#yes the local crack head runs it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

internetskiff · 2 months

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The most powerful ability exclusive to humanity in the Half Life/Portal shared universe is our ability to just throw bullshit at the wall and see what sticks. Aperture "OSHA are the devil" Science have managed to create completely safe interconnected points in space. The same company that turns people's blood into gasoline and shoves lions and humans into the same enclosed space for the vague concept of "Science". Meanwhile Black Mesa still has to use Xen as a crossing and their teleportation device requires an entire reactor with a village's worth of staff constantly maintaining it, just to end up having most of said staff abducted by onion-headed aliens. Even the resistance hasn't managed to create completely stable teleporters with a compressed Xen relay, meanwhile Aperture just went "oh dude let's shove a black hole into a non-waterproof gun" and have just created a teleportation method that just removes Xen from the equation entirely. Doesn't change the fact they bullshat so bad they basically got themselves gassed to death, but still.

The Resistance are a good example of this too. The Combine seem to have a complete set-in-stone thought process and understanding of science which meant they didn't even begin to explore local teleportation via Xen, meanwhile a group of random human mechanics and scientists have managed to cobble together at least two semi-functional local teleporters out of scrap metal and stolen Combine tech, to the point the All-Consuming Interdimensional Empire had to straight up copy their homework. And that isn't even the only time they seem to be taking human shit to just copy the blueprints.

They 100% just yoinked the entire damn car out of that garage just to take a crack at reverse-engineering the Tau Cannon attached to it. Even Resistance weaponry somehow manages to rival or at least stand equal to Combine tech - and we're talking improvised crossbows that shoot superheated rods of rebar at the target compared to high-tech rifles that can discharge orbs of pure dark energy. The collapse of the entire Citadel is basically set into motion as a result of a cobbled together Rebel device placed into extremely capable hands.

The events of the Portal games are a case of extremely elaborate machinelike planning versus pure human improvisation, with Chell's entire escape in the first game involving her simply weaseling her way through small cracks that GLaDOS missed while setting up her ambushes, eventually turning her own rocket turret against her to destroy her.

I suppose you could argue this falls flat in Portal 2 with Wheatley, but it's important to remember he's designed to be an utter idiot, so it's safe to say he wouldn't obsess over the larger picture like GLaDOS to the point where he fails to see the cracks. Yes, he's the one that breaks Chell out of the test chambers again, and yes, he's the one that came up with the sabotage plot - but it's important to note while he knows what to target in the sabotage, when we actually get there he doesn't quite know how to sabotage it, leaving Chell to figure it out on her own. She botches the Turret Quality Control Line with some minor guidance, but it's basically completely up to her to figure out how to cut off the Neurotoxin Supply. It's through her improvisation that Wheatley even manages to get into GLaDOS' chamber, tumbling through her neurotoxin vent and shattering the glass cage she trapped Chell inside of. It's through Chell's improvisation that the Core Transfer even occurs in the first place.

The script is flipped specifically when Wheatley takes charge, because oops - turns out a mind capable of focusing on the bigger picture might be pretty important when it comes to running an entire facility powered by it's own Reactor. Wheatley just completely zeroes in on his own personal pleasure, hacking up test chambers and the objects within them to try and figure out the easiest way to get his solution euphoria as quick as possible.

Still, something that's pretty interesting is that only Wheatley has ever managed to create a trap that's impossible to foresee and avoid, something GLaDOS has repeatedly failed to do to the point she ends up commending him. I believe this is because his way of thinking is a lot closer to Chell's compared to GLaDOS'. He puts up way more of a fight as the two run through the facility trying to get to him, seemingly improvising on the spot just like Chell has been over the course of the two games. Even his lair would be impossible to survive if it weren't for a single Conversion Gel pipe he somehow failed to notice and remove.

Whether in a laboratory deep beneath the soil or an alien tower tall enough to split the clouds, the ingenuity of even a single person is enough to topple a tower or destroy a supercomputer 3 times over.

Marc Laidlaw put what I'm trying to say into a single sentence when writing for the BreenGrub twitter account:

"The superstructure is riddled with cracks."

#portal #portal 2 #half life #half life 2 #hl #hl2 #aperture science #black mesa #the combine #GLaDOS #Wheatley #Chell #rambling #i think this is what happens when you've been having thoughts about a game franchise like . since birth

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buckys-wintersoldier · 1 month

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Home is where you are | Bucky Barnes

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> When you hear someone talking about Bucky you offer them your help to find him.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 1.773

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> (T) Bit of violence (punches)

𝐀/𝐍 -> Co-Written with my best friend @imtryingbuck. Thank you so much for listening to my complaining and to write this together with me.❤️❤️

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> 10 Years Anniversary CA:TWS | April 3 | Theme: Cap Quartet | Washington DC, Uniform, Found Family, favorite duo | @catws-anniversary

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You didn’t mean to listen in to the conversation that was going on just to your left but you didn’t have anything better to do then just to sit there with cuffs on your wrist. Sitting in the uncomfortable chair in the hallway of the local police station wasn’t something you were planning on doing on a Friday night but the man who wouldn’t leave you alone as you walked down the street deserved to have his head knocked into the wall.

“He isn’t-“ the blond man started but got cut off by the woman he was standing with.

“Whether you knew him before he’s still the Winter Solider and we need to stop him!”

“We haven’t heard anything about him since we last fought-“

“Regardless, he still needs to be stopped”

“Bucky isn’t a bad person, I know him!”

Hearing that name your head turned to face the three people standing there, the blond man stood tall with his arms crossed over his broad chest, the red headed woman stood in a similar stance whilst the black haired man leant against the wall with his hand in a crisp packet.

“What are staring at?” The woman snapped at you.

“Come here.” You said to the blond, who looked at the two people he was with furrowing his eyebrow he made his way over to you.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes and I can help you. Bucky? I know him.”

“Steve come on we can’t trust her, she’s literally in cuffs” the woman said again.

“Blue eyes, brown hair, dimple chin, silver arm? Yeah I know him.” This Steve guy stood up straighter as you described the man in question, his eyes slanted as he looked you up and down.

“How do you know him?”

“He saved my life.” You shrugged, turning to the redhead “he isn’t a bad person, a bit weird but not bad.” Turning your head back to the blond you smiled up at him. “Steve Rogers, good ole Captain America, you know Bucky has a photo of you in a little book of his?”

“H-how?”

“Took him to the Smithsonian to help him remember, saw photos of you and took one with him”

“Where is he?” Steve asks.

“Who are you?” The other man asks, finally speaking up.

“I’m not going to tell you unless you help me, and I’m Y/n.”

“She’s full of it Steve, we can’t trust her!”

“You are so snappy Miss Romanoff, yeah I know who you are. I can’t be giving my secrets away for free now can I?”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to tell the nice police officers that I didn’t do anything and that I’m an absolute angel” you smiled up at him. Steve thought over what you wanted before nodding and going over to the desk. Whatever he had said to them worked because the officer who had the pleasure of shoving you into a wall and put the cuffs on you very tightly came over and let you go.

Steve grabbed ahold of your arm and dragged you out of the station, putting you in the car and made the other man drive. “What was she arrested for?” Sam asked.

“Assault”

“I barely touched him.” You huffed.

“You cracked his skull open.”

Steve told Sam to pull up at the motel, there they could get some rest and then go to rescue Bucky. You went to the bathroom but not before Natasha checked it out to make sure you couldn’t escape first.

“She’s been in there for ages now.” Sam noticed.

Natasha knocked on the door to check on you, when not getting a response back she kicked in the door. “Shit! Shit!”

“What? God damnit!” Steve saw the window open and couldn’t see you.

All three left the room to go looking for you, they saw you running down the street, Steve ran after you whilst Nat and Sam got in the car.

“Leave me alone! God why are you so fast?” You screamed.

“Just stop!”

“No!”

The car you were in not long ago came speeding past you and cut you off, Sam and Nat jumped straight out as you tried to run past them. You felt a hand on your arm so you stopped, turning around and ducked when Natasha threw a punch to your face. You threw a punch back and began fighting with the black widow. Both of the men stopped dead in their tracks at seeing how Nat was losing against you.

“Stop. Y/n stop it!” Steve shouted.

“Tell her to stop!” He does, the redhead listened and began to take a step back. “I’m-god I’m so unhealthy-I’m not taking you to him!”

“But you said you would?”

“I don’t trust you. Your going to hurt him and I-I can’t let that happen”

“I’m not going to hurt him, I swear. He’s my best friend.”

“Y-you work for SHIELD. They will hurt him.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt him. You have my word”

“He gets hurt and I’ll haunt you down!” Steve nods and promises you that you have his word. You nod back and sigh before lying down on the ground exhausted from the chase and fighting against the black widow.

Sitting in the back of the car the next morning, Steve kept his eye on you as you stared at Nat through the mirror. “You said that Bucky saved you? How?”

“I was at the base they kept him at, he got sent on a mission and when he came back he got me out of my cell. We’ve been on the run ever since.”

After telling him a bit more about you and Bucky, Natasha nodded, while Steve’s eyes were still on you. You had his full attention; he wanted to know all about his friend.

"So, where are we going?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“Smithsonian.”

“A museum?”

“Yeah. We have met there often; he wasn’t there the last time, but maybe now,” you explained.

Steve is the only one who really looked like he trusted you, while Sam and Natasha weren’t pretty sure if they could trust you. But you were mostly focused on how to react when you see Bucky; you have told him about your feelings for him, just like he did. You were dating, but then you needed to escape, and Bucky told you to stay in the apartment he brought. After that, you met a few times at the Smithsonian.

When they parked the car, you immediately got out of it, wanting to rush into it, but Natasha stopped you by holding your arm and pushing you against the car. You gasped, and when Steve stood next to you too, she let go of your arm.

“Don’t dare to run away,” she says.

You rolled your eyes, pushing her softly away, and made your way together with them to the entrance of the Smithsonian.

“You three know that everyone recognizes you even when you wear those caps?”

Natasha ignored you while Sam sighed, and Steve placed his hand around your shoulders.

“Surprisingly, they don’t,” he smirked.

Together, you entered the museum, and no one recognized the other three. You made your way to the place you always met Bucky; it’s a bit hidden behind some of the uniforms the group Steve led wore.

“That was your outfit? Looks like leggings,” Sam laughs and points at Steve’s outfit.

You walked a few steps further when Steve tapped your shoulder, and you turned toward him. Narrowing, while he just put his finger on his lips and shoved you behind him. You saw a man with long brown hair, his metal arm glistening in the slight light of the room, and the butterflies in your stomach went crazy. But Steve showed you to stay in place so he could talk to the man standing just a few meters away.

“Buck?” He asked, walking closer, and the other man turned around.

Bucky’s eyes widened, his jaw dropped slightly, and he prepared himself to push the other man away and get out of the building.

“S— Steve?”

“Hi, pal. Please, we can help you escape Hydra.”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if he could trust Steve, but he nodded. Steve walked slowly closer to his friend, until he reached him and smirked at the brown-haired one.

“Two of my friends are here too, and we brought someone who really wants to see you,” Steve told Bucky.

When Sam and Natasha let you walk closer to them, Bucky immediately recognized your form behind his friend. His eyes widened, and a beautiful smile appeared on his lips. You walked toward him, placing your arms around his neck, and you pressed yourself tight against him. Bucky’s arms were wrapped around your body the moment you reached him, his face buried in the crock of your neck while he inhaled deeply.

“My doll,” he mumbled, pushing you softly away.

He captured your cheeks with his big hands, his thumbs wiping your tears away — those you never knew were rolling down your cheeks. The relief that you felt when you saw the men you loved, that you could just wrap your arms around him, and that you didn’t see any injuries on his body. Bucky leaned closer, looking deeply into your eyes, before he closed his beautiful blue ones and pressed his soft, plumb lips on yours. The kiss was breathtaking; your knees went weak, and you grabbed his arms tightly. He deepened the kiss, sighing softly before he pulled away. Bucky smiled at you; his blue eyes lit up when he saw the same big smile on your pretty lips and the way you looked at him with nothing but pure love.

“I love you so much, doll.”

“I love you, too.”

Steve smirked, while Sam looked at Natasha with an amused face because she was the whole time looking at Steve.

“You should ask him out,” he said.

Then their gazes went back to you; you’re still smirking at one another. You trailed your fingers through Bucky’s soft brown hair, and he had his hand still on your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours once again.

"Bucky, let’s go home, yeah?”

“B— But I am.”

“In the Smithsonian?”

“No,” he chuckles, looking directly into your eyes. “In your arms, my doll, he said, and you blushed.

But he was right. Home isn’t a house; home is the place you are with the people you love the most. People make a house feel like home, and Bucky is doing that. He makes everything feel like home as long as you’re together.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden

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abyssruler · 1 year

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plausible deniability

scaramouche x gn!reader

your boyfriend is nice, your boyfriend is sweet, but your boyfriend is also a serial killer. “relax, it’s just a dead body,” he tells you like he hadn’t just hit a man on the head with a brick hard enough to crack his skull. well, at least he did it to defend you? or — scaramouche kills people and you have the world’s biggest ‘i can fix him’ complex. (modern au)

crack, comedy, a few people die but who cares, scara is soft for one person and one person only and that’s you, “i would kill for you, in fact, i have killed for you.” “honey, did you take your meds today?” - scara and reader

You were never a fan of true crime documentaries, or horror movies, or gory shows, or anything that involved excessive blood spraying and lightless eyes staring into the camera.

So, it would stand to reason that at the first sign of your boyfriend being more than into those kinds of things, you would’ve turned tail and ran as far away as you can, right?

Unfortunately, you’ve always been blind to the color red.

…Figurative red, that is, because the red seeping through your couch and the ones coated on your boyfriend’s hands are definitely visible to you, bright and dripping and most definitely staining your pristine white rugs that you just bought last week. Ah, how are you going to explain that to the laundry lady?

“Scara, honey, what did I say about killing other people?” you ask, voice visibly strained.

He sneers at the face of the dead guy sitting haphazardly on your couch. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You sigh.

✧

It wasn’t always like this, with the whole blood viscera happy-murder thing.

Your boyfriend, Scaramouche, had this odd habit of being so immersed in the news, a little smile lighting up his face (which you’d thought was cute at the time and, well, you still do) whenever the reporter gets to the local murders that used to have you shaking in fear on your bed.

He was charming though. A little possessive, but that was a trait you also thought was quite endearing—and, if you’re being honest, you still do. Scaramouche had a vast collection of sharp knives, some small and practically harmless (or as harmless as a knife can be) and others… not so harmless. You didn’t question it because he often cooked for you, your brain chalking it up to him using those knives for it.

It wasn’t until you were walking home alone from university that you discovered his little hobby of, well, killing people who inconvenienced you and him. Mostly people who inconvenienced you though, which was disturbing but also flattering in a crazy sort of way.

“Relax, it’s just a dead body,” he told you like he hadn’t just hit a man on the head with a brick hard enough to crack his skull.

You were cowering on the alley’s wall, eyes wide and knees shaking as you watched your supposedly nice and caring boyfriend wipe away the blood on his hand like it’s a normal occurrence. And when he grinned down at the body, something almost satisfied in his eyes, you realized that he was the cause for all the recent murders popping up in the city.

Now, the thing about this is that you should have run away screaming bloody murder, maybe call the cops or even do the sensible thing like break up with your boyfriend who’s apparently a psycho.

And you would have done it, if he just hadn’t been so… so…

He turned to you with concern shining in his eyes, stepping over the corpse of the man who’d pointed a pocket knife at you and tried to rob you. With hands still slicked with blood, he cradled your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’s a good thing you weren’t hurt.”

…sweet.

And as he pulled you away from the crime scene, dragging you home and running a hot bath for you both, asking you what you wanted for dinner like he hadn’t just murdered someone in front of you, you finally calmed down and saw the truth of the matter.

Yes, your boyfriend is quite possibly a serial killer, yes, you might just be making the worst decision of your life, and yes, you’re well aware this is because of all the wattpad bad boy stories you consumed when you were young, but you’ll be damned if you let Scaramouche go. He was kind (at least, to you he is), he was charming (when he wanted to be), he was a great cook, he was good with kids and the elderly, he was smart, and finally, he would never cheat on you.

So, while there might be the unfortunate addition of him being a little too happy with the idea of killing someone (have, in fact, killed someone, multiple someones at that), he was also the perfect boyfriend you could ask for. He just needs a little guidance, is all.

The next day, he proudly showed you the severed hand of a man who once made you cry because he groped you.

…Okay, a lot of guidance, but you can manage, you’ve read tons of bad boy turns good after falling in love type of stories. How difficult can it be to have your murderous boyfriend change his ways?

✧

Quite difficult, as it turns out.

A quick google on why people become murderers brought up a lot of questions and concerns for you, and while you’re well aware that google isn’t exactly the most reliable place when it comes to looking for advice, it’s also the only place you can go to without getting arrested for assisted murder—even though you’ve never actually helped Scaramouche when he goes all ham crazy on the general populace.

You sit him down on your couch, which was now free of blood thanks to google’s advice and good ol’ handy-dandy hydrogen peroxide.

Like this, facing each other and holding his hands, it almost seems like an actual, legitimate therapy session, minus the whole licensed psychiatrist thing. But hey, you’ve read tons of articles on the internet, so while you may be lacking in some aspects (namely, the fact that you don’t have any idea what you’re doing and aren’t qualified at all to be your crazy boyfriend’s therapist), you’re confident you can just wing it.

“Baby,” you start. Calling him endearments was an advice you picked up from reddit. A kind user named ballz3000 said that referring to them sweetly using innocent pet names can make them softer and calm their homicidal tendencies. “You know I don’t like it when you bring home dead bodies.”

According to another user named yn-yournuts, being open and communicating your feelings is the first step to establishing a healthy relationship and, consequently, a better mental state.

“It would’ve been difficult hiding the body at daytime,” he grouches, but he still keeps a gentle hold on your hands, which is a good thing. Baby steps, you tell yourself, baby steps—even though those baby steps might as well be called snail steps, wait, snail slithers.

“Then you should’ve waited until it was dark or midnight to kill him,” comes your immediate response—wait, damn it! You’re supposed to encourage him to steer away from murder, not give him advice on how to do it better. Smiling, you attempt to salvage the situation, “But, of course, it would be better to not kill anyone at all.”

It’s too late. He’s already donning a contemplative look on his face that soon turns into a grin, leaning in and briefly slotting his lips against yours.

“Thanks for the suggestion. I’ll be more careful next time, love,” is all he says before getting up and abruptly ending your impromptu therapy session.

And admittedly, there must be something wrong with you too, because instead of being horrified at his words, you giggle to yourself.

This is the first time he called you love!

✧

Alright, so operation therapy failed, it’s now time to charge in like a boar. Straightforwardness is always good according to that one article you found in google made by Hugh G. Bawles.

The two of you were in bed, the lights already turned off, when you took a deep breath and began preparing what you were going to say to him to prevent any more innocent people being killed.

Scara, I don’t like it when you kill people.

Baby, don’t show me anymore dead body parts.

Why did you become a murderer?

Sometimes, I feel like we’re a normal couple, but then you’ll suddenly go and casually bring me a bloody finger as a gift.

But instead of saying any of those, what comes out of your mouth is,

“Darling, I think you’re just confusing your constipation for homicidal urges.”

In hindsight, maybe attempting to start a heart to heart talk in the middle of the night just before a morning class was a bad idea.

You wait a few seconds, then minutes, and when he showed no signs of responding, you turn your head only to find him with his eyes closed and sound asleep.

Fine, you’ll just have to try again tomorrow.

✧

You share exactly one class with Scaramouche and it’s philosophy. Unfortunately, it’s also the class with the worst professor known to mankind.

“Ah, I got a low grade…” you mutter to yourself, looking down at your essay forlornly.

Your boyfriend takes one peak at your paper and immediately scowls. “You spent an entire night writing that.” He turns a glare to the professor currently ignorant of the murderer sitting in his class. “That asshole should’ve given you a perfect score. Maybe I should give him a little visit.”

You calmly take his hand under the table and squeeze it, all too used to him casually alluding to killing other people. “Dear, we talked about this. What do we do when we’re having homicidal thoughts?”

He looks down the table, brows furrowed in a sulking manner. “Don’t do it.”

You beam, proud at him for remembering the one thing you keep reminding him whenever he brings a dead body back to your house.

The blonde twins seated in front of you turn their head in horror after overhearing your conversation.

“What are you looking at?” Scaramouche sneers at the same time you say, “We’re roleplaying.”

“Right…” the long haired twin you distinctly remember was named Aether mumbles before he ushers his sister to ignore the two of you.

Oh well, at least you managed to stop one person from dying today. User tojiscrustysock on twitter always says you should take whatever victories you can, so you’ll consider this a resounding success.

✧

When you open the news next morning, the face of your professor is the first thing you see along with the words, found dead near his home.

You turn to your boyfriend sitting beside you, an innocent look on his face as you look at him with disappointment.

“My hand slipped,” is the flimsy excuse he settles for.

Sighing and utterly out of options, you’re forced to resort to the one thing you didn’t want to do. The worst possible option there is. If there’s going to a therapist and potentially getting arrested kind of worst, there’s this kind of worst—the absolute worst of the worst.

“Scara, I think we need to start doing yoga.”

word count: 1.8k

#scaramouche birthday fic!#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #gn reader

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sykosugu · 2 months

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on the run | prologue

♤ summary: she's an infamous bank robber, and he's the only detective that's been able to get close to her. he was never apart of her plans. but he's got his clutches in her and she can't let go. a geto suguru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, destructive behavior, toxic behavior, illegal activities, sexual content, death. use of weapons. forbidden romance

♧ currently: completed

♡ taglist: closed

♤ wc: 1.4 k (they will get longer I promise)

♢ carlile speaks: hi everyone! welcome! I was working on chapter one, and the mood boards (yes boards, there are two more bc I'll do anything to avoid writing even though I love doing it) and this idea popped in to kind of give you a beginning thought as to how they officially met. But chapter one is coming! enjoy this little insight, and I know it definitely is little right now!

you are here | next part

Seventy seconds. That’s all you had until the silent alarm blared at the local police station. But lucky for you, you only need thirty of those seconds to get what you needed. A simple in and out procedure was always how you operated.

In through the front door, dressed to impress. A Bag under your arm and an umbrella in your hand. The umbrella is the key. Literally.

Bank managers always approach you from first entry, wanting to impress someone who looks so lavish; we must keep our high end customers happy. You’re led to the safety deposit room, with the intent of placing your precious jewels into a box.

Until the handle of the umbrella is twisted and a knife is drawn.

The knife held to the manager's throat while he opened every single box he could in the 30 second time span. But you know exactly which boxes to open. You've been surveying this area for weeks now. Camera hacking. One of your specialties. Every customer who entered this room in the last month, you’d seen and known what to take. Totally under wraps; never to be seen until the job needed done.

When the managers think they can overpower a girl like yourself, the gun stashed in your waistband makes its appearance, deftly putting the men in their places.

This was always how you operated. Never the cash; always the safety deposit boxes. Sometimes the items placed inside were of monetary value, but some were of unmatched value; precious family heirlooms that could get ransomed for way more than any cash vault would hold. That’s always what you were after. Sometimes, jewels were involved and that was a plus. A girl can never have too many diamonds. They are your best friends after all. But the ransomed heirlooms, some of kings and queens of the corporate world: that was your MO. You were the Red Queen.

Were.

Suguru was not something you’d anticipated. Suguru was your biggest flaw. He was now your weakness. But he was also the enemy.

He’d been tracking you for months; been minutes from you so many times. You were his biggest project that he’d never been able to get his hands on. You were a myth at this point. Never actually seen, except by the bank managers who were never able to give a good enough description.

��She had big sunglasses, bright red lipstick and a killer smile.”

He knew that much. That was it.

Until now.

He had you.

You walked out five seconds too late.

He had you.

A hand harshly grips the back of your upper arm, spinning you around. Your fist instinctively reaches up, elbow colliding with the person in question; a cracking sound fills the air as your arm connects with their face. You’d successfully knocked their head back. Killing was never your objective when it came to defending yourself, a body leads to problems. You don’t have time for problems. Suguru’s used to combat though, with gritted teeth he takes the blow. Cracking his neck, his other hand reaches to grasp your other arm, flinging you down onto his car's hood as pedestrians continue on their day. Most stop for the show, but others see the badge hanging from his neck and don’t question anything. Your back comes in contact with the car, your head bouncing off the surface; ears ringing from the loud bang. Your arms are braced in front of you as you feel the handcuffs being placed around your hands.

He had you.

Nobody could ever get you. You were like a ghost in the nighttime; but he found you out. Who was this guy? Why does it kind of turn you on? But it also definitely terrifies you.

“We finally meet,” he grins down at you. “I’m Detective Geto, and you’ve been my biggest foe for almost a year,” You just stare back at him. “But you can call me Suguru.”

You were in the back of his car in minutes. Hands cuffed in front of you while he stared at you in the rearview mirror. Unbeknownst to you until now, he’d lied about catching you. He said you’d gotten away again.

He watched you walk into the bank this time. He was the one who was ahead. He finally had the upper hand.

And he liked it.

“No, sir. She got away again.” you heard him say flatly in the front seat. “Yes, sir, I get that but if–” he stops, pressing his thumb and pointer finger into his eyes. “Sir, if i can just speak for a minute,” you can hear yelling through the speaker, but no words can be made out.

Why isn't he telling him you’re right here? What is going on?

“Sir, I had her. She got away. I’ll get her again.,” he pauses again, “Yes sir, I understand. Thank you, Chief. I got it. I’ll handle it. Thank you.”

He’ll handle what? What is happening?

Suguru’s eyes catch yours in the mirror. “You’ve been eluding me for the longest time, Y/N. Or should I say The Red Queen.”

“Call me Ruby. I don’t use that name anymore,” you mutter. Unsure why you’re even responding. What does he want with you? He lied about you to his boss.

“Ruby,” he swirls the name around his tongue, “Pretty,” and he’s starting the car.

“Where are you taking me?” you question, fingers reaching down to pull one of the bobby pins from your boot. You’re always prepared.

“Even if you free yourself, the doors are locked,” he smirks at you in the mirror. You catch his gaze, offering him a glare. “I’m not a threat to you. Not right now.”

What the hell does that mean?

“You’re literally a cop, and you’re not telling me where you’re taking me.”

“I just want to talk to you before I decide what to do next,” his eyes fixed on the road again. You notice the white in his knuckles from gripping the steering wheel so hard. He’s nervous. You could use that to your advantage. Wherever he was taking you, you were going to use your biggest asset: yourself; to get what you needed.

Your freedom. Your biggest job was coming up soon, and you needed to be prepared.

This cop obviously had an attraction towards you. If only he wasn’t a cop, you could entertain the thought of a relationship if he hadn’t been. But honestly, it would probably hold you back.

“Where are we going? Why did you lie? What’s going on?”

“So many questions, Ruby. Live a little,” he chuckles at you. Was this guy insane? A cop isnt taking the opportunity to turn you in? He’d be decorated for the rest of his life.

“Live a little? Do you hear yourself? You said I’d been eluding you for nearly a year, why arent you taking me in? Don’t you want the accolades? Detective Geto takes down the Red Queen,”

“Thought you didn’t go by that name anymore?” He questions, a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t,” you grumble. “But word obviously hasn’t spread yet,” your eyes roll.

“Besides, I'd rather get to know you first,” he says nonchalantly.

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe. But you are too,” he eyes you, making your face redden like your lipstick.

“You don't know anything about me,” you bite out at him. Who does this guy think he is?

“I do,” he states matter of factly. He states your full name. Your fake secured social security number. The list of aliases you use to book hotels, rental cars whatever you needed. He knew what he needed to know. But after seeing you in person, he needed to know more.

He put two and two together based off your appearance. A long black Chanel coat. Big black sunglasses. Dark red lips. The umbrella.

He just knew it was you. He watched you walk into the bank.

“Count to thirty,” he thinks to himself. He’d studied your tactics. He knew them like the back of his hand.

And waited. You were late. One. Two. Three. This might actually happen for him. Four. He’s sweating. Five. You’re here. You’re right here. If he just reaches out—

And now here he was, you in the back of his car driving you to his safe house.

Where he’d get to know what he wanted—needed—to know.

He would figure out a way to know everything.

♧ tags: @celestie0 @lostfracturess @carlacujo @alwaysfreakingout @shervinss @jaelahh @gojolvrr34 @shesplendl

(pls make sure your settings are right to get tagged!)

#jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto smut #suguru geto #suguru x you #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x you

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sandfordsmostwanted · 1 year

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No I don’t care about the new Velma series, but all these Scooby Doo posts have highlighted a deficiency in every Scooby Doo prequel idea. Yes, I’ve seen some amazing ideas for BFF Daphne and Shaggy content... ... but none for the untapped character goldmine of Freddie and Velma.

Like just picture it. The series is set in a American private school, where Velma is a POC scholarship kid, always looking to prove herself. She’s bullied relentlessly, but keeps her head down, because she’s getting into the Ivy League, damn it, and there’s no way these assholes are stopping her. She’s a whizz at anything to do with science and math and history and geography, but arts are a bit of a weakness, and she needs one more English credit to max out her resume. Her teacher offers her the opportunity to tutor another student to get the credit. The catch is it’s Fred Jones, the Dean’s son, and no-one can possibly find out. Velma’s initially pissed at having to spend so much time with this entitled brat. On the surface Fred Jones is everything you’d imagine him to be - a jock, a bro, loved by the ladies and part of the group that have always made Velma’s life hell. She dreads having to tutor him, until he turns up, and he’s genuinely appreciative and sweet. She doesn’t trust him; she’s been burned too many times before. But through the sessions they get to know each other better. They bond over their mutual love of engineering - Fred doesn’t have the technological vocabulary that Velma does, but he’s got an instinctive eye for when a mechanism would fail - and they both realise the other had more depths than they expected. Velma notices the bullies leave her alone now, and though she can’t thank Fred publicly, they share a few subtle smiles in the hallway. And then the plot of the series happens - a girl gets kidnapped from their school, and Velma’s on the case. She cancels her tutoring with Fred to sneak into the school to investigate. They run into hypercapable badass Daphne Blake and her emotional support Shaggy. Velma’s had a crush on Daphne for as long as she can remember, but her nerves make her even more snarky than usual, and the two spend most of their time bickering. Velma, Daphne and Shaggy also run into Fred in the school while they’re investigating; he left some sports stuff behind and came to retrieve it. Plot plot plot, meddling kids, mystery solved. Velma thinks everything’s going back to normal, but it doesn’t. Shaggy saved her a seat at lunch, and fills her tray with stuff he thinks she’ll enjoy (”And hey, you can sneak some of this in your pockets for when you’re at the library later!”) Daphne picks her first for her team in gym class. Fred tells his shitty mates to get fucked, and sits next to Velma in every class. And best of all, they start solving local mysteries together. As they become better friends, they learn more and more about each other. Fred tells Velma if she struggles with making eye contact with people to look at the bridge of their nose or over their shoulder, because that looks like you’re looking them in the eye without actually doing it. Velma tells Fred that “the writing swimming when you read” is called dyslexia, and types up their study notes in a easy to read font. Fred is the first friend Velma ever brings back to her tiny apartment than she shares with her parents, and he’s very appreciative of their home despite living in a straight up mansion himself. Velma learns that that mansion life isn’t all its cracked up to be. His parents work away a lot, and when they’re around, they’re shitty and waspy and make Fred feel small. Fred always texts Velma late at night telling her to stop studying and get some sleep, Velma always texts Fred to tell him to stop working out and get a snack. They’re fucking good for each other. It’s never romantic between them - never even close. Fred takes Velma’s coming out better than her parents did (”Why would I be upset that you like girls? Liking girls is great! I do it all the time!”) Velma tries her hardest not to be jealous when Fred and Daphne start dating - she never told him about her crush, and he’s not a mind reader. Who cares if she notices there’s chemistry between her and Daphne? She’s probably misreading the social cues, like usual. Besides, school’s nearly over now, and she’ll be off to college in a matter of weeks. Leaving it all behind her, just as she planned. Their final mystery is the biggest yet, and the only time the gang actually fear for their lives. The stress of the mystery, and the building resentment of Velma’s “I’m out of here” energy leads to a huge argument between Fred and Velma, and the gang splits four ways to try and solve this thing. Each of them face their own trial. Shaggy has to face his fear instead of running away. Daphne has to be herself without overcompensation with gadgets or gimmicks. She realises in this process that Velma is the one she’s always loved, and the two share a sincere kiss. Fred has to trust himself, and succeed by himself without the safety net of his family, his wealth or Velma. And Velma has to admit she needs her friends, and that she loves them deeply. The mystery is solved, and just like that, they’re all set to go their separate ways, this time for real. It’s the last day of finals. Velma hasn’t heard from Fred for almost a week now; her texts go unanswered. She knows he’s taking breaking up with Daphne harder than he’s letting on, though he’s happy Velma and Daphne are happy. She finishes her final paper and hands it in, thoughts of college in her mind as she stands on the school steps where it all began. A horn honks behind her. She turns. There’s a massive eyesore of a van parked outside. Velma didn’t even know you could get that many shades of neon green and blue, and the little orange flowers are wonky and she knows they’ve been painted by hand and with love. Daphne waves at her from the passenger’s seat, and Shaggy from the back. Fred is leaning against the Mystery Machine, twirling his keys in his hand. He’d traded the sleek, smart car his dad bought him and that he’s been driving all show for this new ride, and he asks if Velma feels like solving a mystery or two before heading off to college. Thus begins the adventures of Mystery Incorporated. (End credits song is “Life is a Highway” by Rascall Flatts because you know that’s white boy Freddie Jones’ favourite driving song)

#scooby doo #velma #velma dinkley #fred jones #freddie jones #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #norville rogers #scooby doo prequel #scooby doo meta #velma and daphne #hbo velma

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outerrimhours · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 31

Kinktober Day 31 : Phone sex with Ghostface

Title: Before the Devil

Pairing - Ghostface X Female!Reader

Prompt - Phone Sex

Word Count - 3,798

Warnings - NSFW 18+ (18+ minors DNI), everyone in this fic is 18+, murder, stalking, blood play, phone sex, dirty talk, dub con, threats, toxic interaction, pure digusting halloween filth.

AN/ Posting this a day early, because I haven't posted in weeks. This was my big finale. Transcribed from a wonderful NSFW audio on Pornhub btw, by HarpyVT. All of the unfinished Kinktober days will be posted in November. Thank you all for celebrating this holiday with me.

Song - Psycho Killer by Talking Heads

You flipped through the static channels of the radio, voices hastily peaking through until you heard the newscasters voice.

“The police have yet to apprehend the armed suspect, and advise that you take extra caution when locking up at night. The victims suffered multiple stab wounds and lacerations, but the survivors all said the same thing; they received a call from an unknown number moments prior to their attack. Local authorities have increased the amount of service operators available to respond to emergency calls and ask that you report any suspicious phone activity.”

You flipped to another channel, soft music swimming through your cerebral cortex like a wakeful dream. The home had a warm feeling, inviting, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way your heels clicked against the wood as you walked to the bathroom. You wanted to freshen up before he arrived.

Undressing felt nice, dress hitting the floor quickly, before allowing the faucet to run. The warmth of the water enticing all of your senses. You allowed your eyes to close briefly before your cell phone rang against the countertop. It was vexatious, the sound, but whoever was on the other line could wait. Probably just the pizza boy.

And then it rang again.

Frustrated at the disturbance, you pulled yourself from the warmth to step out of the shower, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”, the voice asked, but you promptly hung up, not recognizing the intonation.

As you wrapped the cotton towel around your soaking barness, you innocently assumed that would be the last interaction. Wrong number, obviously.

And then it rang once more.

“Can I help you?”, you nervously demanded.

“That was pretty rude”, the gravelly voice replied, “Look, I know you’re probably panicking, don’t worry…”

You were undoubtedly apprehensive, squeezing the towel tighter to your chest.

“As long as you listen to me, you’ll get out of this alive”.

You knew in that moment what you were truly facing, the masked voice, the devil on the newscast. Your legs felt unstable, heart bashing against the confines of its cage in panic.

“Let’s play a little game”, he said in response to your silence, “This game only has three rules. That’s simple enough right?

You could almost hear the smirk in his voice, the way he licked his lips in anticipation. It was as if he were standing right behind you.

“Rule number one, you don’t hang up. Rule number two, you answer any of my questions honestly, and rule number three..you follow my instructions.”

When the voice on the other end didn’t receive a response, he added,

“Do you understand?”

Your throat felt dry, forcing down the lump in your throat to whisper a frightened “Yes”.

“Good”, he said, “Now, is there anyone other than the poor pizza boy coming over tonight?”

“No”, you lied, briefly sitting the phone against the marble to quickly dress.

“No? Good.”

Your hands were shaking, tears daring to spill down your cheeks as you opened the door. Bare feet pattering until you reached the entryway. The door was ajar, allowing the chill of the night to creep in and wrap itself around your bones.

You dared to peek through the crack, bile curtailing and rising to meet your esophagus. The innocent life depleted on the concrete, slumped against the stairs in a pool of coagulating blood.

You gasped, choking down a sob.

“Hey”, the voice soothed, “I can tell you’re scared. There’s nothing to be afraid of…” he paused, the tone almost reassuring, “As long as you follow the rules. Now I want you to reach into his pocket and take out his phone”.

“Why did you kill him”, you wailed, unable to tear your eyes away from the blue staring back.

“Why’d I kill him? Well..you see..he saw me out of the corner of his eye when he rang the doorbell. Do you understand now? He was so focused on saving himself, he wasn’t going to tell you a stranger was stalking nearby. He was heartless. So, I borrowed your pizza cutter, and fixed that little problem.”

The stranger scoffed on the other end, almost in disbelief you would question him.

“You should be thanking me. I’m not planning to do that sort of thing to you..after all.., I’m not an animal. I washed the pizza cutter already. It’s by the sink. Now open up his phone.”

The crystal glass was splattered with the remnants of the boy, staining your skin when you reached for it.

“It’s locked”, you said, looking away before the lunch you had earlier in the day made its way up your throat.

“Use his finger silly”, the voice laughed playfully, oblivious almost to the true nature of this reality before turning darker once more.

“Dial the number he last called and tell them everything is fine. He just drank too much on the job and saw things. Tell them you're his friend! And DON’T even think about asking for help…I am always right behind you after all.”

You hesitated. Could you call the police? You considered.

“I’m waiting”, the voice muttered impatiently.

So you dialed.

“Good girl.”

Your voice shook at the lies you were telling. An innocent life beneath your feet.

“See”, he chirped, “That wasn’t so hard was it? You’re off to a great start! Now.., go back to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of wine.”

“Okay..”, you swallowed.

“I..don’t like how nervous you sound. I wanted to have a little fun, that's all. You’re making me look like the bad guy here. I never planned to do anything bad to you. I promise. You’re just oh so pretty...”, the voice mused.

The silence was deafening, even as he spoke, the sound of your footsteps against the hardwood. To the left of the sink was the wine cabinet, so many choices, grabbing for one with shaky hands.

“Soo”, he continued, voice gruff and grainy through the phone, “grab a glass and just relax.”

If you were to die, at least you would be tipsy off the good stuff, pouring an eerily color of burgundy into the glass.

“Good girl”, the voice beamed, “Now, say your name.”

The wine was bitter, tartness soaking into the buds of your tongue, and you almost choked on its fruitfulness at the question.

“Why?”

“Why? Because, I want to hear you say it, that’s all”, he mused innocently, just to add

“And.., because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

“How”, you stuttered, apprehensively looking in every direction.

“You were very meticulous in setting up those security cameras, you even set one on the fridge. What were you hoping to catch? Someone raiding the fridge”, he laughed, “So tell me..”, he whispered, voice growing darker, “what’s your name?”

So you did, the word feeling so personal all of a sudden, as if the stranger was taking the most important thing about you.

“I like it. It suits you.”

“Alright, what’s yours”, you asked, the wine in your bloodstream making you bolder.

“Ghostface”, the stranger joked, “do you like my name too”, his boyish laugh tickling your ears. It was almost unsettling how innocent he sounded. It wasn’t what you expected a homicidal maniac to sound like.

“How sweet”, he whispered, the t clicking off his tongue in the most seductive way. The way he allowed his tone to change so quickly was so..ominous.

“Now”, he growled, “about that security camera, I have a better..idea of where to put it. Take it off the wall, and..bring it to the bedroom. We’re gonna continue our little game there.”

You gripped the countertop, knuckles whitening at the force, before chugging back the wine. You were apprehensive, angry.

“Hello”, he yelled, enraged, “I’m watching you! You’re being so difficult about this. I’m your guest aren’t I? So, where’s your sense of hospitality?”

You regretted his anger, fearful of the consequences.

“Are you in there”, you whispered, eyes closing, fearful of the answer.

“No,” he teased, “I’m not in the bedroom. I’m close, I’m..close, that’s all you have to know. I’m close enough to end the game, if you don’t play”, he whispered, almost aroused at the idea of your disobedience. Your death.

So you listened, gliding up the stairs to the door on the right.

It was dark, say for the street lights peering through. You half expected for your attacker to lunge.

“Now, set it up”.

You placed the camera on the dresser, perfectly angled toward the bed.

“What do you want with me?”

An annoyed laugh scoffed on the other end, “I told you already, it’s just a little game.”

“Now, sit on the bed, and take your clothes off….Slowly,” he whispered, “face the camera while you do it, I want to see everything.”

The wine had gone to your head, being drunk was a fool’s anesthetic, putting the primitive self in command, when it is the worst captain of all. Were you really wet at the idea of him watching as your straps slipped over the smooth skin of your shoulders, the way the fabric slipped down your body and to the floor, exposing the lingerie underneath? Meshed greens and speckled golds adorning the fabric.

There it was again, the boyish laughter so perfectly encapsulated in the phone, goosebumps forming along your flesh at the sound.

You could almost see his smile, “I like what you’re wearing underneath”, he teased, “It’s rather extravagant isn’t it? Are you sure you didn’t make plans with somebody tonight? Or…do you just like wearing that sort of thing underneath?”

He giggled.

“I knew I picked somebody fun”, he replied, when your answer was no. “I’m so glad you decided to play. Now take it off. OFF,” he demanded.

“There’s no one here but you and me right? Now look at us, so well acquainted already right? Don’t worry, I’m taking everything off too. Maybe if you're good, I'll even show you. I bet you're wondering what the man behind the voice looks like.”

You unclasped the bra, allowing the fabric holding the swell of your breasts to fall, nipples already hardening at the exposed chill. You swore you could hear him gasp, so quiet, almost unnoticeable, and when you pulled the band of your panties down over your hips, he sounded almost breathless,

“Good girl.”

“You’re very good at this game”, he whispered, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were aroused out of fear..or the way he praised you when you listened.

“It’s almost like you’ve..played it before. You know what I want now.., don’t you?

When he whispered, it was as if he were there right behind you, every letter perfectly pronounced on his tongue.

“Look straight into the camera, and spread your legs”, he was so breathy, as if he had to restrain himself as he watched you, every t sitting perfectly on his tongue.

You were sticky and oozing when your fingers met the entrance of your cunt, he stopped you.

“Ah ah, don’t touch yourself there quite yet, aren’t you an eager one. I want you to show off your body, take your hands..”, he breathed, “slid them down over your neck, to your hips, show me that beautiful figure…, I know you can do it, with what you were wearing underneath, I know you’re a little..freak? I know you know how to have a good time. Allllll by yourself. So show me..”

Your eyes fluttered at the feeling of your hands, so lightly, almost like a feather ghosting over the curves and dips of your body, you hated to admit you loved the way his voice sounded, the way it changed as he watched you. His exasperated sighs, the sensual articulation, the boyish desire.

“I want to watch everything, I want to watch you”, he sounded so whiney in the most magnetic way. Sometimes you almost forgot he had blood on his hands, until his voice grew darker and reminded you what he was capable of. He could so easily switch to the darkness.

“That’s right, put on a show for me. Like your life depends on it. I wanna see you shiver while you do it. Because you’re afraid, or because you’re aroused. I don’t care. Both do it for me. And you’re gonna cum for me, whether you like it, or not.”

You swallowed harshly, unable to look in the camera as you touched yourself. The threat almost sobering you.

“Spread your legs a little bit more”, and so you did, allowing the camera a perfect angle of your soaked cunt. “Just like that, I’m getting so hard for you. You’re doing so well, you’re playing so well. Now..underneath the bed, I have a little present for you.”

You adjusted hesitantly, reaching underneath to find the object of his reference.

“Wait..”, you whispered, holding the container in your hand with aversion.

“Yeah, it’s what you think it is. It’s blood.” His voice was shaky with arousal, “Take it in your hands and touch yourself again.”

The metallic smell was sobering, sickening. You hesitated.

“Why are you hesitating?”He scolded.

“Who’s is it”, you questioned.

“Who’s? Does it matter? Will you stop playing the game if I tell you? Will you end the game if I tell you?” The frustrated tone in his voice lowering back to a whisper, the wet squelch of his cock between his hand filling your ear. It almost made you forget the way he lashed out.

He breathed out, voice shaky, at the site of you obeying. The cold, sap like liquid trailing over every crevice of your body, painted by your fingertips.

“Good girl,” he praised, holding back soft gasps.

“Touch..every single inch of yourself for me. Pay attention to every part of your body, all the grooves that no one else pays attention to. I want to see it, I want to pay attention to it, all the little secrets that you keep.”

The stranger was so aroused, his throaty, mellifluous gasps allowing your own arousal to seep through. You loved hearing his little gasps.

“Show me what makes you grip the sheets, show me what makes you throw your head back in pleasure”, soft moans peaking through with every sentence, “ And I will watch..every..single..moment of it. Every streak you paint on yourself is like a confession, because you may act afraid…you may act…like you don’t like this…but what you really really don’t want is to admit it. You don’t want to admit that you’re giving in. You don't want to admit that you’re enjoying yourself. You don’t want to admit that you wanted this. You want to keep all these secrets, hidden from yourself, but look, look at you painting your whole body red. Look how good you look in red, all these streaks adorning you like a goddess. Touch yourself like nobody ever has. I want you to squeeze your breasts, touch your nipples the way you want to, not the way anyone else wants you to. The way you wanted. The way only you know it.”

And so you did. Cupping and squeezing the flesh, allowing the sharp squeeze of your nipples to make your back arch.

“Slide your hands down your thighs the way you want to. And drag your fingers down your waist to touch your inner thighs, tighten your legs as you brush over that sensitive spot, dig your nails into your skin, and mark yourself up. Arch your back as you make your way back to your neck..and wrap your fingers around it and choke yourself, like I wish I could. Push so hard that the blood stains your skin.”

You gasped softly at the feeling allowing you to cut your airflow shortly.

“Do it so hard it hurts”, the voice softly cried.

“Remember, I said I wanted you to cover every single inch. And don't forget anything and don't worry I’m not judging you. I'd never judge you. Whether you choose to have a taste, rub it on your lips. I’m not judging you. In fact, I'm right there with you. I'm enjoying everything with you. Beautiful. You are absolutely stunning, darling. God, I can't hold back any longer. Now rub your little clit, and make sure you keep your face in the camera. Lose yourself, make those beautiful, agonizing moans, for me.”

The praise, the way the boy made you feel so important. How fucked up could you truly be? By the time your fingers reached the perfect little bundle of nerves, you were so sensitive, biting your lip and savoring the metallic liquid stained over the skin. Your back arched at the feeling, cunt glistening even in the moonlight.

“Oh!” He moaned softly, “Just like that.” His little hushed moans and gasps as the spit surely coating his cock, squelched, causing your own soft sighs to escape. You loved how innocent he sounded in his own pleasure.

His imperceptible cries and whines at the pump of his cock, losing himself in the way you touched yourself to his voice.

“You are such a good girl, aren't you? Agh..”, he cried, “You look so pretty in red. Oh.., agh”, You too wanted to cry out in pleasure at the sounds he made. So innocent, boyish little whimpers.

“Fuck”, the voice on the phone cracking, grunts and cries of pleasure filling every sense as you played with yourself. Eyes closed, picturing the way he would look next to you.

“Mmm, fuck, agh.” He roughly swallowed, losing his breath as his hand sped up, and you whimpered at the sound.

“Put your whole pussy on display for me. Get fucking closer, get closer to the camera and show off. Come on, show me, show me, show me. Oh!”, He begged.

You loved it. You had never been so wet for anyone, and all you had was his voice. Every cry, whimper, moan, and gasp that left his pretty lips sending you closer to the edge. The dominance he exuded extinguishing with every little sound he made. You felt so proud. You wanted to know how he would look underneath you, eyes big and wide, looking up at you like you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

Fuck.

Your fingers entered, cunt clenching at the fullness, although you knew it wasn’t enough. Surely you would feel even more full with him inside of you.

You loved the way his voice cracked, higher pitched with every curse he cried. He sounded so pretty.

“My little devil, aren't you?” He whispered, “ You little devil. Oh f-..keep looking at the camera. Keep looking. Mphm, I can’t get off unless I’m looking at your pretty face. Did you know that? It’s all part of the game. I have to look at you. I have to watch you. I have to see you.”

You grew impossibly wetter with every confession. Finger curving with every pump.

“Look at yourself in the mirror too. Oh, watch yourself. Watch yourself fucking touching yourself for me.”

His pumps slowed with every groan, “Do you hear that? Do you hear how hard I am for you?”

You moaned, gasping for breath as you watched the way your fingers disappeared inside of your pussy. The pornographic sound of his cock thrusting in his hand.

“Agh, how much my fucking cock is leaking for you. Only a pretty, dirty, naughty girl can do this for me. Only someone like you can get me this hard. Oh, and look how wet you are.”

With every word his voice grew quieter, desperate.

“Come on”, he whispered, “take all of that and rub it on your thighs. Taste it, taste yourself.”

You loved the way your arousal tasted on your tongue, so salty and pure.

“I did this all for you. I did all of this for you. Aren’t you grateful I picked you?

“Yes,” you cried, circling your clit faster at the moans leaving his lips. He sounded so close. Coming so undone.

“Of fuck. I’m so fucking wet”, he cried, gasping for breaths. His heavenly whimpers, voice cracking with every moan.

“Keep moaning for me. I want to hear you, I want to hear you, I want to hear you so badly, I want to hear your screams, your moans, your whimpers, your cries, every single sound your body makes”, he begged.

The thrusts of his cock grew sloppier as his boyish little cries rang out.

“Look at you, so pretty, so fucking pretty, so fucking pretty. Can you hear that? This precum in my hands. Don't I sound so aroused? All for you. Only for you!”

Every cry and whimper and moan, it was truly all for you, and you did feel so grateful.

You were both so close.

His gravelly voice as he thrusted in and out of his hand, it made you cry in pleasure.

“Spread your fucking pussy lips for”, He slurred. You obeyed, allowing a growel to slip through his lips.

“Let me see inside. Fuck, rub your little clit, rub it with your bloody, guilty little fingers. Confess to me, confess to me what a bad girl you are. Oh!”

“There you are”, you praised at his sloppy, forceful thrusts. His wildly high pitched moans. You bet he looked so pretty, lips parted, eyes so big and wide.

He was gonna cum, you could tell by the frequency of his moans and perfect grunts. His whimper higher pitched than ever. You moaned wildly at the little boyish sounds he made. So perfect in every way, only for your ears.

“Im gonna cum” he cried, “Cum with me.” His voice grew more forceful, the innocent whimpers turning into the man you knew earlier, the aggression as he spoke, no longer a beg, more so a demand. “Cum with me!”

Only for the moans to continue, you allowed your release to wash over you at the sounds he made. Cum pooling and dripping from your cunt as your heart raced wildly. It was so blindingly perfect, you almost forgot where you were, the situation you were in. Until that same, maniacal laughter rang through. Oh how easily he could switch.

“That..that was a very good game darling. Good job. Good job. Thank you for playing with me”, he laughed, catching his own breath.

“And a word of advice”, he sighed, you could almost hear the resentment as he rolled his eyes, “You didn’t forget did you? That you broke one of the rules. You lied. You said that nobody else was coming by tonight. You forgot to tell me. You forgot to tell me not to kill him. Now, time to run little rabbit. Afterall, this isn't your house is it? Do you remember now?”

The last thing you heard before the dial tone from him hanging up.

Taglist: @samspenandsword @acatalystrising @sharpbarnacle @kraytclaw @adikas-world @the-good-shittt

#jedimastersovikinktober #kinktober 2022 #ghostface #ghostface smut #halloween #slasher smut #psycho killer

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everlastlady · 6 months

Text

Mammon + Servant Reader (Female)

✘Posted: 11/4/2023

✘Story Contains: Fem reader, Reader is a maid, Bubble baths, Gentle Mammon, Slight Nudity, Favoritism, & Feel good times.

✘Word Count: None, writing this on mobile y'all

✘Author's Note: Decided to do Mammon with female reader, I'll do a male reader soon. Just decided to cater to my female readers but I promise I will cater to my male readers. Remember to eat a meal or a snack, drink some water, get some fresh air, take your medicine, and remember that you are loved. If you loved this story remember to comment, click or tap that heart button, reblog with tags, and blaze if you can. Always remember to support your local writers. ♡♡♡

✘Summary: {Name} is a simple maid for the greed lord Mammon. {Name} isn't sure why Mammon always calls on her and always wants him by his side when he wanders his home. But she doesn't mind because she finds her master funny and enjoys how gentle he is with her. But what happens when {Name} gets sick? And it's time for Mammon to take care of them.

" It's okay sir, I'm sure that you will fine someone better than Fizzarolli. " She spoke softly to her boss Mammon who sat in the large green chair. As the imp news woman spoke about what happened at the show. The maid named (name), picked up the remote and pointed it at the large screen and turned it off. Once it flickered to black. She looked over at Mammon who was still fumming over what happened at the clown pageant. " I don't understand, I gave him everything! " Mammon's voice deep and demonic as he slammed his fist onto the table, sending a large crack through it. (Name) smacked her lips. She would have to get that fixed. " sometimes, you can give someone everything and they will still leave, I understand that you are frustrated sir but don't let this stop you from making money; I'm sure someone new will come along, what about the Glam Sisters? " (Name) walked over to Mammon's liquor cabinet. " Comas, after a piece of the set fell on them, they both ended up in the hospital in comas, besides they don't really fit the image of what I'm looking for. " Mammon muttered. (Name) noodded her head and set down the glass of liquor for Mammon. The greed demon looked up at (Name) and smiled. " Thanks, I know I always say this but you are my favorite maid, far better than the rest! You always do your job right and know how to keep a smile on my mug. " Mammon chuckled and took a drink. " Come drink with me, (Name) " Mammon grinned looking up at the maid. Her soft (E/C) looked at Mammon before shaking her head. " No, thank you, sir, I still have work to do; it's not good for one to be drunk on the job. You can cause a lot of mishaps that way putting others in harm and yourself. " (Name) said with a darling smile.

" See that is why you're my favorite (Name)! So smart and responsible with your duties. Maybe next time on one of your vacation days, you and me can drink together. " Mammon said. He would actually love to have a drink with (Name). And you wouldn't have to wear that plain maid outfit. Mammon wondered what (Name) would look like in different outfits. What dresses would (Name) wear or outfits that weren't dress related. Mammon never really seen (Name) outside work. He knew that she lived in the Pride ring and had an apartment. That's all he really knew about (Name's) life since she barely sooke about herself, she listened more than she speaks. " So (Name) how the payments on your apartment? Going because I've been thinking about giving you more payment, maybe you could buy yourself a nice house. " Mammon smirked. " It's going well, besides my loud and annoying neighbor. It's been good but I don't think I need a bigger payment. " (Name) said while tucking a piece of her hair behind her pointed ears. " Aww, come on; yes you do because you are responsible and work hard so tonight expect me to send you a shit ton of money. Now run around and tell the cook to prepare dinner. " Mammon waved his hand to dismiss (Name).

She smiled and bowed, walking out of Mammon's office. Mammon stood up and stared at the spot that (Name) stood in. " Lord of greed giving out money, I must be crazy... " Mammon looked away. " She better get a nice house with that money, a beautiful one at best. " Mammon sat back down. But there was no time to think about (Name) because Mammon had to find a replacement for Mammon so he would probably have to hold another clown off. His little fucked up beauty pageant, but hey if it helps him find Fizzarolli's replacement. Then he would be glad to hold one again. Especially have Fizzarolli and Asmodeus banned from it even that little imp with the gun that had showed up. When night time had finally coated the sky. Mammon sat in the dining room. The table decorated with food. (Name) stood next to Mammon holding a bottle of the greed demon's favorite wine. " (Name) how about you sit down and eat with me. " Mammon took the bottle wine and set it on the table. " And that's an order, just in case you try to come up with some excuse. " Mammon gestures towards the chair at the end of table. " Hey cook! Bring out plate for (Name)! " Mammon yelled. (Name) walked over and sat down - with a smile, the chef brought out a plate that had lemon pepper chicken, mashed potatoes covered in gravy, pasta,and vegetables that were just steamed. The night went well, Mammon made (Name) laugh with his jokes and stories. She listened to her master's rants and ideas.

Mammon enjoyed seeing (Name) laughed. The way her giggles slipped off her lips and coated his ears like honey. How her shoulders moved when she laugh, even that snort was adorable. Mammon felt hot in the face. He couldn't believe that she had made him feel this way for such a long time. But he never acted on these feelings because he was busy making money. But he always made sure that no one tried to get at (Name) which is why so many servants were fired for trying to hit on her. After dinner was done, (Name) stood up and bowed. " I'm grateful that you invited me to join you for dinner, sir, everything was delicious and I appreciated our conversation and the jokes you told. " (Name) spoke through a fit of giggles on the last part still remembering Mammon's joke about clown fish. " No problem, I also enjoyed eating with you. Way better than those dinners I have to attend with Lucifer and the other sins. " Mammon stood up smiling but he stopped noticing how (Name) wobble a bit when standing straight up. Did she drink to much wine? No that couldn't be because she had to drive home. " (Name)? " Mammon walked over to (Name) . " You okay mate? " Mammon reached out. Before she could respond she threw up on yourself and the carpet, (Name) would have fallen and hit the floor but Mammon caught her before she could pass out.

" (Name)! " He called her name and held you close not caring if he got her vomit on him. (Name's) eyes flickered opened as she coughed. " I don't feel good... " Her voice sounded dry and low. " Y-You are going home, let's go get you cleaned up. " Mammon picked up (Name), poor girl could barely speak it hurt to speak so she wouldn't fight back with Mammon who brought her into a guest bedroom. (Name) always took care of him, he will now take care of her. Mammon managed to grab a large shirt that had his logo on it. (Name) could sleep in that and get out of that disgusting maid outfit that was covered in vomit. Mammon ran (Name) a bath. He made sure the water wasn't too hot or cold. He added in some bath salts and oils. Mammon turned towards (Name) trying to figure out how to not make this sound creepy. " (Name) take off that outfit and get into the tub, we gotta get you washed up mate, this bath will help a little. " Mammon offered his hand. (Name) nodded weakly and took his hand, stepping into the bathroom. Mammon turned around as (Name) peeled away her clothing and stepped into the tub - it smelled like mint and honey. She let out a relaxing sigh. Mammon turned around and got on his knees as he began to wash her up. " You don't have to do that sir. " (Name) said in a tires voice. " Shh, yes I do, you always take care of me, so for the night just let me take care of you please. " Mammon said while washing up (Name).

She nodded her head as her boss Mammon washes her up. Avoiding her chest area and crotch area. She held onto the tub when Mammon lifted her leg to wash it. This felt nice, so she enjoyed herself. Mammon took a cup of water and poured it over (Name's) head as he washed her hair and face. He would let her handle the rest while he went to go get her towels and medicine. He could have gotten servant to do this but no, he wanted to take care of (Name), Mammon returned and helped (Name) out of the tub. She dried off and slipped into the large dark green shirt that Mammon gave her. It had his logo on it. " Sorry that I couldn't get you any undergarments. " Mammon said with a crimson blush. " It's fine, I usually sleep without them more comfortable that way. You feel less trapped. " (Name) said while taking the medicine that Mammon brought her. She crawled into the bed as Mammon placed his hand on her head. " Your fever is going down a little. " Mammon said with his hand placed on (Name's) head. " I'm going to stay by your side so scooch over. " Mammon moved over before getting into the bed with you. He laid next to you and stared at you. " You look cute in my merch. " He said. (Name's) voice was still a little dry but still did her voice to talk. " Thanks, the material feels soft. " She said while playing with the blanket.

Mammon turned his side to look at (Name) who did the same to look at Mammon. " Sir... " (Name) began to speak again. " Call me, Mammon. " Mammon said running his fingers through her hair. " Mammon thank you for taking care of me, I'm also sorry that I ruined the carpet. " She looked down. " It's fine, I can get it clean; besides I've been wanting to replace that carpet with a new one. Taking care of you is something you deserve, you always take care of me, so I decided to take care of you... I don't know your my favorite and I like you. " Mammon he hoped that saying that didn't make things awkward between (Name) and him. " I like you too. " (Name) smiled tiredness filled with their eyes. She rested her head on Mammon's chest, while he continued to play with her hair, but soon he leaned down and kissed her. (Name) pulled away quickly. " Mammon, you'll get sick! " She had worry in her voice. " I don't care, I will be fine. " Mammon went back to kissing (Name) who soon melted into the kiss. She enjoyed this moment between her and Mammon. This was no longer just a maid and her master. But just two people who love each other and care for each other. Who take care of each, who soon will have a future together.

Mammon's Clowns aka Mammon Tag List:

If you want to be added to the Mammon Tag List Let Me Know.

#helluva boss #helluva striker #helluva mammon #helluva mammon x female reader #helluva x reader #helluva x female reader #character x reader #character x you #helluva fanfiction #helluva fandom #helluva stories #helluva everlasting #everlasting writes🪻

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jacenotjason · 7 months

Text

Eddie's Big Lift!

(Opposite AU edition!)

VV Script VV

JULIE: [Said with laughter in her words] Well it’s.. a hilarious idea, Frank, I’ll give you that. But I just don’t believe it’s possible!

FRANK: No, it’s true! I swear, I swear!

BARNABY: [whispering with concern as he walks outside, limping without his caine.] What on Earth is going on out here?

FRANK: Oh, hi, Barnaby! I thought today was reshelf-ing day!!

BARNABY: [softly] It's, reshelving, Frank.. and reshelving day needs a quiet atmosphere.. How could anyone reshelf with you guys bickering so loudly?

JULIE: [still laughing] Our most idiotic Frank here insists that the local mailman is enough of a unit to lift every! Single! Neighbor! In the neighborhood!

BARNABY: [With the tone of someone who’s heard this before, and is concerned] Oh, Frank, not this again..

FRANK: It’s true, it’s true! Barnaby You’ve seen it too!

BARNABY: Now.. Eddie is very capable what with carrying all his packages and such around, but--

FRANK: [Loudly Interrupting] So you agree!!

BARNABY: I did not say-- Frank, our neighborhood includes the likes of Me, Poppy and Home, no one could--

FRANK: [Triumphantly shouting] EDDIE! CAN! LIFT! A! HOOOUUUSSSEEE!!

BARNABY: [Whimper of fear that becomes muffled as he covers his face]

JULIE: Well, I can’t accept such a boast without proof.

FRANK: Oh, I can prove it! Look, here comes Eddie now! Watch this!

BARNABY: [sound of realization] No, wait, Frank-

EDDIE: [as monotone as always] Mail’s here. I’ve got- oh no.

FRANK: [Overlapping him, running off in his direction] EDDIE, EDDIE, EDDIE, CATCH ME! QUICK! CATCH ME!

[Sound of packages hitting the ground and Eddie grunting slightly as he catches Frank.]

FRANK: TA-DAA!! See? See??

JULIE: [Dismissively, with a scoff] Oh come on, that’s barely an accomplishment! I could lift you Frank! Sally could lift you.

BARNABY: [still worried] Yes, I could probably lift you if sufficiently motivated, Frank.

FRANK: [Hmph’s] And yet you two never play “throw-Frank-up-in-the-air-as-hard-as-you-can-and-see-where-he-lands” with me!

BARNABY: [voice cracking with worry] We’ve talked about this, Frank! I didn’t want you to get hurt-

JULIE: [cutting off Barnaby] Well, I’m not convinced. Eddie, [snapping of her fingers], here!

EDDIE: I ain’t a dog, Julie.

JULIE: I just- [quick gasp as shes lifted suddenly] Ah-!

EDDIE: [still monotone as he lifts Julie above his head] voila.

JULIE: A warning would've been nice you ass. [a small, monotone, "ow" from Eddie as she playfully kicks him.] But, I’m still not convinced.

Eddie: [incredibly sarcastic] Oh no. I'm devastated. [drops Julie] Julie: Wait- ['OOF' as shes dropped onto the path] you ass!

FRANK: [overlapping Julie's unceremonious fall and cursing] BARNABY NEXT! BARNABY NEXT!!

EDDIE: Alrighty.

BARNABY: No!

EDDIE: Why not?

FRANK: [said at the same time as Eddie, but much louder] WHY NOOOOT!!

BARNABY: I will not let you hurt yourself attempting to lift me into the air, Eddie! I’d feel terrible!

BARNABY: [gasp of delight] Oh- look! Wally and Poppy! Hello!

POPPY: What’s up? How did the ground taste, Julie?

WALLY: Hi, Barnaby. Hi, Julie. Hi, Frank. Hi, Eddie. What are you--

FRANK: [interrupting Wally mid-greetings; he keeps going underneath his dialogue] EDDIE! LIFT WALLY INSTEAD!

EDDIE: Alright, c’mere little guy- hup!

WALLY: Oh, I’m up here now.

JULIE: [Scoffs] Oh please! Wally weighs 3 apples soaking wet! Watch, put him down.

EDDIE: And down you go.

WALLY: I’m on the ground again.

JULIE: And hup!!

[Another “ta-da!!” to signify her lifting Wally.]

WALLY: Oh, and now I’m up again.

POPPY: Life’s sure got its ups and downs, huh? [chuckling at her own joke] Uhh, but seriously, Cloudie, what’s this new game of yours?

FRANK: [excitedly explaining the situation to Poppy] It’s not a game, Poppy! I’m proving to Julie that Eddie can lift everyone in the neighborhood!

POPPY: Ohhh, why didn’t you say so? Eddie, ya shoulda started with me. Seein’ as I’m such a tiny li’l birdy and all.

EDDIE: [long sigh] ..fuckin.. okay.

POPPY: I mean, it wouldn’t be much harder than liftin’ a couple envelopes, huh? Pickin’ up a li’l girl like me. It’s hardly even worth showin’ off at this point, when you’ve already managed guys so much bigger! But might as well just so you can say honestly you’ve managed the full collection, right?

EDDIE: [groaning, the sound of a flask being taken out of his jacket and quickly swigged from] Mng, okay, c’mere.. I figure I can... Yeah, yup, here we-- [grunt of effort] Hup-- all right-- little more– shit–

POPPY: [under Eddie’s struggle] watch the talons hun.

[Big, forceful, weightlifter-style exhale as he gets Poppy lifted; little “woah-ho-ho!” from Poppy.]

FRANK: [overlapping others] YEE-EES!!

JULIE: [overlapping others, little applause] Hell yeah!

BARNABY: [overlapping others, gasp of fear, his voice muffled behind his paw] oh Mary please..

WALLY: [overlapping others] Oh, now Poppy’s up there.

[One solid beat. Then, sound of Eddie collapsing and taking Poppy down with him, with a loud “OOF!” from both of them. A terrified yip from Barnaby]

POPPY: Ahah! Holy crap, I don’t even have a joke about that! That was awesome! You okay, Ed?

EDDIE: [Groan, sarcasm in his normal monotone as he speaks into the dirt] Oh yes, just fuckin peachy, augh..

JULIE: I still say it’s just passable. Ma, get over here! I bet I can lift you over my head and carry you to Sally’s window to show her!

POPPY: [snort-laugh] Yeah, all right.

BARNABY: [gasping in fear] NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. I’m ending this right now!

FRANK: Oooh, let’s go see if Eddie can lift Howdy next! We can save Home for the big finish!! Sally can watch from her window!

JULIE: Not if I can lift them first!! [her voice becomes distant as she continues to talk, fading until shes not heard anymore] I bet Howdy weighs less because his heart is so empty! Jackass won’t even see it coming. I bet I can carry Home all the way to…

POPPY: Well, I know what I’m doin’ with the rest of my day. C’mon, li’l buddy, let’s catch this party!

WALLY: Eddie’s going to lift up Home? That’s the most. We can go to Howdy’s together and Home can pick out his own hot dog.

EDDIE: Ain’t the first time I spent the day on the dirt path. [spoken in the dirt, his voice muffled]

[Long beat. Just Eddie and Barnaby are left.]

BARNABY: [soft, concerned voice of a father] Oh, Eddie..

EDDIE: What? [his voice louder as he lifted his head from the dirt]

BARNABY: [small chuckle of delight, then whispers] Thank you for entertaining Frank.

EDDIE: ..I don’t know what you’re talking about.

BARNABY: I just think its funny.. If anyone else had asked you to lift people up you wouldn’t have done it, hm? EDDIE: [laugh] Tch. [groan as he attempts to stand] Alright, yeah.. Figured Frank would get a good laugh out of that..

BARNABY: A good laugh? [the sound of struggle as he lifts Eddie to his feet] I think you made his day, Edward. You, quite literally, bent over backwards for him.

EDDIE: [an unusual sound of joy in his voice] Yeah.. well.. Frank makes mine. It’s the least I can do. [the sound of him brushing the dirt off his clothes]

BARNABY: I’m sure he’d be happy to hear that.

Eddie: [a sigh of defeat] mm..

BARNABY: Well, I’m going to go inside and get my caine so I can join everyone else without limping all day.. I’ll see you in a second.

EDDIE: seeya.. [silence as Barnaby walks away, a few sounds of dirt being kicked around by Eddie]

#welcome home #welcome home au #welcome home opposite au #howdy pillar #eddie dear #frank frankly #julie joyful #sally starlet #barnaby b beagle #poppy partridge #poppy ‘ma’ partridge #Wally darling #eddies big lift #welcome home arg #welcome home puppet show #script

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 7 months

Text

"you'd like me to what?" zhongli had been enjoying your company in silence for a spell before you had blurted out a request you wished he would fulfil for you.

"show me how to fight with a polearm." zhongli had not yet divulged the information about him being a god to you, and as far as he knew you hadn't known just how much physical power he possessed. so why ask him?

"may i ask why you've chosen to come to me with this request? i'm afriad i am quite at a loss."

"well, you go out with the traveler on occasion, right? and they're super strong and it's not like you go on leisurely walks among the hilichurl invaded mountains of liyue." before zhongli could even try and rebuttle, you keep going. "and truthfully, if you go out into the rolling hills with the traveler covering you everywhere you go, that makes you look kinda bad you know."

"bad?" his voice pitches and recoils slightly from your words.

"making them do all the work while you sit back and do nothing! that certainly would paint a bad picture if you keep going out there willingly and don't learn. so! you must know something."

"hmm," he hums, wordless agreeing with a small furrow to his brow and a sweat on his neck. though your scenarios were purely hypothetical and very untrue since he does carry his own weight very well, it still wasn't a picture his wanted you to paint of him. "perhaps.. you're correct. but, then why would you request training specific to polearms? could you not ask a local millelith for aid?"

"i could i guess," you deflate and he almost cracks right there. "but hu tao said you were definitely a better choice in regards to what i'm looking for."

zhongli feels a deep sigh in his chest at the mention of the current director. yes, this does have her written all over it. if she wasn't looking into ridiculous ways of promoting the business of death, she was snooping around in zhongli's love life- or lack thereof since you were not his significant other much to her displeasure.

"last i check however, you were already very skilled in other means of combat. why the sudden interest?"

"isn't is a good thing to broaden your horizons? that's what childe said anyways."

you've also convened with childe it seems. lovely.

"you really should disregard anything those two say." his voice is normal as he speaks, but the dryness of it makes you laugh. he wasn't joking, but he smiles at you regardless.

"well, i'm not going to pressure you!" you get the sense that his questions were a very very polite way of stalling you from a rejection. "if you dont want to, childe did offer since he said he's mastered every form of combat aside from archery." zhongli felt his brow twitch.

"i also wouldn't recommend getting too frivolous with childe. kind though he may act, he is still someone to be cautious of."

"because he's a fatui?"

"partially." also because he'll easily vie all of your free time from this point onwards until he leaves liyue if you go to him for training. zhongli wouldn't get to enjoy your company like this anymore if you do run to childe, and that idea alone makes his chest itch. "i accept your request."

his calm agreement makes your face light up and your eyes shine with such excitement he feels antsy. strange how strong the urge to kiss you grows when you look at him like he had just hung the stars.

zhongli is lucky the next time you see childe and tell him that zhongli will be training you with polearms, he's seated up in the higher shops of liyue's red-fenced architecture. the strained, yet begrudging look of disappointment to cross the harbingers face is a perfect appetizer to go with his fresh cup of tea.

as is the smug look zhongli shoots him when childe feels the burning gaze on his skull and looks up once you saunter off. zhongli takes pleasure in knowing he is a being who is and always will be above childe, both in his current fenced in seat above his head and higher status of being. a mere fatui harbinger has nothing on a god, gnosis or no.

zhongli was untouchable by many, in many ways. you however, all you had to do was simply ask and he would do whatever you wished.

besides, he hadn't forgotten what childe tried to do to his nation where all his beloved people and you resided. and his memory, much to childe's misfortune, is very good.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli blurb #zhongli fic #genshin impact #genshin impact zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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hopeluna-archived · 2 years

Text

Obey Me! Characters reacting to them walking on you changing

Obey Me! Side characters x GN!reader

Genre: crack?

Warnings: suggestive, strong language cause its me, my broken humour, i've had like 7 cups of coffee

The brothers

M.list

Diavolo

Alright lets see how you got in this scenario, shall we?

You were staying in the Demon Lord's castle for the night for a sleepover cause Dia insisted and come on who can say no to him?

You two planned to watch movies all night

Barbatos didn't like it at all

But you see Diavolo is a very busy person, so just before your sleepover began he had it take care of some paperwork.

So while he is working in his office for a little while, you decided to change in his room

What could go wrong? He wasn't gonna be back for a while right?

Hahaha wrong

So you're there, changing

Thinking that Diavolo is working

But noooo

In bursts this bright ray of sunshine aka Diavolo

And you're just frozen there in shock, half naked

Diavolo doesn't even realize your state at first, he's just rambling on how fun this sleepover will be

Once he does, oh hohoho

Why did I turn into Santa Claus?

He's flustered, flabbargasted, shocked, whips the other way so fast-

Waits for you to change while he apologises for barging in, feeling his face flush

After you're done changing, give him a second please

After a moment, he totally teases you about it

Like he wasn't the one who was dying from blushing

Barbatos

Now you see, usually Barbatos would know if you were changing cause of the you know, time thingy

And even if he didn't, he knocks. Always

Unfortunately today was a particularly busy day for him, running around assisting Diavolo and he had more paperwork to look at than usual

So now he just wants to go to his room and get some rest

Now what he doesn't know is that you were there in his room, in hopes of surprising him

You know? Make him some tea to de-stress and maybe other ways to relax him

But here is the thing, you come here so often that half of your clothes are in Barbatos' room

So you thought, i'm gonna be here for a while why not get comfortable?

So you decide to change into something more comfortable

I would say bad timing

'Cause the moment you take off your clothes, behold the butler opens the door

You're blushing

He's blushing

Its probably the hot weather haha

Barbatos immediately turns around, apoligising even though he didn't know you were even here

And you're changing, apoligising for not telling him you were going to be here

Barbatos doesn't really make a big deal out of it but he will occasionally blush thinking back to it

Always checks before he opens doors now

Simeon

Well this is gonna be interesting

So lets first set up how this happened

So you were at purgatory hall, making potions with our local 1000+ year old harry potter, when he "accidentally" slipped and dropped shit on your clothes

After wacking Solomon in the head, you headed for Simeon's room

You had some of your clothes in Simeon's room from when you stayed over so there you were changing in his room as he was out running some errands

So as he came back, walked in his room, saw you in your underwear, he turned off

His soul left his body, mf started praying i swear

As soon as he comes to his senses, immediately turns around, stuttering out an apology

Now you're scrambling to put on some clothes, saying that is wasn't his fault, he didn't know you were here

Once you're done changing, he turns around not knowing what to say in his flustered state

So you two are just standing there like 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

It takes Solomon to call you to break the awkward silence between you

Its fair to say Simeon wasn't the same for a few weeks

But he finally came over his flustered state, and now he just chuckles thinking back to it with a light coat of blush

Solomon

Ah yes our favourite shady magic grandpa

Alright lets get to it

You're at purgatory hall, staying the night there so you're changing into something comfy cause Luke decided that you all would watch some movies before bed and how could you say no to him?

Solomon....knew

I just know that he knew you were changing but decided to walk in the room anyway cause he knew you would get flustered

He is a little shit, but he's your little shit

So you're changing, you know? Minding your own shit

And in bursts this motherfucker

And you screech, cause it scared the crap out of you

Now you're screaming at Solomon to get out while you're trying to cover yourself up

He's on the floor wheezing

Simeon and Luke come running to see if you're alright

Now you're screaming more cause Luke is gonna see you half naked

This causes Solomon to wheeze more

For a second, you were scared gramps was having a heart attack

Simeon being the life saver he is, understands the situation and quickly coaxes Luke away from the chaos while shielding his eyes

Solomon had to make it up to you when you weren't talking with him for that stunt

───────────

Tags: @jaidenisasimp

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!! Do not repost or claim as yours though, its not cool.

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haikyu-mp4 · 15 days

Note

hi omg i love your works sm !! each one is so cute and i love your dialogue for the characters 🫶 i've read most of them but i'll be going back to reread and reblog them bcos u deserve the love 🤍

i wanted 2 ask if ur requests were open ? it's okay if they aren't ofc !! but i had this idea earlier about dentist / orthodontist iwaizumi or oikawa ! and i've been looking thru the hq writers that i've reblogged from n u came up ! the idea is pretty broad but i was thinking more of a build up from patient-dentist (?) to lovers, smth like that ! idk if ure up for it then do ur magic but otherwise i hope u have a great day and i'm looking forward to reading more from u 💞💞💞

Unusual affection

thank you so much for your love!! I never wrote much AU before so this was such a fun idea and I hope I did it justice<3

word count; 1353 – gn!reader, dentist Oikawa AU, patient-dentist to lovers, suggestive

You're not so fond of going to the dentist. Luckily, your teeth didn’t give you many problems growing up, but your parents were urging you to get a check-up appointment after you moved away to a new city. Better to establish a dentist before the issues come up, they would say.

So you did, you made an appointment with dentist Oikawa Tooru and made your way to his office a few weeks later. His waiting list wasn’t exactly short. Not that you had to wonder why for long because…

that is one gorgeous man!

“You need to floss more regularly,” he added as if it just came naturally for him, which it probably did. You lay on the seat as he looked over all the basic stuff, rinsing and picking at your teeth. Unfortunately, you couldn’t see yourself attracting him very much with your mouth wide open and lips scrubbed dry already, so you just accepted your fate.

“I’m not really a dancer but I’ll try,” Oikawa stopped what he was doing and the swivel chair he sat on slowly turned towards you. That’s like something Makki would say, he thought. And that’s not a compliment.

“How old are you, 10?” he asked but quickly cleared his throat when the secretary seemed to eye him from her desk. She always said he shouldn’t have an attitude with customers.

“Some would say I’m a 10 out of 10!” you responded, joyfully watching as his patience wore thin. Oh, how fun to find cracks in that perfect exterior.

He sighed, shook his head, and turned back to the monitor. You started looking at the ceiling, counting the dots and lines in the ugly pattern until you lost count and started over. Is that a headache creeping up on you?

Finally, Oikawa rolled back over. You blinked a couple of times to shake off the view of the ceiling and actually focus on him. “Open.” Wouldn’t mind hearing him command you like that in another setting, you thought, suddenly avoiding eye contact again but still doing as he said. Dentists are not supposed to be this attractive. “Your wisdom teeth on this side, do they hurt?” he asked, pointing to the cheek he was referring to.

You thought about it, humming in thought. “Yes, especially after eating. Lots of food gets stuck in there too.”

“We can set up another appointment to get them removed,” he informed you. “It should be mostly covered by insurance if I say it’s necessary.”

You nodded, licking your lips as they felt so dry from his gloved hands running over them. “Will…” he was about to stand up but stopped for a moment to listen to you. “…you be doing that?”

A small humorous sound left his lips, and it sounded so melodic you were in a trance. “That could be arranged.”

Two weeks later, you’re back at the reception of your dentist's office, asking for Oikawa. You agreed to do the procedure with a local sedative, as you didn’t have that many close friends in this city yet that could pick you up, so two assistants were currently making sure you wouldn’t feel anything around your mouth for the next hours. Unfortunately, this called for you to stay quiet, and you were honestly just excited to see Dr. Hottie again.

Your prayers were answered, and after they left you to soak in the numb feeling in your mouth for about ten minutes, Oikawa walked through the door. “Hey there, little dancer.” he greeted you.

“Hi!” you cooed, but it sounded odd when you couldn’t feel your lips. You frowned, trying to look down at your lips for a moment before giving up. Oikawa clicked his tongue from where he watched you, shaking his head before putting gloves on. Everything he did seemed so elegant, but you had a sense there was a dorky side to him.

“It might hurt a bit, but just tap me if you need me to adjust, okay?” he informed you, looking into your eyes for an answer.

You nodded, sucking in a quick breath. His eyes were pretty. Swirly, like chocolate ice cream. “Yes, I got it.” You bit your top lip, sheepishly continuing. “My safeword is toothbrush.”

Oikawa seemed to chuckle under his breath, he hesitated to humour you but still gave in. “Good to know. I was half expecting a stupid joke about tap dancing.” he hummed before picking up the first tool he needed and swiftly getting to it. It wasn’t very fortunate, to have him stare at your face as your cheeks flushed red, but it was worth witnessing the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

The procedure didn’t take too long. He struggled with the lower tooth, so an assistant came in to help him and the two conversed like you weren’t even there. When it was finally done, Oikawa pressed a button so you were adjusted into a seated position. You let your lips run frantically over your chapped lips, reaching for the small cup of water he provided you. And had you not been busy with the aftermath of the procedure, you would have noticed the way he watched you for a moment too long before getting up and throwing away his gloves.

Oikawa knew it was inappropriate. His breath shouldn’t have stuttered when he saw you in the waiting room for the check-up, he shouldn’t have sent you a small wave before calling your name to let you know he was ready for you, and he shouldn’t have put his hand on your back while leading you to his station. He just found you entertaining, that’s what he told himself, but he definitely looked off his game when you finally sat down for him to check the stitches from the procedure.

“Everything alright there, doc?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. Oikawa waved his hand as if it was nothing, laughing under his breath.

“No worries, I was just-” he pursed his lips before pointing at you with the little tool in his hand. “Do you like pasta?”

Your jaw loosened in disbelief. “Pasta? I guess I do, is that bad for my teeth or something?” you asked a bit awkwardly.

“There’s this new Italian restaurant down the street. You should go there,” he said. “With me, I mean.”

Oikawa’s penthouse apartment was pretty nice, so you two basically spent most of your time there after a couple of dates led to stumbling through your front door with your lips locked together. He had complained about the small bed and creaking floor of your apartment, which led him to take you home to his place the morning after.

Now you were sitting on the marble countertop in the bathroom with Oikawa standing between your legs, and it was similar to something you had dreamed up before when imagining life with a boyfriend. The difference was, you weren’t kissing or anything like that. No, your mouth was wide open as your handsome boyfriend checked your teeth before bed after you brushed them. “This is a bit unusual, don’t you think?” you managed to say, making him pout as you accidentally left a small bite on his pointer finger.

“You’re a bit unusual, but here we are,” he mumbled, but still hummed in appreciation at what he observed. “I knew the electric toothbrush would help.”

Finally, he leaned an arm on each side of you on the counter so you could have a kiss, which you’d say was a much better reward for being good at the dentist than the ones you would get when you were younger. “You truly are a genius, Tooru.” you cooed sarcastically. He kissed you again and hummed, savouring the aftertaste of your toothpaste. The expensive kind.

“Maybe I’m such a good dentist that my kisses clean your teeth,” he said, and it shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t be charming. It was cheesy, made no sense and created some disturbing mental images. But you savoured it nonetheless, accepting every kiss he gave you and returning it with the same sweetness.

Luckily, this dental nerd is all yours.

masterlist

#ask-mp4 #hq #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x you #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #hq oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa

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joelswritingmistress · 5 months

Text

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 18

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Trigger Warning: Mention of S.A./ Violence

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Early Terrible. That was the name of the swanky, bohemian restaurant Dr. Miller and I ended up at for dinner. When he pulled into the dirt parking lot, that was surrounded by low hanging trees, I was surprised.

“I have always wanted to check this place out,” I confessed, “I follow them on-”

“Instagram.” Dr. Miller finished my sentence. “I know. That's why I chose this place.”

I glanced over at him and just stared. “How do you know these things?”

“I'm sorry.” He stared directly at me, not rushing to get out of the car. Dr. Miller closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know.. I know what I do is too much. It's probably wrong.” He opened his eyes and shook his head, “It is wrong. I shouldn't have been snooping on your social media before we started a relationship, or even now.”

I needed truths, and I knew now was a good time to get some information when Dr. Miller was voluntarily opening up. “Did you ever drive by my house? Before we really.. started all this?”

He looked me directly in the eye. “Yes.”

“More than once.”

“Yeah.” Dr. Miller swallowed hard. He looked like he was in the hot seat on trial. I had never seen him so outwardly vulnerable and easy to read.

“Why?”

His eyes continued to burn into mine. “I know the terrible people who are out there. I've seen it up close. And..” Dr. Miller shook his head. “I know this relationship is new, but with the murders on campus I've just taken it upon myself to look after you.. a little excessively.”

“Even before we were together.. if that's what we are?”

“I was immediately attracted to you,” Dr. Miller explained. “And almost right away into the semester the first woman was killed. No offense but I didn't think you'd be able to defend yourself if someone attacked you. So I just kind of.. looked after you from a distance.”

“That's a little-”

“Obsessive,” he finished and looked away. “I know. I just.. have experience with this kind of thing and I know, if I ever needed to, I could-”

“Experience with what kind of thing?”

Dr. Miller looked down toward the steering wheel and then back to me. “I have a story I'd like to tell you.. inside. It's a terrible fucking story, but it's something I want you to know. You'll probably want to run away afterwards, and I'll gladly drop you off back at your house with Tori if that's what you decide.”

“I'm not going to judge you.” I shook my head. “And if it makes you feel any better, I searched for almost an hour looking for information about you online.” I snickered. “I just couldn't find anything.” I added, “And I totally followed you from campus to the bar at the center of town. So I guess I'm just as weird.”

“I just feel very protective of you,” Dr. Miller told me.

I got goosebumps. We had only met that month and he already had this hold on me. It was a very willing hold, but it was so tense and so strong that I visibly shuddered. The connection was intense - and it was obsessively mutual.

“I want to listen to everything you have to tell me,” I explained, reaching for his hand, adding again, “I'm not going to judge you.”

His face remained serious. There was no crack of a smile. No hints of anything lighthearted or jovial. All of that disappeared when I asked him how he knew about my interest in Early Terrible.

Dr. Miller clicked open the door and I walked with him toward the restaurant. I purposely interlocked my fingers with his and he glanced over at me before looking down the rest of the way as we took the short walk inside.

The cozy, eccentric little restaurant was exactly like the pictures on their Instagram account had depicted. It was unique and dark, with leather couches and plants strung about in strategic places to create the motif they were going for. Behind a dimly lit bar with yellow flickering lanterns perched on the wall was a tree that appeared to be bursting through the wooden palettes where liquor bottles rested on shelves.

There were chandeliers and odd shaped wooden tables, all seeming to be purposely spread apart so people could have their own private conversations.

A woman approached in a white dress with a see-through midriff and frayed sleeves with tassels. She smiled wide and adjusted a headband that matched her eccentric outfit.

“Two for tonight?” She asked.

“Please.” Dr. Miller nodded and adjusted his tie, putting a hand on my back as he encouraged me to lead the way to wherever the hostess was taking us.

We passed by other diners, who didn't so much as give a fleeting glance in our direction, before settling in at a table for two in a quiet corner of the establishment.

“The waitress will be right with you,” she informed us, handing over a set of menus before disappearing, seemingly, into the shadows.

I looked directly across at Dr. Miller and his face was pained. It looked like someone was literally stabbing him in the ribs. That's how uncomfortable he appeared. His vulnerability was freaking me out more than anything he’d revealed to me thus far.

The waitress came over and took our drink orders and then wandered off with a promise to return momentarily.

“There's been a little backstory that's kind of impacted my entire life,” Dr. Miller explained. “I haven't been completely successful with it and I've done some things I'm not particularly proud of in my lifetime.”

My hand topped his on the table, and I allowed him to continue without interruption.

“I told you I had an older sister,” he reminded me.

“Carol.” I half-smiled but let it quickly fade.

Dr. Miller finally managed a barely-there smirk. “That's right.”

The waitress returned with the set of beers we’d ordered and we decided quickly on a collection of tapas for dinner. When the waitress disappeared again, I returned my whole focus back to Dr. Miller, who took a long swig from his glass.

“I should've gotten something stronger.” He smacked his lips. “But I'm driving you, so I won't.” Dr. Miller’s thumb danced in circles over the top of mine.

“You don't have to tell me.”

“I want to.” His eyes lifted to meet mine and he swallowed hard. “Carol is six years older than me. She was a great big sister, still is.” Dr Miller smiled at the mention of her name but it quickly faded. “I, um.. when I was fourteen, she was twenty..” He scrunched his nose and I gripped his hand harder, “She was being attacked by a UPS man who had dropped off a package at our house.” He took a deep breath and looked back into my eyes, “I had been out playing ball with my friends and I just remembered her screaming for help. Our parents weren't home. It was the summer. They were at work, she was home from college. I was about to enter my freshman year of high school.”

“Oh, Joel..” I shook my head, naturally addressing him by his first name for the first time.

“I had a baseball bat in my hand and she was screaming for help.. crying a little bit.” Dr. Miller swallowed hard and I saw his eyes tear up as he spoke. “So, I hit him. And I hit him again.. and again.. and again.”

All I could do was listen. I didn't dare try to interrupt or idiotically tell him it was okay, or that I understood. I didn't. I couldn't imagine the trauma that lingered from everything Dr. Miller was explaining to me.

“He died from his injuries.” He wiped a stray tear that managed to escape the duct of his left eye. “We moved away not long after that. I went to a high school where no one knew me. My parents did the best they could for us. I had to sit on trial and answer questions. Lawyers tried to make it sound like I was some maniac.. but the jury found me not guilty of every charge they tried to bring me up on.”

I was speechless. I almost wished he’d saved it for behind closed doors so I could comfort him properly. What was I supposed to say? I had no words.

“I'm so sorry.” That was all that came to mind and it felt so lame. “I can't imagine what you must have gone through.” My second hand fell over the top of his.

“I'll never forget the details of that day. I think Carol was even scared of me for a while. She’d never admit it and adamantly denies it now. But I don't blame her.” Dr. Miller looked off to the side, catching his breath and letting out a long, expressive exhale. “In time I think it brought us closer. And my parents did what they thought was right by moving us away from all the drama, and the looks and the constant questions. Some people thought I was crazy, others would pat me on the back and call me a hero. Both equally made me feel like shit for some reason. But as I got older, I realized that there was one less piece of shit on this earth because of what I did. He wouldn't be able to hurt someone else - and that helped me at least sleep at night.”

Dr. Miller scoffed and shook his head, almost appearing as if he was trying to convince himself of the next part. “I stopped him. He could still be out there today hurting other young women.” He took a sip from his beer and nearly finished it on a single guzzle.

“It's so unfair,” I finally said. “For you to have to go through that.. and at fourteen years old.” My mind couldn't even accurately comprehend what he had just told me.

“It's still better than what Carol had to go through.”

“I'm sorry.” My hand ran partially up his sleeve and back down. “I shouldn't have pried. You probably didn't want to rehash such a terrible memory.”

“You didn't pry,” Dr. Miller said, “I pried.. into your life. You just asked me why. And this is why. This is what I meant when I said I've seen this up close.”

“Have you talked to anyone about all of this?” I asked. “Professionally?”

He nodded. “It's helped. I just have very low tolerance for that sort of thing. And Alec Pryor was just another predator. He's no different than any of the others. I looked into you initially because of my interest, and then I went overboard when I thought you could be in some lunatic’s crosshairs.”

“You don't think this guy ever targeted me, specifically, do you?” The question suddenly popped into my mind.

“No, not particularly,” Dr. Miller added. “But I didn't want to take a chance.”

“Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you choose me? Of everyone in your life. Of all the women you could try to protect from.. the world. Why me?”

Dr. Miller stared at me intently and then finally shook his head. “I don't really have an explanation. It's just been.. a feeling. I shouldn't have even pursued you, being a student in my class.”

“I'm twenty-seven,” I reminded him.

“It doesn't matter.” Dr. Miller shook his head, “Like I said, I've done some things that aren't right. I shouldn't have entertained this. I shouldn't have followed you. I shouldn't have done any of the things I've done since I've met you.”

I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the disappointment. For Dr. Miller to tell me it wasn't right for us to be together and that this was over. I didn't want him to have a sudden change of heart.

“But I can't stand being more than ten feet away from you,” he went on, making all of my instant anxiety subside. “And I’m praying that my story didn't scare you enough to make you want to run away. I know this sounds like a line and we haven't been together for long but I have never felt so organically connected to another woman in my life. And I've never told that story to anyone else.. not since I moved away in ninth grade.”

Why me? I still didn't know why Dr. Miller felt the way he did about me, or even why he trusted me so quickly; but I would never spill his secrets, and I would never outcast him or brand him as something terrible over what happened in his childhood. I also wasn't about to question what it was about me that drew him in. From my own perspective, I was just an average chick trying to figure out life. I had nothing over the top going for me, though I wasn't exactly unsuccessful either. I was average, at least in my eyes. Dr. Miller had this natural allure that pulled me in. I knew other students felt a fraction of that magnetism, too, and I could tell by Tori’s first expression when he walked through the door that she felt it. I didn't have that type of hold on people, and I knew it. So, I couldn't help but mentally beg the same question over and over. Why me?

“Why don't we get our meals to go?” I suggested. Immediately I could see a solemn expression plague his features and I was more specific about my intentions. “Not so I can go home. So we can go home.”

I rose to my feet and rounded the small, wooden table, positioning myself on Dr. Miller’s lap. I cradled his head against my chest and held him there.

“You've been taking care of me,” I reminded him. “Now, let me take care of you.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky

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rottenpumpkin13 · 8 months

Note

Did Zack ever ended up having Aerith cooperate on a prank on the Firsts? If so, how did it turned out?

The Drugs Prank

TW: Drugs

[Aerith and Zack are hanging out at the church. Aerith is calling Genesis from her phone while simultaneously shushing Zack's laughter]

[The phone rings four times before Genesis picks up]

Genesis: Yes, Mrs. Fair?

Aerith: Hi, Genesis! I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Zack isn't answering his phone or messages...

Genesis: Oh, I'm with Angeal and Sephiroth, so your paramour isn't here.

Aerith: No, no. When you see him, can you please tell him that he left the last of his white powder at my house?

[There's a pause. Genesis's heavy breathing is the only sound on the other end. Zack is silently dying beside Aerith]

Genesis: I'm sorry, he left his what at your house?

[There's two voices on the other end that sound like Sephiroth and Angeal asking him what happened]

Aerith: His white powder. He always brings it over, but never tells me what it is. He lets me try some of it sometimes, but I always end up coughing⏤

Genesis: White powder!? White powder!?

[Aerith covers her mouth to keep herself from laughing. Sephiroth's muffled voice is heard in the background: Genesis, are you buying illicit drugs?]

Aerith: Yup, white powder he always has in a small brown package.

Genesis: Aerith, dear, does he snort the powder?

Aerith: He does! And afterwards he always gets energetic, it's really cute!

Genesis: IT WAS COKE? THIS WHOLE TIME WE THOUGHT IT WAS ADHD! YOU'RE TELLING ME HE'S BEEN INHALING THE GOODS!?

[Aerith covers the receiver with her hand. She and Zack are silently laughing. Genesis is screaming on the other end. Shuffling and a garbled commotion are heard]

Genesis: ⏤DOING DRUGS! NO WONDER HE'S SO HYPER ALL THE TIME, HE'S BEEN COKED OUT OF HIS MIND! *shuffling sounds* No, Aerith just told me! *shuffling sounds* Well, what else could it be!? *shuffling sounds* You ask her then!

[There's more muffled back to back and then someone else picks up the phone]

Angeal: Aerith? Aerith? It's Angeal.

Aerith: Hi Angeal!

Angeal: Listen, when Zack brings over this white powder of his, does he make you take some of it?

[Zack shakes his head and pantomimes stirring a pot]

Aerith: Hmmm, sometimes? Usually he just has me cook the white powder with baking soda.

Angeal: HE'S RUNNING A CRACK HOUSE!

[Zack loses it and has to step away to laugh. Meanwhile there's a commotion on the other end that Aerith can just barely make out]

Sephiroth: Genesis he's having a panic attack.

Genesis: So am I!

Sephiroth: Genesis he can't breathe.

Genesis: I feel betrayed, SEPHIROTH!

Sephiroth: He's blue, Genesis.

Genesis: And I just found out our Puppy is the local merchant!

Sephiroth: Give me the PHS.

Genesis: Put it on speaker!

[There's some shuffling and then someone else picks up the phone]

Sephiroth: Aerith, this is Sephiroth.

Aerith: Oh, hey!

Sephiroth: Do you realize that you're recounting something which could put Zackary in prison?

Aerith: Really? I didn't know it was that serious! He says that you, in particular love the white powder.

Sephiroth: Myself? He told you this?

Aerith: Yeah! He says that every week when he brings you guys cookies, he puts the white powder in it! He even gives it to the other SOLDIERs regularly!

[Genesis and Angeal's collective screams drown out Sephiroth's heavy breathing]

Genesis: HE WAS GIVING US EDIBLES!

Angeal: *crying noises*

Sephiroth: We're all going to prison.

Genesis: SCRATCH THAT, HE REGULARLY COKES UP THE ENTIRE DEPARTMENT.

Angeal: *crying noises*

Sephiroth: We're going to appear on the news.

Genesis: I KNOW, SEPHIROTH, I KNOW.

Sephiroth: Do you have any idea how many times I've enjoyed those cookies?

Genesis: Angeal! Angeal! Breathe, man, breathe!

Sephiroth: This will be a nightmare for the PR department. Social media will have a field day. I can see it now. They're going to call him Zack-crack Fair.

[Zack accidentally snorts loudly and Aerith slaps him upside the head]

Genesis: ANGEAL STOP EATING YOUR OWN SHIRT—Sephiroth he's having a mental breakdown.

Sephiroth: They're going to call me Sugar-roth.

Genesis: ANGEAL DON'T EAT THE CARPET!

Sephiroth: You're going to be Gene-snow.

Genesis: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! FOR THE LOVE OF OUR SWEET GODDESS SHUT UP!

Sephiroth: And Angeal will be Crack-geal—Ow! Ow! Ow!

[They continue to argue on the other end while Angeal cries. And then everything goes silent]

Angeal: Guys...Isn't that Lazard over there?

Genesis: It is....And he's eating one of Zack's cookies....

Sephiroth: Stop him!

[Shuffling and the sound of running footsteps are heard, followed by Lazard's: "Good evening, gentlemen. Why are you all⏤ACK!" and then then sound of something heavy crashing through glass]

[The line goes dead]

#ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #ffvii crisis core #final fantasy #angeal hewley #final fantasy vii #ff7 crisis core #final fantasy 7 crisis core #incorrect final fantasy #incorrect ffvii #tw drugs #tw cocaine #zack fair #aerith gainsborough #ff7cc #soldier pranks

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epochofbelief · 3 months

Text

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Three

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author’s Note: Hiii everyone. Here’s chapter three. I hope it makes sense. Things are beginning to occur. Let me know if you would like to be tagged!!

Masterlist

Three

Feyre got in the car.

There really didn’t seem to be another choice. Rhysand was staring at her through the crack in the window, an odd expression—possibly desperation—on his face. Cassian—Special Agent Claret—stood behind her, checking their surroundings with enough diligence that Feyre truly started to grow uneasy. Was she in danger?

What the hell was going on?

The car’s driver—Special Agent Azriel Lapis—introduced himself to Feyre after she settled into the back seat next to Rhysand. Azriel was “prettier” than both Rhysand and Cassian. In another life he could have been an actor or a poet. Feyre shook Azriel’s hand, stifling her alarm at the scars covering his surprisingly soft hands. Not because she didn’t want to touch them—but because the thought of what had caused them sent a shiver up her spine. What—or who—could possibly have done that to him?

Azriel gave her a swift nod, obviously not one to waste time on things as frivolous as words, before he exited the car in one smooth motion.

Leaving Feyre alone in the back with Rhysand.

The SAs outside took up positions in front of the windows, each facing away from the car, Cassian’s back to Rhys’s window, Azriel to Feyre’s.

“I’m sorry for . . all of this,” Rhysand began, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to do that a lot.

Feyre wasn’t complaining.

She shook her head. “Care to explain?”

Rhysand took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment before he sighed, the air rushing out of him in one swift exhale. Feyre was hardly familiar with Rhys’s expressions and mannerisms, but if forced to hazard a guess, she would say he looked ruffled.

And Rhysand didn’t seem like the type of man who was easily ruffled.

“Rhysand.”

“Please, call me Rhys,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw.

Feyre blinked. “Alright, Rhys,” she said, as he turned the full weight of his gaze upon her. Feyre grew suddenly aware of the state she was in—slightly sweaty, in a pair of old black leggings and an enormous grey and navy Prythian Law sweatshirt. She knew her hair was a wreck—stuck in the messy ponytail she had thrown it into after studying. No makeup.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter what she looked like, did it? Didn’t matter what Rhysand—Rhys—thought of her. She had a boyfriend, didn’t she? And she suspected that whatever Rhysand was about to tell her had nothing to do with the unspoken connection that had formed between them at the networking event. No, the creeping feeling in Feyre’s gut told her that after Rhys said his piece, nothing in her life would ever be the same.

Rhys sat up a little straighter. “As you know, I’m a federal prosecutor for the Eastern District of Erilea.”

“Yes. I do,” Feyre said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Rhysand smirked, as if he could sense her irritation. “Right. I don’t think I mentioned that I specialize in white collar crime prosecution.”

“You didn’t.” Although Feyre had already discovered this thanks to the hours she had spent stalking Rhys’s LinkedIn page over the past week. She had paid particular attention to his profile picture.

Rhys swallowed. “For the past year, I’ve been investigating a particularly slippery local businessman.”

Feyre waited, one eyebrow raising as Rhys paused, his violet blue eyes watching her very closely.

Rhys continued. “This particular businessman has a sterling reputation. He’s incredibly successful, has excellent connections, and his company is only going to continue to prosper over the next decade at least.

“But I believe—no, I know—that everything he does, everything his company stands for, is a front for illegal activity."

Rhys looked at her, as if expecting some sort of reaction. Feyre pursed her lips.

Rhys continued. "But anytime I try to gather enough evidence to nail him for it, he slips through my fingers. Hours of surveillance, numerous informants, research. Everything I can think of, short of breaking the law myself.

“But I’ve never been able to prove that his business isn’t as innocuous as he would lead everyone to believe.”

Feyre’s brows creased, and she leaned forward. “I’m still waiting for the part where you tell me how this is relevant to me.”

Rhys sucked in a breath, his eyes straying from hers.

“Rhys?”

Rhys blew out the breath, and when he ran out of air, his eyes lifted to hers, pinning her in place.

“The company the businessman operates through is known as Spring Solutions.”

Feyre blinked.

Rhys continued. “And the businessman’s name is Tamlin Spring.”

Feyre began shaking her head, her hand scrabbling for the door handle behind her. “You’re crazy. Tamlin’s business is dedicated to protecting the environment. He travels all over the world advising large companies on how to comply with environmental regulations. And you’re telling me that somehow his business is a front for something … something criminal? You’re crazy,” Feyre said again, about to crack open the door and leave Rhys—and the FBI—far behind her.

Rhys winced. “Please. Just give me five minutes. I wouldn’t have orchestrated all of this if I didn’t truly believe in what I’m saying.”

Feyre hesitated, glancing out the window behind her. Azriel had shifted, now standing right in front of the door. If she tried to open it, she probably wouldn’t be able to get out anyway.

“Two minutes.”

Rhys nodded, launching into an explanation. “Spring Solutions does all of the things you just said. But we have reason to believe that Tamlin charges unusually high prices for his consultations. In return for those high prices, he does in fact bring companies into compliance with environmental laws and regulations… But not before he takes any evidence of their noncompliant material and dumps it somewhere--somewhere he's not supposed to."

Feyre blinked. Rhys was delusional. But still, she asked, “If you know all this, why don’t you just indict him?”

“Knowing something and being able to prove it in court are two entirely different things. You know that.”

Feyre merely raised an eyebrow. “So, you need evidence.”

Rhys gave her a weak smile. “Desperately.”

“So . . .” Feyre trailed off.

Rhys looked at her.

“No,” Feyre said slowly, giving Rhys an incredulous look. “No, no, no, and no.”

“Feyre. . .”

“We live together, Rhys. Tamlin is my boyfriend. You want me to turn on him? Become your confidential informant, or something?” Feyre bit the inside of her cheek when Rhys didn’t protest. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Rhys gave a swift nod.

“And how do you know I’m not complicit in all of this?” Feyre demanded.

Rhys rubbed his temples between two fingers. “We—uh. Well, not we. The FBI. Has been . . . Observing you.”

Feyre’s mouth fell open. “You had me tailed?”

Rhys winced again.

“I’m sorry, Feyre. I really am. But when his face flashed up on your phone screen at that networking event. . . I had to know. Had to learn more. And to answer your previous question, we know enough about Tamlin to be pretty certain that he plays things very close to the chest. After watching you this week, we had a feeling you were pretty clueless to the whole enterprise.”

Feyre folded her arms. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “You’re top 5% in your law school class, Feyre."

Feyre bristled when Rhys mentioned her class rank--that particular revelation revealing that he had clearly done his research on her.

Rhys continued. "Any complicity in any sort of criminal activity could prevent you from taking the Bar. Could land you in prison. And . . . I had a feeling about you.”

“You had a feeling?”

Rhys raised his hands. “You don’t get this far as a federal white collar crime prosecutor without learning to trust your gut. And something tells me you don’t know anything about Tamlin’s crimes.”

Feyre pursed her lips. She didn’t know, of course. She barely knew anything about the legal side of Tamlin’s business, much less the illegal side. If it did, in fact, exist.

“Of course I don’t know about anything,” Feyre hissed. “I have a career to think about.”

Rhys nodded. “Of course you do.”

Silence fell. Feyre began picking at the frayed material of the seat in front of her.

“Well?” Rhys finally said.

Feyre cleared her throat. “Well, what?”

“Will you do it?”

“Why do you care so much?”

When Rhys didn’t answer, Feyre inched closer to him. His eyes were unfocused, staring blankly out the front windshield, his jaw tight, brows creased.

“Rhys?”

“My sister used to work for Spring Solutions,” he said quietly.

“Used to?”

“She was around your age,” Rhys rasped. Feyre sucked in a breath at his choice of words. Was.

Rhys swallowed, his jaw tightening further. “She started working for Spring Solutions right out of college—as a low-level secretary. But Tamlin took a liking to her, and eventually, he promoted her to his personal assistant. Everything was fine, for a while. She was making great money, enjoyed her job, and seemed set up to only rise through the company’s rankings. Then, one Friday evening, she came rushing into our place, absolutely frantic. She shut herself in her room for two full days. Wouldn’t talk to me, to anyone. Came out the following Monday morning like nothing had happened, and announced that she was quitting her job.

“That was the last time I saw her alive.”

Feyre gasped.

“It took me weeks to begin to suspect—” Rhys’s voice cracked. He started again. “To suspect that the mugging-gone-wrong she had experienced in downtown Velaris wasn’t as random as the police concluded. It took me weeks to wonder if my sister had known something—something that Spring Solutions couldn’t afford to let her quit knowing. I thought I was going crazy—Cassian told me I was losing my mind. Dreaming up any possible reason that could possibly make her death make sense.”

Feyre couldn’t stop the hand that reached out, gripping Rhys’s forearm through his dark suit. “Rhys. . .”

“I read the last few pages of her diary eventually. And the things she wrote the day before she died. . . She suspected something. Somehow, she figured out what Tamlin was doing, on a very basic level. And she wrote it down.”

“But then, why don’t you just use the diary?” Feyre asked. “That must be enough to start some sort of investigation—something.”

Rhys shook his head. “The diary’s gone. A few days after I read it, someone broke into my apartment. Tore through my sister’s room, probably looking for any evidence that she might have left behind. So now, I have nothing but my own knowledge.”

Finally, he looked up at her. “And it’s eating me alive.”

Feyre drew her hand back. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll help. Say you’ll work as a confidential informant for the FBI. Help me.”

“I don’t know… I still don’t know whether to believe you.”

But Feyre had a sinking feeling that Rhys wasn’t lying. Or at least, that he believed he was telling the truth.

“We can offer you protection. Transportation. Immunity. A—a place to stay,” Rhys sputtered. “Whatever you need. Just please say you’ll consider it.”

Feyre perked up at Rhys’s words. “A place to stay?”

“Ye—” Rhys’s voice cracked again. “Yes.”

He really was desperate.

Feyre started speaking before she knew what she was going to say. “I’ve been planning on leaving Tamlin. But I can’t afford a place of my own without more loans. If you could help me with that. . . I might consider helping you. If I decide to believe you.”

Rhys nodded. “Maybe I’m full of shit. But looking couldn’t hurt. If you find nothing, if Tamlin really is the environmental philanthropist he holds himself out to be, then it’s no harm, no foul. And we’ll help you out with a place to stay either way.”

Feyre considered it. “Can I sleep on it?”

Rhys shook his head. “Absolutely.”

“Okay,” Feyre said. “I’ll think about it. How do I get in touch with you with my decision?”

“We’ll find you,” Rhys said. “How about we plan for a week from today?”

Feyre ignored this subtle hint that her actions would continue to be watched over the next week. Despite what Rhys had said, did he and the FBI still believe that there was any possibility she knew about Tamlin’s alleged crimes?

“Okay.”

Feyre turned to go, but Rhys spoke her name once more.

“Yes?” She asked, meeting Rhys’s eyes.

“I’m not sure how wise it would be to end your relationship with Tamlin without protection,” he said cautiously. “You might not know it yet, but he is a dangerous man, Feyre.” Feyre opened her mouth to retort, to accuse him of trying to turn her against him. But Rhys continued. “If you decide not to accept our help, please know that we--I--will still help you leave him if need be. In my line of work, I've seen and heard about too many of these types of things going horribly wrong. Promise me you'll seek out our help before doing anything drastic.”

Feyre swallowed. “I promise,” she said softly.

Feyre cracked open the door, Azriel whirling around to tug it open for her. Before she stepped out, she turned back to Rhys, his hands clasped between his knees in the spacious backseat, eyes shadowed, most likely with thoughts of his departed sister. “Rhys?” Feyre said softly.

He looked at her.

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

Rhys only nodded, and Feyre turned, letting Azriel shut the door behind her.

———

What was a girl to do when she was told her boyfriend was a high-profile, white collar criminal?

Feyre didn’t let herself process what had just happened to her until she was safely behind the walls of her apartment. Clothes off, blasting Norman Fucking Rockwell on shuffle over Tamlin’s apartment-wide speakers, and the shower water scalding against her back.

If what Rhys said was true . . .

Then not only was Tamlin breaking a slew of environmental regulations, and helping others cover up their own environmental crimes, but he was doing it under the guise of actually promoting sustainability. And the environmental pollution paled in comparison to Rhys’s suspicions that Tamlin—or at least, someone at his company—had orchestrated the death of Rhys’s sister. Then broken into Rhys’s apartment to destroy any evidence she may have left behind.

Feyre shivered, the water suddenly cold against her skin.

She shut off the water and threw on a robe, her hair dripping over the fabric as she made her way to Tamlin’s study.

Luckily, Tamlin wasn’t one of those people with security cameras inside his actual apartment. She slipped inside the room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She stood there for several long minutes, staring around the ultra-modern room. Sleek black desk, light wood floors. White walls with two minimalist white shelves on either side, meaningless knickknacks in neutral colors displayed atop them. Feyre knew Tamlin had hired a designer for this room—and obviously hadn’t cared to incorporate any personal touches. In fact, the lack of personal touch was a common theme throughout Tamlin’s apartment.

Feyre strode across the room, but bypassed Tamlin’s desk, instead aiming for the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that formed the far wall. She spent another few minutes staring out at the city beneath her, lights twinkling in the dark.

If she looked inside Tamlin’s desk . . . Logged onto his computer . . . What would she find?

Anything?

Nothing?

And if she did find something… If she somehow discovered that Tamlin was doing something at all similar to what Rhys suspected. . .

There would be no turning back.

Feyre was going to be a lawyer. They were not only bound by the law, but also a strict code of ethics. Any crime, big or small, had to be reported to the Bar before Feyre would even be allowed to sit for the exam that would allow her to become a practicing attorney. Remaining affiliated with Tamlin was a danger to the entirety of her career, and she hadn’t even started practicing yet.

But her career and the legal profession aside, there would be no turning back for another, much more important reason.

Feyre would never be able to live with herself if she sat back and allowed people like Rhys’s sister to lose their lives to cover up Tamlin’s crimes. Wouldn’t be able to look herself in the mirror if she turned a blind eye while Tamlin not only polluted the environment, but disposed of the people who tried to put a stop to it.

She turned swiftly on her heel, pulling out the black chair behind Tamlin’s desk and seating herself behind it. She knew all of Tamlin’s passwords—either he had nothing to hide or he never would have suspected Feyre would snoop.

Feyre clicked through all of Tamlin’s files. Nothing. Just a whole lot of numbers, client contact lists, invoice records.

She scrolled through his internet search history—completely wiped.

Then, she opened his emails.

Tamlin’s work email popped up first, and after scrolling through dozens of mind-numbingly boring exchanges between Tamlin and Lucien, Tamlin and his high profile clients, Tamlin and his assistant—Feyre thought of Rhys’s sister as she read through those—nothing.

Deciding she had done just about enough work for the night, Feyre clicked on the trash icon. Perhaps Tamlin had deleted some correspondence and forgotten to clear the trash.

Feyre blinked as a single email popped up, from the email [email protected]. Subject Line read: “new recommendation.”

Resort locations? Was Tamlin planning a vacation? Or investing in some sort of resort?

Feyre clicked on the email, and the only thing in the body of the email was a map. There were no labels on the map—it was just a green landscape with a trailing blue river cutting across the right corner of the page. A thin red circle was marked over a space next to the river.

Feyre pursed her lips. This could be nothing. To a judge, it would be nothing. But Tamlin hadn’t replied to this email—so why was it in the trash? Was it a random solicitation, from someone trying to pitch him an idea for building a resort somewhere?

Or was it a map to the next place Tamlin should dump the noncompliant materials that his clients relied on him to discreetly dispose of?

Feyre swallowed, then shut off the computer, being sure to log out of everything Tamlin hadn’t previously been logged into, erasing all traces of her presence from his computer.

Then she made sure that everything in the room was exactly as it had been when she entered, and trailed her way back through the apartment.

She needed more to go on—needed more than this vague suspicion that Rhys might be telling the truth.

But even if Rhys was wrong, it couldn't hurt to at least look into Tamlin's business dealings. Chances were she would find nothing. But whether she found anything or not. . . This could be her ticket out of her relationship with Tamlin. If Rhys and the FBI were somehow able to give her a place to stay. . .

Feyre shivered as she remembered Rhys's warning. He's a dangerous man, Feyre.

Would it really be so hard to extricate herself from her relationship?

Feyre shook her head, resolving to give herself a week to find something even potentially suspicious about her boyfriend's business.

But that would have to wait.

Because she had a date with a bottle of wine and her couch.

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

#acotar #feysand #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #acomaf #feyre archeron #rhysand #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #sjm #modern au #acotar modern au #fanfic

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