent at the center of your collarbones. The barely-there feeling of the cold metal on your skin is sending your brain into overdrive. They then slowly, lazily, drag the blade downwards across your bare chest. You see how they’re clearly enamored by the goosebumps flaring across your abdomen as they continue dragging the knife down, down down…

Suddenly, there’s a hand gripping your throat. But it’s not with the murderous intention you were expecting. Instead, there is almost a gentleness to how their squeezing your neck, with the way their thumb grazes your pulse point.

You’re horrifically confused.

You nearly say something to them, but they’re taking the hand holding the knife to their mask. And then they tug off the black hood and this is the end, oh god—

“Noah?!”

And yes, that is your boyfriend kneeling above you with a wicked grin on his face and a knife in his hand. The terror and anxiety you had been feeling begins to melt away, and you can feel nothing but anger and embarrassment.

“Told you I’d see you tonight, didn’t I?” Noah says casually.

It’s a struggle to comprehend his presence. You can’t understand why he’s doing this or why he thought it was okay with a murderer running rampant.

“Wh-What the fuck?” you stammer.

“Oh, what’s wrong, baby?” Noah takes his gloved hand away from your throat and uses it to brush aside the stray hairs that were clinging to your skin. “I thought you wanted me to stay over? Keep you safe?”

You did want that, yes. But this is not what you meant. Never did you say you wanted Noah to stalk you like he were the predator and you were the prey.

But you can’t stamp down the exhilaration that is igniting your insides. You can’t get rid of it, especially with how Noah is looking at you. You suddenly want to turn in to jelly and be completely and utterly obedient to his every word.

And that sort of terrifies you.

“I-I did, but you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him. Your body is slowly relaxing beneath the weight of his own, now that any imminent danger has been found folly.

Noah looks at you quizzically. “What do you mean?” he asks you innocently. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe and sound.”

Noah begins tracing lines across your stomach and chest with the blade’s edge once more, a careful hold on the hilt in order not to pierce your flesh. The sensation has your brain faltering and not fully processing his words. Your hands inch towards his thighs.

He notices your hands moving in no time. He doesn’t stop you and says nothing.

You slither your hands under the cheap black fabric, and you immediately grip at his legs. You boldly glide your hands upwards until you reach the waistband of Noah’s pants. Noah watches as you tug lightly at one of the belt loops, then going for the zipper.

“Did my little charade turn you on, baby?” Noah moves the knife under your chin and gently pushes up so you’re forced to make eye contact with him. “Did you like me chasing you?”

You nod. And you see him grin.

“Shit, and who am I to deny you?”

But you know Noah. He’s going to tease you and get you all worked up, have you in near hysterics before he finally gives you what you want. And he doesn’t seem to be in a very generous mood at the moment.

Noah drops the knife to pull off the entire costume. He tosses it aside before getting rid of his shirt as well. A part of you knows this is what he wanted from the beginning, when he first offered to sleep over. But you can’t be bothered by that, not when he’s moving back enough to pull down your pants.

When he gets your pants off, and they join the rest of the clothes on the floor of your bedroom, Noah drags his tattooed hands up your legs agonizingly slow. He stops briefly when he reaches the top of your thighs, but then he proceeds to dig his fingernails in to the soft flesh and tugs you towards him. You yelp in surprise and are promptly shut up when you find your legs slung around Noah’s waist and his hand resting at your throat again.

“Good girl,” Noah says quietly. The hand not on your neck has begun making its way to your clothed core, which earns a weak whimper from you. “Are you gonna keep being a good girl for me?”

You whine when his fingers start stroking at you through your underwear. You think you answer him, but you don’t care enough as you are now grinding into his hand.

For a moment, you feel Noah remove his hands from your body. You whimper and whine at the loss of touch, until his hand is back at your throat and there’s a sharp cold resting on your hip.

The knife harmlessly glides against your skin once more. Then the pressure from the waistband of your underwear vanishes, to be replaced by the metallic cold of the blade in Noah’s hand. It slowly travels down past your pelvis, making you jerk in surprise.

Noah chuckles at the way your body reacts. You almost begin bitching at him when the knife disappears and is then substituted for his fingers. And his fingers feel so much better against your folds than that stupid knife could ever dream of.

And he’s just lazily stroking, avoiding slipping any one of his long, tattooed digits inside of you. You try your best to grind back against his hand, but the one at your throat squeezes for just a moment. It makes you pause, whining at the unexpected dizziness you are now experiencing.

Then his fingers are inside you, stroking and rubbing and searching for that bundle of nerves deep within. You cry out at the sudden intrusion. But then you’re pushing back on Noah’s fingers and the pressure on your throat eases a bit.

“Such a good girl,” you hear Noah murmur. “Can you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You nod frantically and he thrusts his fingers harder into your pussy. You’re moaning and writhing at his touch, and then that same pressure is applied once more to your throat and it’s just too much. Your body clenches around Noah’s fingers and you ride out your orgasm as he slows down his strokes.

The feeling of suddenly being empty is overwhelming. But you don’t have to worry about that much longer when Noah maneuvers your body off of him and onto your stomach. You feel the bed shift as he moves, and the sound of him taking off his pants has you gripping at the sheets.

Then the bed dips from Noah’s weight and he’s suddenly right above you. His bare legs are caging in your thighs and his hands are gently roaming over the expanse of your back. You can feel his cock against your ass; it takes a little too much self control to not push back into him, although you end up failing.

“You look so hot like this, baby,” Noah says. His hands halt at your hips, and he’s digging his fingertips into the bone. “So, so good for me.”

Noah doesn’t hesitate when he begins pushing his hard cock into you and using your hips as leverage. You’re crying out and moaning weakly as he adjusts slightly and then bottoms out.

There isn’t any warning given before Noah is pulling out just enough then slamming back in. He sets a brutal but steady pace as he fucks you. Your knuckles are whitening from your tight grip on the bedsheets. You quickly become a moaning, blubbering mess beneath Noah as he keeps going and going.

He keeps hitting your cervix perfectly and it makes you see stars. His hands on your hips is currently the only tether you have on reality.

Suddenly there’s a hand in your hair and it tugs at the roots until you prop yourself up on your elbows. Noah’s grip on your hair is sending spikes of pain from your scalp all the way down to your shoulders. But each thrust of his hips is another tug on the strands of hair entangled in his fingers. It’s a mashup of sensations that has you chasing your high again.

“Ah— Ah—“

God, you’re so close. You need to cum so fucking bad.

“Ah, Noah—“

“Come on, baby,” Noah breathlessly encourages you. “I want you to cum with my name on your lips.”

And with that, your pussy is clenching around him and you’re coming with a cry of his name. Then his thrusts get sloppier until he’s coming inside of you. You feel all warm as you are filled with nothing but Noah.

Noah then pulls out and the feeling of his cum dripping out of you is definitely the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

His hands are then forcing you to turn over and rest on your back. He straddles your weak body, and the sight of him above you like that makes you want to go again.

“Such a good little slut for me,” he says quietly. His chest is heaving as he drags one of his hands upwards, starting at your stomach and stopping at your tits. He palms one then the other, playing with each for but a moment. “Always so good for me, baby.”

Silence settles over you while Noah continues to just touch you. It’s calming and has your eyelids growing heavy.

But there’s still something that is gnawing at your brain. And you have to say something.

“Are you the killer?” Your voice is fragile when you verbalize your question.

It doesn’t seem to bother Noah, though. His hands are still wandering and touching you as he seems to process what you said.

“Yes. Does that scare you?” he replies. His eyes dart up to meet yours, and the dark glint has your heart pounding. “Do I scare you?”

You don’t have an answer for him, so you remain quiet.

“Are you afraid of me?”

He’s referring to what you had talked about yesterday. A part of you wants to yell out and tell him you are utterly terrified of him, that you cannot fathom the horrific atrocities he has committed. You can’t stand the thought of how much blood stains his hands. The hands that are touching you, caressing every curve…

“No,” you whisper.

Noah’s mouth twists into a lopsided grin. Your answer seems to satisfy him, and you can’t help the satisfaction you also feel spreading throughout your chest.

“Good. I would never want you to be afraid of me,” he tells you as he leans down so your faces are parallel. “You’re mine. And I’ll get rid of anyone that thinks they can take you from me.”

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated :)

a/n: happy halloween, my fellow noah whores >:))

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #scream au #ghostface noah sebastian #𖤐 #𖤐: writing

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elizakai · 8 months

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When it comes to the bad sanses, there’s so many things to be explored, but I want to point out something I never see addressed

SOULS.

⬇️ little soul analysis under the cut!!!⬇️

They all have COMPLETELY different SOULs;

Nightmare: Nightmare is a being that is a lot different from other monsters. He is basically a god, with a SOUL that holds great importance in relation to the multiverse they all live in, it’s an embodiment of negativity and corruption. Not to mention, Nightmare originally HAD no SOUL (same as Dream, as their entire body was magic, more so than normal, thus essentially being their SOUL) and this is a result of absorbing/ becoming the multiverse’s negativity.

Killer: Killer’s SOUL has been mutilated and twisted out of shape, it visibly and by nature is a “corrupted” SOUL. His very being was brutally and forcefully shifted, starting with his mind and ending with his very core, his SOUL. It being out in the open and, well, a literal target, makes me assume this is a weak point. I am under the assumption that SOULs are a very touchy topic for this man.

Cross: Cross had a SOUL that could be assumed normal, but he is also a creation of X!gaster. (I didn’t represent his actual SOUL oops) he has been shown to be out of the norm in terms of his existence/SOUL. To take it a step further, when he is fused with the soul of Chara,human and DETERMINATION, he only posses half of a monster SOUL. Either way his essence is very much different then that of “natural” monsters, I think it’s pretty self explanatory

Horror: this one can go two ways. A lot of horrortale fans interpret horrors eye, his source of magic, a representation of his SOUL. It makes a lot of sense within the comic and story. Thus we could obviously see that an eye and a SOUL are very different. However it could be argued that “source of magic” and “essence of being” aren’t the same. A lot of the fandom also interprets horrors SOUL separately, and a fair assumption is made that his SOUL is either shrunken or sickly in appearance in this case. This makes sense due to horrors lack of/small amount of magic, his body learning to regulate itself without proper nutrients to keep his magic going.

Dust: Dust has the most natural monster SOUL of the group. We can assume that monsters who have attained high LV, such as Dust, also have altered SOULs, especially when we consider how violence is out of a monsters default nature. That said, monsters are ABLE to gain LV, so it isn’t some anomaly. One could also consider Dust attaining “new traits” to affect his soul. What I mean is it can be interpreted that, Dust having lost JUSTICE and gained DETERMINATION, along with the usual PATIENCE (supposed to be cyan lol) , his soul would probably also reflect these changes. We can call into question how much DETERMINATION Dust actually possess? Is it dangerous? Again, it still doesn’t alter his actual MONSTER SOUL much

(I’d also like to point out, I think it’s cool that red (DT) and blue (patience) make purple (perseverance) which is the color of dust’s magic…I think it’s interesting 🤷🏽‍♀️)

They probably wouldn’t know what to make of the others SOULs, as they are all so drastically different. If something were to happen to one of them…would they even know what to do?

(yeah I’m forcing my story ideas down your throats because headcanons)

All that to say, I’m interested to hear other people’s thoughts or headcanons on this, and I want to see more of this explored!!!

SHARE ANY THOUGHTS YOU HAVE ALRIGHT THAT’S ALL

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matan4il · 4 months

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Update post:

The fighting along Israel's northern border continues. Today, a Hezbollah attack drone was intercepted over Ein Ha'Mifratz, not too far from the famously mixed city of Akko, in northern Israel. The IDF has been targeting terrorist squads and infrastructure in southern Lebanon in response to the on going Hezbollah attacks on civilians communities here. Meanwhile, a Hezbollah senior has threatened today that Israel is "not ready" for what they have prepared for it.

An Iranian delegation is visiting Egypt, and just like everything else that legitimizes the Islamist regime in Iran, and allows it to get a step closer to its vision of being a world power, this should concern us. The Iranian-funded Houthis have been attacking ships traveling through the Red Sea, which affects global shipping, but the impact to Egyptian economy is even greater, as all of these ships are not passing through the Suez Canal, meaning they're not paying Egypt for this passage either.

A big thank you to @curieklei for sharing this NYT link with me: France is another country clearly denouncing South Africa's false lawsuit against Israel. That's on top of the US, the UK, Canada, and Germany, with the latter even saying it would join the lawsuit on Israel's side.

Yesterday, Jan 18, was the one year birthday of Kfir Bibas, the youngest Israel hostage, who was kidnapped to Gaza when he was just 9 months old. He has spent a quarter of his life in captivity, and counting. In Tel Aviv, his uncle gave a speech, in which he brought up reading what developmental stepping stones Kfir should be going through right now, based on his age. He should be seeing many colors, but he's only experiencing darkness. He should be crawling on safe, warm ground, instead he's kept underground. In Jerusalem, a mural has been dedicated to Kfir and the rest of the Bibas family, including 4 years old Ariel, all still held hostage in Gaza. Since 'kfir' in Hebrew means lion cub, and 'ariel' means God's lion, the whole family is depicated as lions:

These are Shachar and Tamar. During the war, Shahar was seriously injured, and had to have his leg amputated. He's going through rehabilitation, and before even finishing it, he and his girlfriend Tamar got engaged:

The medical first aid that the army is giving the soldiers has dramatically increased their odds of surviving even some critical injuries. During the Second Lebanon War in 2006, the percentage of soldiers wounded, who died from their injuries, was 15%. During the Protective Edge operation in 2014, the percentage dropped to 9.2%. According to IDF statistics, so far in this war, the percentage is even lower, at 6.7%, less than half of what it used to be during the Lebanon war. These advancements in emergency medicine have also helped civilians injured seriously by Hamas terrorist on Oct 7 to survive. Much like in the past, it's sure to be used around the world, and help save the lives of many, without Israel ever getting credit for its global humanitarian aid.

This is 19 years old Adir Tahar.

On Oct 7, he was stationed at the Erez checkpoint, on the border between Gaza and Israel. Just a reminder: there were no Israelis going into Gaza since Israel withdrew in 2005. There were Gazans coming into Israel daily, to work here, to get medical treatment, etc. Without soldiers at the checkpoint, it would have been closed. By serving there, Adir wasn't just protecting Israelis, he was also serving the Palestinian population in Gaza.

On the day of the massacre, Adir fought back against the Hamas terrorist and saved many others, before he was killed in battle, when they shot an RPG at him. But then, they abused the body of this kid. They cut off parts of it, including beheading it. David Tahar, Adir's father, recently recounted how he watched a Hamas vid showing his son's headless body. What was left, was so mutilated, they had to identify it based on his dog tags, personal items he carried and DNA. During an interrorgation of two terrorists who were involved in this, it turned out that one of them tried to auction Adir's head for 10,000 $. The family originally had to bury the body, knowing its main parts were missing. The interrogation produced enough intel, for the IDF to be able to retrieve the head from where it was kept in an ice cream shop's freezer, with signs of further abuse on it. The family opened the grave and re-buried their kid.

They are now trying to raise enough money, to open a center for endangered youth, dedicated to Adir's memory, in the city where he lived, Jerusalem. The last time I saw an update, they were looking to raise 500,000 shekels, and got donations of 27,000 shekels. I really hope they succeed. Either way, may Adir's memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #resources

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 3 months

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LIZZ LIZZ LIZZ YOU HAVE TO HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE!!

What about a yandere! Prosecutor was Detective! Darling~ (oooh I'm so excited about this one). This detective darling is a clumsy yet smartest detective in the state. Our yan! Prosecutor is said to be the best in the country (i hope you know the difference b/w prosecutor and attorney for this one). Once they are teamed up against some big bad mob boss (you could do a lore here with mafias you have already AHHHH). And our yan is just so into his darling... but he doesn't like how others seems to be on her mind more than he'd like them to be (honestly he just wants his cute lil' detective all for himself) so, oops he commits a cute little crime as well (torturing and killing no, mutilating criminals who he previously worked against is not so cute if you ask me, but it's all fair, they were criminals to begin with darling!) and drops hints for his lovee~ a new serial killer is on rise and that taking a toll on darling but he loves it now he has her full attention, one way or another hehe :3

-🌼

yandere! male! killer! Prosecutor x fem! Detective! Darling

oh god I have to bend over backwards to remember what's the difference. It's been quite a WHILE since I did anything related to Law, and ace attorney. But I hope I did well? ASdhaKLJd I dunno.

ALSO, I LOVE THE IDEA! Mystery/Detective ain't for me though, so I did scrimp some ideas off of the floor since it's kind of hard. But anything for you, 🌼anon!

Another long fic as sorry for being away for so long!

Yandere! Prosecutor name: Yuta

TW: Drugs (I don't know if there's an irl drug with the same symptoms I mentioned, since i'm only writing what I can think of.), Bullying

Blaring red and blue lights, mismatched furniture upturned and wrecked beyond recognition, a house filled with used and unused drug paraphernalia, blood, bullets, the sing-y gunpowder smell, and the aftermath of a bloody confrontation between two opposite ends of the society.

The Silas mafia just had their hand on a powerful drug, and is spreading them throughout the population without any kind of remorse. It's a hallucinogenic that can induce a coma like state to a human, giving them the most ecstasy in their dreams, and making them yearn for more once done. But what's detrimental is that it wears out their nervous system and cardiovascular system when long term usage is induced. It can also cause schizophrenia, paranoia, and loss of appetite. Inducing a zombie like state.

A man in a simple turtleneck, pants, and black polished shoes entered the scene, asking the policemen and investigators on what they have discovered. They all bowed down their head respectfully, and told him that they have caught the right hand man of the Silas mafia, making him smile in satisfaction.

It's unusual for the prosecutor to be so invested in a case, let alone be in the crime scene itself. But the personnel just cooked it up to him being the best prosecutor there is, so he needs to be there personally on what could be the biggest case yet when it comes to the underground illegal scene.

Yuta, a man regarded as the absolute order in this city. Whichever case his hands pry on, it is sure and secured that the guilty verdict lands on the hands of the judge and the victim, along with the not so poor suspect.

Although, he doesn't take on cases that he knew the suspect isn't what they seem. They may be the actual victims, or that the investigation isn't complete, or that the charges are too small and needs to be delved down further.

When asked about the cases he doesn't take, Yuta would only say that it's his gut feeling. And his gut feeling never betrayed him. With this, he never lost a case.

Outside of the court of Justice, Yuta is your typical boy next door. Nice, friendly, a gentleman. Smart beyond his years AND handsome? It's no wonder people feel at ease with this stable man.

Although, one could see that he's actively putting up barriers. It's as if he doesn't want to get involved with people at all. That also meant dating is off of his calendar.

When asked once more why, he says that being a prosecutor, nay, a servant of the law is a dangerous career for a lover to have, let alone a spouse. He can't forgive himself if something happens to his family if they got harmed because of his work! He has received death threats and actual attacks, so he can't bare the thought of somebody getting wrapped up in this convoluted profession of his!

Yada yada yada...

While the people cried out for the soft heart that is Yuta, Yuta sighs and rolls his eyes.

In reality, people are such a hassle and a bother to his work.

They're distractions, and nothing but a liability. And if they actually end up dead, he'll be the one to blame.

Besides, they're not...

Yuta's eyes landed on you, the detective assigned to this case amongst others also. His heart raced a bit, eyes softening.

"Hey there detective~" A slightly flirtatious voice only you caught wafted from his soft lips. His eyes bending ever so slightly.

Oh, how in love he is with you.

You flinched a bit, not expecting Yuta to be here.

"Oh! Yuta! Hi..." you cleared your throat, a bit awkward. He gave a small smirk at your awkwardness, clearly enjoying the uncomfortable look you gave him.

"Hey, i'll be actively present in the case this time around." He said in a slightly happy voice. Making sure you're the only one who caught the happy tone. "And i've decided to help in the investigation."

With Yuta making sure that his voice was loud, everyone heard it. They almost stumbled back from shock.

THE Yuta personally helping this case?

Was this actually okay?

So many questions popped up in their head, but all Yuta could see is you, squirming under his heated gaze.

"So, let's go, partner?" He whispered sweetly, his hand gripping your forearm a bit too tight with his body pressed against your back a bit too intimately for your taste.

If only he didn't confess the night before...

Yuta came from a distinguished family of a long line of law personnel. Attorneys, judges, prosecutors, some even ventured to politics in general.

Despite being geniuses in their own accord, Yuta is a different breed. With no failed cases under his belt, and his arguments that is guaranteed to win with no hiccups, he's a one of a kind in his family.

In a law firm in which he oversees with his parents that was passed down from generation to generation, he made sure to only hire the best of the bests, nobody that will ruin the reputation of the law firm.

They also frequently partner with police investigators and detectives to help the cases they got. And made sure no conflicting cases will be at the law firm to avoid a hostile environment between prosecutors and attorneys.

This made an environment in which allowed for these people to advance and grow in their career without any kind of external stress except in their cases.

Back when Yuta was still a wee lad in law school, their University had a Criminal Justice course. At first, Yuta didn't care much about other courses, but had to see if his future possible partners are... Nitwits.

So, walking around the crim building was a bit jarring. Since it also houses future police and soldiers. Once he got to see the crim justice students, only one student caught his eye. And it's your friend.

She's smart, almost too smart. She's acing every test left and right apparently from the records and intel he got. Pretty also, she was your course's muse even due to how perfect she is.

Yuta was still quite naive back then, and was thoroughly impressed by her skills and intelligence that he decided to get to know her more.

Your friend, Shiela, was ecstatic. She knew who he was and how prestigious his family was. She's boastful and arrogant, knowing she bagged the heir of a highly valuable law firm.

The next few months was painful to say the least.

Shiela was never your friend.

She was your bully back in elementary and middle school. And both of you met up in University with how the both of you enrolled in the same course.

Unlucky you, you got snatched away from making potential friends when she latched her slimy and grubby hands on you. With her not knowing anyone, she gripped the arm of the only person she knew.

And of course, she never learned.

It's hypocritical how she's in criminal justice when she herself can be a potential suspect of a bullying case if you succumbed to her wiles. Of course, you never did, but...

She used you to make her homeworks, projects, even pinched you to help her every time she can't answer oral recitations for you to discreetly coach her. If you got caught trying to tell her the answers, she would blame you, saying that you were coaching, and insulting her intelligence by coaching you.

You never had the backbone to retaliate really, seeing as years of being bullied by her took a toll on your mind that you became instantaneously submissive to her.

But all of these arrogance ended when Yuta exposed the truth.

A bullying case, you were forced under Shiela to do her bidding, dealing psychological damage and trauma. Forcing you to do her activities, physical assault, and is essentially tormenting you for years upon years. Yuta, the man who got together with Shiela to expose her wrongdoings, was actually more interested in you, the real genius amongst the two. And for the first time, he cannot just let this slide.

The case got to court, and Shiela was expelled from the University with no recommendation and a smeared portfolio, alongside paying a hefty sum of fines with being imprisoned for three years.

It was wild, considering most countries doesn't account jail time for punishment, but Yuta made it possible.

You owed Yuta your life. And the both of you became unlikely friends.

Friends... Yuta doesn't like that term when he's utterly in love with you.

He saw you as this clumsy and poor girl who needs his help. Someone so helpless and so meek that his heart aches whenever he thinks of you being under that wretched bitch for so long. You're so smart, yet so dull against the scorching and burning light of Shiela. It's no wonder that you were dubbed as her moon. Always catching her light and not emitting your own.

Well, so what? The sun is irritating to him, and the moon has always been a sanctuary of peace in his mind. And he'll always have that sanctuary in his heart, and close to his body.

Yuta is patient when it comes with you. Helping you regain your confidence and strength, alongside your self-esteem. He had this sick sense of gratitude and ownership on you due to being the one to liberate you from your bully. Now, if you would just let him love you romantically, it would be nice.

But he knew he had to wait. And wait he did.

Years later, with him being this bigshot of a prosecutor and you a genius detective who solved mysteries and crimes in a jiffy, both of you were unstoppable.

Not until one day, at Yuta's birthday, he invited you for a simple drink in his house while eating steak he personally cooked.

This was no foreign event. He usually invites you to eat or drink whenever you or him got a successful case under the bag. And you thought this would be no different, but...

"Yuta... Not there..."

"Not here? Then how about..."

"Ngh~!"

"So this is your sweet spot?"

It was just supposed to be drinks. That's it.

But now you're under him, moaning in delight as he touches and pleasures you in ways you don't even know. Of course you won't know. He made sure you never got lovers after all.

A drunk confession from his lips got pass him when the both of you were just talking about life, and when you got to the topic of romance. You wanted to experience it, and Yuta got frustrated on how you were so dense!

So he confessed, and took your sweet lips upon his.

God, was it a night to remember for the both of you as the line between friends, coworkers, and potential lovers got extremely blurred.

But you, sweet you, decided to run away from his condo the morning after that. You just can't handle the fact that Yuta confessed his feelings for you, and slept together in a drunken one night stand.

And the rest is history, with you being awkward with Yuta. After all, it was just yesterday when that happened.

And Yuta didn't like that.

With this new case taken over by you and Yuta, you had no choice but to talk with him.

You really tried to ignore him, but what can ignoring do when he's always at your beck and call when you tripped over something, lil ol' clumsy you?

His arm would wrap around your waist with a little squeeze on your stomach, sending shivers down your spine.

"Darling..." The new pet name made you gulp from how... Right is sounded. "Be careful, right? We're dealing with the mafia here. Especially someone of the statures of Silas. We can't just bring them down that easily."

You nodded frantically, wanting to get out of his grasp.

You knew how dangerous it was to go toe to toe with the mafia. Especially if tit's the stature of the Silas with the lead of Rowan. You also knew they're involved with their rival family, the Underworld ran by their boss, Hades.

Despite being just there, they can't just arrest them. They're too powerful for their own good to just barge in their territory. There's also the fact that they effectively influence the economy which made it harder.

Right now, you just wanted to solve this drug case.

At least, with this case, your mind will be occupied with something other than Yuta, right?

Days passed, weeks even. And you got to busy with the case that you neglected Yuta. You were so focused in solving the over drug usage within the city, and the drug distribution within the country.

Especially with the Silas' right hand man being a scapegoat, and is actually an innocent man all along.

You were getting frustrated by this.

They were so close, yet so far. You can't find the lead at all on where the factory was.

Even just the factory and the destruction of it was going to be enough!

While you were pounding on your poor little brain for more clues and outcomes to come out, Yuta was coldly watching.

At first, he thought that finally confessing would make you finally his. Your attention on him only, your pretty little mind just consumed with him wholly.

But this case...

This case was something he didn't expect at all.

Sure, he partnered up with you to make sure the drug case got solved, but you were so focused on the work that you forgot he actually confessed to you. You even ran away from him!

His jaw ticked, leaning on the door frame as you slaved away for a case that took your waking days.

You even forgot to take care of yourself...

And oh, was he angry at the fact that...

You pulled up suspected photos of Rowan and Hades, still not sure if these guys are the right at all. You were obsessed with solving this case. Absolutely devastated for the people who got victimized by the drug. Yuta clenched his teeth in anger, his eyes hostile.

He doesn't like that other men occupied your mind.

Your mind should only occupy him.

And only him.

"What do you mean there's a serial killer on the rise?"

A shiver shot up your spine when you heard the news from your chief.

He rubbed his chin and nodded, a bit troubled and disturbed.

"Yes, a new serial killer." He gulped, his face pale. "I can't believe in this day and age where it's impossible to hide things we still have this cases."

"When did it start? The killings?" You asked, now a bit more interested but absolutely terrified.

"About a month ago. The dead people had carvings in their skin. A heart..." The chief placed down pictures on your desk that made you gag. These were graphic photos of the dead bodies with markings on them. "They have a heart carving with the letter f/l/n (first letter of name) in it."

You gritted your teeth, cringing a bit. Really? It had to be the first letter of your name too?

This is just getting creepier and creepier.

"Pattern of victims? Or are they randomized?" You asked, trying not to look at the photos.

"They're actually criminals, with random innocents sprinkled through. But those innocents are from... Well, personnel from the law and criminal justice." You groaned. Great. This is gonna be harder than you thought.

You didn't want to be involved with this case at all, but the fact that the victims are criminals meant that this is gonna be a case that will be sensationalized to bits. Also, there's a high chance you're going to be the next victim due to the serial killer also killing other law personnel.

It also didn't help that the prosecutor in most of the cases these criminals are from...

"Yuta... Are you alright?" You asked him, a bit spooked.

Yuta was hospitalized from shock. He also almost became a victim. A huge gash on his chest. The signature killing move from the serial killer. And a heart carved on his thigh.

You felt sad for him, and anger arose. Who is this fucking serial killer? Why was he or she attacking them?

You almost had a melt down thinking about how Yuta almost died.

On the other side, Yuta hid a smile from you, a shiver of pleasure running down his spine. Here you are, being so consumed by worry and rage. He should have done this earlier!

Killing was also really fun! He got to kill the people that annoyed him greatly and mark them cutely with a heart.

Somehow, the world is in his favor as he never got caught.

Aw, poor little you, so consumed by him in your waking days and not those disgusting mafia men.

He raised a hand, carefully caressing your hair as you started to weep from the shock that he almost died.

Oh, don't worry, he's not that stupid to slash too deep!

Seeing so many murders that he personally became the prosecutors from, he knew what to do in order to escape jail and being caught. The perks of knowing too much really.

Should he ask you to help him solve the serial killer case? Maybe add a little bit of weeping and begging so you would focus on him and him only?

And, who should he frame?

A name came to his mind. Shiela! Of course. He should plan out who will be the next victims, and paint the picture in which Shiela got jealous of you being successful and wanting revenge... He'll personally be the prosecutor and make sure to rig Shiela's attorney...

And as the piece de resistance, he's sorry but he had to make you the last victim. He'll have to think how to frame Shiela in the same place as you, her slashing you in the way he did, then he would come to the rescue at the pretense of visiting your home to drink... Shiela, so consumed by her delusions would try to kill you but he saves the day.

But how would he do that?

Well, he already kidnapped Shiela, and the drugs! Yes the drugs. It did have hallucinogens in them after all. All he had to do is brainwash Shiela while using the drugs, then wait for the right time.

Oh how exciting!

And while that wait, he held your weeping form close, kissing the top of your head with a sadistic smirk.

This is gonna be fun.

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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