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samaraxmorgan · 4 days

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Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Got High And Almost Kissed”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, fluff, frenemies dynamic, use of illegal substances (cannabis)

Word Count: 2.63k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always finds a way to surprise you, he’s definitely got that going for him. However, that’s not exactly a good thing the vast majority of the time, and today is no exception.

You turn the corner as you come up the stairs and find his bedroom door wide open. He’s hunched over on his bed using his pocket knife to slice open a cheap gas station cigar, spilling the tobacco onto a paper plate. He pulls a small plastic bag out of his back pocket and carefully pinches its contents out, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before sprinkling it inside of the shell of the cigar. His eyes glance over into the hallway and he immediately does a double take after spotting you watching him, for a brief moment he looked like a deer in headlights.

You squint your eyes, your brows furrowing questionably, “Is that weed?”

He lets out a dry scoff, looking back down towards the blunt in his fingers and continuing to fill it up, “Creep.”

“You’re the one with the door wide open!” You exclaim, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

You step into his bedroom, walls littered with posters leaving no clear space in sight; even the ceilings are covered in black tapestries. You crawl onto the foot of his bed, your knees sinking into the red comforter. Sukuna’s hair is disheveled, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in focus, tired eyes narrowed down as he stuffs the flower into the dark brown paper.

“Isn’t that illegal?” You question, a little more snarky than you intended.

“What’re you, a cop?” His crimson eyes shoot a glare up at you, fingers rolling the blunt closed and his pierced tongue licking a stripe up the incision he cut into the wrapper to seal it back shut.

Did he really have to do that without breaking eye contact? He’s gonna be the death of me.

A tiny smirk creeps onto the corner of his lips, “You should try it, could really use something t’ get that stick out your ass.”

You give him an exaggerated eye roll, “I hate you so much, you know that?”

“Yeah yeah, not like y’tell me every day,” A spark flashes in his eyes, his sheepish grin turning more mischievous, “Hey tell you what, split this with me and I’ll show you my spot.”

Your head tilts in confusion, eyeing him up curiously, “Your spot?”

He leans back against the headrest of his bed, shrugging nonchalantly, “Didn’t think I smoked in the house, did you?”

It does never smell like cigarettes in the apartment, or weed, or whatever the hell else he’s smoking. You could smell it on his clothes all the time, but now that you think about it you’ve never actually seen him smoke before.

“You leave the house to smoke?”

“You could call it that, sure.” He hops off the bed, pulling on a pair of black combat boots from his closet and not bothering to tie them. He turns around to face you, looking down at you expectantly, “Gonna join me or not?”

He’s such a bad influence, you’re so aware of that. But you’re also so morbidly curious, and he’s a hard man to say no to, so you cautiously nod your head and stand up from his bed.

“Knew you had it in you.” He smirks, placing the blunt between his lips to hold it in place and snatching a disposable lighter off his nightstand, stuffing it into his pocket.

Sukuna walks across his room to the window, his back facing the glass as he slides it open behind him, and then leaning back to stick his torso outside. His strong tattooed arms reach up over his head as he grabs the edge of the roof and lifts his legs into a crouch, promptly pulling his whole body out the window, doing one hell of a pull up to lift himself up onto the roof in one fluid motion.

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. There’s no fucking way he’s seriously expecting you to be able to do that.

You see strands of his pink hair first as he pops his head upside down to peer down into the window, reaching his arm inside and outstretching his open palm to you, “C’mon, you won’t fall.” He pauses for a moment, flashing you a mischievous grin, “… Probably.”

You give him a weary and unconfident smile, “How reassuring.”

Taking tentative steps towards the window, you see his grin grow wider. You gently place your hand in his palm and he doesn’t waste a second, wrapping his fingers around your knuckles and squeezing tight, yanking his arm towards him to pull you closer. For just a mere second, the two of you were eye level as he hung his head upside down, your surprised eyes locking with his confident ones and his breathy laughter ghosting onto your forehead.

But just as quickly, his head dipped out of view. His low voice calls down to you from the roof as his impatient hand pulls you closer, “Put your foot up on the windowsill.”

You tentatively place your foot on the ledge, squeezing his hand tight to steady yourself as you shift your weight onto your other leg and pull yourself up to stand on the windowsill. His free hand quickly wraps under your arm, pulling you up and towards him, his arms wrapping tightly around your chest and waist as he pulls you into his lap with your back flush against him.

He leans his chin down on your shoulder, his breath fanning the side of your neck as he sarcastically whispers, “Almost dropped you there.”

A deep blush paints your face red. His legs are spread with your own planted in between them, his arms wrapped protectively around you and squeezing your body against his chest as he keeps you locked in place directly on his lap. You squirm under his hold and it only makes his breathy chuckle tickle your skin, his lips just barely brushing against your neck.

He loosens his hold on you for only a moment to pick the blunt off of the shingles, placing it between your lips while mumbling “Hold this” before his arms are tight around you again. He plants his feet against the roof and slides backwards, shimmying you both up to a flat section to sit more comfortably.

As he releases you from his grasp, you’re reluctant to leave. Lifting your hips from their home on his lap, you plop down onto the flat section of the roof next to him. He wasn’t kidding about this being his spot, there’s already an ashtray up here with cigarette butts sprinkled in the bowl. And you can’t really blame him for coming up here, the sky is orange and pink with clouds stretching thinly across the horizon, the city’s silhouette faintly in the distance, tall trees forming a barrier around the back of the apartment that feels safe and protected, it’s honestly really nice, peaceful.

Sukuna pulls his lighter out of his pocket, sparks sprinkling with each flick of the wheel until it holds a steady flame. He leans in close, holding the light against the end of the blunt that you held between your teeth.

“Breathe in.” His gaze is dropped to your lips, free hand reaching up to gently hold the blunt steady against your mouth with his thumb and forefinger.

As you inhale you see orange embers form at the end of the blunt, smoke rapidly filling your lungs and stinging the back of your throat. You can’t keep the smoke down, immediately hacking up a painful burning cough that only makes him snicker.

“Hm, you’ll get it eventually.” He brings the blunt to his lips and inhales a long hit, holding his breath for a few seconds before teasingly blowing the smoke into your face.

“Ugh,” You fan your hand in front of your face to clear the smoke, “That’s terrible. It tastes so gross.”

He smirks and rolls his eyes, flicking the ash into the small tray, “So dramatic, ‘ts not that bad.”

Your eyes are glued to his fingers, holding the blunt with his pointer finger and thumb and tapping ash away with his middle, the veins on the back of his hand gently protruding out and then settling back into place with each tap of his finger. As your eyes drift to the ashtray and you realize that there are only orange cigarette butts in the bowl, no snuffed out roaches from him smoking anything else.

You pull your knees up to your chest, tilting your head to rest your cheek on your legs when you look up at him, “How come you’re getting high?”

“Needed it tonight.” His answer was quicker than you expected, his eyes locked on the city lights shining in the distance.

“How come?”

His head doesn’t move, but his eyes flick to you. Wordlessly he holds the blunt towards you, the expectant look in his eyes and quirk in his brow telling you that he’s not planning to give you an answer until you take another hit.

You let out a small huff, taking the blunt from his fingers and taking a short drag, trying to hold the smoke in your lungs and keeping your lips sealed shut to try not to cough. Your attempt was futile though, your cheeks puffing out and smoke blowing out of your nose as your throat burned again.

He let out a small snicker at your misery, letting one of his legs lay outstretched across the slant of the roof while he bent his knee on his other leg to rest his chin on, “Brat’s working his first day at his new job tonight.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, your lips dragging down into a frown, “Brat being… who?”

He scoffs, like the answer to that should be so obvious, “My brother, the one you met.”

You hum in acknowledgment, but you’re still confused what that has to do with Sukuna wanting to get high, “What’s the new job?”

He blows a raspberry, tilting his head up towards the sky while he takes another drag, smoke echoing off his lips as he speaks, “Firefighter, been his dream job since we were kids.”

Realization clicks in your brain, making a smile creep onto your lips, “You big softie, you’re worried about him!”

“Tch.” He glares down at you, but his frustrated look only makes you giggle. The look in his eyes quickly softens, shifting to a look of amusement as he leans in closer to you and peers into your eyes. You let out a little laugh, opening your eyes wide to stare goofily at him and causing a smile to crack on his face, “Are you high already?”

“No!” You counter defensively, “You’re just… cute.”

Oh fuck, I’m totally high.

He gives you a lopsided grin, “You’re a terrible fuckin’ liar.”

You giggle and flop onto your back, lying flat on the roof, “Stop changing the topic! We’re talking about you!” You reach your arm out to point in his face, “You’re worried about him! You love him!”

“Ugh,” He gives you an exaggerated eye roll, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist and pulling it down out of his face, “I absolutely do not.”

You give him a toothy smile, poorly mimicking his deep voice, “Terrible fuckin’ liar.”

A deep laugh bubbles up from his chest, his gravelly voice sounding so breathy and happy, creases forming at the outer corners of his tired eyes. He releases your wrist from his grasp, planting his open palm next to your head and resting his weight on his arm to lean the slightest bit closer to you, his free hand bringing the blunt up to his lips as he tilts his head down to look at you with an uncharacteristically sweet smile, “So stupid.”

You can’t help but giggle under his gaze, the warm orange glow of the sunset reflecting in his heavy lidded eyes, a thin ring of crimson around his blown out pupils. His lips wrapping around the dwindling blunt and taking a long hit as the embers come alight. He leans down and gently blows the smoke into your face, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

He gently knocks his knuckle against your cheek to get you to open your eyes, gesturing the blunt to you, “Give me one more.”

You let out an over dramatic groan, covering your face with your hands, “No I’ll choke! I need you to baby bird it to me.”

He quirks his brow, a mischievous smirk curling on the corners of his lips, “Baby bird? Like spit it in your mouth?” He lets out a small chuckle. You part your hands away from your face to peer up at him as he takes another drag, holding the smoke in his mouth as he cups your chin to tilt your head towards him and leans down close to your face, smoke on his breath fanning your lips as he whispers, “Like this?”

Your mouth opens slightly in surprise as his lips are mere millimeters away from yours, gently exhaling smoke into your parted lips. Your cheeks burn red and your wide eyes stare up into his lazily lidded ones, already trained on you. You slowly breathe in the smoke, feeling him lean closer towards you, his gaze dropping down as his lips just barely brush against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, heart pounding in your chest as you feel his fingers trace their way from your chin along your jaw, tilting your head slightly to perfectly slot your lips with his-

But the moment abruptly comes to a halt as Sukuna’s phone loudly rings in his pocket, the ring tone blaring “I like big butts and I cannot lie!” as he freezes in place and both of your eyes shoot open.

“Pfft!” You throw your head back in laughter, your chin clocking Sukuna in the jaw as he shoots up straight and mutters curses under his breath, frantically fumbling for his phone in his pocket.

The obnoxious music quickly stops as he answers the phone, rubbing the sore spot on his jaw as he spoke with a hint of panic in his voice, “Yuuji?”

Even though he wasn’t on speaker phone, you could hear Yuuji loud and clear, emphasis on loud as Sukuna flinched the phone away from his ear as Yuuji yelled out the small speakers, “Guess who saved a cat at work today!”

You could see a look of relief wash over Sukuna’s face, but he didn’t let it translate into his voice, speaking in a low and annoyed tone, “I was hoping you’d die in a fire.”

Yuuji belted out a loud laugh on the other line, “Not yet! But don’t take it off your bingo card!”

A wide smile spreads across your face, yelling loud enough for Yuuji to hear, “You had him worried sic- mmph!”

Sukuna shoved his palm over your mouth, shooting a glare down at you as he spoke to Yuuji, “Ignore them.”

You tried to bite his hand over your mouth and he whispered “Fucking brat” down to you as Yuuji rambled about his first day at work, something about a cat being stuck in a tree and how he thought that was a myth but it’s totally a real thing. It quickly became clear that the moment between you and Sukuna had fizzled out, but he was probably just teasing you anyway right? It definitely meant nothing, surely. If Yuuji hadn’t called he would have just backed away and laughed at you or something.

He wasn’t actually gonna kiss you… right?

A/N: DONT KILL ME WE’LL GET THERE EVENTUALLY!! Anyway y’all like Yuuji’s ring tone I thought it suited him askakaka Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#little did yall know that last drabble was the prelude for this part #I’ve had that planned for like over a MONTH #I was giggling maniacally when I posted that drabble like ‘they don’t know what’s coming’#my writing #nav ryomen sukuna #roommate Sukuna au #brothers au #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #Sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk modern au

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gilverrwrites · 3 months

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Meet Cute Uglies [Bruce]

AN: Shout out to @luckyarchaeologist whose comments inspired me to go a completely different direction to what I had envisioned.🩷 And everyone else who reblogged/comments/voted for a part 2! I hope it lives up 🩷

GN!Reader/Bruce Wayne, 1.6K Words [2/?]

Part One >[Here]<

CWs: Mild/nonexplicit threats of violence, teasing

His hands are soft, and warm, soothing the tension from your body as he uses them to cup your face and hold you steady as he pushes closer, pressing your body deeper into the wall with his broad chest. Up close you can see a smattering of his five o’clock stubble coming through, even under the dim slivers of moonlight breaking through the gloomy alley. You note a hint of coffee on his breath before his lips brush against-

Loud banging at your apartment door startles you awake. Tired eyes sluggishly take in the time on the nearest clock, you’re barely able to process the numbers before the knocks come again. It’s too early. It’s your day of for goodness’ sake and it sounds like someone is trying to break down your door with their fists. When you answer it’s an equally disgruntled delivery driver. They ask your name before bombarding you with a large box and snapping a proof of delivery photo. You ponder your unkempt morning appearance and pray the sender of this parcel doesn’t ever check that photo.

It was almost certainly not from you because you hadn’t ordered anything, especially not anything this big. You don’t recognise the logo, but it, the matte black tape, and the distinct florally smell permeating from the smooth white container tells you that whatever is inside is expensive. That or it’s a trap, designed to lure you in with its unsuspecting exterior, then BAM Ivy toxin or Joker gas. You’re not dumb, you’ve seen the PSAs.

30 minutes, one morning brew, one disposable mask, one sharp knife, 2 gloves, and a whole lot of nerve later you gently remove the contents from its packaging. It’s wrapped in a layer of security card and glittery tissue paper but it’s pretty evident what it is. It’s a very nice bouquet of flowers. A mix of carnations, hyacinths, and baby’s-breath, already sitting in a pretty crystal vase that probably cost more than your rent. A gold envelope stands out amongst the colourful petals, and you fork it out to read despite being certain you already know who it's from. Nobody else in your life would spend this much money on flowers for you, even if it were a special occasion. The repercussions of telling your name to a stranger, even a famous stranger, who you’d known of all your life, but never known hadn’t occurred to you until you see it printed in foil against the high-quality textured card.

“As you understandably didn’t allow me the chance to apologise last night, please accept these as a token of my penitence. Regards, B.W.”

You’re not sure which irks you most, him cornering you in a dark alley in the first place, his seeking you out to apologise in an unsettlingly short amount of time, the absurd display of wealth, his pretentiously unironic use of the word ‘Penitence’, or the fact that you kinda liked it. The fact that you’d spend the night dreaming about slivers of moonlight and soft hands that didn’t exist. In actual fact, the remainder of the scene had been clumsy and anticlimactic.

“Who are you?” He demands. “And why are you following me?” You squint to read his expressions, barely able to make him out under the faint light of apartment windows high above your figures. There's a disconnect between the upper and lower halves of his face that adds to your already heightened nerves. His jaw and lips remain in an ever-present scowl, but steely blue eyes seem to soften as you tell him your name. “I'm not following you.” Your voice is stunted, weak due to the unrelenting pressure actual billionaire Bruce Wayne is applying to it. “I swear! It’s a coincidence.” He seems to believe you, or at least, he doesn’t consider you much of a threat because his grip loosens enough for you to find your footing again. Before he can change his mind, you scramble out of there, almost tripping on your accidentally discarded bag on the way. Whatever is up with him is not your problem. “I-“ “Save it.” Creep. You’re not interested in his apologies or excuses. You’re just an average person trying to make their way in the crime capital of the world, probably. It’s a miracle he didn’t put you in an early grave due to a heart attack. You could see the headlines now: ‘Playboy Billionaire Charged with Manslaughter: Officials unsure why he corned innocent Gothamite’ which is to presume a man with as much wealth as Bruce Wayne would ever be charged with a crime. Rich, ill-mannered, paranoid, handsome, creep. “Just stay away from me.”

As you stand motionless, relaying the events of the previous night in your head, it occurs to you that there's still something in the envelope, something slightly smaller and thicker than the apology card. You slip it out and flip it between your fingers, a gift card to the coffee shop you’d first seen him in, with a pre-paid value high enough to keep you and all your colleagues caffeinated for the rest of the year, if not longer.

The remainder of your day is spent relocating the two gifts between errands and relaxation time. The gift card is inserted and removed from the card section of your wallet so many times you’ve probably incidentally rubbed off its magnetic strip. Accepting it, and using it wasn’t bad, not really. He wasn’t buying you or your forgiveness it's just a show good intent, not to mention it was basically pocket change to a man with that much money.

But it did feel a little bit like being bought.

And the flowers reminded you of that conflict every time you looked at them, so they made their way onto every feasible surface and counter until you found a spot with enough light to keep them alive that wasn’t in plain sight 90% of the time. Maybe you could sell or donate the vase once the flowers are dead. It really did make the rest of your living space look shabby-er in comparison. Or maybe you could paint it to match the rest of its new home, cover it in acrylic paint and use it to hold anything else. If you ever see Bruce again you could show him a photo, see if he really did give it in good faith to be used however you pleased, or if it makes him uncomfortable.

In fact, on your next day back at work you’re scrolling through Pinterest for design inspiration as you queue up for the first of many Wayne-funded drinks when you sense it. Him. The enticing scent of his cologne clueing you into his presence. You cast a look over your shoulder and there he is, smiling at you with perfect white teeth. He seems more casual today, his hair still perfectly styled but appearing free of any products, his suit traded in for just the slacks and button-up. Once again, you’re reminded of his player image, it’s not hard to tell why so many people swoon all over him.

“Oh, hello.” He greets, raising his hand as though to wave at you. His fingers don’t look nearly as soft as you’d imagined. They look sturdy and calloused, strange for a man who guzzles champagne and stands behind a podium, smiling for photographers more days than not. Paperwork does not account for skin that thick. “I was hoping to run into you here.”

“Really?” Internally you’re suspicious, but your voice comes out an octave higher than usual, your skin growing warm under his gaze. It’s stupid to think that he’s pursuing you, flirting with you. He’s probably just looking for closure on his apology, ensuring you don’t slander his image by selling the story to the papers. He really is buying you. Your silence. “Why?”

“I was hoping I could buy you a drink.” And without your confirmation he sides steps around you, joining you in your spot amongst everybody else waiting to be served.

“You’re already buying me coffee.” You flash him the gift card he’d paid for. “Or did you forget casually dropping this much cash?”

He laughs at that, like you’ve made a joke. He’s deflecting? Maybe. But he sounds so genuine, so hearty it’s contagious. Your laugh isn’t as cheery as his, but it slips past your lips regardless.

“No, no. I didn’t forget. I couldn’t forget anything about you. Especially not after seeing you in that delivery photo.” He finishes with a wink. That was flirting, definitely flirting. Or maybe an insult. Either way, you’re feeling just as nervous, if not more than you had been that night in the alley. This is just a different kind of nerves, it’s the butterflies in your belly instead of the pit in your stomach kind. “What’s one more between new friends, huh?”

“Friends?” You raise your brows. He does not have the decency to look sheepish under your dubious stare, he just looks back at you calm and collected, just like he is on the TV. A few days ago, you might have bought it, but you’ve seen him lose his cool in person. Something feels off.

“I’d like to be friends, or I’d at least like to apologise in person. If you’ll let me.” For a man so bent on making amends with you, there isn’t a hint of sorrow in his tone or posture.

It’s almost your turn at the counter, you have seconds to make your decision.

The barista gestures for the next customer, as you answer. “Okay fine, let’s be friends.”

“Excellent. You just made my day.” And then his hand cups the small of your back as the two of you step up to order. He does it so casually that you almost don’t notice, you’re not sure if you’re just susceptible to his moves, or if he’s practised them to perfection. Maybe you’re reading too much into it, maybe all pretty boy billionaires act like this, maybe it’s all strategy to keep his image clean, or maybe there’s something shady about Bruce Wayne and his weirdly hard, slick hands. Maybe he's hiding something, and whatever it is, you intend to figure it out.

If you should enjoy the view along the way, well, who could blame you?

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne/reader #batman #batman x reader #batman/reader #gilverrwrites #dc #x reader #reader insert #gn reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 days

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Stolen Goods 5

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

“One triple fudge with oreo,” Lloyd bursts into the room as you lay on your side, dazed and distraught. You blink as he walks sideways into your view. “Hey, baby batter, you asleep?”

You sniff but don’t answer. You just rub your stomach. You’re starving. You sit up with a groan as you eye the covered tray in his hand.

“Got a few other things,” he raises a bag in his other, “so, if you want your dessert, you’re gonna have to earn it.”

“Huh? Earn—But you said--”

“You give, I give, it evens out in the end,” he sets the tray and bag on the dresser. “So you can have that hunk of sugared cheese but only--” he pauses and reaches into the bag, rustling it, “if you’re wearing this!”

He pulls out a lacy white teddy with a split front. The sort that when you put it on won’t hide much, especially not your stomach. Your eyes round and you sputter.

“What?”

“Yeah, babes, come on. I got you bottoms, don’t worry.”

He turns back and fishes out a lacy thong. “See?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. Dead horny,” he smirks and tosses them on the bed. “Now you can put them on and I’ll serve you cake on the tip of my dick if that’s what you want. Or you can see if you get through me. Your choice. I don’t mind either.”

You look at him. You haven’t forgotten how strong he is. Look what he did at the grocery store. How easily he took over. Now you’re all alone with no one to cry out to for help. You should have done that when you had the chance.

You pout and reach for the teddy. You hook your finger in the string of the thong and stand. Your moping turns to a grimace.

“You’re a pervert.”

“Sure am, sugar tits,” he eyes your dress as he licks his lips. “Fuck, I can’t wait to get all up in the baby goo.”

“Ew,” you turn and shudder.

You go into the open bathroom and slam the door. At least there’s that sliver of privacy even if it’s redundant. This damn lingerie won’t hide anything.

You take your time. You pee then wash your hands before you untangle the lingerie. You undress and mutter as you pull on the thin fabric. Your nipples are pert beneath the sheer cups and your stomach peeks out between the split tails. The thong rides up uncomfortably.

You turn and give a start as you find yourself gaping back from the full-body mirror on the back of the door. You frown. You don’t look bad but you’re still adjusting to all the changes. Your hips, your tits, your tummy...

You grab the hand and brace yourself. A knock comes from the other side, “you need help in there, shortcake?” Lloyd calls through.

You answer him as you swing open the door. A swell of irritation creeps up your spine. You lift your chin and shove his stomach. He hums as he devours you in a glance.

“There. Now give me the cake.”

“I don’t hear a please or thank you,” he scoffs.

“I want the cake,” you growl. “Now.”

You push past him and he lets you past. You go to the dress and uncurl the edges of the tin tray. You peel off the lid and the dusting of oreo crumbs makes your mouth water and your stomach roar. You lick your lips.

“Allow me,” he approaches as he pulls a knife from inside his jacket and unfolds it, “can’t have you handle sharp objects.” You eye the blade and he points it at you, “Don’t think about it.”

You back away and he slices into the cake.

“Bigger,” you demand as he cuts it too small.

“Damn,” he cuts another piece, “that good? Or you want the whole thing?”

“May as well,” you grumble.

He reaches into the bag and takes out a napkin. He wipes the blade off and folds it away. He plucks out a package of paper plates and splits the plastic. He slides one out then finds the box of disposable cutlery. He scoops out the hunk of cake and serves it up with a splat.

“Here you are,” he faces you. “I want you to eat with your legs open.”

You shiver. He’s so gross. You’re so hungry you don’t care. You take the plate and the fork from him and retreat. You sit on the foot of the bed and stop before you can stab into the cake.

“The crust... isn’t oreo.”

“Hmm?” He crosses his arms and tilts his head. You push your knees together.

“It’s graham cracker,” you sneer at him. “I said oreo crust!”

“Ah come on, shortcake, how could I know? Cake is cake, right?”

“No, I want chocolate!”

“There’s chocolate--”

You snarl and drop the plate on the floor. “You said you would get me what I wanted.”

“Okay, well, you don’t have to be a child about it--”

“I don’t-- you abducted me! You put me in a trunk,” you kick your feet as your eyes water. “I’m pregnant and all you’ve done is mistreated me.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration--”

You cover your face as you heave, “you’re mean!”

“No, I got you cake. You’re just being picky.”

“I’m scared and emotional and hormonal,” you lift your head and growl at him. “And I’m hungry!”

You stand and step around the cake. You march towards him and he winces. You jab him in the ribs.

“I need food for my baby and if I don’t get an oreo crust, I’m going to—I'm going to--” your blink as another flow of tear swells, “I’m going to break down!”

Your tears stream out and you try to mop them away. He looks startled as he stares down at you. Then his eyes fall down to your chest and his brows rise.

“You know what, baby, I’ll get you the right cake,” he grins. “And I’ll lick all the crumbs off your tits for you.”

You snivel and wipe your nose, “why are you so gross?”

“Wish I could say but all the bloods no longer in my brain,” he shrugs and gives a wink. “Now, let me go find you that damn oreo crust.”

#stolen goods #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #au #the gray man

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famwhy · 1 year

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"You always were too smart..."

"...for your own good."

Scream 1996

Yandere! Billy Loomis X F!Reader

Synopsis: The Woodsboro massacre was a case that had been announced to be closed as soon as it was opened. The answer was obvious, right? There were two witnesses after all. Mr Prescott snapped, killed a bunch of kids, then shot himself in the head as a result of the nearing anniversary of his wife's death—two of your close friends confirmed it. Why, then, did you feel the need to meddle? Why couldn't you just mind your own goddamn business?!

Warnings: Mentions of death, Gore, Manipulation, Threat/Violence

"It just doesn't make any sense!"

None of it did. The witnesses, the evidence, the murders—it was just too big of a headache to deal with.

You didn't know why you were still doing it; still looking into this case even in the depths of midnight. It was closed, the chief said so himself—your two best friends were there, they saw what happened and recalled the events as such, their stories had even been perfectly aligned...

...almost too perfectly.

It was dumb—and you were probably being paranoid but—nothing felt right. If this was all Sidney's dad's doing then... why kill Casey Becker and Steve Orth? What did they have to do with him? You would've understood if they had attended Stu's party and were just caught in the crossfire but that wasn't the case, they were killed before the massacre—days before, in fact. Why? Why target them?

And—why would a murderer, who made sure all of his victims were dead, stab both Billy and Stu just perfectly so that he missed their vitals and didn't dig deep enough for them to actually be able to die of blood loss?—or, at least, not for a long while. Wouldn't he want to also make sure they were dead before offing himself?

The weapon too—why the hell did you only find a gun at the scene of the crime when there was evidence of a knife being used as well? If he didn't care enough to dispose of the gun he used to kill himself and others, why dispose of the knife?

None of it added up. None of it was making any sense.

"Fuck!"

Frustration coursed through you, crawling through your skin to visibly cause the bulging of your veins and urge your brows down further than ever before. The deep bags under your eyes weren't doing you any wonders either.

You were struggling and it showed.

Papers sat haphazardly strewn across the desk in front of you, each one depicting different inked up versions of the crime scene—from the body of Tatum Riley hanging by the driveway door, to the very gun that brought about the end of the accused 'murderer' himself. To the normal civilian, it would be hard to stomach—to you, it was just another Tuesday.

Except, this Tuesday seemed to really want to bash your head in.

With another aggravated huff through your lips, your hand shot out to the messy pile before sifting through it, trying to find something—anything—that would satisfy this god-awful itch in the back of your mind.

Then—a creak.

Your eyes shot up, muscles tensing as you scanned the shadows leaking through the corners of the room for the cause of the noise. One hand kept hovering above the sheets and the other slowly inched towards the drawer beneath you, fingers steadily winding around the knob before—

"Kid, what are you doing here?"

The flick of a switch came with the familiar voice that asked you that question; a voice that instantly caused your optics to widen and your back to suddenly go from lax to rigid as you clumsily fumbled around in your seat. "Sheriff!"

He grunted, voice gruff as he continued, "It's almost one, you have school tomorrow, why the hell are you still here?"

You parted your lips—ready to respond—when he squinted and scanned the desk, opening his own mouth to speak again before you could.

"Are those all from the casefile of the Woodsboro Massacre? Kid, that case is solved. It's done. The hell are you doing still in the station this late with those files?"

Your lips tugged down as your gaze trailed his own. "It just... it doesn't feel right, chief."

When he didn't respond, you chose to keep going.

"I mean, why would he kill his own daughter? I was close with Sid, I knew her and I knew how much her dad adored her—"

"That's the thing with psychos, Y/N, they—"

"He isn't just a psycho though!" That came out unnecessarily loud, and the chief seemed to think so too with the way his brow rose pointedly as soon as the words fell out, "Sorry, I... this case has been killing me all night. It just... it doesn't line up. If he really did snap, why target Casey Becker and Steve Orth days before the anniversary of his wife's death? Why specifically them? And why leave Billy and Stu with non-lethal wounds before killing himself?

"I know I should be grateful that they're still alive considering they're my best friends and all..." you continued, tone solemn, "and I am! I really am! I just... I can't help but find this all too strange."

And as you hung your head down, your ears soon perked up to the sound of several more creaks slowly growing louder as they made their way over to your seated form.

Then, a warmth blanketed your shoulder, causing your head to tilt up and your eyes to meet with a pair that seemed to slowly soften the longer you spent looking at them.

"Look, kid, you're a genius. That's why you work at this station. That's what you worked hard to prove to everyone here. Every cop in this town respects you—including me. If you say you think something's up with this case, then I believe you."

Your eyes lit up.

"Just... promise me you won't stay up this late investigating it. You can come down to the station as soon as school is over tomorrow but let me give you a ride home today."

You could do nothing but nod vigorously, too elated to form words as of that current moment. The nodding was enough though, and soon, you found yourself situated in the chief's car, buildings passing by in a flurry of colours as he drove over the bumps of the rocky road beneath you, gaze focused ahead.

With the incessant chatter of the radio echoing in the background, you almost couldn't hear your own thoughts. But, they were there. And they were just as unyielding in their fight for your attention.

Your skin crawled at the thought of Billy's expression if he ever found out about your doubt in his eye-witness account. Stu could brush it off easily but Billy... he was troubled, to say the least. He had a lot going on and you were one of the only people he trusted enough to share it all with; so to hear that you found him suspicious in any way would... well, it would crush him.

But, justice was justice. You pursued being a detective because it needed someone to deliver it with an iron fist. If that meant having to doubt the words of someone close to you then so be it. You worked so hard to get to where you were, you would be sure to honour it wholeheartedly.

"Here we are, kid." You blinked, turning to the officer beside you. "Get some rest, alright? See you tomorrow."

With a nod, you stepped out of the vehicle, and it didn't move an inch until you made it inside the house—staying there for a couple more seconds after the door closed before the wheels turned again as he started off once more.

And you didn't know if it was just because he was gone—his presence always being able to make you feel so much more safe than you did on a daily basis—but... a sudden chill ran down your spine, pricking your skin with a feeling you couldn't quite place your finger on but an unsettling one nonetheless.

You didn't quite get enough sleep that night.

But then again, when did you ever? Perhaps your paranoia was at an all time high because of insomnia—but, you digressed.

Besides, it was a new day and you had just arrived at school. You should focus—

—that was a lot easier said than done, though. Almost mindlessly staring into your open locker, you let your thoughts drift to the nefarious case for the umpteenth time.

Stop it, Y/N. Save it for the station.

With a sigh, you slammed the door shut and almost jumped when you caught view of what seemed to suddenly appear by your side.

There, stood one of the very boys your mind couldn't seem to hold off on thinking about recently—leaning against the locker with his defined arms crossed over his chest and his parted bangs falling over his face to frame it perfectly, basically forcing you to notice the way his lips were slightly twitched up as he gazed back at you.

"Billy," you whispered.

"Y/N," he responded, lips twitching up just a bit more, "I was wondering if you wanted to come over later? Watch a movie with me? I was gonna watch with Stu but then his family had that last minute trip thing."

Instantly, you were brought back to your conversation with the chief yesterday and your gaze drifted off to the side as you spoke—albeit a bit hesitantly—"I don't know... I should really get down to the station..."

He frowned at that, one arm unfolding to reach for your own, landing on your bicep before his fingertips slowly trailed down, ghosting over the exposed skin to send tingles down your spine as his palm finally found yours, fingers interweaving not too long after.

"C'mon, you spend so much time at the station now—it's like you're more hung up on this case than me. I barely ever get to see you. I miss my favourite girl."

That was true. Not the part about him barely seeing you (well, that was true too but—), the part about you being more hung up on the case than him—and he was actually there in person. It had only been a few days but Billy and Stu had seemed to move on just fine—which was strange considering the fact that, y'know, both of their girlfriends were dead.

Maybe, if you said yes, you'd be able to ask some specific questions to Billy; see if he was hiding any details from you.

"Okay," slowly, you nodded, "Yeah, sure, I'll come over."

At that, his lids fell halfway down his eyes before he purred out—voice borderline seductive—"Perfect."

To any girl who was none the wiser, that would send pleasant shivers down their spine—the shivers running down your spine, though, were anything but pleasant.

The rest of the school day breezed by and all you could find yourself thinking about was the case and Billy—he was practically living rent-free in your head. Even as he showed up at your last class—leaning against the wall in that way that just screamed Billy Loomis—you found yourself too stuck in your thoughts about him to be able to pay attention to the real him.

And he noticed.

"Y/N? You good?"

You blinked, tilting your head to his form as he walked beside you, the light breeze blowing slightly against his beautiful brown locks. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He frowned, reaching the hand that had been brushing against your own this whole time further towards you before asking, "You sure?"

Lightly, and as subtly as you could, you pulled your hand away. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He tilted his head down towards where your hands would've met and you watched as his lips pulled taut, expression almost appearing... blank as he stared at the empty space before his gaze flitted back up and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, muttering out a gruff 'okay' as he did so.

The rest of the walk to his house was silent—the wind and mindless chatter of other teenagers being the only thing your ears could pick up on.

And as you made it to his door, your heart constricted a little—thoughts wandering back to the look on his face after you rejected his seek for touch. Billy wasn't usually a physical person, at least, not with anyone but you and his now-dead girlfriend.

Though, even with Sid, his touch seemed a little more tense and uncertain than with you. You noticed the way he barely hesitated to hold you; the way he almost seemed relieved when he did finally get to feel you—be it against him or just your presence in the room.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he had a crush on you. But he had a girlfriend already—one he asked out, no less—so that couldn't be the case. The only explanation was that he really valued you as a friend. And that thought pricked you so much more than it should've.

Perhaps... perhaps you were being too paranoid with your thinking. The case was done. Over. You should just lay it to rest before you ended up really hurting one of your best friends.

Yeah... yeah. You'd do just that. You were going to enjoy this day with Billy. No more getting caught up in cases that were already solved. Nope. It was time to be there for your best friend.

With that thought in mind, you reached out your hand, slowly intertwining your fingers with the tall boy's own as he opened the doors of his home—pausing for a moment to glance back at you with wide eyes before his lips stretched up more than you had ever seen before and he tugged on your arm.

It was the littlest of force but it was sudden enough to send you tumbling into his chest as his arms engulfed you wholy; entirely. You could practically feel that familiar sense of relief radiating off his form and you couldn't help the laugh that echoed off yours.

"God, I missed you," he mumbled into your hair and a small, gentle smile graced your lips.

"I missed you too."

You stood there for a few more moments, basking in each others presence for just a little longer before you decided to pull away—albeit being met with a little resistance from Billy's end but, you were eventually successful.

"Alright, c'mon, you big sap, let's go in and watch your favourite scary movie."

He grinned at that, instantly moving to grab your hand again as he led you to his room—rushing through the clear, monotone halls before he arrived at his wooden door and opened it with a wide swing of his arm.

Soon, you found yourself seated on his bed, feet kicking back and forth as you awaited his presence. He had gone to go retrieve the VHS containing his movie from the ground floor so it was just you sat in the confines of the room riddled to the brim with horror posters from all sorts of media.

For a jock, he sure was a nerd.

One particular thing stood out to you, though—a small, rectangular bit of paper clipped to a string. It illustrated a smaller version of both yourself and Billy, stood beside each other with large grins on your faces—carefree and bright in their nature; loving and tender.

He still had that?

Unable to stop yourself, you moved to get a closer look—

—only to almost stumble when your foot caught the edge of something that certainly wasn't the ground.

A box—dull and beaten up. It was made up purely of cardboard which definitely wasn't doing it any wonders when it came to durability, that was for sure. The brown colour was quite unsightly to look at and the way some parts seemed almost... maroon was strange, to say the least.

Ever the investigator, you almost couldn't help the way your fingers naturally curved around the lid, slowly lifting the rough material up before shifting it to the side just in time to catch a familiar mask staring right back at you.

Mouth opened wide in an endless scream as soulless black eyes glared into your form—the sharp silver of a cutting blade coated in crimson laying beside it. It was almost too much to process at once.

And as you picked up the leather notepad sat beneath the dark robe under the mask, the gears slowly started turning in your head.

Flicking through the pages only further solidified your conclusion.

That mask belonged to Ghostface. That knife laying next to it was coated in blood. Unless there was some other murder that happened between now and the massacre, this was definitely the missing evidence from the crime scene.

And it was all in Billy Loomis' room.

You had an inkling, but this... this was on a whole other level.

The notebook detailed different ways to rid yourself of evidence when committing a murder, each one being linked back to a particular horror movie—even going as far as to have quotes obsessively scribbled near them with timestamps and everything. It was insane.

But, by far, the craziest thing was that Billy—your Billy—committed all of this. And if Billy was in on it, then so was Stu.

They both had murdered your whole friendship group that night.

Your fingers shook as you slowly stood up, legs barely able to hold your weight with how weak that realisation rendered you. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed onto you, drenching you from head to toe with the cruelty of the world.

Then—a click.

Slowly, you turned, book slipping from between your fingers as your eyes landed on the figure at the doorway.

Instantly, your hands shot up.

Billy stood there—expression blank as his eyes seemed almost... lifeless—with one hand raised and fingers wrapped around a black L-shaped object.

Your muscles grew tense. "Billy..."

"Stu's a fucking idiot," scoffed he, "I told him to burn all that stuff but he insisted we keep it as some sort of memento mori—something to remember our success with."

He took a step forward. You took a step back.

"But let's be honest, Y/N, you would've found out eventually, right?" As he spoke, your gaze stayed trained onto the gun, watching as he flailed it around—pupils shaking and hysteria slowly but surely clouding his eyes. "You always were too smart for your own good."

Your heart was beating ten miles a minute, practically playing drums in your ears with how loud it was as you continued to back away. "Billy, put the gun down."

"Y'know, Stu wanted to kill you... but I said no. Wanna know why?" He was now grinning from ear-to-ear. "'Cause I love you. I always have. Even as I was fucking that stupid whore Sidney that night, all I could think of was you."

You were running out of room to move back to. "Billy..."

"There! I confessed!" He suddenly rose his volume, and you winced a little. "Isn't that what you want?! A confession?! There's your fucking confession, Y/N!"

Getting kind of sick of all the ignoring, you spat back, "You know damn well that isn't the type of confession I want!"

"Well, maybe if your hadn't been such a snooping whore I wouldn't have to give you it!"

Here. There. Everywhere. He kept pointing that thing around so carelessly while his finger stayed hovering over the trigger, just one jerk away from a misfire; one jerk away from your possible end.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I promise."

"Billy! Be careful with that damn thing!"

A slam.

"You know, Y/N, I wouldn't even have to use this if you minded your own goddamn business!"

Your back hit the wall, and the barrel was now pointing directly. at. you.

"So pretty for me," he whispered, voice having mellowed out so suddenly—so dementedly—you almost couldn't believe your ears as he closed in on you, practically pressing his body right up against yours, "My pretty girl."

The barrel of the gun was directly under your chin now, being used to tilt your head and lock your gaze with his own, crazed one.

"Such a clever girl, aren't you, dollface?" His praises came out steadily, voice low and husky as he continued to coo, "My clever little detective."

And as the world went black around you, you caught one more voice enter the room.

"Took ya long enough."

#x reader #female reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male x female reader #yandere male #scream 1996 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis x y/n #yandere billy loomis #yandere billy loomis x reader #scream x you #scream x reader #scream 1996 x reader #ghostface x reader

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foxdrawsz · 30 days

Text

Maxley Mafia AU (yes there will be art for this too dw)

Max

Lives just below the poverty line - with his dad getting fired and being forced to go back to college, they're struggling for money big time

Max gets a job at a large company (bradley's fathers company to be precise) and starts embezzling funds to help support his father

Its not a lot, only a few hundred here and there - enough to get them by but not too much to be caught

Little does he know that the company he works for is the literal fucking MAFIA

Bradley

Is employed at his fathers business

His father runs the most successful business in the country, and naturally with a man as powerful as his father they have *lots* of ties to *a lot* of important people (he basically runs an underground mafia to keep other competitors at bay/out of his way)

When they hire Max and Bradley finds out he's annoyed that he has to deal with him both at college and at his fathers work

He absolutely makes it his mission to annoy Max as much as possible

The company itself def know abt Max's embezzlement but its not a large amount so its not a huge concern

Regardless they set Bradley up to "take care of him" (unalive lol), seeing as they're classmates and Bradley already knows him

So with max now on his hitlist he has to get close enough to Max to take him out (on a date? with a sniper? who knows)

Bradley ends up falling in love with him instead

The plot to eliminate Max is essentially getting Bradley to lure him away and dispose of him, but he keeps fucking up - max catches him off guard by being, well- max

Slipping a drug into Max's drink while taking him out to coffee, only for him to "spill" Max's drink last second, as Max tells him about his struggles for money, how everything he does is for his father.

Hiding a knife up his sleeve as he and Max walk through a secluded area of town, preparing to plunge the blade into his back, only for Max to turn around and grin at him, so happy and content to just be there with him, with Bradley, that he fumbles. That kindness, being directed at him of all people- it’s not something he's ever had before.

Bradley feels bad for trying to kill him but tells himself it wont happen again (it does. a lot.)

Eventually the evil plots become less evil and turn into genuine requests to hang out and spend time with Max. Max is clueless to the entire thing, and just thinks Bradley's being nice, albeit a little insistent, by inviting him out so often.

They find themselves star gazing in a field, and Bradley cant help but reach out for Max's hand- he's so close, Max's body mere inches away from his own. Max glances over, his eyes reflecting the stars above and gods he may as well be the galaxy because Bradley can't stop staring.

They don't talk about what happened that night, but they both know that something changed

After that, Max starts to notice things about Bradley - the faint freckles on his face, the way his hair falls in front of his eyes when he reads, the way he tenses up at the mention of his family, how passionate he is when talking about literature and poetry, how he likes rainy weather and hates the boiling hot summers- he notices everything.

And then he notices something he shouldn't.

A paper- multiple papers in fact -fallen out of Bradley's books after they were tossed haphazardly onto a desk. papers detailing his embezzlement and notes about-

his murder.

Bradley was trying to kill him?

#bradley uppercrust #an extremely goofy movie #au #alternate universe #Maxley Mafia AU #maxley #max goof #max x bradley #writing #headcanons #Bradley headcanons #max headcanons #story #fanfic fanfiction #maxley fanfic #maxley fanfiction

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anon911andbuddie · 6 months

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hii! idk if this would be a good fic but i just thought it would be cute, what if one day Eddie comes home to find Buck with like a sizable cut on his hand from cooking or something. and of course Eddie is all like "protective medic boyfriend mode." he insists on sitting buck down (even though buck claims it's fine) and properly bandaging it up.

Sorry its been a while. I've had a lot going on and still do, but I was able to pop this out rather quickly, so I hope you guys enjoy.

-Red💋

Accidents

Buck just wanted to do something nice. Eddie and he have been working opposite shifts since Buck agreed to cover Ravi's A shifts so he could go see his parents on their anniversary week. This was the first night he and Eddie were going to have alone - Christopher staying the night with his best friend and in that moody young teen phase.

So Buck was making a nice dinner and, hopefully, it was seductive enough for Eddie to take him to bed after. God he missed the sex.

Pain seared through him as his trailing of thoughts kept him from watching his cutting board. He cursed, abandoning the knife and veggies to go to the sink and wash his hand off. Blood trickled from the cut and Buck made a face. This was not how he wanted his night to start out.

The running of the water kept him from hearing the door open. Eddie made his way through the house, following the sound of running water to the kitchen. "Buck? What are we-" he cut himself off as he took in the scene. "Babe?!"

"Eds, I'm fine."

Eddie reached into the stream of water to pull Buck's hand out. He took a look at the cut and hissed. Grabbing some paper towels, he placed them on the cut. "Hold pressure." He guided Buck over to a chair. "Sit and don't move."

"Eddie-"

"Babe, I'll be right back. Just, please, stay right here."

Buck sighed and nodded. Eddie traversed into the bathroom, grabbing their first aid kit and coming back. He knelt in front of Buck and took his hand into his grip. "Can you still move your fingers?"

Buck wiggled them, wincing as it pulled on the injured skin. "PMS is fine. It's not that deep of a cut. I just had a moment of ADHD and suddenly the knife wasn't cutting vegetables anymore."

Eddie examined the hand further with drawn brows and a downturned mouth. He nodded at Buck's explanation, putting on disposable gloves. He removed the soaked paper towels from Buck's hand, poking and prodding at the site to check it out. "It doesn't look too deep. I think you'll be fine without stitches. It's just going to be a bitch when you forget not to use this hand for heavy lifting." He pours peroxide over a square of gauze and begins wiping the cut down.

Buck hisses and Eddie kisses one of his fingers in apology. "Told you it was fine." He chuckled lightly.

"I don't like it when you bleed, Evan." Eddie replied easily. He finishes cleaning the sight and grabs more gauze, placing a think layer of antibacterial cream on it before placing it over the cut. He layers some gauze after it before wrapping it tightly with coban. "We'll check it every twelve hours as needed."

"Yes Sir, Doc." Buck goofily salutes.

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly, leaning up to kiss Buck's lips lightly. "You're an idiot." He laughs.

Buck laughs with him. "But I'm your idiot."

Eddie smiles lovingly at him. "You are...how about we order in tonight? Watch a movie?"

"Sounds like a plan."

#eddie diaz #prompt fill #911 fic #evan buck buckley #tw: blood #tw: injury #by red #buddie #anonymous #eddie diaz x evan buckley

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wunderkrafwunderkraf · 2 months

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wunderkraf-com · 5 months

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pupyr0arz · 4 months

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Thinking…serial killer reader x priest price. Am I cooking? Murder, religious/Christian themes cw

Divinity is something you find under the knife. It’s the last, brightest gleams in a man’s eyes as he bleeds his last breath, the moment of surrender beneath your fingers. The moment you and they are one, blood turned to ichor in your veins as they kiss your palms and leave for the holy gate. You dispense mercy in God’s vision, a heavy hand and mournful eye. In a world so rotten and sick, sons and daughters of Adam fall astray, crying silently for angels to lead them back to their flock. Pain is cleansing, and cleanliness is holiness. God’s janitor, you call yourself when you are feeling particularly egotistical.

You work quietly, as any agent of a higher power should. Demons outnumber you, staring back with jewel bright eyes and false promises, begging you to overstep. You find beauty in routine, cleaning yourself and disposing of any marks of sin. The police call you a hundred names, but never your own, and you take each paper as they come and fold them neatly into the trash.

you find joy, beauty in your work. It sends you higher than any satanic touch could give you, polishes you into a gleaming weapon wielded by holy beings. Yet, your favorite day is Sunday, the day of rest.

each Sunday, you walk to church. It’s the third closest to your home, you’d have an easier time to go to them but if you did things merely because they were easy you’d be dammed for your laziness. The two other churches are rot filled, disgusting vestiges that you’d burn down and watch cleanse the ground they were built on if it wouldn’t interrupt your duties. But the third, the third.

God, in His infinite wisdom, has laid his hands upon another in your time. You could nearly cry. You did when you found him, his voice, his eyes, his sermon…it felt as though you were in your workshop, on your knees with bloodied hands praying and being heard. Hope has blossomed within you at the mere sight of the priest, that other agents of God existed, that your war was one that could be one. Father Price, and wasn’t that a beautiful name? The price you paid to see him, that humanity paid to be absolved of their sins, the price the two of you would extract by pound and pound of flesh from demons.

You’ve seen him for a month and four days now, you’ve been counting. You wouldn’t dare approach him too quickly, too fervently, lest you be mistaken for some kind of trick. You could hardly believe the Father existed at all yourself, you wouldn’t blame him for doubting you, but it would unravel your plans. You had to move slowly, integrate yourself with his flock.

Wasn’t that a difficult ask. You weren’t blessed in the way Father Price was, with infinite patience and words sweeter than any sugar on Earth, no Heaven-kissed smile comes from your lips. You are shaped to the words of the oldest books, of wrath and hellfire, storm and lightning. The two of you are counterparts, damnation and salvation, and it makes you adore him all the more. But the hours spent sitting with the inane, idiotic sinners that stumble over themselves to dirty Father Price’s feet send your fingers twitching.

#.bark #cod #cod x reader #Price #price x reader #serial killer reader #Expanding on this would be #reader going into confession booth mahbe #Trying to implicate price in their murders to get price to help them #Delsuonakky talking about how they’re soulmates while price is like wtf (dick hard)

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tfyoulookingatgiuxs · 1 year

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Im sorry...

Eddie Munson x Yandere!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Love dramas, murders, disappearances and a crazy serial killer who still roams the streets of Hawkins. All this was triggered by you, a good student who shed a sea of blood out of love, scaring the whole city. But you're not that bad...really, you're not. You're just in love with the boy who went missing a few days ago, Eddie Munson.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere!mean!fem!Reader, Undestanding!Eddie, use of Y/N, murder, kidnap, theme about torture, agnst, bad ending, slight fluff? missing people, enemies to lovers, use of knifes, blood, threats, obsession, themes about disposing of corpses, themes about sex, very bad language, bullying, dismemberment, Reader is lovesick, all the addictional characters i mention are invented (Please, here we will talk about a case of kidnapping and murder and quite heavy themes. However, I invite you not to take as an example everything you read. This is all for entertainment only.)

𝐀/𝐍: Sorry for my english, this is not my native language. Please support new writers and reblog, hope you enjoy! (DIVIDER NOT MINE)

You walk through the woods while carrying a large black bag on your shoulders with one of your victims inside. As soon as you arrived near the exit of the city you decided to put the bag down and open it, finding the now lifeless frightened face of Katerine Smith in front of you; a young student at Hawkins High. She was in her third year and was a beautiful, awkward and superficial girl. In the last period she had decided to set her eyes on something that belonged to you and for this reason her life had come to an end.

You take her out and place it on top of the large black bag as you head behind a bush where you pick up your shovel that you left there. You start digging a fairly deep vertical ditch and as soon as it was at least two meters high, you throw the shovel on the ground and take out a circular saw and a yellow raincoat from your backpack. You didn't want to get dirty so you put on the hooded garment and start dismembering the girl. The head, abdomen, arms, legs and feet.

Everything was a real red mess but luckily there was the sack under the corpse which prevented the grass from being colored with that bitter blood. As you had learned to do, you took each piece and threw it into the small vertical ditch and then called for it with the shovel. After your first murder you had now learned how to bury a body. After all, if someone were to find a body they would expect to find it horizontal and whole or otherwise dismembered in a bag. That's why you made sure they never found Katherine's body like many others. That's right, Katherine wasn't the only girl you killed, but there were many more, and they were all buried here...near the exit of town. Once your work is finished, you take off your almost dirty raincoat and head to the nearest lake to clean it and the circular saw with it.

You sigh as you turn on your heel to walk home, stuffing everything back into your backpack. “Fuck, I have to go shopping, I forgot,” you say to yourself, remembering one of your duties. You calmly walk towards the supermarket and are overwhelmed by the warm air that makes you feel at ease. In Hawkins, autumn was getting colder and colder, so much so that you started wearing wool sweaters when you left the house. The atmosphere was relaxing and there weren't many people in the small supermarket near the main road. You take a piece of paper from the pocket of your sweatshirt with the list of things to take and start wandering around the aisles.

Pasta, chocolate pudding, sauce, flour, sugar and... wait. Your attention was caught by the television next to the cashier who was watching it with concentration. "The Hawkins police are still investigating the murder of Angeline Holand and the 8 girls who have disappeared in the last few weeks" Said the reporter portrayed on the screen "Moreover, the police had hypothesized a possible connection with Eddie Munson, a student at Hawkins High but it seems he also disappeared recently" at those words you go back to concentrating on the shelves "But apparently the disappearances seem to continue. Katherine Smith seems to have disappeared just today out of nowhere, the parents are worried and hope to be able to find their beloved daughter" he continued as the woman let out an anxious sigh.

“Well, apparently they are more alert now than they were before…” You think as you grab a snack from the shelves.

Your gaze seemed lost, your breathing heavy and your chest had become heavy. You can't explain how you got to this point...

You were just a good student in love with Eddie "The Freak" Munson. It seems absurd but it was like that, a smart and shy girl like you fell at the feet of the most hated and scary boy in school, but obviously that didn't matter to you. You were madly in love with him, you followed him, every now and then you greeted him, you stole some of his things... you were fucking obsessed with him. His person, his way of doing things, his character, his style, his perfume, what he did, everything! Everything you knew about him made you adore him even more and you couldn't help it. You talked to each other and every now and then you even had great conversations and this made you happy every day. He was the man you wanted to have by your side, that bad boy who wasn't so bad that you wanted so much in your life, he was perfect for you, he had to be yours.

You had to do it, you had to tell him how you felt, you had to take this weight off your shoulders.

That day you met Eddie behind the school near the woods, where you both spent your days. The moment seemed magical but something left you heartbroken when a cheerleader with perfect long hair interrupts you and brings the boy with her. You were really upset about it and it had pushed you to the limit.

Angeline Holand...

Barb Holand's little sister and Hawkins High cheerleader. She was beautiful but didn't have excellent grades, she liked parties and boys in general. You learned that Angeline had sex with lots of different guys just to have sex with them and then dump them when they didn't suit her. It was a secret that you managed to discover by pure chance and this had worked in your favor.

You really didn't want that cheap bitch to use Eddie as a sex toy, so you made up your mind that you were going to ruin her life in a drastic way. Days later the whole school found out about this secret of hers and after several weeks, Eddie kept away from her, but obviously this wasn't enough for you, you were too pissed off that the humiliation was nothing for you. One Wednesday afternoon you found her in an abandoned park crying from the constant teasing she endured every day, poor thing isn't it? No, not at all. You thought when you then caught her by surprise and stabbed her at least ten times in the chest. You hated her so much.

You vented all the anger that bitch had caused you for even thinking you could subjugate your beloved. Angeline, unlike many others, you burned her in an abandoned factory, but you didn't expect it to go up in flames. You managed to run away but the police found Angeline's body and the stab wounds in her chest and started an investigation. You can't understand the reason for all that violence, it wasn't like you... you even went so far as to consult a psychologist but obviously you couldn't tell him about your murder for which you said you killed someone in a dream.

At first he didn't say anything to you thinking it was just a temporary thing. But going forward you had to deal with more hassles surrounding Eddie and you couldn't stand that, and you did it again and again and again. Four other stupid bitches were dead and gone as of today but you didn't kill the rest of the others. The police had already been alerted, so starting a massacre would have been inconvenient for you. The others were bullied, or expelled, others you even threatened, and they simply ran away. No news, not a letter, a goodbye, nothing. They were missing...

Obviously you explained this to your psychologist and he, after hearing that you continued to have these "dreams", simply told you that it foreshadowed an aggressive, neurotic personality and a history of violence. This left you with some doubts and worries. You don't think you've ever suffered violence but either you never thought you would be capable of being aggressive, you didn't really think so, and now here you are. The serial killer that everyone is talking about and who they are now looking for while citizens keep themselves safe while also protecting their children.

You let out a big sigh and as soon as you were sure you had taken everything you went to pay. The woman named “Taylor” noticed you a few minutes later, she was more interested in the news than doing her job apparently.

"It's twenty dollars" She said as she looked back at the screen. You paid and watched television too. The reporter was interviewing the police chief Jim Hopper "We think that the suspect in the possible disappearances or alleged murders is a student at Hawkins High, for now we ask everyone to stay at home" The police chief announced while the cashier Taylor commented to low voice “Surely he is a killer who kills poor innocent girls” You tilted your head slightly “Do you think so?” You asked with a worried look trying to act like the poor helpless girl, she looked at you surprised that you heard her and she nodded "Yes dear, so stay safe, a young girl like you shouldn't be wandering around alone, not now that there are crazy people like that out there" You gave her a smile "I will, thank you very much and see you again" she said goodbye to you and you left the supermarket heading home.

“Holy shit…” that was all you could say at a moment like that. You had messed up but ultimately you couldn't go back and now you would have to live with it. Since the police suspected that the killer was a student at Hawkins High, they decided to interrogate every single student, calling everyone a suspect, and closing the school until the case was solved. This had sent you into a crisis... after you had finally chased away every fucking threat you were finally ready to declare yourself to Munson, holy shit! Nothing seemed to go right and Eddie, like the other students, doesn't trust anyone but his friends. You couldn't do it anymore, you had to do it...

You couldn't have done otherwise.

After two days of his disappearance you came across his uncle Wayne hanging a paper with his nephew pictured where it was written that he was missing. You felt guilty, but you already were. You regret what you did but you couldn't have avoided it in any way, and you also could have avoided it...how? Your head was still a mess and you started to think that you should have taken action for this aggressive and violent behavior of yours.

You finally arrived home and took out your keys. Just a few years ago, after the death of your parents you had a secluded house that still needed to be fixed up, but it wasn't bad, you had everything you needed: gas, water and electricity. You just needed to rearrange the furniture and get a real bed to sleep on instead of the couch. You opened the door and as soon as you closed it with a turn of the key, you also closed the security locks on the door. You placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and began to put everything away. Then you realized all that strange silence and looked out at the corridor that led to the various rooms.

"Eddie?" You called him and then went to check the first room and realized he wasn't there. You think you had an anxiety attack and you went looking for him in the other rooms and then you saw him in your room, lying on the mattress tied with his wrists behind his back with his bare chest while the sheets were as messy as the rest of the room. You went back to your side when you then remembered that you had moved Eddie to your room to give him more comfortable treatment. He looked up and then came back with his face on the pillow.

He hates you.

You knew it very well. You walked closer to him "Hey Eds, I've been shopping, I bought you your favorite puddings" you told him as you walked closer. You lay down on the mattress next to him and saw his apathetic face. He didn't answer you... he's been like this ever since you argued. You then noticed his red cheeks and the damp pillow and realized that he had been crying. This made you feel even more guilty. You knew very well that you were wrong, what you had done the night you fought made him become more afraid of you. You certainly couldn't say he wasn't wrong, out of frustration you tortured him with electric batons until he apologized to you. You immediately regretted it but you never apologized again...

"Okay...listen. I know you don't want to talk to me and I understand, I wouldn't talk to me either, especially for what I did to you" You sat down and admired his curls falling from his shoulders to his collarbones. Eddie looked up and his chocolate brown irises met yours. That look...that poor, desperate look that makes you think "what did he do to deserve this?"

You wanted to know too. You didn't want this...you just wanted to be with him and live the life of two young adults in love.

"I'm really sorry for what I did to you...I'm sorry for everything, I didn't mean to get this far," You came closer while you caressed his cheek with one hand "I didn't want to hurt, but I done, I made many people suffer, I know... but they wanted to distance you from me" Eddie didn't answer you and continues to listen "I can understand if you hate me, or if you want me to die in their place, I understand, I'm ruining your life, I brought you here and I took you away from your friends and your uncle" Your breathing was quickening as your eyes burned and started to get shiny "But know that I didn't want to shed so much blood, I wanted just you Eddie. I wanted to go out with you, play Dungeon & Dragons with your friends and spend the evenings like a normal couple... I didn't want to reduce you like this, I'm sorry" You said while your voice was breaking. You bent down to give a kiss to his scalp and remained in that position for several minutes "I promise you that I will make everything right. I will do everything for you and I swear that I will never be mean to you or other people again, I swear."

"Why did you become like this?..." You heard him speak and at his question tears wet your cheeks. "I don't know Eds..." You started to cry leaning your face close to his ear wetting his dark curls "I just wanted you and to stay with you forever, I don't want anyone to take you away from me, I know you are disappointed, you expected a better girl but I can become one if you want,"

"Y/N–" You didn't let him continue the sentence "I'll try to become the girl you want so much, I'll do everything I can, I'll put an end to this serial killer thing and then I'll let you go, but please don't abandon me Eddie" you heard him hiss something as you pressed several kisses to his curls, your hand caressing his shoulder as you felt his cold skin “I want you to calm down” He said in a calm voice “I won't” You looked at him. God, how you wished those words were true "It's not true..."

"You will abandon me and hand me over to the police..." Eddie looked at you and said nothing "Don't make fun of me. I know very well that I screwed up, but I promise you that I will make it up to you, and then you will learn to love me" You gave another kiss but this time on his cold shoulder "I'm not lying to you Y/N." You were about to reply but he doesn't let you do it "It's true, I'm afraid of you and everything you've done and maybe I even hate you, but you're still my Y/N...you need to be helped" He said him shaking his head. He was right, the psychologist wasn't enough but you didn't know what else to do, you were just so scared. Afraid that Eddie would take the right opportunity to run away and abandon you "You're not calling me crazy are you?" He didn't answer you, in fact your question was stupid too, it was obvious that he thought so "I'm not crazy" you took a breath as you tried to calm down "The psychologist told me that I have an aggressive personality, and I've tried everything but I couldn't hold back and I'm sorry for that" The metalhead's eyes looked different, they weren't scared but worried.

“Y/N...” He called out to you “Please calm down...” his tone seemed sympathetic “I don't want you to be afraid of me Eds” The tears started to fall again “I understand sweetheart. I can't forgive you for everything you've done, but I'll try to do it" At those words your heart was filling with happiness "Really?" He nodded "I didn't think you'd get to this point, but I'm ready to help you if it means getting my Y/N back" You were definitely happy. Eddie always loved you so much, for him you were perhaps his closest friend but now he had another person ahead of him, and he would have fought to get the old one back. You had definitely changed and perhaps this had made you a monster in everyone's eyes but especially in Eddie's "Please Eddie...Help me" You started crying again as you curled up next to him resting your head on the pillow and hugging him " I'll treasure, don't worry" his words were sweeter than any elegant sharp blade "I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry..." You began to blurt out as a kiss was pressed to your temple. After that gesture you got up and went into the other room with Eddie looking at you confused. You came back with a chain and a 50 kg weight. You tied the chain to the boy's ankle and then freed his wrists, he didn't react or say anything, he just shook his sore wrists and then followed your movements with his eyes. You lay next to him again, hugging him and he did the same thing gently stroking your hair "I'm sorry..." You said again as you buried your head in the crook of his neck "Shh, it's okay".

You hadn't been happier in your entire life.

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #stranger things eddie #enemies to lovers #yandere #stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #hurt/comfort #eddie x reader

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brienneoftarth1989 · 1 year

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This a new 12 part series revolving around Miranda Himarson and reader. To sum it up: reader is a gang leader and Miranda goes undercover in the gang. Will the reader find out?

Undercover part 1

Miranda Hilmarson x fem reader

Next / Series

Summary: You’re the leader of the most powerful gang in Sydney. You have recently murdered one of your employees for ratting on you to the feds. You’re not taking any shit from anyone.

Warnings: murder using a knife, torture by water, violence, gangs

Requests open

———————————

“Get it out of here! They are not my problem anymore! And let this be a lesson to the rest of you. Snitches get fucking stitches!” You shouted at your crew as they dragged out the body.

You stood up and the rest of your crew just stared at you not sure what to do next. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Fuck off will you! I’m sure you all have work to do!” You shouted as you made your way to your office.

Being the leader of the most powerful gang in Sydney wasn’t exactly easy. Your father was the original leader of The Wildlings but when he was caught and executed by the government it was your turn to take over the gang.

It had always been your dream to take over the gang but never in your mind did you expect to take over so soon and as you hadn’t had as much training it definitely led you to make irresponsible decisions that would one day get you in trouble.

There were a number of different things your gang was famous for but the most notorious were drug dealing, prostitution and murder. You weren’t afraid to kill anyone that got on your bad side or proved to be a threat to the gang.

You sat back in your chair going over a number of different papers that all had different information on it. You had one peice that told you your list of clients who owed you money, then you had your crew members and then a long list of people that you had killed which were all kept locked away in a safe.

You grabbed a pen and found the name you were searching for. You crossed off the name of the person you had just killed from the crew list and added their name to the murder list. You sighed to yourself. You never liked to kill your crew but when they were threatening yourself and others safety then it didn’t leave you much of a choice.

Now you had another job that needed doing. You scanned over all your documents before jotting down a few names with their addresses as well as a figure that was next to their names. Once you had all the information you needed you picked up the documents and placed them in the safe placing a load of dictionaries and boring textbooks on top.

They weren’t really important. It was more of a distraction if anyone were to break into the safe. You then grabbed your radio which connected you to all of your crew members. “Raphael to my office now” you spoke over the radio.

You knew it wouldn’t be long before you heard a knock on your office door and within a couple of minutes that knock made an appearance on the door. “Get in here” you said to Raphael. He walked in closing the door behind you. Raphael was your right hand man and you trusted him with everything.

“I’ve got two of the lads disposing of the body now sir. I secured it so all they have to do is dispose of it in the location I gave them. Is there anything else I can do for you sir” he asked you as he stood up straight.

You handed him the post-it note with the names and addresses on it. “I need you to go and find these people and let them know I’m getting impatient about my money. No one is to get hurt yet. I want them threatened though” you said sternly. Raphael took the post-it note from you before scanning over the list.

Hester Wheelock - $2787.00

Quincy Spaulding - $1988.00

Arthur Coombs - $209.00

Marlene Bailey - $361.00

Alayna Frank - $1203.00

Raphael turned the note over to check the addresses before folding the note up and putting it in his front pocket. “On it boss! I will be back as soon as I can” he said but just as he was about to turn around you stopped him.

“Oh and another thing! While you’re out scope out the competition as well as a replacement for that rat. This time they are to come by me first. I don’t need no rats in my gang” you sternly told him. “Yes boss, I will keep a good eye out. I will send the right one your way” he said before turning around to leave.

You watched as the door swung shut behind him before you let out a deep sigh. You were absolutely knackered. So far it had been a day from hell and it was only going to get worse. You had been woken up by a phone call at 07:00 by one of your crew members. You had always told them never to call before 08:00 unless it was an emergency otherwise there would be consequences.

You shot up as soon as the phone rang which you answered immediately. “Boss we have a rat amongst the group. I overheard them saying they were going to rat us out to the cops. What do we do sir?” They asked you. As soon as you heard those words you knew exactly what needed to be. “Catch the son of a bitch. Tie them up and I want them in the main hall. Call everyone in the gang and get them down to the hangout immediately” you shouted down the phone “I will be there shortly” you said before hanging up.

It was time to teach this bitch a lesson. You got yourself dressed and out of the door relatively quickly, grabbing your keys on the way out. You ran down to your GMC Hummer EV pickup. It didn’t take long for you to speed down to the hangout and you knew that by the time you arrived everyone would be there.

You entered the parking lot of the building before parking in your usual space. You looked around the car park to see that it was full. Your crew knew better than not to show up because it was basically asking for a death wish. You slammed the door shut before making your way into the main hall where everyone was waiting for you.

“Where is the son of a bitch!” You screamed as you pushed your way through the crowd. When you finally made your way to the centre you found one of your crew mates tied to a chair with their mouth taped shut. You hated doing this to your own crew but if they are a rat they weren’t truly a part of the gang.

Next to the chair was a selection of torture devices. Now the real problem was how you would go about doing this. As you stood in the centre of the circle you could hear quiet mumbles from everyone around you. “Will you all shut up!” You shouted which made the whole place go quiet in an instant.

“Now it seems like we have a rat amongst us! And do you know what happens to rats in my crew? They get fucking killed! So let this be a lesson to all of you. If you plan on snitching to the feds or crossing me this is how you will end up! Now you are all going to watch me so you are aware of what the consequences will be!” You shouted angrily knowing that no one will want to mess with you after this!

You pushed the chair over so they fell back with their head hitting the floor. You then placed a towel over their face. You turned around to grab the jug of water. You slowly started to pour the water over their face which soaked the towel instantly. After about 30 seconds you removed the towel allowing them to breathe.

You repeated this process over and over again making it harder and harder for your prisoner. “Let this all be a lesson to you. I mean it! You cross me and I will find even more creative ways for you to die!” You screamed before pouring the rest of the water all over the towel. This time though you didn’t remove it.

You then turned around to grab your trusty knife before turning back to face them. You walked over to them before whispering in their ear. “Rot in Hell!” You then swung your knife at them. You watched the blade run across their neck before their blood sprayed everywhere.

You wiped the blood off your knife before placing it back on the table. “Get it out of here! They are not my problem anymore! And let this be a lesson to the rest of you. Snitches get fucking stitches!” You shouted at your crew as they dragged out the body.

You made your way to your office to hopefully sort yourself out and finish the rest of today the right way.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfics #miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #top of the lake #top of the lake china girl #police #undercover #undercover series #gangs #gang leader #murder #torture #dangerous #don’t mess with me #brienneoftarth1989

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

Text

Unexpected 1

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The devastation of your marriage forms a malaise around you. One in which you wade through unseen waters. Your reality is rippled and unclear. One moment you feel fine, neither gloomy or bright. The next, you’re restless and lost in emotion.

Even Lloyd’s peculiar way of riling you cannot part the murk of your moods. Besides, it’s all his fault. He’s done this to you.

Mr. and Mrs. Hansen. You stare at the program, gold on ivory. Ridiculous and unnecessary for a Vegas drive-by.

You cross your arms and face the rack of gowns sheathed in garment bags. Another elaborate expense for a second marriage. Wearing white isn’t very appropriate given the circumstance. Black would be more fitting.

You turn and shield your eyes. They water at the winter sunlight streaming in through the window. You go to tug shut the curtain. Your head vibrates from insomnia that’s haunted you since that fateful day.

Thirty-six days. You’ve counted every sleepless nights. Trapped beside him. On top of everything you could despise about him, he snores like thunder.

You rub your stomach as another stir of nausea swirls. You haven’t been eating much, you’ve forgotten several times despite the greedy knotting in your stomach. You could devour everything but want for nothing at all.

Another trip to the bathroom has you yawning and rubbing your cheeks, another urgent stream spills into the bowl. You haven’t been drinking more than usual but it’s like every other minute you have to go. You wipe and pause before you can drop the tissue in the toilet. Light red specks.

You dispose of the toilet paper and pull down your skirt. You wash your hands and scowl at the mirror. Great, now you get to beg Lloyd for a doctor’s appointment. Another fun conversation you don’t want to have.

You finish up and resign yourself to a meal of toast and butter. If you don’t eat something soon, you’re going to dry heave. You slip two slices in the toaster and push the plunger down.

Fucking implant. You’ll have to get it check and figure out what’s going on with that. When you took the pill, it was the same fucking thing. You don’t need a period adding to your already towering stack of problems.

The bread pops up and you smear the melting butter across it with a knife, the scent of it making your mouth water. You bite into it, nearly half the slice as you chew without restraint. You gulp it down and go to the fridge, pulling out the orange juice with your free hand.

As you pour a glass, you hear his descent. Great. You wish he would fuck off to wherever it is he goes. Pack his gun and get lost.

You put the carton down and take a large gulp as he enters, crossing to pick up the juice and drink straight from the spout. You roll your eyes and reach for your other slice of toast. He takes that too.

You face him and he watches you with a smirk as he bites into the crisp toast. You hold back a sneer. You’re getting good at that. Pretending you don’t care. You like the way your vacant stare makes him deflate. Today is not different as his lips straighten and he drops the toast back on the plate.

“Try on the dresses yet?” He asks.

“You pick one.”

He takes a breath, nostrils flaring as you reach for the unfinished slice. Finishing it, unbothered by the missing portion. He watches you cap the orange juice and put it back. You face him again as you gobble up the last of the crust.

“I needa see a doctor,” you choke out as you swallow your mouthful, “I can give you the number. I know you still don’t trust me with a phone.”

“You haven’t signed the papers,” he ignores your request. “It’s been over a month.”

“I am reading them.”

“You promised you would. Don’t make me drag that twerp here at the end of a glock–”

“Calm down,” you dust off your fingers, “if I sign, can I see a doctor? Or go to a clinic?”

He tilts his chin, jaw twitching as he thinks, “why?”

“Why? Because.”

“Are you sick?”

“Wouldn’t you be so worried,” you roll your eyes and his eyebrow tweaks. You’re losing yourself. He’s getting the best of you and that’s only fun for him, “if you must know, I’m bleeding.”

“Bleeding?” He squints.

“Spotting. Downstairs.”

“I haven’t noticed,” he sticks his tongue out, “a little blood on my balls never bothered me.”

“I don’t get a period. Not supposed to anyway. So, grab a pen. I’d rather get this sorted sooner than later.”

He nears, dragging his hand along the counter as he does, “you feel okay? Headache? Maybe an upset tummy?”

“Tummy? Lloyd, I’m not a child.”

He grins, “you’re comin’ around, sweetheart.”

“You’re driving me crazy.”

He nods and brings his fingers up to smooth his mustache, the thick line of hair finally back in full effect. You watch the habitual gesture with barely concealed irritation. He really is a trip.

“Spotting… check. You’re eating toast and butter, probably an bit of a grumbly tummy,” he says the last word emphatically, “and you scowl everytime you see the sun. Light sensitivity.”

“So what. I didn’t know you had a PhD.”

“Pretty huge dick. Pretty sure even you would admit that,” he snickers, “but no.”

He spins and pulls open the cupboard. He points his index fingers along the large canister of protein powder and the many bottles of vitamins. He swipes one out of the row and plops it on the marble. He turns the label to face you.

“St. John’s wort,” he announces, “I read it’s supposed to help with depression or some shit. I’m all about the natural remedies. It can also cause light sensitivity and some nausea. Headache too, and some insomnia. Oh, sexual dysfunction as well but you don’t seem to be struggling there.”

“I don’t… I don’t take that shit.”

His mouth slants and his eyes drift away for a moment, “I added a little to the medium roast.”

“Lloyd,” you hit his chest without thinking, “what the fuck?”

“I don’t know. I thought it would help brighten you up for the wedding. Excuse fucking me for trying to be a good fiance.”

“What the fuck! You’ve been drugging me.”

“It’s just a plant actually,” he corrects you, “I’ve been helping you. You’re like a little puppy, I just gotta hide your medicine in a piece of cheese.”

“Wow, you really are sick in the fucking head.”

“Look, if I knew you were going to be a bitch about this, I would’ve told you sooner,” he brings his hand up to chin and frames it, “I missed you yelling at me.”

“Fuck off of me!” You shove him again. “I can’t believe you.”

You open the next cupboard and take out the bag of medium roast. You take it to the bin and stomp on the pedal, flipping up the lid. You drop it inside and let it close. He is oddly calm as he watches you. You catch him staring at your ass as you turn to him again. Typical.

You resist the urge to storm out as his eyes focus on your stomach. You jut your chin out and cover your middle, “what are you doing?”

“Hmm,” his eyes meet your angry ones.

“What are you staring at?”

“You?” He seems confused by the answer.

“My stomach?”

“Ah, you didn’t let me get to that little tidbit, honey,” he leans back and grips his hips, “St. John’s wort can interact with some forms of birth control. Um, oral contraceptives,” he brings one hand up and counts as he starts his list, “some IUDs, implants–”

“Implants?” You growl, nearly knocked back by the word, “implant? Lloyd! I have an implant.”

“I didn’t know that,” he can’t hide his amusement.

“You think it’s fucking funny? If I’d known, I’d–”

“What? You wouldn’t be taking loads like a fucking champ?”

“Ew,” you snap, “Lloyd, Lloyd!” You barrel towards him and grab the front of his tacky polo, “I can’t be pregnant. I can’t. What the fuck would I do? What would you do?”

“Ah, yes, what would we do, Mrs. Hansen? That would be a tragedy,” he bites his lip as he splendours in your fury, “I suppose you’re right, we should call the doctor.”

“I–” you scoff at him, “you did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

His eyes roll up and his forehead wrinkles as he pretends to think, lips pouting in his act. You let go of him and take a step back. You throw your hands up, speechless, then stretch them out, dropping them back to your sides. You don’t know what to do. You could strangle him but he likes that too much.

You wave him off sharply and bluster away. You enter the front room and stomp towards the rack of dresses. You grunt as you tip it over, the crash of metal softened by the layers of fabric. You swipe up the program from the table and crumple it up.

As Lloyd appears in the doorway, watching you with an air of amusement, you sweep back towards him and toss the paper in his face.

“Fucker.”

“I think you mean, ‘mother fucker’,” he quotes with his fingers smugly.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #unexpected #series #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #the gray man

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