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incognit0slut · 11 months

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Right Kind of Wrong (5)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye

Part summary: Spencer’s lack of experience on the female anatomy is educated by her. wc: 4,7k

Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murder

a/n: sorry it took me longer to update, kind of went through a writer’s block but finally got back the vibe

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER WAS A MAN ON A MISSION. His steps echoed on the marble floor the next morning as he entered the mundane space of the bureau, hand gripping the strap of his bag. The glass door separating the familiarity of his disorganized desk greeted him, but before he could enter the room, his heels turned towards a certain part of the office he was accustomed to.

He pushed the door at the end of the hallway to find Garcia typing away on her keyboard, her eyes fixated on the screen in front of her. The sudden sound of his arrival startled her before she swiveled in her chair, because the man standing by the door hardly visited her this early, especially when he still had his bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the good doctor." She leaned back in her chair and gave him a grin. "What do I owe the pleasure of your presence in the safety of my lair?"

Spencer took a cautious step into the room as he closed the door behind him. "I need you to find me an address."

"That is my specialty." She turned back to her monitors. "Hit me."

"Y/n L/n."

There was a heavy pause as her fingers hovered above the keyboard. The familiarity of the name had her eying him as he stepped into her line of vision. "Isn't she one of the witnesses you talked to last night?"

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Yes, she is."

"And you need her address because...?"

"I..." A sense of dread and anxiety hit him as he felt the intensity of her scrutinizing gaze. "I—I have further questions to ask."

Garcia wasn't an expert in profiling, unlike most of her teammates, but she wasn't blind when it came to picking out other people's sudden change of composure. Spencer's usually calm demeanor was suddenly replaced with discomfort, something that rarely occurred unless the topic of conversation extremely flustered him.

"You know," she started, slightly twisting her body. "Morgan told me something interesting happened last night, and I'm usually not one to gossip—" She rolled her eyes at the look he gave her. "Alright, fine, maybe I am. But it's not gossip if it's true."

His face twisted into a frown. "What did he tell you?"

"That the pretty witness lady may or may not know you personally." When he didn't respond, she urged on, "So? Is it true?"

Spencer quickly dropped his gaze to the floor. He considered himself to be a very private person, one that didn't share much about their personal life. The introverted trait in him preferred the comfort of spending his time engrossed with his own thoughts than engaging in unnecessary, awkward conversations with others. So whenever he received attention regarding his private matters, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under the spotlight.

"I cannot confirm nor deny that."

She scoffed. "You do realize you're not making it any less suspicious, right?"

She then proceeded in typing the name of the woman he had met the previous night but immediately stopped, her eyes piercing back at him. "What?"

"I will give you the address if you tell me whether you need it for work or personal reasons."

This was why he disliked human interaction. Couldn't one go on with their own lifestyle without questioning another person's way of life?

He let out an irritated sigh. "Garcia."

"Reid."

He pondered whether he could get away without explaining the intention of his request. But this was Penelope Garcia, known to be relentless with an interest in exchanging information about the personal lives of the team members. There was no other choice than to cave in if he wanted to avoid her persistent persuasion, so he answered—although reluctantly—in a very low voice, "Personal reasons.”

"I knew it!" She gleefully laughed. She focused her attention back onto her monitor, her fingers working their wonders before a passport picture of a woman stared back at them through the screen. "Ooh, she's pretty."

She really was. The person staring back at him was smiling, something he hadn't seen the last time he saw her. Her smile was an incredibly beautiful thing to behold. It was also incredibly contagious as he found his lips curling into a smile of his own, his eyes scanning across every feature on her radiant face. He was completely enthralled, it was as if her beauty had a grip on him, putting him in some sort of trance.

She was absolutely beautiful.

"Do you want me to save her picture? Send it to your phone?"

He felt the warmth spreading along his cheeks. "No." He turned his gaze towards the address printed on the left side of the screen, memorizing the exact street and the number of her residential.

"When I said you were a Casanova, I didn't think it would come to this extent." He threw her a frown as she explained, "A few days ago you had a lady friend at your place, and now this."

Spencer pursed his lips together. His palms immediately began to sweat as she sent him a wicked grin. His silence was all that it took for her to bounce in her chair, hands clapping at the irony of the situation. "No way. Are you telling me this is the same woman you met at the bar? The same stranger you spent the night with is the exact witness you talked to last night?"

He turned on his heels. "Goodbye, Garcia."

"Wait—no!" She grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to face her again. "Oh my god, I am so invested. This is way more entertaining than the show I'm currently watching!"

He heaved out a sigh. "I'm glad you can find amusement in my misery."

"Misery? This isn't misery, sweetheart, this is amazing. When was the last time you were involved with someone?" Far too long, he thought to himself, but his answer must've shown across his face. "Exactly. Now, aren't you glad I didn't show up that night?"

He shook his head, deciding not to answer her question, and crossed his arms instead. "This stays between us, okay?"

She nodded eagerly. "Of course."

"And you can't even mention this to Morgan."

"What?" She groaned as he proceeded to scowl at her. "Alright, alright. He will not hear any of this."

He assessed her one last time, cautiously weighing any possibility of her bluff. But when she returned his gaze with a suddenly concerned stare, he had to double-check whether he was seeing right. The mischievous glint in her eyes was replaced by a deep sense of worry, her face melting into the familiar solemn look she flashed whenever she had something important to say.

"Hey, Reid." She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head to the side. "You'll be careful, right?"

The sudden grimness of her tone caught him by surprise. "What do you mean?"

She paused for a moment, trying to sort out her words without wanting to offend him. "I just want to remind you that we're currently in the middle of investigating a case that involves her."

"She's only a witness," he pointed out.

"Doesn't make her any less important. Reid, when you're emotionally involved with anyone who is linked to a case we're working on, there's a high chance it can get messy. You know that."

Oh, how he knew that all too well. He knew how very unhealthy it could be, and how getting emotionally attached to someone involved in a case could lead to irrational or compromised decision-making. It could be a potential source of bias and it could make anyone put their personal feelings above what was best for the investigation. It could cloud people’s judgment. This was something that he would never recommend, something that he would urge anyone on the team to avoid doing.

So was he being rational now? Was running a background check on someone for personal reasons deemed appropriate?

Probably not. It was a very risky thing to consider, but Spencer was smart enough to understand how important it was to keep his emotions intact. The possibility of things getting out of hand would only happen if he couldn't keep it under control, which he was certain that he could, and he would never let anything stop him from doing his job.

"I'll be careful," he finally responded. "Thanks, Garcia."

"You are most definitely welcome, lover boy." She gave him a genuine smile before turning back toward her devices. "Now go and get your girl so I can go back to my work."

His body tensed. "She's not my girl."

She threw him a look that told him she didn't believe a word he said, something he was starting to question himself. He quickly shook his head and strode out of the room, completely denying Garcia's admission, because in his mind, Y/n was merely the stranger he met on one random night. She was simply the woman who ended up in his bed. She was the mysterious enigma who slipped into the night with nothing but a nod. She was the one who looked at him in disbelief at their unexpected encounter.

She was all of the things above, but she was definitely not his girl.

"You need to install a security camera."

Tapping her fingers lightly against the mug in her hands, eyes fixed on the black liquid of the freshly brewed coffee, Y/n blew out a rough breath. "Please worry about yourself."

"Or better yet, get a dog," the man across from her suggested. "Those big hound dogs that would scare people off. They can easily sense danger when they see one."

"Why would I need a dog when I have you?"

He frowned at her. "I'm being serious."

"And you think I'm not?"

He went completely still, his eyes trailing across her face. "Is that a trick question?"

She took a sip of the warm coffee, letting it calm her frustration as she pondered whether kicking him out of her own house was a better option than dragging him out through the door.

"Oliver," she muttered, her voice laced with annoyance while she carefully put down her mug on the countertop. "You have practically stationed yourself in my house, barking at anyone you think might be a potential danger."

"Y/n," he followed her gesture, leaning closer into the small space of her kitchen. "It's for your safety."

"You shouted at my mailman!"

"He took an awful lot of time talking to you."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to cause a scene in the sanctuary of her own home. She had woken up this morning, limbs tangled in her sheet and body aching from all the emotions she went through the previous night, and decided she would spend the day relaxing the tension in her nerves. Do some grocery shopping, head to the beauty salon to get a manicure and a nice haircut that was long overdue, and ravish herself with a delicious meal at the new restaurant she had been wanting to visit.

But all her plans went down the drain when she heard a loud knock the moment she opened her eyes. She found Oliver standing on her front porch, holding his trademark smile and amiable posture, before lunging at her with concern while asking a bunch of questions related to what had happened.

At first, she accepted his worry, what was she to do when a friend came to her house to make sure she was doing alright? But the longer he stayed the more she wondered whether letting him inside her home was the smartest thing to do. She knew Oliver was a very persistent person, but she wasn't aware of him being this insufferable.

"You know what would make me feel safe?" She walked out of the kitchen, expecting him to follow her, something he had been doing throughout the day. "For you to stop breathing down my neck and let me enjoy my weekend in peace."

Her plan worked, he was already hot on her heels as he watched her stalk toward the front area of her house. "I came by to check in on you."

"Since the morning, it's almost 5 PM." She tugged the door open before stepping to the side. "I'm sure I can manage on my own now—"

"Who’s that?"

Shd followed his line of sight and frowned when a black vehicle stopped right at her curb, its engine cutting off a moment later. She watched as the door wrenched open and felt her heart drop as a familiar face stared directly back. The shock of seeing someone unexpected took her by surprise, it was an incredibly powerful feeling that left her pretty shaken up and even a little bit stunned, because right on her driveway was none other than Spencer-fucking-Reid.

Seeing him in action for his job last night was enough to captivate her. But watching him in a tight FBI vest over a button-down with his sleeves rolled up, showing off firm arms and veins running along the back of his hands, mesmerized her in a way that had her weak in the knees.

Suits had become the sexiest thing she'd ever seen on a man after she saw him last night—firmly replacing uniforms, she had always been a sucker for military men... until now. The authority he held wearing that vest easily became her favorite clothing on a man. On him precisely, including the gun strapped to the side of his hip. How the sight of a dangerous weapon on him could be so attractive was beyond her.

She felt Oliver inching closer, his voice extremely low, "Do you want me to bark?"

She heard his words perfectly, but her attention was too focused on the other man as he stepped onto her porch. She wasn't questioning how he got her address—because authorities could easily search any citizen's information, right?—but she was curious why he bothered coming to her house. "What are you doing here?"

Sensing the recognition in her voice, Oliver addressed the unknown man with a hard stare. "Who are you again?"

"Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid," he introduced himself, flashing his badge. "I have further questions for Ms. L/n regarding a certain case."

"You mean Jamison's murder?"

Spencer nodded, leveling his gaze with the man who stood too close to her for his liking. "I need to talk to her personally."

It was another way for him to urge Oliver out of her house, Y/n noted, which was something she didn't oppose. Oliver tensed beside her, throwing her a doubtful look. "Will you be fine?"

Would she be fine being left alone with someone she wanted nothing to do after everything that happened? Maybe not. But it was better than to have Oliver gluing himself in her home. "I’ll be fine. You can go, Oliver."

The two men addressed one another, and the mood suddenly turned intense. Spencer was very cautious and deliberate with each of his movements, trying to be intuitive and on alert for any possible threat or danger. But then Oliver nodded his head and smiled at him, shrugging away any tension that lingered in the air.

He turned towards her. "Call me if you need anything."

She stepped aside and let him pass, breathing out a grateful sigh as she finally watched him walk down the street.

"Boyfriend?"

"No," she quickly replied, frowning at the idea of Oliver being her partner. Then she shot Spencer a look. "Not that it's any of your business."

He probably deserved that. He nodded behind her as his eyes scanned the entrance of her house. "Can I come in?"

There was something about letting the man into her home. It was a very special and sacred place that brought peace and joy after a long day of work. Letting him into the comfort of her house meant letting him into a personal part of herself.

She opened the door further before he stepped inside, his eyes scanning every nook and corner. She cleared her throat and closed the door behind her. "So, you wanted to ask me more questions?"

There was a moment of silence as he turned around. "I actually came here to apologize." When she didn't respond, he added, "About last night."

She narrowed her eyes. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"

"It seemed we got off the wrong foot yesterday and I want to apologize if I offended you in any way."

The memory of last night's encounter flashed before her eyes; their unexpected encounter, the way he acted as if he had never held her naked, and how he wanted no one else to know their tryst, keeping it as a mere rendezvous between two strangers. There was some truth in that, but there was also another truth in her disappointment, and suddenly she was extremely tired of all these emotions.

"Last night was... it was awkward for both of us,” she decided to say. "Why don't we forget it ever happened?"

"Forget what?"

"Everything?" She crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "About last night, about—" She mentally winced. "About what happened the first night we met.”

She noticed the way his shoulders tensed. His eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly as he studied her quietly in return. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?”

"Why do you want to forget that night?"

There was something unnerving about the way he looked at her. One of her hands nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she eyed him. She felt her heart rate pick up slightly—there could only be one reason he was asking this, right?

"Do you not want to forget it?"

She could see the way his cheeks were twitching, the muscles working as if he was weighing his next words. He took a step forward, cautiously scanning his eyes across her face. Staring wasn't quite the word for what he was doing. His eyes rested on her, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect was soft and inviting instead of harsh or demanding. Perhaps it was his lips that give away his intention, like a ghost of a smile peeking through his features in the stillness of the room.

"What if I want a repeat of it?"

She is nhaled a sharp breath, her heart rate drastically climbing in her chest she could feel her pulse vibrating through her entire body. His unvoiced suggestion hung heavily in the air. She felt that first warm flood of arousal struck her, the blood in her body abruptly shifting south.

A shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps abruptly rising along her forearms. "What are you trying to say?"

His mouth pulled back into a slow smile before she watched him inch forward, carefully closing the distance between them. A moment later he was leaning towards her, reaching his hands out deliberately slow. Her eyes followed their movements, her breathing increasing as his hands found her own. Carefully, he started to pull her, moving extremely slow, as if giving her plenty of time to register what was happening and a chance for her to pull away.

But she didn't, instead, her body followed his direction, letting him tug her across the small gap separating them.

"I grew up in Las Vegas," he suddenly said, hands moving up her arms. "I was a child prodigy in a public school, and believe it or not, I've suffered worse things growing up than in my line of work now."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Last night you didn't know the city I grew up in." A smile stretched across his lip. "And now you do."

The hands on her arms gripped a bit tighter, carefully urging her to move closer. The warmth radiating from his body was already driving her wild. How was it possible for one person to make her feel like she was completely losing her mind?

He was playing with fire, and she was practically a moth to a flame.

Her hands cautiously slid along his shoulders and up the length of his neck. She felt a faint rumble in his throat as her fingertips slid over the skin of it. Her eyes focused on the way he was watching her, eyes fluttering in a haze, mouth slightly parted. Biting her lip, she slipped her hand into his disheveled hair, carefully raking her fingers through the softness of it. He instantly leaned into the touch as she felt the growing need in her rising.

"Is this even allowed?" She breathed out, shuddering at the way the firmness of his vest pressed against her chest. "Fornicating with the witness?"

"It's probably not the wisest thing to do," was his honest reply.

She pulled him closer as she felt his arms settling around her waist. "Yet you still want to break the rules?"

Eyes dropping down to her mouth, his gaze lingered on her luscious lips. Gradually he leaned down towards her, his own lips parting as their breaths mingled in the small space between them. He shifted his forehead against hers, his nose lightly bumping into her own.

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

And then he closed the gap, caressing his lips just barely against hers, before thrusting himself into her open mouth, an obvious level of hungry desperation in the way he devoured her whole. He'd wanted this—wanted to taste her again ever since she stood unexpectedly in front of him. Sucking the entirety of her bottom lip into his mouth, she let out a moan. That glorious, soft, perfect, bit of flesh fit entirely into his mouth. His tongue danced along the length of it, a deep grunt coming from his throat as she melted further in his arms.

Spencer’s hands grabbed her hard by the hips as he tugged her into his body so tight she could feel his arousal pressing into her. She gasped in surprise, and he took the moment to lunge deeper into her mouth, feverishly in a flurry of tongue and teeth, his mouth only riling her further. The feeling of his tongue colliding against hers sent her into a nose dive of indescribable sensation. The longer the kiss lasted, the hotter she felt, and the warmer her skin got.

She breathed out another moan, fingers carding through the lengthier parts of his hair. The more his mouth moved against hers, the harder it was becoming to hold back. She was pouncing on him, kissing him back with as much fervor, and slightly let out a whimper when he pulled back. His mouth broke from hers, slipping down to place kisses along her jawline. She bit her lip, head tilting back just as he muttered, "Tell me how you want to be touched."

The request had her pulling back, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"What you said last night..." He explained, a sudden insecurity weighing in his eyes. "It got to my head."

Mouth opening and closing, she stared at him in stunned silence. Then the realization hit her on what he was implying. "I said that out of the heat of the moment," she assured him. "I was simply mad at you."

Although the way she was trying to avoid his gaze told him otherwise. "I'm a profiler. I can tell if you're lying."

She couldn't stop the amused laugh slipping through her lips. "Look," she started, slightly tugging his hair. "It wasn't that you were bad. But you could've been, I don't know—better, perhaps?"

"You do know how to bruise a man's ego," he muttered, more to himself than to her. He let out a sigh as she stared at him in amusement. "Let me be honest with you, I don't have that much experience with women, but..." he trailed off, pressing a soft kiss at the corner of her lips. "I do want to know how you want to be touched."

She could feel her amusement slipping away as she struggled to wrap her mind around what was happening, breath coming in short, her body filled with a warmth that wasn't just from her growing arousal. "You're being serious, aren't you?"

"Very." His nose intentionally bumped against hers this time, the hand on her lower back somehow holding her tighter to him. “I have three bachelor's degrees and completed three doctorate programs, learning and excelling in new subjects is engraved deep in my blood."

She playfully shoved him. "Show off."

He simply smiled, slightly pulling away. His head turned just a fraction towards her, hands sliding along her hips. “Tell me how I can be better for you.”

She stared at him, completely enthralled with the way his eyes lingered across her face—her eyes, her nose, her mouth. This was dangerous, letting herself fall deeper into this lust, but somehow it felt right. It felt incredibly right to feel his arms around her. It felt perfectly right as she snaked her arms behind her, grabbed onto his hand, and pulled him deeper into her home.

Her mind was too clouded with a desire to think clearly, and even when a little voice at the back of her head reminded her how wrong getting tangled with an authority in this situation was, she simply decided not to listen. Instead, she guided him toward her living room and walked him over to the single-seated sofa before placing her hands on his chest.

Spencer’s brows drew together, a small crease forming between them. She gently pushed him back, the back of his legs hitting the furniture as he settled himself between the soft cushions. He sat there, staring expectantly at her standing before him. Ignoring any self-conscious thoughts, she gripped the bottom of her blouse and swiftly pulled it over her head.

His eyes went wide. “What are you doing?"

A coy smile stretched across her mouth as she undid her pants, noticing the way he is eyes were focused on every little move she made. His question was left unanswered as she slipped off her jeans, kicking them off as they finally slid down her legs. Then she unclasped her bra and his mouth opened, eyes narrowing as his head tilted back, his tongue slowly sweeping along his bottom lip. He instinctively reached out, his calloused pads brushed her bare skin and a shudder ran down her spine before she slipped away from his touch.

He groaned a moment later. “Where are you going?”

She shook her head, still not answering him. She then turned around with her back facing him, and because she found pleasure in the way his eyes glazed every time she teased him, her fingers grabbed the band of her underwear, slowly sliding it down her legs. He let out a strained whimper as the evidence of her slick arousal clung onto the fabric, and it took a lot of self-control for him to stay still.

And when she finally turned around, he took in the sight of her naked form standing before him. She was as beautiful as he remembered, so perfectly made—full breasts, hips, thighs—the body of a woman as a woman was meant to be. But before he could devour her naked flesh with his eyes, she took a step back before sinking herself onto the longer couch, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

There was something compelling being the one in charge, even when she seemed to be the only one naked, wearing nothing but a taunting smile while he sat there still in the confinement of his vest. Good lord—that vest. It was doing things to her. The vest. The hair. That look. The way he was watching her wrecked her and now she was wondering how much longer she could put on a show until he came undone.

"I'm not going to tell you how I want to be touched.” Her sultry voice rang in his ears as she leaned back, her knees falling apart. And when he thought she couldn’t drive him more insane than he already was, her fingers slipped between her legs painfully slow. Goosebumps rose along his skin, a shudder of anticipation running down his body.

“I think I might have to show you."

He let out a strangled sigh.

She was going to be the death of him.

>> NEXT PART

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justawritterwithideas · 1 year

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Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ previous part | next part ✩

summary: The BAU rushes to Washington after discovering that the lead singer of a famous band may be in danger, causing Spencer to come face to face with his past after 15 years.

general warnings: this series contains topics such as mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers.

chapter warnings: this chapter contains mentions of murder, vomiting, mistreatment, as well as the use of strong vocabulary. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

words: 4,269 words.

a/n: hello! here i come with the second chapter of "boy wonder and the rockstar", i had fun writing this chapter as i also suffered from lack of creativity ( T T ), but finally inspiration touched me. I hope you like it. Remember to read the chapter cautions and have a good read.! English is not first language, so I may have mistakes, if so, I'm sorry. :(

𝟎.𝟐: 𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫.

For many people, memories that are related to times in their lives relate to certain aspects of the five senses, whether it's certain sounds or textures, music that brings them back to that exact memory, or simply tastes of foods that remind them of what their loved ones used to make.

For Spencer, it was smells.

Despite possessing a memory that makes him remember even the smallest detail of what happened the day before, his olfactory memory was much more developed than other senses.

During his childhood, or what he considers childhood, his memories smelled of the pages of old books that his mother read to him and her perfume, impregnated in the bed sheets when they sat together to read some classic of literature. When he was in his youth, sometimes the smells reminded him of the charcoal in his pencil, writing mathematical exercises on white sheets, or sometimes the smell of chlorine, because of the thousand times bullies forced him to go to the bathroom.

But during his college days, he always thought that the smell that would be his favorite was the soft smell of the library, of wood and humidity; but no, those memories had the smell of freshly brewed coffee, cherries and menthol cigarettes.

His good memories always brought smiles to his face in the middle of nowhere, as if he was remembering one of those old bad jokes they used to tell him and he couldn't find the humor in them, or maybe the less thought out answers to such logical questions. His good memories caused his stomach to clench tightly and his chest to feel heavy, as if a stone was replacing his heart.

Spencer knew why. Why his body felt that way.

But he didn't want to admit why.

Because if he admitted it, he knew the only reason he did would make him regret it, he would have to give reason to his sentimental side than the rational side.

And he hated not being right.

"Spence."

J.J.'s voice brought the boy back to his desk, taking his eyes off the nearly iced coffee with a pound of sugar to keep him awake.

He'd been daydreaming about Y/N's laughter in his ear for nights now, just like when they had sleepovers at her apartment. He couldn't get her out of his head, let alone get the smell out of her hair when she was the small spoon.

"What, what's going on?" the opposite replied, looking at the blonde. She seemed to be trying to decipher what was going on in her friend's head.

"I'm asking you, is something wrong, are you sleeping well?"

"Yes." Bullshit.

"Are you sure? Your eyes say otherwise." The black circles under his eyes gave him away.

"I've been sleepless for a few days, but it's because my neighbors won't let me sleep." Another bullshit.

"You should talk to them, you know." The boy nodded, giving the blonde an elongated smile and returning to his paperwork.

"Really all right?"

"Yeah, J.J. It's fine."

"'S okay, you know what you can tell me."

"Yes J.J., thank you."

The answer didn't leave the blonde satisfied, but she made an extraordinary effort to ignore his attitude and return to the desk with Luke and Matt, who had been staring at him for a couple of minutes.

"He's rambling again." Commented J.J as she returned, who kept her eyes on her best friend and tried to figure out what was wrong with him.

It was usual at this time of year, when the leaves were beginning to turn their last summer colors, that Spencer would go blank staring at a spot in the room more than once.

No one quite understood why that happened to him, the only one who knew was Gideon. But he never shared any of Spencer's secrets, not even if a gun was held to his chest.

"Guess whateee, my dear friends!" The conversation was interrupted by a cheerful and enthusiastic Penelope, who commanded everyone's attention with her sonorous voice.

"What's going on, Garcia?" Luke turned to see her, who was coming with an envelope in her hand.

"Your genius did it again, rub the wishing lamp and I got tickets to the best concert of the year - Paradox in Virginia! Can you believe it?"

"You got them!?" J.J. was the first to startle, coming closer to see the tickets for the most anticipated concert of the year.

"That's right, my dear friend! A girls' night out to see Paradox. You, me, Emily and Tara."

"No way, god. I'll talk to Will and rest assured I'll be ready for that night." J.J smiled hugging her friend's arm.

"What's Paradox...?" muttered Luke, causing Matt to turn to look at him. The poor Luke was trying to comprehend what his friends were talking about.

Was he too out of date on pop culture or were they speaking in some kind of secret code?

"Oh Luke, why did you ask that?" Matt shook his head, earning a glare from the blonde couple.

"What did you say, newbie, don't you know what Paradox is? Oh god, no way. I'll have to bring you up to date with a course on what today's music is right now, follow me." Penelope motioned to the boy, who turned to see Matt who was lifting his shoulders laughing.

"No Penelope, you're not going anywhere. We have a case, and it's urgent. There's no time, meeting room now."

The rest of the people turned to look at each other, abiding by their boss's orders as they saw her so anxious and serious about a case.

That didn't look good at all.

The adrenaline and euphoria of last night's show, plus the last two dates, had been enough of a stimulant for Y/N to fall asleep in bed once they arrived at the hotel. Her whole body was exhausted, and at that moment all she wanted was some chamomile tea and a thousand hours of sleep.

She loved her job, of course she did! But she was mentally and physically exhausted from giving almost 15 concerts without a break, from one state to another, with more cups of coffee and energizers in her body than times where her eyes closed to sleep.

And the only time she found peace and quiet was when her body was being moved from one location to another, so, at that moment, her body was resting in the comfortable seat of the SUV after being driven to an interview and returned to the hotel to rest.

She felt her limbs meld with the seat, feeling like she was in heaven itself where her muscles all over her body were relaxing after days.

Her peace didn't last long when she heard a soft call.

"Psss, Y/N."

The, now, blonde heard the call from Felix, also known as the band's drummer and her best friend.

"What? You ruin my beauty nap."

"What did one wall say to the other?"

Y/N could hang him right then and there.

More the tiredness in her body made her think, trying to devise the best answer to get him to leave her alone.

"What?"

"I'll meet you at the corner."

"I'm having the biggest self-control to not kill you because you just interrupted the only moment of peace I've had these past three months, asshole."

"You haven't been able to sleep?"

Y/N denied with her eyes closed, desperate to get back to her attempt at sleep.

"Not a single moment, I woke up three times last night and that was the best attempt at sleep I've ever had."

"Your pills aren't working?"

"They're placebos, they won't make my body calm down just like that and go back to my eight hour sleep cycle that I'd had for the last two years without touring." The young woman opened one eye, looking at her friend. "I just have to get used to it, I have to get back to the cycle of excitement I used to have when it was tour after tour."

"Maybe if we talk about that thing that bothers you-"

"No way."

Y/N knew what he meant, knew it was talking about a certain doctor who gave her goosebumps every time she thought about him and took her back to her college days.

Why was she still thinking about him? It had been almost 15 years since they last spoke.

Y/N looked at the date on her phone.

No, she was wrong.

It had been 15 years since they last spoke.

Today was 15 years since she had received the last letter from Spencer with her name written on it.

The last time she felt the smell of his perfume on the sheets and his ugly doctor's handwriting on a sheet of paper.

The last time she saw written "wherever you are, whatever you do or whoever you are with, you are always on my mind and in my heart, Y/N."

Last time she saw written "Love from Quantico, dr. Spencer Reid. I'm also known as your #1 fan, but only you know that."

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well that night? Yes.

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well for that last week? Yes.

Was that the reason why, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him smile? Yes.

Was she going to admit it? No.

Never.

"Y/N..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Felix. Don't insist."

"But, Y/N-"

"Let it go, Felix. Really, don't insist." Tyler's voice made Felix turn to look at him angrily.

Tyler and Shawn, the guitarist and bassist respectively, shook their heads and made an "X" symbol with their fingers, muttering at the same time "don't do it, don't be stupid."

"Enough kids, let it go. In two days we have a very important concert to give in Seattle, so I don't want any fights."

"You heard him, Felix." Y/N smiled opening her eyes, looking in the direction of Gerald, her manager.

Thank you, Y/N murmured in the man's direction.

Gerald just raised his shoulders, noticing how the van parked.

"Okay, down."

Tyler and Shawn were the first to get out, followed by Y/N and then Felix.

Felix hated to come off as meddling in Y/N's life, so whenever he meddled too much in the girl's life, he simply knew that seeking forgiveness from her was his best option.

"Sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to insist."

"It's okay, Felix. I know you meant no harm, but I don't want to talk about it."

"And when will you?"

"I don't know, I guess when I'm ready."

"It's been 15 years, Y/N."

"I know, but I'm still not read-"

"Miss Autumn?"

Y/N turned to see the receptionist, who was holding a package.

"A package has arrived for you."

"Thank you, do you know who brought it?"

"No miss, I'm sorry."

"No worries, thanks again."

Y/N received it, walking to the elevator along with Felix after seeing how the package had a sticker on it that said "express delivery."

"What did you order, compulsive shopper?" Gerald turned to look at her, causing Y/N to deny in confusion.

"Nothing that I know of, I promise."

"Maybe it's a collaboration, Tiffany's already started putting the ads with your face all over it." Shawn smiled, elbowing the arm of the store's new ambassador.

"A gift for you to occupy at the next gig." Gerald replied, nodding softly as he looked down at his phone.

The box was small and covered in the typical plastic they place around it. Compact enough to drop a set of jewelry on behalf of the brand, but it seemed odd that it came directly and without warning.

The group made their way to the small meeting room where they had set up everything they needed, ready to hear the itinerary Gerald had prepared for them about their upcoming events.

Y/N's fingers went to open the package once it was placed on the table, watching as the "Tiffany & Co." logo on its little sky blue box.

"Okay guys, tomorrow you have rehearsal from noon until three in the afternoon, then you'll have an interview on a radio station near the sta-"

A beautiful gold ring with a navy blue gem in the middle was the first thing that caught the young woman's eye, perfect for the occasion. But it was heavier than usual.

"Then you can go eat and rest, we'll still have dress rehearsal, so you can get ready-"

A shout coming from Y/N deafened the group of people, causing them all to look in her direction.

Her skin was as white as paper, her eyes fixed on the box she had just opened and her face with an expression of pure terror from an experimental horror movie.

All eyes went in the direction of the box, which Y/N felt like everything she had eaten that morning was going to spew out of her mouth right then and there.

"Shit."

The beautiful ring encircled something.

A human finger.

A human finger that stained the bottom of the box.

A human finger that was accompanied by a note.

"I hope you enjoy my gift, my sweet star. I made it just for you, good luck at the concert."

"This morning at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Washington, the lead singer of the band Paradox received a package. Inside was a human finger with a ring on it." Emily was passing around the photographs that had been sent by the Washington police, it showed just what she had just described above. "According to the receptionist it was dropped off by someone from a package store. The police questioned him and he said it had arrived with yesterday's load of packages."

"From where?" Luke asked.

"They don't know, they collect packages from all over the country so they don't know where it came from. They're looking for the tracking code of the branch they sent it from."

"How grotesque, who would send such a thing to an artist like her?" Tara looked at Emily, who sighed.

"But what do we have to do with this case?" Rossi looked at his tablet, zooming in on the picture of the ring.

"The DNA results came back to find out whose finger it is." A photograph of a stranger appeared on the TV screen. "He is Bruno Colombo, an Italian artist and the owner of that finger. We just got word that his lifeless body was found in his art studio."

"He's Autumn's ex-fiancé." Penelope commented, surprised at all that was going on. "In 2016, he and Autumn got engaged after dating for two years, but after a few months it was discovered that the engagement ended after Autumn discovered him and an art gallery owner having sex in his studio. According to him he did it because he wanted to make an exhibition that would portray Autumn's true feelings, and this way he could see her feeling of anger and sadness. There are still people who idolize him for that."

"What a jerk." Matt muttered.

"And how come no one noticed his absence?"

" According to this, he was isolating himself when he was setting up exhibits so it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to suddenly disappear."

Spencer felt his heart pounding, why would he get like this over a clear case of a stalker obsessing over a music star?

It's not like he even knew her.

"Apparently, this relates to a series of related cases over ten years that the only common element is this band, Paradox. No one has ever linked them before as none of the modes of operation are the same, the only factor that unites them is the viciousness with which they are carried out and the band, of course." Emily sighed, showing the various faces and deaths that surrounded them.

"Race or religion has nothing to do with it, it seems neither does gender." Spencer commented, quickly reading each of the bodies found. "But it looks like they all had an encounter with the band or one of the members. From 2008 when the first body was found until now."

"The director asked us to take on this case, the level of this band is insane and it seems to be going against the vocalist, Autumn. They are currently on a world tour after two years of no activity, plus not much is known about her in general." Emily turned to look at Penelope. "Garcia, you're joining us on this trip. You serve us better back in Washington than you do here at Quantico. Reid and Lewis will go meet the M.E., the rest of us will go to the station and then we'll all go to the Queen Elizabeth Hotel, we'll meet the band and their manager." The whole group was surprised, especially Penelope who held a surprised expression. "Wheels up in 30."

Y/N always thought that the whole thing about having human parts shipped to you in a box was part of fiction. At best, news fiction.

But what she had just experienced was surreal.

Her body was shaking with a cup of tea in her hands, feeling her hands stinging around the cup.

"Who the fuck would send something like that to Y/N? No one we know is capable of doing anything to her, they would fuck up their careers if they were exposed like that." Tyler turned, annoyed, in the direction of Y/N. "Who did this to you, are you hiding something from us?"

"No, Tyler. I'm not hiding anything, why would I hide the fact that someone sent me a fucking human part on my name to a hotel in the middle of our comeback tour? You're blaming me for something, huh? Tell me to my fucking face, Tyler."

Y/N stood up in exasperation, letting the hot water spill onto the floor.

"I don't know, you tell me, Y/N. If you got sent a finger."

"Go straight to hell, Tyler. Right straight up." Commented the girl raising her middle finger.

"Enough! Both of you." Gerald's loud voice interrupted them, separating the band's strong personalities. "Right now we can't fight. They just sent a fucking human finger to Y/N, we can't get mad about that, we should be worried."

"Finally someone with sense." Y/N sat back down, setting the cup aside.

"What are they seeing so much of us, why aren't they doing anything? They should be looking for the person responsible." Felix got up walking towards the officers, being stopped by Shawn.

"Hey, they're doing the best they can. If we go in there and raise our voices, we're going to hinder the investigation, don't be a dickhead."

"Damn it, this can't be happening." Y/N stood up, starting to walk over to her purse to pull out a cigarette and place it between her teeth.

"You can't smoke in here, Y/N." Gerald's warning went in one ear to the girl and out the other, flicking her lighter. "Y/N."

"What, look at the shit we're in, I just got sent a fucking human finger from who-knows-who and you're asking me to keep my cool!? I can't! There's a crazy person out there sending me that shit with 'nice words'." The girl threw the lighter at who-knows-where, finding herself on the verge of an anxiety attack. "Don't fuck around and leave me alone to have a smoke, Gerald."

The group fell back into the same silence that surrounded them four hours ago, letting the cigarette smoke flood their nostrils.

They were desperate, they needed to get to the root of this.

Y/N knew it. Right now she was the eye of the hurricane, who that box and message were addressed to; the same person who had sent her that, had taken it upon himself to send her flowers and letters with the same nickname, "my sweet star."

At first she thought it was nice, of course it's nice when you get your favorite flowers along with letters of good cheer and best wishes, but it's not nice when you get a gift like today's.

But her attitude would get her nowhere, she was annoyed and exasperated, but they didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

"I'm sorry, but this is too much for me, I can't handle this alone and my attitude isn't helping anything. " Y/N commented, taking her eyes off her cigarette and looking at the people closest to her. "We should be in this together."

"I'm sorry, kid. I got upset that I couldn't help you, that you didn't know who sent you that." Tyler sighed, giving the girl a rueful smile.

"Don't worry about it, Ty. I'm really sorry, everyone."

The girl took another puff on her cigarette, letting the minty flavor cool her lungs.

"The FBI is here."

The announcement made everyone look at each other, taking their last breaths and letting Y/N finish what she was doing, the only thing keeping her sane at that moment.

"I'll see you downstairs, okay?" Felix left a kiss on the young woman's forehead, taking his leave to get on the elevator.

Y/N found herself alone in the room, again feeling disgust rise in her throat. She couldn't get the image of that package out of her mind, how was someone capable of writing those sweet words and sending something as grotesque as that.

The girl's hands gently stroked her cheeks, waking up and she shook her head. She would make one last stop to the bathroom before heading downstairs, so she could go more consciously for who-knows-what things would make her talk.

The BAU met up with a group of people who, thanks to the way Penelope was getting excited, could be sure it was Paradox.

All along the way, Spencer had listened to Garcia's theories and who it could have been. He loved listening to her talk, but his head was somewhere else, somewhere else but there.

Something inside him sensed something, something he wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was his thoughts of the past that had been running through him since morning.

"Agent Prentiss, I'm Gerald Murphy, the manager of Paradox." The man shook hands with the woman, who was looking over his shoulder at three people. "These are the members of the band: Tyler, Shawn and Felix."

The three let out a wave into the air, giving them a smile of sorts.

Spencer knew they weren't entirely happy they were there, he read it in their body language.

"I understand there are four of you in the band, here I see three." Emily looked directly into Gerald's eyes.

"Yeah, Autumn, the vocalist, is upstairs finishing something. But she's coming down now, right?" Felix nodded, watching the FBI agents.

Felix crossed glances with Spencer, feeling that familiar air from somewhere.

Spencer felt that familiar air too, but maybe he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Please, let's go somewhere more private. That way we can talk more quietly."

Gerald motioned to the three men, who plunged inside the room, followed by everyone else.

The BAU settled down in front of the four people seated on the couches.

"If you like, we can wait for Miss Autumn." Emily glanced at the group, all of whom nodded.

"It's for the best, she's the most affected." Felix looked in the direction of Tyler and Shawn, who simply nodded in unison.

"You've never received anything like this before?" Luke directed his question at the group of people, causing Tyler to let out a sarcastic laugh.

"You think that's a normal thing to receive, a human finger? Please, be realistic."

"Tyler, shut up." Shawn motioned, slapping the young man's knee.

"That's a stupid question of his, since when is getting shit like that going to be normal?"

"Tyler!" Shawn gave him a stern look, turning his gaze back to Luke. "I'm sorry, we're touchy about this that just happened."

"My question was out of line, it's my fault." Luke admitted, turning to look at the rest.

"When is Autumn getting here?" Felix's question seemed to work magic, smelling her best friend's signature scent.

A strong smell of cherries and menthol tobacco made Spencer shake his head.

It wasn't time to remember Y/N, it wasn't time to focus on something like that.

It felt like his head was playing a joke on him, as if she was suddenly here. But the smell didn't go away, in fact, it intensified to the point that Spencer could feel his head hurting.

"Sorry I'm late."

Spencer felt his entire body freeze, as if he were turning into an ice cube.

The voice he thought he would never hear again.

The voice that escaped so much in his dreams.

He could hear it there, like an echo in his head.

His head turned, catching the figure that had just entered with some haste.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Autu-"

"Y/N."

The girl looked up, meeting Spencer's hazel eyes.

No way, Y/N thought.

Her heart stopped, as did the time around her.

Standing in front of her was a much older and mature Spencer Reid, but with that same lotion that made her dizzy.

The woman's mouth opened slightly, feeling the air in her lungs catch and no words came out of her mouth.

Her lip quivered, her pulse altered.

"Spencer."

Oh fate, how cruel did you have to be?

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x famous!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #it's my first series #almeseries

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pessimisticpigeonsworld · 22 days

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HOTD has made many interesting choices in their adaptation of the story of the Dance. One of their favorite excuses for many of their questionable choices is "feminism". Why did they remove Alicent's ambitions and autonomy? Feminism. Why is Rhaenyra less proactive and hesitant? Feminism. Why are Daemon and Otto the primary active agents in the lead up to the Dance? Well women can't be in the wrong or violent, so feminism.

These choices are the farthest thing from feminist; they're sexist, end of story. Every decision surrounding the women of the Dance reeks of benevolent sexism. One of the most obviously sexist decisions made is the purposeful removal of female cooperation and friendship.

Rhaenyra in F&B has many female allies and friends. Her ladies in waiting loved her so much, one of them, Lady Elinda Massey gouged out her eyes at the sight of Rhaenyra's death. Lady Jeyne Arryn, Lady Alysanne Blackwood, and Lady Sabitha Frey/Vypren are just a few examples of ladies who fought for Rhaenyra (Alysanne and Sabitha literally fought in battles). Lady Fell chose death over betraying her oath to Rhaenyra.

Now, we haven't had any opportunity to meet most of these women I listed in the show. Lady Fell was portrayed as she was written in the book, a very minor character who simply foreshadowed how most of the realm would choose Rhaenyra over Aegon. Elinda Massey, however was reduced to an unnamed servant, not even a lady in waiting. Her treatment is an echo of one of my biggest issues with HOTD, the treatment of Laena and Rhaenys.

Laena was Rhaenyra's dearest friend in the book, in fact it's implied that they had a romantic relationship. Whether you believe that telling or not, it's undeniable that she and Laena were extremely close. They chose to betroth their children while they were infants, Rhaenyra flew to Laena's bedside during her final labor, and she stood vigil with Daemon over Laena's body.

All of that closeness and intimacy was removed in the show to make room for Alicent. So let's break that down: they removed a long and healthy relationship between two women and replaced it with a short-lived (in terms of screen time) friendship that quickly fell apart and turned into an intense rivalry. Reinforcing an old stereotype of female friendship: that it is entrenched in rivalry and toxicity and can quickly be turned to enmity. Alicent was so quickly and easily turned against Rhaenyra and it's even implied that she was jealous of Rhaenyra long before they became enemies.

Rhaenys in the book was an ardent supporter of Rhaenyra. She happily claimed Jace, Luke, and Joff as her grandsons, advised Rhaenyra to go to war, and gladly flew against Aegon and Aemond.

Meanwhile, in the show, Rhaenys was turned into one of Rhaenyra's rivals. She constantly challenged Rhaenyra's ideas, dismissed her as a naive child, disliked her children, and even considered backing the Greens. On top of that, they turned her into yet another "peaceful" woman. She advises against the war, and seems to continue to do so in season two. Rhaenys is virtually unrecognizable in the show. They chose to take a woman who tried to prevent a younger woman being wronged by the patriarchy the same way she was and turned her into a bitter woman who resents Rhaenyra (for most of the show).

HOTD claimed to have wanted to tell a story about how the patriarchy pits women against each other. That's all very well and good, but that's not what they actually did. They took a story where a woman is wrongfully usurped because of her gender and is supported by many other women and turned it into another tired female rivalry story.

Rhaenyra has no female friends aside from Alicent. Laena was turned from her dearest friend/lover into simply a rival for Daemon's affection. Rhaenys was turned from a supportive mentor and defender to someone who took out her resentment for the system on a fourteen year old who only starts to support her when she's proven "peaceful".

HOTD chose to perpetuate a harmful stereotype about women: that we constantly view each other as threats/rivals and can't have truly healthy relationships with other women. Rhaenyra had women who supported and cared for her in the book, in the show all she has is Alicent. A woman who abused and undermined her for ten years, raised her children to hate her, and usurped her. Every change HOTD made in the name of "feminism" solidified just how sexist it really is.

#rhaenyra targaryen #canon rhaenyra targaryen #laena velaryon #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys the queen who never was #anti hotd #anti ryan condal #anti sarah hess #asoiaf #house of the dragon #team black #anti team green #anti alicent hightower

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lizardaggro · 6 months

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on the flip side

part 2 is out! part 3! part 4!

whaddya know, i already have my first piece of writing that's not for an rp. it's a mess, but that's okay, because i admit i have no clue what i'm doing! i welcome all feedback as long as it's not just plain mean. when i asked for writing ideas, i was suggested to try my spin on the twst bully!au, and so i present: reader/yuu is done with their bs. no beta we die like my sleep schedule. genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, slight yandere that hasn't escalated yet word count:896

You’d had enough, thank you very much. The constant jeers, “misplaced” textbooks, and shoves in the hallway were only the beginning. Before long, you were beaten and bruised, and all for what? Just because you didn’t have magic? According to your research, the majority of the population here didn’t either! But alas, such was your plight. The professors turned a blind eye, and Crowley couldn’t care less.

So, when someone “accidentally” dislocated your shoulder during PE, you decided enough was enough. The students you’d never bothered to learn the names of were one thing; you were going to call your former friends out on their bullshit. Despite Grim’s protests, you dragged him all the way back to Ramshackle the moment you had a break in between classes. Why that timing? Because the model student prefect would never cut class, of course!

You locked the door not once, not twice, but three times, thanks to the padlocks you’d had placed on your stuff in the past. Then you took your time creating the Junk Tower. Your materials were all the scraps people had thrown in your yard in the past. You had quite the collection. The windows? They’d been boarded for years, according to the ghosts. Back door? Kalim had it removed. Something about first years sneaking in. You figure it’s better not to ask how he managed to have a door seamlessly replaced with walls in one afternoon.

About twenty minutes after the last class of the day ended, you had your first knock on the door. “Oi, prefect, open up!” Ace demanded. Because of course it was Ace. He was the first student you met here, so it was only fitting that he’d be the first to know you weren’t fucking around anymore. You ignored him.

The knocking stopped “Oi Ace, maybe they’re not home?” Deuce, ever the voice of reason, pondered. You weren’t sure whether to love or hate him. He’d stop others from picking on you, sure, but the moment you disobeyed him, he went back to his old delinquent ways.

“Well, they weren’t in class, and there’s no way my prefect’s with someone else, so they’ve gotta be inside!” Ace insisted. His prefect? Since when were you his? Did Ace eat something funny while you were gone? Because the last you checked, he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

Deuce’s voice dropped an octave, or maybe two. You weren’t too sure how that applied to speaking voices. “Oi, Ace, what the fuck do you mean your prefect? They don’t belong to you!” Yes, thank you for the reality check. Deuce must’ve had the brain cell today. “Obviously I’m way closer to them than you are!”

Scratch that. Deuce did not have the brain cell today. Really though, what was with them? Why in the world were they fighting over who was closer to you when all they’d done lately was make it clear how much they hated you? Oh, wait. They thought you could hear them. This must be some sort of trick. Trey and Cater must’ve put them up to it, since they were far too dumb to think of anything this elaborate on their own. You decided to ignore everything they said from here on out.

All was well, until Adeuce simultaneously let out an ungodly screech. Now that was troublesome. What could possibly scare those two like that? Surely nothing good for you. With luck, it’d be Riddle come to behead them for not wearing fluorescent pink or some other dumb rule, but you wouldn’t bet on it.

You soon had your answer. “Ne, where’s Shrimpy? I wanna squeeze ‘em!” Suddenly you didn’t blame those two for being scared. Floyd Leech in a bad mood was always a force to be reckoned with. You could never tell if he was in a good or bad mood when he was “squeezing” you, and quite frankly, you’d rather not know. The sick fucker probably took pleasure in hearing your bones pop and crack under the extreme pressure.

“Floyd-senpai! The prefect is, uh, we’re not actually sure where they are,” Ace volunteered. You almost pitied him, having to put up with the more rambunctious Leech during basketball practice. Almost.

“Hah? What do you mean you don’t know? Crabby is always crowding around Shrimpy like a little parasite,” Floyd whined. Um, what? Is Floyd in on the joke too? Is the whole school conspiring against you? You wouldn’t put it past them.

A cloud of dust blew up from the floor where you swung your foot back and forth, making you sneeze. You froze. Did they hear that? Wait, what were you acting so scared for? What were they gonna do anyway, break the door down and hit you? All within your expectations when you’d formed this plan. The point was to prove that you wouldn’t just sit and take it anymore. You’d seen all their dirty little secrets, especially during the Overblots; you could hit them where it hurt if you felt like it. No one would ever think the perfect little prefect would tell someone else what they’d confided in them! So when Floyd broke the door down with a display of monstrous strength, you were prepared. You greeted them with a smile. “Ne, you guys,” you began, “would you believe me if I told you I’m done with your bullshit?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst bully au #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech #ace trappola #deuce spade

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miguelsslvt · 6 months

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MOTHERR!!

I have a raging NEED for brat reader. Honestly just tiny things that reader thinks nothing of but miggy (miguel) is actually keeping tabs and when reader gets to a certain number or just does something to piss miggy off you get a punishment 🤭

brat tamer! miguel x bratty! reader smut

word count: 2.17k

TW: spanking, punishment, NSFW, smut under cut, possessiveness (???), use of ‘girl’ and ‘pussy’, y/n is a bratty icon

A/N: can u notice i got a bit carried away? happy kinktober!

Miguel wasn’t a pussy. You knew that for sure. He never backed down on anything, whether that be a bet, or a dare, or a fight, or even his girlfriend.

He knew having a girlfriend like you would be a challenge for him, and to be honest, he liked a challenge. being a man of his age, he didn’t do too well with easy girls. Girls who would do anything for Miguel. That gave him the ice, thinking of a girl willingly doing what Miguel wanted. No. He didn’t want that.

He wanted a girl that could bite back. A girl that could tease, and whine, but make it look good. he realised that when he met you.

You, who would go out of your way just to make a snarky comment towards Miguel, you whine when he puts you on a particular mission with a spider totem you didn’t like. You, who would roll your eyes when he told you to bend over, or when you would scoff and even laugh at him after he told you to behave.

But, at the end of the day, what he loved most, was every time he told you to do something, you would end up doing it at the end. He liked that. Knowing that he was the only one you would actually listen to. He felt powerful, knowing that such a pretty thing like you would always end up falling under his little traps.

That was until today.

it all started in the morning, when you were latching onto him like a koala as he got ready. ‘Don’t go today miggy, can’t we just stay home?~’ you whined, causing Miguel to sigh. ‘We can’t, hermosa. The multiverse is in da-‘ ‘my pussy is in danger!!’ you whined, causing miguel to raise an eyebrow. ‘How can your pussy be in danger?’ He asked, you smirked. ‘negligence.’ You said, as he scoffed. ‘We had sex less then 9 hours ago-‘ ‘that doesn’t matter!! Please miggy~’ he ended up having to drag you off him and took you to work himself that day.

But oh, it didn’t stop there. All day, you would find pets and small excuses to go into Miguel’s office to burden him. First you came in for paperwork, then to give more paperwork, then you came in to remind him lunch was soon, then you came in again to report an anomaly. Miguel knew what you were doing. I mean, you could easily call him or put the paperwork into holographic paper so he could access it easier. He knew you only came in to see him. he was tempted, truly, but he had a job to do.

‘Here again, hermosa? I might have to disconnect Lyla and make you my PA.’ he said, turning around to you, as Lyla appeared, scoffing in an over-dramatic manner. You just chuckled. ‘I could never replace someone as perfect as you Lyla.’ You said, as Lyla smiled, disappearing. ‘What are you doing here again exactly?’ Miguel asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Well, you’re a smart guy miggy, I’m sure you know I just wanna see you!’ You said, Miguel sighed.

‘Sweetheart, you’ve been nagging me all day.’ He said, as you smirked. ‘I haven’t heard any complaints.’ ‘Well now you are.’ He said, sighing and putting his hands on your cheeks. ‘As much as I love you and your persistence, I can’t today. How about later, hm?’ He tried to compromise, which made you even more frustrated. ‘Later? ..hm. fine. I’ll wait later.’ You said, walking out and shutting the door. i’ll show you later. you thought, smirking and going into the cafeteria for lunch.

By 3pm in Nueva York, it was the prime of lunch in the spider HQ cafeteria. Miguel walked in, off to order something to help his growling belly, when he stopped and noticed you with hobie brown. You were touchy with Hobie, hand on his arm and sometimes even on his leg, giggling and talking away to him. You looked over to Miguel, smirking maliciously as you continued.

He knew what you were doing. You were trying to make him riled up. And it was fucking working. Lyla suddenly appeared beside Miguel. ‘Miguel, your heart rate’s sped up. Are you-‘ ‘I’m fine, Lyla. Help out spider-byte or something.’ He said frustratedly, walking over to you and Hobie.

‘Oh hi sweetheart! You don’t look too good..’ You teased, Miguel smirked bitterly. ‘I’m fine. How’s work?’ He said, as you smiled widely. ‘Oh it’s going great! Me and hobie have been bonding really good!’ You said, smiling. You could see Miguel’s jaw move, signifying his fangs have extended. You knew Miguel well enough to know he was fuming. Lyla appeared again.

‘Sir your heart ra-‘ ‘Lyla leave. Now.’ He said, as Lyla nodded, rolling her AI eyes as she disappeared. Hobie raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you alright mate? You don’t seem a-‘ ‘I’m fine.’ He said, looking at you. ‘I’ll see you at home, yes?’ He asked, eyes narrowing.

You smirked. ‘I dunno, me and hobie were talking about hitting the club toget-‘ ‘the club?’ He cut you off. You smiled ‘innocently’. ‘Mhm!’ you replied, Miguel smirked bitterly. ‘How about we have a nice little ‘chat’ huh honey?’ He said, as you smiled, standing up. ‘Mm no, I don’t think so. how about later, hm?’ you said, quoting what Miguel said before. He raised a brow. ‘You sure you wanna do take road?’ He warned, as you smiled warmly. ‘I’ve gotta go refill my drink. Talk to you later?’ You said, as he sighed, holding your arm lightly, but enough to pull you closer to him, his mouth next to your ear. ‘My office. 5 minutes.’ Was all he said, before walking away. Suddenly, he was hungry for something else.

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As you walked in, you made sure to lock the door. You walked up to Miguel’s platform, his back facing towards you. You looked at his muscles, biting your lower lip as you remember the countless of times you would scratch that perfect back of his, as he made you scream of ecstasy.

‘Lyla, do not disturb until I turn you back on.’ He said, his voice in a low growl. Lyla nodded. ‘Yes captain!’ the AI said, wearing a sailor suit before disappearing.

You took in a deep breath, considering to apologise. fuck no, you thought. You got this far, might as well seal the punishment, right?

‘There a problem, sweetheart?’ You teased, putting your hand on his shoulder, massaging it. ‘You look tense..’ You whispered in his ear, as he took in a deep breath, turning around, looking at you. His eyes were hazy, filled with lust and desire. You tilted your head innocently.

‘Bend over the desk.’ He said in a low growl. You smirked. ‘Or what?’you teased even more. he tilted his head up, not taking his eyes off of you. ‘Don’t make me ask again, pretty girl.’ He said firmly. You just scoffed, doing as he said. You bent down, arching your back. He lifted your skirt up swiftly. ‘Safe word?’ He asked, as you rolled your eyes. ‘red. Now are you gonna be a little bitch and stand there or-‘ you got cut off by a large spank on your ass, as you gasped loudly, your hands holding onto the desk. ‘Count for me, princess.’ He teased, as you bit your lower lip. ‘Fuck y-‘ spank! ‘a-ah okay f-fine!! t-two..’ You said breathlessly, as he smirked. ‘You’re learning.’

spank! ’f-fuck! Three..’ You panted, your ass burning from the sensation of Miguel’s hands hitting it with such force. That’s another thing you love about Miguel. How he could punish you but you could still enjoy it.

’T-twenty!! Please.. p-lease Mig..’ You panted breathlessly. He rubbed your sore ass now, leaning closer to your ear. ‘Have you learned?’ He whispered, as you nodded quickly. ‘I-i’ll be good.. I’ll be so good for you..’ you whispered, as he sighed. ‘ah.. there she is.’ He whispered, his fingers going down towards your slit. ‘Just had to show you who’s boss again, hm?’ He teased, putting in one finger, causing you to gasp, trying to lean your head up, as he pushed it back down with his other hand. ‘Head down, hermosa.’ He said, as you whined a little. ‘You ready for another finger?’ He asked, as you nodded. ‘Y-yes just put it in already..’ You whined, as he smirked, waiting for it.

‘..please.’ you said eventually, as he chuckled, putting another finger in, causing you to hold onto the desk again, gasping in the burning pleasure. ‘Just have to fuck you dumb on my fingers to get you to listen, hm? You like it when you’re full of me?’ He teased, playing with your hair as he leaned to your ear again, placing sloppy kisses on your neck. You nodded. ‘y-yes.. you know I do mig..’ you whispered, as he smirked, going up to your ear once again. ‘Just wait till you’re full of my cock again. You think you can handle it?’ He asked, as you moaned loudly as he pumped his fingers deeper inside you. He smiled softly. ‘Silly question, I know you can handle me. You do it every time like the big girl you are, right?’ He asked, as you moaned breathlessly. He pulled his fingers out of you. ‘That was a question, love.’ He whispered, as you nodded. ‘Y-yes! I-i can take it.. i take it every time, you know I do..!’ you whined, as he smirked, looking at your lust-filled expression on your face.

Your cheeks were flushed, your mouth slightly agape as you panted, your hair messy and eyes half lidded. miguel could feel himself twitch in his pants. He put his two fingers in his mouth, licking them clean as he used his other hand to unbuckle his pants.

‘You ready?’ He whispered to you, as you nodded. ‘words.’ He said, as you looked up at Miguel through your lashes. ‘Just put it in you teasing fucke-‘ you got cut off by a loud moan, as he put his thick tip inside of your pussy. He smirked, watching all the frustration and fight fall out of your face. You bit your lower lip, whimpering. No matter how many times you two fucked, nothing could ever prepare you for the feeling of his cock inside you.

‘Where’s all that brattiness gone, hm?’ He asked, slowly sliding in inside you, letting out a quiet groan. ‘I could’ve sworn you were telling me about hobie brown just a few minutes ago..’ He teased, as you gasped, moaning. ‘H-he could never fill me like you can miggy.. o-only your girl..’ You reassured breathlessly, as he chuckled, leaning closer to your ear. ‘I know baby, I know. Only dumb for my cock, right?’ He cooed, as you nodded before gasping once again as he started pushing in and out. He held your hips in place, as you fell back onto the desk, your back arching into him, causing him to hit all the deep spots inside you. You were a moaning mess, as he watched as his pretty little brat fell apart on his cock. He felt his pride and lust coming out as he held onto her hair lightly. ‘Like it, hermosa? Like being fucked dumb, all you needed was a good dick down to shut up that filthy mouth of yours?’ He teased, as you were practically incoherent. You nodded mindlessly, as he smiled softly, chuckling in your ear. ‘Cant even hear a word I’m saying, can you? Only thinking about how close you are.’ He mocked, as you moaned again, tears spilling from your eyes as his pace sped up.

‘C-close!’ You said a few minutes later, holding onto the desk for dear life as Miguel drilled himself into you. ‘Yeah I know baby, can feel you tightening around me, you wanna cum? Hm?’ He asked, as you nodded. ‘Yes! please.. p-lease I’ll be a good girl.. I-i’ll be your good girl just please..’ You babbled, as Miguel just chuckled, shutting you up by putting his fingers in your mouth. ‘Talking too much, honey.’ He teased, as you moaned through his fingers. He felt your walls clamp around him, signalling your near. He sped up, chasing his own high as well as yours.

Soon enough, you came undone. You moaned loudly, eyes rolled back as you hit your euphoria, your walls spasming around Miguel causing his high to crash too. He grunted deeply, as he continued to thrust his load inside you. you felt his cum deep inside you, as you came back from your high, Miguel panting, giving you one last hard thrust as he finished.

He pulled out slowly, grunting quietly as he moved your jaw to look at him. Your face had that pretty blissed out expression, the one you usually got when you had been fucked dumb. good. Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson next time.

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#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel smut #miguel spiderverse #fem reader #smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x y/n #spider verse #kinktober #miguel ohara smut

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abbyromanoff · 1 year

Note

Can I request GP Photographer Wanda x Model Reader

The Phone Call

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x reader, Tony and Pepper x reader (Parents/child)

Word Count: 1976

Warnings: Smut, Wanda has a dick, pervert Wanda, phone sex, mommy kink, bottom!Wanda, guiding, handjobs, jerking off to photos, praise, degrading, punishments, edging,

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

Wanda had a love for taking photos, especially when you’d be the model. She loved seeing you pose with a silly face, and she loved making you dress up in cute little outfits. Whether it was a dress or skimpy lingerie, she adored staring at the pictures she had taken of you. Sometimes, she couldn’t help but admire the polaroids when you were gone. And sometimes, she couldn’t help but bring a hand into her pants.

You had left only three days ago on a small road trip to visit your family. Wanda had wanted to go, but her classes and schedule restricted her from doing so. Your family loved her and wanted to see her, but they understood the stress of college.

Wanda had a small box under her bed filled with small polaroids painted with your body. She ran the pad of her thumb over your gorgeous face, smiling to herself when glancing at your beauty. The next photo she grabbed was one of you in only her sweatshirt. It was large, restricting her from seeing the cute pink panties you wore that day. You were smiling whilst holding the ends of the fabric, it was one of her favorite photos of you. The innocence laced in you could only make her imagine the things she’d do to you. Your thighs were exposed, begging to be planted with marks and love bites. Oh, how she wanted to fuck your thighs more than anything.

The next polaroid she lurked upon was one of you wearing a pair of red panties and stockings. Your arm was covering your bra-less breasts as you sucked on a lollipop. You stood on your tiptoes and looked up at nothing, a sweet smile being hidden beneath the sugary treat. Images of you teasing her cock with your mouth filled her mind. The way you licked over the tip so gently as to barely graze it made her go feral. And when you’d take her down to the base, crying and gagging as your hand would massage her balls with the sweetest care, it ruined her.

She couldn’t stop. No matter how hard she tried to stop herself from going through the box, she just couldn’t help it.

You were finishing up dinner with your family, eating the remains of the dessert your mother had baked, and creating a small talk between you and your parents.

“So, Y/N, how’s Wanda?”

“I swear you guys love her more than me at this point.” The two chuckled humorously as you smiled gently, staring down at your food to avoid them seeing your reddened cheeks. It was crazy how she could make you blush from miles and miles away.

“She’s great, yeah. She actually is waiting on her results for her final before the break.” You filled your mouth up with the moist cake that earlier was coated in a ‘Happy Birthday Pepper’ and waited for their response.

“You guys planning on doing anything over break?” Your father asked, your mother nodding along with his words.

“Well, we both want to take time for ourselves but at the same time, we want to explore. If we were to travel, we were thinking Puerto Rico would be nice. It would be great for some pictures and definitely a nice place to visit.” You all continued on for another half an hour before you separated ways and started to walk into your childhood bedroom. The two of them were in their room doing god knows what when you got a call. You looked at the name and saw that it was Wanda. Excitedly picking up the phone, your smile soon got replaced with a look of confusion as you heard small groans on the other side.

“Wanda? Are you okay?” Hearing your voice only made her harder. Her hand was wrapped around her length, slowly stroking the shaft and lightly grazing her thumb over the pre-cum leaking tip.

“Fuck! Y-Y/N, please, it feels so good.” Whimpers left her cracked-open mouth as she expressed her needs to you, only leaving a smirk on your face.

“Wanda, are you touching yourself?” She nodded, only to then remember that you couldn’t see her. But you needed to, you needed to see the way her cock twitched in her hands from the thought of you.

“Wanda, why don’t you facetime me, let mommy help you out.” In a quick few seconds, the camera was being turned on as you got the notification that she was trying to video call. You accepted, being greeted with darkness until you saw her breathtaking face make its way onto your phone.

“My angel is so beautiful, isn’t she? My pretty girl, tell mommy how pretty you are.” She tried to speak, but the moan that left her lips cut her off. She knew she should’ve slowed down her pace, making it easier for her to not cum right away. But it was impossible when picturing it was your hand instead of hers.

“Baby, what did I say? Do you think mommy will be so nice to you if you don’t listen?”

“I’m sorry! Please let me be your good girl tonight, just wanna please you.” She whimpered out in fear and frustration. She tried to listen, she really did. But sometimes, all she wanted to do was be a little brat. She only thought at the moment, not caring about the punishment that she could receive later on.

“I’m your pretty girl, I’m mommy’s pretty girl!” You smiled at her through the camera, now being dressed in nothing but your panties. You rid her of seeing your bare chest, her favorite part of your entire body. She would worship your breasts all night long if she could. She had hundreds of pictures of your chest alone, she went through them all nearly every day.

“Yeah? You’re my girl? My princess?” She groaned in annoyance, watching as her pre-cum continued to drool down her awaiting cock. She wasn’t going to last long, her best bet was just to give in.

“All yours, mommy! I’m your girl, your princess. I’m yours to touch, to own, to fuck, all yours!” She swapped the camera around, letting you watch as her palm pumped her throbbing cock. Her thighs occasionally twitched upwards, her toned abs becoming visible as her chest went up and down due to her rapid breathing. Your breath hitched when hearing footsteps from outside of your old bedroom.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to be quiet, okay?” She agreed in hopes you’d show her some gratitude for listening, even if deep down she knew you wouldn’t.

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? What if they came in here and saw what you were doing for me? I don’t think they’d like you very much if they knew you’re slutting yourself out for their child in the room next to them.”

“God, keep talking to me like that, I’m gonna cum.” She set her phone down, holding the small piece of paper that was marked with your naked body close to her pulsing cock. In the photo, your mouth was split open, your eyes closed as drops of her juices painted your face. She remembers exactly how that night went. You were tired, sleeping as you waited for her to get home from work. She came home needy and woke you up, crying as you jerked her off slowly, not letting her finish until you said. You edged her over and over, only letting her cum when she was shaking and twitching. That night, you cockwarmed her as you slept. She tried to sleep just like you, but it was impossible with the way you clenched around her so tightly. You woke up to her release dripping out of you and a sleeping Wanda that you soon woke up to head.

“Darling? You still there?” Wanda hadn’t even realized that she was stuck in her head and missed what you said. You were sat with the phone in your hand, the other in your underwear, and toying with your clit. You weren’t going to let her cum until you did, it was one of your rules that she despised and loved at the same time. She loved making you finish more than anything, but she hated waiting when she was so close to tipping over the edge. You knew how desperate she always was, and you loved that dearly. And what you loved most of all, was knowing that it was all because of you.

“Y-yeah, I was just thinking.”

“About what, baby?” She contemplated telling you, worried you’d think she was a pervert for looking at your photos. Even though you knew all about them. But you wouldn’t tell her that, you liked knowing how gross she was for you. That she’d get hard just from looking at your photos.

“C’mon, Wanda, tell mommy what you’re thinking about.” You egged her on. She could feel herself falling into that headspace, the one only you could cause. Her mind would go fuzzy, any thought leaving her mind as all she could focus on was you and your angelic voice. You loved when she got like that, when she was so needy that she couldn’t even think without your help.

“Of you, I was thinking of you, mommy.” You hummed, clearly not satisfied with her answer.

“Yeah? What about me?” When she didn’t give an answer, you forced it out of her, threatening her with a punishment if she didn’t speak.

“No! No! Please, I’ll tell you.”

“Go on then, tell mommy what nasty thoughts are going through your pretty little head.” She took in a deep breath, preparing herself to hear the degrading words that would leave your mouth.

“I was thinking about- ah! Mommy, please!” She was so close, basically on the verge of cumming as you only mocked her desperate antics.

“Baby, you know I won’t let you cum if you don’t tell me all those sweet little thoughts.”

“Fuck! I was thinking about you, and about you sucking me off. The way you wrap your mouth around me and go all the way down. The way you gag and cry. The way you moan around me. The way you look at me and talk to me. God, it’s so hot, I can’t stop picturing it.” You circled your clit faster as you listened to her speak, making a mental note to exaggerate those actions the next time you’d be with her.

“You get mommy so wet, baby. Do you like knowing that? You like knowing that mommy is dripping just for you.” She whined out pathetically.

“Hmm, what a shame you aren’t here, I would’ve had you licking me up in no time.” She begged and begged for the next few minutes, hoping you’d finally let her cum. And you were getting so close to breaking.

“Shit! My God- please! Please, mommy, I’ll do anything. You can punish me, I don’t care, just please let me cum. Just this one time?”

“Do it, Wanda, cum for me.” The second you let out those words, she let herself go, spurts of her release coating her hand and lower stomach. She moaned louder than ever before, the picture that was still in her hand being covered in her juices. You let yourself finish with her, covering your mouth to hide any noises to make sure your parents wouldn’t hear. It was late, you didn’t want to wake them up to hearing your moans for someone who they thought was so sweet and innocent.

“Holy shit. The second I come home, I want you on your knees, naked, and waiting for me on the bed.” And with that, you hung up, leaving her with a slightly hardened cock and the perfect image of what was to come.

Taglist: @boredandneedfanfics @obsessedwithhereyes

#wanda x fem!reader #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff angst #wanda fanfic #wanda x y/n #mommy wanda #wanda my beloved #wanda maximilf #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda smut #wanda marvel #wanda x reader smut #wanda x you #wanda x gn!reader #wanda x gender neutral reader

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luvfy0dor · 2 months

Text

“He's Got So Much in His Heart, But He Doesn't Know What to Do ♡⁠˖” BSD Men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Dazai Osamu, Sigma

Warnings; barely proofread, maybe ooc

Description; BSD Men confessing to you

A/n; I promise I'm working on reqs! I think after I do two more I'm gonna open requests again ^^

⑅Chuuya Nakahara⑅

• Chuuyas palms get sweaty when he does confess to you- you've been a long time port mafia member and have been well acquainted for years, but he still gets all nervous. He asks around for your favorite snacks or chocolates and flowers. If you don't like flowers, he'll replace it with something else, but for the sake of the story, we'll use flowers.

ೃ⁀➷

Chuuya eyed the flowers sitting on his desk from time to time. He has been stirring with his own feelings for too long and decided he would just admit everything to you today- how he felt his face heat up when you praised his work and the way his heart thumped in his chest when you smile at him in the hallways. He rubbed his face with his hands and groaned, contemplating all the outcomes of his situation. You could say you felt the same and agree to go on a date with him, or you could turn him down politely. He didn't think a rude rejection was a possibility from you, even if you're not the nicest person, he just couldn't imagine you being mean to him. Or maybe he just didn't want to imagine it.

He let out one final sigh before standing up from his desk and grabbing the flowers. The bouquet of roses was held together in red cellophane wrap and crinkled in his grasp. It was about time for him to leave for the day, and he knew you got out at the same time and didn't like to hang around, so he hurriedly headed to your office. His hair bounced on one of his shoulder while he walked and his hands sweat nervously under his gloves. He took a deep breath and headed to round a corner, but instead ran face first into you, making the both of you stumble backwards. "Jeez, Chuuya, you're fine, right?" You ask, regaining your balance and scanning over his appearance and seeing the roses. "Oh..! Who are the roses for?" You ask, feeling a little bit of jealousy form in the depths of your chest. It took a while for you to admit to yourself that you liked Chuuya because of your co-worker status, and now that you did you couldn't help but with for a good portion of his attention.

"Uh- yeah, no, I'm fine. You're okay too, that's good. They're, uhm, they're for-" He mutters, trying to stall a little to buy time to get his heart out of his throat. He just sighs and runs a hand through his bangs and holds out the flowers to you. "They're for you." He averts his eyes and visually becomes more red. Your eyes widen. "Chuuya, you don't have to give them to me because I asked, if they're for somebody else then go bring them to that person." You say with a small but slightly bitter laugh, not that he could tell because he was too busy worrying over whether or not this was your form of rejection. "No, they're really for you. They've been for you since I bought 'em." He tells you, holding them out towards you insistently. You feel your heart rate pick up and your breath hitches. "Chuuya.." you whisper his name and it's like music to his ears.

"Y/n, I would really like to take you on a date if you'd let me. I really like you, you're nothing less than enchanting to me." He says dead seriously, shoving the flowers towards you again. You take them and can't help but flash your teeth in a smile. "Yeah, I'd love to go on a date with you too. Let me give you my number so you can text me about it, can I just put it in your phone?" You ask, holding out your hand. He nod and fishes his phone out of one of his pockets. He opens the contacts app and creates a new one before giving it to you to add your phone number. You do so with a smile and hand it back to him. You can see him smile while looking down at his phone, and when he looks back up, you press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Chuuya, I really appreciate the flowers and your confession. I have to head home and make dinner, so text me, okay?" You grab his hand and give it a quick squeeze. He nods. "Yeah, you got it." The prideful grin on his face doesn't fade as he walks back to his office. He felt like a kid on Christmas after receiving their number one item on the wishlist, and his #1 item happened to be the chance to get to know you better.

⑅Dazai Osamu⑅

• Dazai is very confident. He'll let you know when he likes you, and you can tell it's different from his usual flirting.

ೃ⁀➷

You work alongside Dazai at the ada and the both of you decided to take half of a day off to wander the city. You didn't really have a specific location in mind and just went wherever your feet took you. You ended up walking into a cafe with Dazai holding the door open for you. "Wow, isn't this nice! You know what else is nice?" He asks you with a smile on his face. You raise an eyebrow. "What else is nice?" He places his hands on his hips while the two of you wait in line. "When you partake in kindness. Kindness such as paying for my food." You scoff. "No." His shoulders slump a little bit he pulls out his wallet and counts up the money he has. He opts to buy himself a muffin and watches you think about which smoothie you want. You decide on strawberry and tell the man at the counter your choice. Dazai asks for a muffin to go along with it and you furrow your eyebrows. "I thought we were paying separate?" He shrugs and sits through his wallet again. "You can pay me back later." A little impressed by the usually out of character gesture, you smile and thank him.

You receive your smoothie and he gets his muffin, walking out of the cafe together. His mind fills with thoughts of holding your hand while walking down the street together and he hums at the meer idea of it. It would feel so right. "Where should we go now?" You ask, sipping on your drink. "In this instance, I'd say anywhere we could find a beautiful woman to end my life with, but who needs some random woman when I have you?" He says, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. Your cheeks heat up and you playfully swat at his shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?" You say, a smile creeping into your face as well.

"Oh, nothing bad." He says. "I always want to die, but I wouldn't mind living in the moment with you right now." He says, looking straight ahead. "You know I like you, right?" He asks, turning his head towards you to see your stunned face. You stammer over your words but quickly blurt out an answer. "I-I mean, I had my suspicions but...I didn't wanna pin anything on you." You averted your eyes. You had been too wrapped up in your own feelings for him and subsiding them to realize that they were reciprocated this whole time. "You didn't." He says, his tone teasing and knowing. You roll your eyes. "I didn't have time to think about it." You say, grabbing his free hand in yours. "But I like you, too." He smiled and leaned over to bump his forehead against yours. "Good." You let out a breathy laugh and squeeze his hand before leaning your head on his shoulder. "Yeah..very good."

⑅Sigma⑅

• Sigma doesn't know how to deal with his feelings towards you. He knows it's more than friendship, but he's scared to lable it as romantic love.

ೃ⁀➷

Sigma was one of your closest friends, and one night you were able to tear him away from his work to hang out. You were in the middle of braiding his hair and sharing random stories in your life, specifically one about an elementary school crush, when he got quiet. Your fingers paused their movements and rested on his shoulders instead. "You alright? You got all silent all of a sudden." You ask him, rubbing circles into his shoulder with your thumb. "Yeah. Uh, when you were younger, how did you know if you liked someone? Especially so young. It feels so complex." You hum in thought and return to braiding. "Well, it's real rare that you find true love so young. Even in highschool, if you stay together with someone past graduation it's pretty impressive. But I don't think there's one set way of knowing...you could say there's a lot of things that factor into it. Like wanting to be around someone more, giving your all for them, things like that." You say, pulling some hair from the top layer back.

He nods in understanding. "Oh. That makes sense." You hum in the affirmative and tie the braid together with a hair tie and crawl to face his front. "Or like...your heart might speed up, your body might heat up, stuff like that. Sweaty palms, etcetera, etcetera." You say with a smile, sitting cross legged. He stares into your eyes, his eyes full of color and his lips are drawn into a tight line. "My- uhm, my heart is definetly speeding up." He stammers, his hands holding onto his ankles. You raise an eyebrow and examine his appearance; he was blushing. "Are you thinking about someone in particular?" You ask, feeling your heart pick up. You couldn't help but hope that his next response would be your name. "Yeah." Was all that he whispered as he switched from sitting costs legged to on his knees. "Is it weird when people confess to you? You must get confessions a lot, don't you?" He asks, his fingers anxiously rubbing the fabric of his pajama pants- the pajama pants that matched yours.

You leaned back on your arms. "Not particularly, but no, I don't think it's weird at all." You tell him. "So can I?" Your heart drops, even though you felt like the previous conversation was foreshadowing his confession. You nod and sit up, your full attention on the pale man. "Okay. I want to be in a relationship with you. I've never been in one before, so you'll have to bare with me, but I want nothing more than to be with you if you'll let me. You make me feel...at home." He says, his body closer to yours now as he hesitantly grabs your hand. Your heart felt touched and held in his hand because of his honest and sincere words and for a moment, you thought you were dreaming. You squeezed his hand caressed his knuckles your thumb. "You make me feel the same way..wow, you're gonna make me overheat.." You say, averting your eyes. He worriedly let's go of your hand and backs up.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fluster you." He says, a small frown on his face. You chuckle and take his hand back. "Don't worry about it, it's fine." You reassure him, interlocking your fingers with his and bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles. He does the same to your knuckles, gazing up at you through his light colored eyelashes. Once his lips parted from your skin, he stared at the glistening skin. "This is all so new, but I want to get used to it for you." He says. You giddily smile and reach out to cup his cheek and push some hair behind his ear. "Me too, Sigma."

A/n; hi guys so basically I think I'm gonna do a q&a and try to get to know y'all a little more and make some writer friends because I wanna get more in touch with the writing community ^^

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saintmurd0ck · 7 months

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lakeside dreamin'

masterlist

pairing: jedi general anakin skywalker x f!reader

summary: anakin reminisces about your lives together while he's away fighting in the clone wars

warnings: heavy angst, mentions of canon events in TCW, canon typical mentions of warfare, some smut/spice, mentions of sex, minors DNI 18+ only

a/n: to the one anon who requested this maybe a year ago? i saw clone wars anakin and it was over for my brain 🫠 anyway love you guys and leave a comment or reblog if you liked this! 🥺

song pairing: love on the brain (rihanna)

The war was taking its toll.

Day after day, planet after planet, all Anakin knew now was his place on the battlefield. And his role in leading the victory for the Jedi and the Republic, even though their dogma preached peace, not violence. Every skirmish brought a new kind of horror to his once uncomplicated life, whether it was watching Separatist droids and clone troopers alike, cut down as easily as marsh reeds, or the simple fact that his relationship with the Force was dwindling towards something impure. Something he couldn’t make sense of, and would surely raise more questions than answers if he were to confide in his Masters. It wasn’t that he contemplated reaching towards the Dark side, or thought of the kind of evil only the Sith could endure; it was more like an isolating numbness that spread from within, and before long, Anakin felt the cloud settle over his mind.

He was tired of seeing smoke — the kind that billowed in every direction, stinking of despair and lost hope on his front, despite the war turning to the Republic’s favour. It was the sound of unending blaster fire and the repetitive ignition of his lightsaber that haunted his nightmares, and with only the company of his clone legion, his Padawan Ahsoka and the occasional appearance from Obi-Wan, he felt himself starting to slip.

He was overwhelmed, and encumbered with burden.

Never before had he experienced such guilt, anger and suffering — towards his army, towards the civilians caught in the crossfire, and towards his relationship with you.

The secret life the two of you led, away from the Order, felt like something out of another galaxy, another lifetime. It was as if eons had passed since he’d last seen you, and yet the world was constantly evolving — not towards freedom, but into a more destructive version of its past. Even for a Jedi General (and, one could argue, because he was a Jedi General), Anakin had little comfort, and much less sway in which systems he visited and what he took part in. Seeing you was absolutely out of the question, but it wasn’t like he bothered to even ask, out of fear of inviting a lecture from Obi-Wan, or Maker-forbid, an audience with Master Yoda.

At least things like facilitating training for the Onderon rebels allowed him to feel more of himself, and to an extent, a sort of unity with the Council, but all of that was quickly replaced by the more sinister side of the Separatist Alliance, such as the trainwreck on Zygerria. Liberation didn’t exist there. Not until Anakin showed up.

It was these events that really compelled him to look inwards, to not just seek the Force’s guidance, but to use it in tandem with a coping mechanism that would get him through the war.

And so the vignettes began. Slowly, at first.

It started off as little glimpses of your life together, slices of euphoric nostalgia that weaved their way into Anakin’s being. He didn’t realise just how much he yearned for you; not simply the way your skin felt on his, but the pureness of your energy, the reminder that good truly did exist in this world. As much as these images were a solace to his sanity, they brought about a sense of malaise. Contrition, actually, if he sought the Force for the purpose of clarity. Even though it all existed in his head, allowing himself these indulgences felt like once again, he was breaking Code.

But could it really have been that bad, if it honed his focus? If it drew him back to the bigger picture, of the why? Reminding himself of who it was he fought for didn’t erase the atrocities, but it gave him that flicker of hope, knowing that the sum of his actions equalled a better world for you.

And some selfish, miniscule part of him figured that if he could lead the victory, he’d be pardoned when the Order inevitably found out about the life the two of you shared. It isn’t as if no-one already knew. He was sure Ahsoka was aware. Rex, too. He doubted when it came to Obi-Wan, but then again very little got past his Master.

While the memories of you lay fresh before his eyes, they seemed to sharpen at specific points throughout the day; often in the thick of battle, or when he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, nothing but thin shafts of moonlight illuminating his body. It’s like they were stitched perfectly amongst the real action, scattered at perfect intervals that jerked his body into manoeuvre.

The sweetest images had always featured the lake.

Armed with nothing more but his wits, his back pressed against the cold, wet stone in a cave on Vanqor, he reminisced about that first night with you by the lakeside. The sweet smell of wildflowers carried in the breeze, heightened by his affinity for the Force. He recalled the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore, and how the two moons cast their milky glow upon the shimmering surface of the water. And you — radiant, almost ethereal in the soft light, and the way your lips brushed against his neck, filling him with the kind of heat that flooded all at once. Not even the screech of the pursuing gundark could have interrupted this moment in time. He felt his breathing go ragged, because he remembered what happened next. He gritted his teeth, thinking about the way he moved inside you, and how you tangled your fingers in his hair, pressing chaste kisses to his mouth, his chest, whispering his name in sinful bliss. The gundark didn’t stand a chance. Not when Anakin’s motivation for getting out alive laid in sweet promise, embedded in these visions.

His name felt the most natural rolling off your tongue, nevermind that that was truly the last real thing he possessed, unmarred by time and the influence of the Jedi. In that moment, when you’d taken him over the edge with you, crying his name so loud he swore someone had heard, he knew he’d give it over to you if you’d asked.

He thought of the lake again when he was in Felucia, crouched low amongst the sillum. His lightsaber grew heavy in his hand, the ridges suddenly awkward in his palm, but the grip he’d started to lose on his lifeline gave rise to something he couldn’t ignore.

It was another temperate day and the sun had created the most brilliant reflections on the surface of the lake. With the grasses and trees swaying in the wind, Anakin closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force. He didn’t prod or poke, but rather he cast a wide net, a delicate caress, to connect with the life that teemed. It sang to him in a multi-layered harmony, acting as a prominent reminder that the Force flowed in all living things. And when his eyes fluttered open, he watched you carefully as you walked towards the water, your feet crunching on the smooth pebbles that made up the beach. You turned around to give him a dazzling smile, moving with deliberation to slip off your clothes. Your laughter echoed in the crisp air as you dived into the lake, disappearing under a swathe of emerald green, only to resurface in the middle with a large grin plastered to your face. He didn’t hesitate to jump in, to shed his clothing on the spot. A shudder ran down his spine at the thought of what happened shortly after.

Sometimes it was hard to return to the present, to remember that he’d sleep alone that night while you were only just waking up, systems away, most likely after another fitful slumber. There were times where he thought these visions would serve no other purpose than to derail him, when the temptation of your touch shadowed his desire for victory. These moments guided him to channel the Force within, so as to remind himself of why he was doing this in the first place. Because it was more than just a coping mechanism. It was an anchor. A thrumming pulse point. A gentle acknowledgement of the life he wanted to come back to.

It’s then that he wondered when enough would be enough, when the war would come to a stalemate, as it so often did in their history. The tide was turning, and he knew it.

And there it was again, that kernel of hope, that ember of light that shone in the depths of his soul. Even reduced to a ghost in his memory, you were tangible, so tangible now. He wouldn’t let the Separatists win. He couldn’t, because there was too much at stake. And so if thinking of you, in these ways, helped him remember that, he wasn’t going to stop.

Not for anyone.

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fic #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin fanfiction #x reader #rhi writes 💻

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queenofcoquette · 9 months

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how i started to feel pretty

hey loves! i’ve struggled with feeling insecure over my looks, but recently i’ve made changes that have helped me be less insecure. little improvements with my lifestyle and mindset have already made a big difference. first i’m going to talk about my insecurities, then what i did and then general tips.

my insecurities:

hyperpigmentation. i have bad undereye bags due to genetics that landed my family to call all of our eyes “raccoon eyes.” then redness above my eyelids, then darkness above my upper lip no matter how much i shaved.

facial asymmetry. we all have it, but i felt so bad anytime i took a selfie and i couldn’t bear to take any photos of myself.

body dysmorphia. this one is weird. i don’t view my body the way others do, and honestly the way i view it changes all the time.

changes i’ve made:

first i started doing things that didn’t help. they were temporary solutions that did nothing. i used concealer and powder for the hyperpigmentation- but it looked cakey and a little ashy-kinda cuz i wasn’t using a color corrector. for my body i did these “abs in 2 weeks!” challenges during covid, and was restrictive, which is the worst thing you can do for yourself.

for my skin:

i started using the glycolic acid serum by the ordinary. this stuff is life changing! i’ve been going makeup free on my skin lately and my skin tone has gotten so much more even. plus it’s affordable and it’s a giant bottle.

for my face:

i started doing face massages for muscle tension

i also realized that my facial asymmetry is 1) normal (we all have it to a certain extent and 2) it’s probably not as bad as i think it is.

for my body:

i’ve started to focus more on health than appearances, because that my view of my body is distorted. i don’t see it like other people do, so i need to prioritize my health. i started eating MORE- more foods that are healthy, more fruits and vegtables. instead of restricing i allowed myself to have more.

i developed a pilates plan that focused on building strength, and incorporated a little bit of weights. now that i play sports i’ve put an emphasis on strength which has actually helped me get more toned.

journaling. i began to write down about my feelings- the way i view other people vs. the way i view myself. it made me realize how social media gave me an unrealistic image, and how i wasn’t viewing myself the way i really am.

advice:

what are you insecure about? the first step is just writing down your biggest insecurities- aka why don’t you feel beautiful? what made you feel this way? no one is born feeling ugly- we’re all taught to feel this way, whether it’s comments that have been made to us or others.

find people with similar stories. this helped me in the past, watching videos about people who had the same insecurities as me, it opened my eyes to how harshly i treat myself.

get to the root of it. for my skin i realized that covering up my hyperpigmentation with makeup wouldn’t solve the problem, so i put an emphasis on incorporating things into my skincare routine that could solve the problem, without makeup!

think in the long-term. think about what’s healthy for you, and the most natural way of doing so. for example, when it came to my body i had to think about what’s healthy for me overall, not a quick fix. quick fixes aren’t attainable!

prioritize mental and physical health. i think we should all embrace our natural beauty by focusing on our skincare and the health of our hair. additionally, mental health is equally important, especially when it comes to body image.

positive thinking. a lot of times we tend to vocalize our negative thoughts, ive heard ppl make horrible comments about their bodies and things like that. first of all, stop saying those things out loud- you’re only reaffirming them in your head, and furthering the bad feeling. when you get horrible thoughts about yourself, try to stop them and replace them with good ones. even if you don’t believe it at first, you soon will.

it sometimes takes a while for beautiful people to realize how gorgeous they are. i had friends who i thought were some of the prettiest girls in the world, but they didn’t even realize it. i bet there’s so many people in your life who look at you and see the beauty in you that you don’t see in yourself. just stay healthy and keep positive thoughts, and i hope in time you’ll see your inner and outer beauty.

#that girl #that girl 2023 #self improvement #pink pilates princess #queenofcoquette

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titleknown · 3 months

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Given my defenses of AI artists/dim view of the moral panic, I think overall people pushing back on this is a good thing.

Like, the sort of AI art I like is by small weirdos doing weirdo things not big megacorps using it to replace workers, and WotC and Hasbro are run by bastards who would probably salivate at the idea of replacing artists on MtG given they'd probably be the easiest ones to replace from a greedy-corporate-bastard view.

However, there's a souple of notes here I think we all should keep an eye on.

Namely, the fact that it was apparently from an artist using an AI tool that WotC didn't know about. Which, I think that's going to be a problem creators run into sooner or later with "AI bans"

Like, I get a lot of images for my photomanip stuff from Pixabay. And more and more I've been seeing a lot of AI art stuff as a part of it. How would those bans impact me if I; say; used them as an ingredient in a photomanip without knowing?

So, there's that. But there's also a disquieting possibility I've noticed.

Namely: Given the main fear about AI is that its ability to work quickly at volume might be used to push out traditional artists and their precision, what happens if corpos push for "the worst of both worlds"?

IE, what if; due to the expanded production speed of AI art; they mandate that creators work at speeds that can only be done if they use AI tools, but also end up forcing them to conceal and lie about it and leaving the artists to take the fall for using it rather than the corpos for pushing the culture of overwork that made it necessary?

TBH, I think that's why we need to focus less on the "stealing" argument being used as a way to talk about the destruction of the artistic ecosystem by mandated speed, and more the idea of the right of the artist to work at their own pace that might be able to do something about it.

But, IDK, that's just me, it's just something to watch out for.

#art #ai art #ai art discourse #critique #magic the gathering #meta

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cursedkeyboard · 4 months

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Funnily enough, I've never been too big of a Jason Todd fan. Not because I don't like him, he's a great character, but because DC fails over and over again to give him justice and treat him right.

The number of times alone this boy has been beaten by his adoptive father, betrayed, and forgotten are far too many, far too much.

And the constant portrayal of Jason as this volatile, violent, mindless man is tiresome, lazy in all senses of the word and overdone. I understand that Jason was unstable after he left the pit, I mean, who wouldn't? The trauma of his death alone could've sent anyone crazy, but then to experience everything else afterwards, including having to come to terms that Bruce not only did not kill his murder but also replaced him, leaving Jason to grieve what was once his and what he should've gotten, of course he'd be less than okay.

Again, I'm not the biggest Jason Todd fan but I do wish more people would see just how much good Jason has in his heart, how kind and gentle he can be once his walls are down, when he's no longer constantly analyzing your actions and wondering why would you bother talking to him, getting closer to him.

In my opinion, a man who is so gentle with children, who constantly gives second, third, and fourth chances to people who don't deserve it, who despite it all still wants to make a change and protect the city that failed him, couldn't possibly be anything but the most caring partner. Not just partner, no, also brother and friend.

We all know what he did to Tim and Damian, there are reasons, such as his mental instability at the time and rage, and though those are not excuses, I believe Jason would still drop everything to go save his family. He might complain, he might brood, but family is something important to him even when just looking at them hurts him. He lost his loving mother, stepmother, far too early and it's not hard to imagine that even with all the pain and grief inside his torn heart, the little boy inside Jason still craves the warmth of a family.

Just look at the way he treats his friends, at the way he helps them through situations no one else would, how caring and attentive he is. Jason is gentle, sure, he is rough and mean and he's got blood on his hands, but Jason is made of love.

Jason was made to be loved.

So I think, whether platonic or romantically, Jason would treat you so well. He'd scold you for not wearing warm clothes during winter, "We're in Gotham, you fucking moron, you wanna freeze to death?", all while wrapping you with his jacket or scarf. He'd make sure you're eating at least something every day, and if not, he would immediately put you under his arm, maybe over his shoulder, and take you to the nearest food chain he could find, "I don't want to hear you complaining about headaches when all you had today was a cup of coffee and gum.".

Lord, he'd be torn between freaking out and being extremely annoyed that you got hurt, be it at work, a fight, or just out of clumsiness. But no matter what, his hands would always be so, so gentle when touching you. The tip of his fingers brushing under the injury, as light as a breeze, his other hand holding the back of your neck, or your bicep, perhaps even your hand just to make sure you're there, with him.

Jason would both hush you gently, "I know, sweetheart, we're almost done.", and also tease because he's a little shit at heart, "If you had a little more awareness than a ten year old this wouldn't have happened, idiot."

And physical touches? Oh, love, Jason is a sucker for intimacy.

I know for a fact he wouldn't be comfortable for a long time with anyone in his personal space due to the torture he went through. The trauma would make his skin crawl any time someone got too close or brushed past him, he'd hate it so much because it makes him weak but also because he can't let anyone try to hug him without feeling sick to his stomach.

And with you it's no different. It would take a long time, a lot of trust being built up, conflict and confessions, maybe he'd even open up to you with his head on your lap as you brushed his hair softly, a big, big step for him after years of not letting anyone close. He'd tell you about the Joker, about having hope in Bruce, about his biological mother. And he'd feel vulnerable like a child when you wipe his tears gently without a word.

Once he starts craving your touch, though, regardless if you two have a platonic or romantic relationship, Jason is putty in your hands. Forehead kisses when you part ways, cuddling on the couch while he reads and you're on your phone, thighs touching when sitting close, even a little bit of hand holding when he's stressed and needs to play with your fingers.

He's like a big cat that's constantly making his way onto your chest, stealing your breath and making biscuits on your skin, making sure you're giving him sufficient pats every day.

It's a little part of him that he's barely able to properly allow space for. There's still so much hurt in Jason, so much confusion and desperation, hatred and upset, that he'd probably still close off sometimes, try acting tough so you'd see how fucked up he is, how he's not truly worth of your love.

And yet.

And yet all it'd take for him to go soft and pliant in your hands would be a single touch, cupping his cheeks, brushing his skin softly with your thumbs, right under his pretty emerald eyes, making sure his gaze is on you and only you. Just like that, he'd slump his shoulders and bring you into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezing you close, your heartbeats synching.

He wouldn't remember when he started feeling safest in your arms but it'd feel like it was since forever. Like there was no one else but you.

Jason was made to be loved, though he is a little broken and a little tainted, lost like a child and hateful like a sinner, your love might just be his salvation, something he's greedy for, selfish for, even when he's so hesitant of somehow hurting you.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood x reader #gender neutral reader #my ode to jason todd because my best friend is obsessed with him

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sseniita · 3 months

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breaking generational trauma*

*pls give me a better name for this, im going insane

“She’s like me.”

The villain stared at the child bouncing in the hero’s arms. The hero’s expression wasn’t unlike one she had when she begged for mercy on behalf of a civilian. Simpler, it was similar to when she had begged the villain to take care of her dog while she was away on a mission or when she wanted the last slice of pizza. Overall, the helplessly hopeful demeanor on the hero's face was one villain had become not only familiar with, but also weak against.

“Hero, where did that come from? Put it back.” urged the villain, gesturing towards the bundle of blankets in her arms.

“I can’t! I won’t!” The hero held the child closer, protectively, as if the villain was the one being irresponsible here.

“Like you?” The villain asked, intrigued. “There is no one like you, Hero.”

The hero readjusted the child on her hip, freeing one arm to grab paperwork rolled up in her back pocket. “That’s what I thought! Look!” She hastily handed over the crumpled up letters to the villain. It didn’t take more than reading the title for everything to click.

“Experiment 02? You mean-?”

“She’s from the same tests! We came from the same lab! They were going to do exactly what they did to me- to her-”

“Because of the success you were. I get it.” There was a pause between them for a second.

The hero was godlike in some ways and machine-like in less important ways. A literal biological weapon, forged since birth. It was an experiment, you could go so far as to call it an accident. Purposeful or not, the hero was the result of a successful lab sourced super-power. It had taken many years for the hero to come to terms with how she became the hero she was, and even longer to investigate and ultimately discover who was behind all of it. Evidently, she had.

“I can’t let them do it again.” She whispered, holding the child closely to her chest.

It was six months into knowing each other that hero confessed she didn't like being a hero. It was eight months later the villain found out why.

The villain sighed, motioning for her to walk into his apartment. Once they were comfortable on the villain’s couch, he began to ask a million questions.

Where? A hidden lab. Why? She couldn't leave her there. Her answers we stable and much too clear of mind considering the hero had just stolen a child.

“How old is it?” He finally asked, skimming through the lab documents.

“It's her. And about 4 months, I think. I just don’t get why they’re starting now. I never found any evidence to show they were doing anything before.” She restlessly bounced the baby. “I just don’t get it.”

The villain raised a brow at her, she raised one back. “What do you know?” she scooted closer to the villain.

“Superheroes are either decommissioned or retire around 50. But most lose relevance and popularity by 30. Whether it be they can’t keep their figure, or a newer, shinier thing comes around.” He scoffed. “Never ceases to amaze me” he said half-heartedly, staring down at the documents. The hero’s mouth dropped.

“I just celebrated my 25th birthday?! You’re saying I’m old and ugly?!” The villain rolled their eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re perfect and probably always will be." He realized what he had just said, he quickly interrupted the hero as she was about to open her mouth. "It’s just how it goes. Once you reach 30, people aren’t as interested. It’s fucked.” The hero quickly caught on.

“So, she��s my replacement?”

“Seems like it. Nova, she’ll be called once she turns 15. Thankfully, tests hadn't started on her. They had her on weird ass diet to prepare her, though. You caught her in time.”

The hero was sitting close enough that the villain could peek at the baby’s sleeping face. She was so serene and had no idea what had already been laid out for her, all the pain and suffering, in the name of good. She’ll have no choice. Just like the hero. The villain often stared at the hero in the domestic settings they sometimes found themselves in. He’d imagine her on a lunch break from some normal, boring office job when they got late night coffees during the hero’s night shifts. Or at a dinner party whenever they teamed up and went undercover at some fancy party. God- he would have given anything to save his hero from the fate that was chosen for her. The little girl had chubby cheeks and looked so dreadfully soft. Just like the hero.

Shit. The villain thought, looking at the baby. I have a chance to save you.

The villain sighed and leaned back, done reading the crumpled pages, discarding the documents on the coffee table, defeated, just like that. It only took 10 minutes. Maybe he had gone soft.

“Eloise. Her name is Eloise.” He exasperated. It was heart wrenching to hear the hero start to coo at the baby. “No living family.” He hammered the last nail on his coffin.

“Hello, little Lulu. Is that your name? Lulu? You’re so cute! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” She baby-talked, pecking kisses all over Eloise's forehead, evidently disturbing her sleep. “Oh sorry- sorry!” she whispered to the baby.

She turned to the villain, eyes twinkling with hope. “I can keep her? Right?” The villain crossed his arms.

“Hero, I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“Haha- that’s your way of saying you unconditionally support me.” She said as she cuddled the baby even closer.

“Please let that child breathe, hero. You can’t hold her too close.” He reached a hand to push the baby a little further away from the hero’s chest. She beamed. “You’d be a great dad! Already keeping me in line!”

Please don’t start.

Despite himself, he looked for the best way to act disinterested and yet not fully close the window on that chance.

“No hero. I know how much this means to you, but I’m not taking care of a baby. I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten- I’m a villain. This is no environment for a child- even if I wanted one. You have my approval if that’s what you’re looking for, but that’s it.”

The hero ignored that, making a show of looking around the villain’s extremely cosy and expensive flat. Dark green wallpaper with flowers, a white brick fireplace with old books on the mantel. The place was decorated with the plushiest of carpets, and liveliest of plants. Each curtain hid a beautifully ornate window overlooking one of the safest areas in the inner city. The hero could see the hero offices which she resided in from here. Finally, her stare landed on the large spare bedroom where not only did the hero have a drawer of her things but had also spent countless nights in, recovering and playing patient to a medically trained villain. She raised her eyebrows at the villain.

“No.”

“Please.”

“Hero. You are always the one saying you wanted a family. This might be your only chance- ok, I get it. But she can’t stay here.

“I live in the dorms of the Hero Offices with 20 other heroes! I don’t and can’t have my own place! I’ll be found out for sure! There are probably a million people looking for her right now!”

“Hero-”

“Villain please. I can’t let them find her. I need you.” She placed a hand on his thigh, seemingly not noticing the villain’s twitch.

“Hero. I’m not a good person, you seem to forget. You cannot have that much trust in me-”

“You are the only person I can trust. Please.” She begged.

Perhaps the villain wasn’t the only one to blame, perhaps both of them had let this get too far. It started off normally, the fights, the one-liners, and bruises. And out of nowhere, the subtle flirting, the late night talks, the absolutely vulgar displays of emotions they’d never shared with anyone else, hit them like a brick. The hero had changed the villain’s life for the better. He no longer felt unbearably lonely and burdened, haunted by the constant terror and forcefulness of his occupation.

Villain had fallen in love months ago. And he had gotten far in distancing himself and learning to un-love. Now he had to take care of a baby with her that just happened to look like a perfect combination of both of them? His dark hair and tanned skin, her warm brown eyes and button nose. Just perfect.

“Fine.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the hero leaned against him, setting her head right under his neck, thankfully she didn’t hurl the baby to give him a hug. Maybe I deserve kisses on my forehead for Gods’ sake. He quickly hurled that thought away.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She beamed, kicking her feet. “This means so much, you have no idea!”

“Hero, this is temporary. If anyone finds out about this-”

“Ya, ya, I know. Don’t worry. Everything will be ok! I’ll make sure of it!”

The villain’s only hope was believing her. She was an atom bomb inside a 25 year old woman after all. Maybe he shouldn’t underestimate her. As she moved in towards the guestroom with Eloise, the villain watched intently, she set her down for a nap on the bed, and once she finally came out she looked determined and extremely excited. She plopped down on the couch making sure they were touching side by side so the villain could look at what she was seeing on her phone. Her fingers scrolled down a website titled ‘what to buy when you're expecting’ the villain groaned.

After an hour of the hero paraphrasing a multitude of blogs and villain jotting down notes, they had completed a list of things they needed to raise a child. The hero deflated when she mentioned how they’d have to skimp out on baby toys and clothes, but she quickly recovered after the villain reassured her money wouldn’t be an issue. Apparently villainy had its perks.

“So what are you going to do about the corporation? Can you really make sure this won’t happen again?” The villain asked the hero from the entrance way. The hero walked over, baby in arms, the villain helped the hero get her coat back on.

“Uh well. I maybe, sort of, accidentally, may have burned the place down…? Timidly she made eye contact with the villain who only chuckled.

“I may have also stolen any hard drive I could have found and threw it in the river.” The villain’s laugh only continued as he put a hand on the small of her back and led her out the door.

As they were walking to get a car seat- the first of many things on their list- the hero had asked the villain to hold Eloise while she used the lady’s room. She had been asleep when the villain got her but quickly after, she woke up. The villain immediately felt a panic and he feared she might start crying, he held her close, bouncing and hushing her to get her back to sleep. Eloise stared up at the villain for a long time before breaking into giggles, reaching her tiny arms up to touch his nose, getting the attention of the shoppers who started cooing at the handsome man rocking the baby with the loudest giggles ever.

Right then and there, as he felt the tiniest, softest hands grab his nose, the villain knew he was completely and utterly wrapped around, not only the hero’s finger, but of these tiny fingers as well.

pt 2

#hero x villain #villain x hero #enemies to lovers #writing #original fiction #no i wont stop writing about dad!villain #there will be a part 2 cause i love them dearly #mom hero???#dad villain #not proofread !!

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yurislotusgarden · 5 months

Text

Relationship hc's

ʚїɞ Nakahara Chuuya x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ Dazai's version

ʚїɞ word count: 1425

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names are used, reader’s gender is not specified in any way

ཐིཋྀ I love this man

ཐིཋྀ Anyway

ཐིཋྀ We all know he would be a gentleman to you <3

ཐིཋྀ Whether you live together or not, there's always a bouquet of your favorite flowers in a vase somewhere. Once they show even a small sign of dying he replaces them

ཐིཋྀ You still aren't sure how he knows about the flowers starting to wilt even when he's in another part of Japan or even another fucking country

ཐིཋྀ This man does both fancy and casual types of dates. Prefers fancy ones tho

ཐིཋྀ "Why have so much money and not use it to spoil the shit out of the love of my life?" <--- Chuuya wanting to spoil the fuck out of you all the time

ཐིཋྀ You probably live together after quite a short amount of time, like less than 8 months kind of short

ཐིཋྀ He's just so worried about your safety :(

ཐིཋྀ Both generally and because of his position as an executive

ཐིཋྀ You don't mind tho, don't lie to yourself

ཐིཋྀ Protective. Not overprotective but it's definitely up there on the scale. Kinda justified though

ཐིཋྀ Possessive mf

ཐིཋྀ Again, you don't mind as it's not to the point of being controlling and shit

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM, he still worries, just a little less since he knows you can take care of yourself

ཐིཋྀ If you're not an executive, you work under him for sure. Chuuya requested a change (if you weren't under him from the start) as soon as he realized this funny feeling he gets around you is love <3

ཐིཋྀ You know Dazai. No questions asked or doubt

ཐིཋྀ I saw around some time ago that someone wrote that Dazai breaks into wherever Chuuya lives. I’m sure it ain’t canon so just saying I very much hc him doing that

ཐིཋྀ You can see what I’m getting at, you probably met because of Dazai breaking into your guys' place😭

ཐིཋྀ Imagine you're cooking or something and hear someone in the house (Dazai doesn't try to hide he's there since he thinks Chuuya's home because of the light in the kitchen), thinking it's Chuuya you go to greet him before realizing it's not him but someone else-

ཐིཋྀ "Who are you and why are you here?"

ཐིཋྀ "Those should be my questions asshole!"

ཐིཋྀ "The fuck you mean?"

ཐིཋྀ "I live here? You literally broke into my house!"

ཐིཋྀ "You live here? But it's the slugs house isn't it? Did I break into the wrong place???" He knows he didn't

ཐིཋྀ "Wait 'slugs'-"

ཐིཋྀ You totally didn't realize who Dazai is because of that nickname, nope. Chuuya didn't complain about a mackerel at all no-

ཐིཋྀ That was literally yall's first convo

ཐིཋྀ Dazai standing like he should be there, and you standing there with a gun pointed at him (that you have from Chuuya because he has weapons all over the house just in case anyway. That one was in the kitchen)

ཐིཋྀ You guys proceeded to talk like you guys knew each other for years until the ginger came home and flipped the fuck out at the sight

ཐིཋྀ He thought you would have a peaceful life by not knowing the stack of bandages

ཐིཋྀ And to the gingers' chagrin, you and the brunette ended up being good friends

ཐིཋྀAs to who knows about yall depends on who you are

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM, most if not all will know at some point

ཐིཋྀ Mori would probably not do anything about it as long as it doesn't affect your guys' performance on missions

ཐིཋྀ If you're a civilian, the people who know about you are the people he's the closest to and Mori somehow finds out

ཐིཋྀ Kouyou adores you if you share at least some interests and you don't mind being friends with mafiosos (basically not judging them just because of their work)

ཐིཋྀ You guys drink tea together. Even if you don't like tea, she managed to find one that you like

ཐིཋྀ Even if you don't share interests, she will have nothing against you as long as you ain't hurting Chuuya

ཐིཋྀ Akutagawa siblings know for sure, you basically adopted them LMAO

ཐིཋྀ You and Gin go shopping together, sometimes tugging Ryu around against his will with yall

ཐིཋྀ I mentioned Mori, he at first didn't care if the relationship didn't change anything and Chuuya was as efficient as normally

ཐིཋྀ But Elise met you in the city by accident and decided she likes you and deemed you her friend, so Moto “asked” you to play with her from time to time

ཐིཋྀ Goodluck if you're a low-energy person

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM and Elise wants to Play with you, you are for sure a little bit safer around Mori

ཐིཋྀ He doesn't want to deal with her whining and throwing a tantrum if he doesn't have to, so if you not being killed will make Elise happy, he won't do it

ཐིཋྀ Going back to the topic

ཐིཋྀ Rides on his motorcycle with you holding him tightly from behind right?

ཐིཋྀ Mf rides faster than necessary just because he likes it when you squeeze his waist because you think you will fall off

ཐིཋྀ He won't let you but oh well

ཐིཋྀ Similar to Dazai, man has got a grip of steel, so good luck getting up from his lap, cuddling, or in the morning if he won't want you to. We all know he ain’t weak, not in the slightest

ཐིཋྀ Would teach you self-defense if you don't already know it. He for sure doesn’t complain at having to do that, the view he gets is quite pretty y’know? You can say the same about your view :)

ཐིཋྀ This is purely a hc of mine but he would teach you French if you will ask him!!!

ཐིཋྀ Yes I'm one of those who hc that Chuuya either generally knows French due to Kouyou teaching him and Dazai, or he has some French genetics and wanted to just learn it either way taught by Kouyou LMAO

ཐིཋྀ Hope you aren’t weak to French because he can and will flirt with you in it <3

ཐིཋྀ If you are tho, knees? Weak. Nonexistent. Goodbye.

ཐིཋྀ Mister here will use it to his advantage. He knows what he’s doing and he ain’t stopping

ཐིཋྀ If you know a language he doesn't, he will gladly learn it just to speak in it with you. Especially if you're a foreigner, he certainly will learn your native tongue at one point. But, if you know a language he doesn't just because you wanted to know it, he learns it anyway

ཐིཋྀ Another way to shit-talk people without their knowledge <33

“I'm so lucky to be dating your pretty ass”

“I don't understand, doll. Say it in a language I can understand.”

“No, I don't think so, pretty boy”

“Are you cussing me out or something?”

ཐིཋྀ ^You talking to Chuuya in your language before he knew it to confuse him

ཐིཋྀ He was indeed confused

ཐིཋྀ Speaking of hc’s, heterochromia Chuuya <3

ཐིཋྀ You love his eyes, one blue and one brown. You fluster him because of just staring at his eyes and at him generally

ཐིཋྀ He lets you play with his hair, style, and all

ཐིཋྀ It's so soft you considered stealing his hair stuff when you first run your hands through it

ཐིཋྀ He wouldn't mind, wouldn't even try to stop you. Would probably encourage it actually

ཐིཋྀ It's playing into his possessiveness

ཐིཋྀ This man has style, we know that. He also happens to have a big closet with his clothes :)

ཐིཋྀ Want a Chuuya-looking puddle on the floor? Wear. His. Clothes.

ཐིཋྀ The ginger will literally die if he comes home to you wearing his clothes. Anything. Wear anything and you will spot a wild Chuuya puddle in its natural habitat the floor

ཐིཋྀ AND IF YOU ASK HIM IF YOU CAN WEAR HIS STUFF WHILE EMBARRASSED???

ཐིཋྀ You make him want to sob :(

ཐིཋྀ Happily of course

ཐིཋྀ Use his shower stuff like shampoo and walk around in his clothes

ཐིཋྀ It does things to him

ཐིཋྀ Both fluffy and unholy thoughts are in this man's head if you’re just wearing his stuff

“Doll, you can’t do this to me.”

“Huh?”

ཐིཋྀ You’re either genuinely confused by his words or playing with him

ཐིཋྀ It ends the same anyways :)

ཐིཋྀ “Take my card and go crazy, love.”

ཐིཋྀ ^Chuuya on any occasion

ཐི��ྀ If he could he would spend his money on you, he would but you always stop him

ཐིཋྀ Therefore that’s Chuuya on any occasion because he has an excuse for it

ཐིཋྀ Price tag? What’s that?

ཐིཋྀ It doesn’t exist in his eyes, you are worth every single penny in his wallet <3

ཐིཋྀ You guys have spa days at home

ཐིཋྀ Share skin care routines if you can

Notes, comments, reblogs and anything else is greatly appreciated

#bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #port mafia x reader

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ddejavvu · 3 months

Note

sooo mei I was reading through your matt murdock ml and stumbled across the mafia one and pleaseee that is so cute, would you ever expand on that au? like maybe r’s flat is broken into and before she can even go to the cops there’s a bunch of matt’s guys there like don’t worry we’ve got it handled and she’s just ???

mafia!matt is the last thing i thought i'd be writing in the year 2024 but i can work with what you gave me <3

You're not sure whether you'd consider yourself lucky for escaping the bank unscathed, or unlucky for having been in the bank during an active shooting in the first place. Either way, the entire ordeal leaves you unsettled for weeks. You're bordering on agoraphobic, but food is a must, so you set out to brave the streets of Hell's Kitchen in search of something quick and dirty.

Upon your return, you know you're unlucky. You'd locked the door when you'd left, but evidently that doesn't stop someone who's desperate enough to break into a place that's barely up to code. You stare into the gaping, dark recess of your burgled apartment, noting that several electronics and appliances are out of place, but none of them appear to be missing. Your television is cracked, but you suppose your computer will be a suitable replacement until you can manage to afford a new screen.

You back away from the door just in case there's still someone inside; you're not stupid enough to investigate for yourself. However, the moment you step back, you ram into someone behind you, and your mottled nerves make you nearly shoot out of your skin.

All you can manage is a muffled, 'mmf!' when a hand clamps itself over your mouth, but the voice accompanying the hand is quick to assure you, "Easy, tuts, we're not gonna make it worse. We're with- uh, the cops. Okay? We got a call from the neighbors, 'said they heard someone breakin' in. We've got it handled, alright? Just relax. You can head back inside, that creep is long gone. We'll have someone stand guard outside, got it?"

You're only let go of when your captor deems you calm, but your heart is still racing in your chest when you turn to face him. He doesn't look anything like a police officer, but he does look menacing. He shows you a badge and I.D, and they look authentic enough for your arrythmia to settle.

"Go on," He ushers you towards the door, "Get in there, we'll take care of it from here."

You adjust your grip on your plastic bag of frozen meals, passing a couple other men that are now posted at the front door of your apartment. Each attempts a kind smile at you, and you're glad to shut the door on them once you get inside.

There's a man on your couch.

You don't notice until you flick the light switch on, but he's sitting there, clad in a suit and sunglasses. You shriek, and briefly consider whether or not your frozen ravioli could be used as a suitable projectile.

"Relax," The man stands, an easy smile on his face, one that drips with sympathy, "I'm Matt. I'm here to stand guard."

"Why were you sitting in the dark?!" You demand, now doubting the validity of the police badge you'd seen earlier, regretting the decision to trust these less-than-official men.

"It doesn't matter to me whether it's light or dark," He chuckles, and your face flushes momentarily when you realize what his sunglasses are for.

"Oh. Well- well you're not doing a very good job of making me relax, Matt. I feel like I'm more in danger of you than I am of someone else breaking into my house."

The man's smile is gentle, but not weak, "Sorry. Just go about your business, okay Y/N? We'll replace your damaged property and be out of your hair as soon as we can eliminate the threat.”

"Eliminate...?" You echo cautiously, "How long does that take?"

"Depends. A day. A week. Months, maybe. But this is all for your precaution, Y/N," He stands, making his way over to you and carefully feeling out the broken glass on the floor with the toe of his shoe. He places a hand on your shoulder, "Just trust me, I'm here to help. None of this will ever happen to you again- not on my watch."

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konigsblog · 1 year

Note

May I please have Headcannon about yan 141 + könig and graves with a darling who commit self die after they've been kidnapped? To make it worse, they find a note saying "if I can't be happy, you cant. You did this to me, now suffer the consequences. If my loved ones ask about me, tell them the truth" or something along that. If this makes you uncomfortable I totally understand and you don't have to write it. Eat, drink something, and I hope you have a good day/night

(thank you<33)

yandere 141 + könig, alejandro and graves with a darling who commits suicide

warnings: obvious trigger warning for suicide, failed suicide attempts, description and mention of self inflicted harm, physical abuse, fighting, profanity, yandere behaviour, depression, description of suicide: i do not promote any behaviour that i have wrote about,

please if you're thinking about suicide, tell someone. it's never too late to change your mind, it's not worth it. please if you feel like you need to call someone im going to link some hotlines to call here. you're not alone in this world and know that theres a future for you and people who care for you. whether or not you suffer with self harm of suicide thought, never feel like you are worth less, unworthy for love, ugly whatever you think, suicide is not the answer and this post is to raise awareness for the signs of suicide and self harm. if you think someone is self harming or at risk of suicide, look at symptoms of them; i'll link symptoms here.

masterlist

ghost

it was a saturday night, your thoughts overwhelmed you as you picked up a blade and rolled your sleeves up. tears fell from your eyes, the feeling of unworthiness and hopelessness drowned you. it was washed over you like a giant wave as you cried until you physically couldn't anymore.

he was away, out with his team at a bar. you had been in an argument and he didn't bother to tell you 'goodbye'.

your headached as you reached for his bedside table, inside the draws was a pistol. you picked up a sheet of paper on the way as well as a pen.

you began to write. “simon, i can't deal with this anymore. my future, and my life was ripped out of my hands because of your selfishness. you couldn't bare to be alone and your life was already ruined to begin with so you had to go ahead and ruin someone elses. you don't think nor care about others, it's what you think that matters. even through our arguments and screaming matches that made my heart break, i still managed to stay as long as i have. i just can't do this to myself anymore, i don't want to live like this, i don't know what made you think this was right but it's not.

fuck you simon.”

your tears made everything blurry yet somehow you got everything off your chest. the gun was staring at you, begging you to do it.

your fingers wrapped around the gun as you placed it in your mouth, pulling the trigger.

simon on the other hand, was getting bored. wanted to go home to his darling. he opened the door, silence made everything eerie and uncomfortable. your usual laughing and smiling when you were on your phone was gone and replaced by discomfort.

he called out your name, multiple times yet you didn't answer.

the door to the bathroom was open, the light was on and a pool of blood surrounded your body. it was gorey, simon fell to his knees as his eyes watered. "no, no, no..." he uttered out as his breath became shakey.

his eyes drifted towards the note, as he read it.

he felt his own heart break at the words, the feeling and emotion that was poured into the letter. once again, he was alone.

soap

you felt tears stream down your face, staring at yourself in the mirror and wondering what you'd become. bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, terrified of the man who laid beside you.

a headache bloomed as you picked up the blade once again, cursing yourself for going back to this.

you rolled up sleeves, bruises scattered around your wrists from the handcuffs that were left on for hours at a time.

the blade dragged across the skin, pressing down watching as blood seeped out from the cuts. you stared at the scars, cutting were they once were.

droplets of blood landed on the cold, bathroom tiled floor. your felt fuzzy, and dizzy as tears blocked your vision. you pressed deeper, watching as you hit beans. the satisfaction of it, the pain of it.

you dragged the knife upwards whilst it was in you, causing a huge gash. you choked on a sob as the pain fogged your mind. tears streamed out your eyes.

pulling down your sleeves, you walked to the kitchen. your medication, you avoided eye contact with johnny as he watched something on his phone, too busy to care.

the stairs creaked under your weight.

the bathroom door was locked shut, you poured the whole bottle in your hand, water helped to wash it down.

you stayed there, minutes passed, you felt your heart ram against your chest. dizziness blinded you, the cuts on your arm ached.

meanwhile, johnny felt worried at the silence. the silence was too much, he walked up the stairs to see the bathroom door shut. he knocked twice, calling out your name. no response.

he kicked the door open to see his your lifeless body, your sleeves were stained red. he pulled them up to see lines and scars of self harm.

johnny began shaking you as his hands trembled. he checked your pulse, nothing. tears poured from his eyes, his bottom lip shook as he held your dead body, a corpse.

his arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as he cried into you.

a note on the toilet seat lid, the date proved it was pre-written. it was assigned to him. “johnny, i can't continue on like this. i don't want to live like this, this isn't how 7 year old me imagined their future. from the bruises on my wrists and ankles, the bags under my eyes and the newly prescribed medication, i clearly cant take this anymore. i know you tell me that, 'i just want the best for you.' but i don't imagine the 'best' meaning me crying every night, wishing to be home.

goodbye, john.”

his heart tore into two as he read every word. he shouted at himself, the droplets of blood stained on the bathroom floor as a permanent reminder of who he was, and what he'd done.

price

drunken confessions came from your mouth as you told him about your self harm, how you wanted none of this, how you wanted nothing but to go home.

john sighed, his voice trembling as he told you, "it'll be okay." it never helped, not enough. he promised to give you whatever you wanted but when the only thing you wanted was to go home, he never complied with you wishes.

he was away, deployment, you cursed yourself out for letting him do this, for being so weak you. your hands gripped the mirror smashing it against the wall, watching as it broke into shards. months and years of built up rage, bottled up feelings came crashing down on you.

you fell to your knees, curling yourself up in a ball. the future you once imagined; meeting a nice man, marrying him and starting a family, getting a your dream job.

a shard of glass was in your hands as your looked at your thighs, tears dropped against them, you began to cut. the more you cut, the closer you felt to being away from him.

you winced as you stood up, in his office were stacks of paper, you took one.

you were heading downstairs to the kitchen to get a knife. you stood there, the coldness of the kicthen gave you goosebumps. the knife was large and sharp, enough to impale someone.

slowly, the knife sliced against your arms and thighs before you held it against your chest, the tip facing it. slowly, and painfully, you pushed in inside. blood splattered against the kitchen floor and cabinets. the once white walls stained with blood.

you fell backwards, head dizzy before you fell unconscious.

john drove back to his house, with an odd gut feeling. something was wrong, terribly wrong.

as soon as he opened the door he was hit with a disgusting smell, it was the smell of decomposing.

there sat in his kitchen, your decomposing body that radiated a horrible smell. tears prickled in his eyes, his hands shook, on top of the counter was a note, addressed to him.

“dear john, i told you about my self harm, my feelings and i poured my emotions out to you. i felt worthless in this world and didn't feel like this was right. everytime i begged for you to let me go, you ignored me or shouted at me for being, "selfish". it's not selfish, nothing here is selfish but you. you used be for your own satisfactory. you killed me, slowly. you're the reason for this.”

a feeling of guilt set his chest. the dried up blood on the floor, the knife in your chest and scent of a dead body was all his fault. he never bothered to give you the help you need. although his reassuring was something, it wasn't enough.

now you were dead, and all he could do was look over you lifeless body as he cried.

gaz

betrayal is what you felt. you felt betrayal everytime he spoke. he convinced you to love him, telling you that one day he'd let you go if you pleased him now.

now you realised the truth, and argument started. you began to shout at him, cursing him out, calling him 'selfish' and other profanity.

kyle retaliated, yelling back at you. it became physical fast, you kicked him in the balls, hard. he lunged at you, punching you hard watching as the blood trickled down your face, mixed with your tears.

you scratched him, your nails dug in hard and enough to draw blood. you crawled backwards, making space between the two of you. you coughed up blood, it splattered on the floor as you wiped your nose to see blood. the deep scarlet liquid covered your face.

he panted, staring at you.

you quickly rose to your feet and locked yourself in your shared room as he banged on the door, yelling at you to come out and calling you; "cunt" "whore" and a "bitch".

the draw opened with a creaking sound, a pistol stared back at you, along with sheets of paper and a couple pens.

you quickly scribbled out how you felt, everything you felt, from your emotions to your dreams in life, something that you'd never be able to do because of him, his selfishness. you weren't stupid, you would never be free.

the gun was placed in your hands with a tight grip, your finger pressed the trigger as your face blew up with blood and gore.

the gunshot was enough to make kyle start panic, now he was banging against the door yelling your name as fear took over his body. his hands shook, he kicked the door one last time until it flung open.

you sat in a pool of red liquid, the bruises and scratches on your face were no longer visible as the gorey mess of your face was gone. he couldn't make out were your nose or eyes were, there was too much blood.

his cries choked in his throat as he shook you, desperate for anything although he knew you were gone. the rise of your chest no longer happened, the beat of your heart was gone and he felt his own heart being tore apart.

he noticed the paper and grabbed it, through his shaking hands he read: “i can't do this anymore, i genuinely can't. you promised me to let me go at some point, i'm a fool for believing you. who was i to believe you out of all people? i don't want my living moments to be like this, i didn't want my life to end because of you. but unfortunately, you just had to make that happen, didn't you? you have to deal with the consequences of your own actions, this was because of you. all of it was because of you.

sincerely yours,

[name]”

his next few hours were spent cleaning up the blood that stained his carpet, the image of your lifeless and dead body forever ingrained in his brain.

alejandro

although he promised you that he would love and care for you, it wasn't enough.

there you sat, on the bathroom floor. your medication in your hands, a piece of paper and a pen again the cold, tiled floor.

your eye bags were huge from restless nights, crying and arguing with him, begging him for mercy and to let you go. your throat ached from the screaming matches. your headache pounded and your heartbeat rammed itself against your ribs.

the medication in your hands would be how you finally escape him, something you had been thinking about for the past several months.

you took multiple at once, clearly enough to harm yourself. in the meantime, you had a blade sitting against your thigh and your sleeves rolled up. the scars presented themselves to you, scaring your body as a permanent reminder of your mental state.

it took everything in you not to do this years ago, your parents crying when they found you unconscious, rushing you to the emergency room where you were saved. the look on their eyes,, they felt guilt wondering if it was them, wondering where they went wrong. you managed to tell them everything that worried you, everything that bothered you, telling them that it wasn't them but it was you.

now you knew that if alejandro took you to the hospital, they'd find you, the missing girl whose case when cold. leaving your parents once again, heartbroken.

you scratched on the piece of paper, everything. from how much you missed your parents to how much you hated him. you felt like a little kid again, getting into a petty argument with your parents and refusing to talk to them only them coming down once they bribed you with something. god, how you wished you could go back and never meet alejandro. it was a mistake, something that should've never happened.

once you'd finished your writting, you began again with the blade. thinking back about how you promised your parents not to do it again only made your eyes burn with more tears.

your throat ached as you cried, the pain but satisfaction from the cuts, the deep cuts that poured the familiar red liquid out.

your head began to feel sore, a headache pounded, your nails grew purple at your body temperature, your skin became ill looking, you shivered.

the muslces you used to fight him off you felt weak as you could barely managed to pick up the blade and continue, you felt your soul being sucked out of you.

slowly, you fell unconscious.

the click of the door opened, the many locks shutting after themselves as he called your name out only to be met with silence, he continued, as a deep feeling of worry set in.

he ran upstairs, seeing the light from the bathroom. the door creaked open, you body, lifeless with cuts along it.

he shivered as he held you body, the coldness of it reminded him of the winter, the wind that blew in his face making his teeth grit.

the note laid ahead of him, his name written all over it.

it began, “alejandro, no matter how much you saw you love me it'll never replace the pain you've caused. the feeling of unworthiness that i felt many years ago, the promise that i gave my parents is now broken. but they'll never know that, your self-centred behaviour is enough to make someone kill themselves. look what you've done, are you proud of yourself? i hope you are.”

a blanket was put around you after he out you in the recovery position, he began dialing a number, asking for an ambulance.

the flashing red and blue light, the police and ambulances sirens caused pain in his ears as handcuffs were placed on his wrists and an ambulance had to attempt to save you on scene.

the last thing he saw was your eyelashes flutter open, eyes red from crying. you both made eye contact, a deep feeling of regret made his heartbreak. atleast his darling was alive, but the idea of them being without him made him cry himself to sleep every night, similar to what you did.

könig

your face was wet with tears, könig was on deployment and you couldn't help but feel the familiar feeling of unworthiness and sadness. you wanted nothing but to be free.

the lack of human interaction caused you to crave it more, tears drowned you as you cried. you felt hopeless for falling in love with your kidnapper, the man, the giant who took away you life for his own personal benefit.

you cursed him out for doing this, pushing him away and isolating yourself in shame. you heart ached at the thought of your old life, the life and dreams you once had were gone and shattered. impossible for you to carry out any goal you had while being locked away.

you tried everything, making new goals, arguing and begging to be freed, but nothing could shake the feeling of shame. you felt dirty for falling so deep inlove with him.

now you were sat in the bathroom, knife in hands, slicing away your thighs as your vision made it blurry to see, cuts were misplaced, not like you cared.

on the note, you wrote a letter for könig, a letter that went into great detail about your emotions, how worthless you felt and how scared you were. how tired and terrified you felt every night and say, how when you did fall asleep, you hated waking up, feeling a lack of hope everytime you awoke.

slowly, you dug the blade deeper. the deep crimson liquid that was sure to stain later. for könig to be crying his own eyes out, for him to curse himself, for him to finally see what a monster he was. that's all you wanted, your new goal, you wanted him to look in the mirror and see what a fucking monster he was, the true demon he had buried beneath him.

your vision became more fuzzy and dizziness gave you a raging headache a headache severe enough to cause you to vomit. you leaned over the toilet seat and began to puke, the roughness of your throat burn, the stomach acid burned your throat causing a bit of blood to come out along with the vomit.

tears made your face puffy, your nose was snotty as you felt weak once again, both mentally and physically. you fell backwards, your head smacking itself against the rough and cold floor. the temperature of your body reminded you of the snow you played in. how and your friends threw snowballs at eachother, ending in giggling fits aa you dad tickle-attacked you while you waited for the hot chocolate to be made.

your throat felt raw, the lack of energy causing you to pass out.

könig entered the home, the home had a sense that something was wrong. he quickly walked upstairs, calling you out before he found you on the bathroom floor.

he shook you, shouting your name before he began to proceed with cpr. his eyes glanced down at your thighs, the bloodiness of them. the open wounds that laid atop of them.

his own eyes became wet with tears as he proceeded with cpr.

you woke up, confused and already cursing your body for letting you wake up, cursing yourself for surviving. the bed dipped down as someone say down caressing your cheek. the familiar accent had your hair standing up. "schatzi...?" his voice was soft, accent only slightly visible.

finally, your vision came back to you. you looked up at him, his face was puffy and he had the note you wrote to him in his hands. your thighs were wrapped with gauze and you were wearing his shirt, clearly because it was more than a couple sizes too big.

"k.. könig?" your voice was hushed and you choked on your words before they escaped your mouth. könig leaned down to kiss you, "maus, please..." he cried into your shoulder, his weight pushing you down as he laid on top of you. both you cried, you could never escape the giant and once again, your dream was crushed.

graves

the torture you received from this man, both mentally, emotionally and physically. he cursed others for doing the same as he did, a total hypocrite.

he was away on deployment, he wouldn't be back for another week and during this time you felt your mental health decline rapidly. not because you missed him, but the lack of human interaction as a whole and emotional abuse cause a feeling of loneliness that was indescribable. you couldn't control your hands as the shook rapidly.

your brain ached at the thoughts and memories you once had, you felt yourself slip into a deep depression you once tried to get out of. your eyes burned and tears felt like acid as the poured down your cheeks and some into your mouth.

hands held your head, the gun beside you along with the note that had been written in advance for about a month or so. nothing could shake this feeling, nothing.

even if you got out of your kidnappers grip alive, it would be met with amounts and mounts or money owed to therapy. your parents wouldn't recognize you, your sunken eyes, bruises and scars that layered your skin.

they wouldn't be able to take in all the information or help you, you'd be too far gone and in need for help that you'd cling to anyone you saw but phillip.

if the gun had words, it would be begging you to do it. or maybe that was your mentality saying that, maybe you wouldn't.

but, you picked the pistol up placing the muzzle against your chest, it pointed itself against your heart. the idea would've caused you to shutter but now, you wanted nothing but to be gone. your heart to explode.

the trigger was pulled, a choking noise gargled in your throat as the blood trickled down your chest, your shirt ripped and toren. blood escaped your mouth as your eyes became blurry.

graves, or phillip, on the other hand, had no idea about this. he assumed he would come back to order your around and shape you into his perfect housewife, not to find you with a bullet in your chest.

his heart ached whwn he say you, the decomposing smell made his stomach turn as his brain yelled at him to do something. he did nothing, he couldn't call someone because then he'd get caught. selfish, he only cared about himself. you made sure to tell him about this on the letter.

he read it, it started with: “phillip, you've ruined my life because of your own selfishness. you don't care nor love me, you only wanted me for your own personal benefit and pleasure. if you actually loved me you wouldn't ridicule me, mock me when i cry, or insult me everyday. i wouldn't be forced to live like this, but because of you i am, or was. now i'm dead, you're probably reading this with a feeling of anger, knowing you have no one to yell at everyday.

i'm glad you don't, fuck you, phillip.”

now he sat beside your body, shaking, trying to convince himself that he wasn't selfish, that he was okay. the same gun was now pointed at his own head as he joined you in the afterlife.

you'd never escape him.

again please; call, message or tell someone. suicide is not worth it.

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