#and clear her head and not take it out on people that were also victims of the tva - aka her killing the minutemen

[pathologicalreid]

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

[marvelslittlewhore]

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿🎀✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You were boiling with jealousy. You just wanted to have fun drinking and smoking with your friends and boyfriend and everything had been fine until you got a glance of some kook bitch flirting with JJ, batting her lashes at him stupidly and you already had your fist clenching by your side. Your grip tightening on the red solo cup, chugging down the rest.

Kie, Sarah, and Cleo followed your gaze and all knew it won't take long until you snap. You trusted JJ, it's just that you can't stand the fact that many girls or past flings on the island still tried making their shot even though they knew he's not on the market anymore.

You could see the annoyance on JJ's face but he was still being nice about it, which you cherish him for but also wished he would just walk away from her and leave her there dumbfounded.

You were really trying to keep your cool but then she had the audacity to touch his arm. That was it. Throwing the cup on the ground and ignoring Kie's scolding you marched over to where the boys were standing.

Pushing the girl's hand off JJ not so gently you stood between the two, your arms crossed over your chest while JJ wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Stay the fuck away from my man and go look for some kook dick instead of using pogues just so you can feel some type of power." You glared at her.

"Oh really? And that's coming from someone whose mom had practically slept with the whole island. I don't doubt you're any better-" Your fist made contact with her face before she could finish her insult, and you watched her fall onto the sand.

The boys shouted in surprise and you didn't let it end there, getting on top of her and grabbing her by her shirt with one hand.

"You ever take my family in your mouth again imma make sure you won't leave the hospital for a while, got that?" You whispered to her before feeling JJ wrap his arms around your middle to hoist you up and off her.

"Easy now, mama. Think she heard you loud and clear. C'mon, let's go." JJ carried you away while you kept cussing at the girl, making sure that the others on the bonfire see what happens when they mess with you.

After your little altercation, everyone decided it was better to call it a night and make your way back to the Chateau.

JJ went to hold your hand but quickly let go when you hissed in pain, instead he grabbed your wrist holding it up to look at your bruised knuckles. He smirked, kissing each of your knuckles gently.

"All that trouble for me, huh?" He teased and you rolled your eyes but smiled at him.

"Shut up. You would have done the same if any guy had approached me."

"True." He chuckled and when you tried to get out of his hold he stopped walking, pulling you against his chest. "I gotta admit, what you did there was pretty hot."

You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss while his hands went to squeeze your ass. Your little make out session got interrupted by John B clapping his hands to get your guys attention.

"C'mon, you lovebirds. You can mingle later, there are people who have a busy day ahead."

"Oh and you are one of them?" You raised an eyebrow at the brunette.

"Yeah, someone has to take care of your hangover asses tomorrow and that's probably me as I'm the most sober one here." He flicked your forehead and you slapped his hand away laughing.

"Better be careful bro or you'll be her next victim." JJ warned with a smirk placing his arm over your shoulders, kissing the side of your head.

"I think I broke her nose-"

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿🎀✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Requested by: @tracymbcm (I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this 😭 hope you still like it the way it came out)

Taglist

For everything:

@lokigirlszendaya @buckymydarlingangel @superlegend216

For JJ Maybank:

@tracymbcm @spideysimpossiblegirl @chiaraanatra

[fanfics-and-love]

Reclaiming a Legacy

Ghostface!Amber Freeman x reader

Not my gif

Warning(s): canon typical violence, mentions of death, mentions of blood

Word count: 4k words

Summary: You knew someone was behind the new ghostface kills, but you could have never guessed it was your girlfriend, and that the reason behind everything was you, and your past

Request: Can you write something with ghost face amber x reader. ask

A/N: I wanted to give my girl Amber a better motive bc she deserves it✨

masterlist

You knew your girlfriend was a bit of a bitch sometimes, but never a murderer. Sure, she was rude and probably lacked common decency, but when you two were alone, she was kind and sweet.

There was no way she could be ghostface.

And that was what you told Mindy, after the third time that day in which she had questioned you about Amber.

“Mindy,” you said, exasperated. “I love you. I really do, but if you keep insinuating my girlfriend is a killer I’m going to kick your ass.”

“I’m not,” Mindy said, in a tone that told you she was actually aiming at that, toeing the question but not saying it out loud. “I’m just saying, out of all of us…”

“It can also be the nerd obsessed with horror movies who’s related to one of the legacies,” you shot back. “Or the big sister that has suddenly come back after years of no contact. It can be anyone.”

“Sure thing,” Mindy said, rolling her eyes. “But if anyone would want to kill Wes…”

“No one would want to kill Wes,” you said, slamming shut your locker. “He was a good kid. No one held grudges against him. He was chosen because life isn’t fucking fair.”

You cleared your throat when you noticed kids around the hall staring at you. Great, you were going around school screaming about the unfairness of life; as if you needed people to suspect you and your group of friends more.

“Okay. Sorry,” Mindy said, putting a hand on your shoulder. You almost shook it off, still pissed off at her, but with everything that was going on you weren’t sure who could be the next victim, so instead you hugged her.

“I’m sorry too,” you said, pulling away. “It’s just— everything is too stressful. I can’t stand it.”

“I get it,” she said. “I’m sorry. I just want to discover who the fucker is so we can all be safe.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m gonna hang out with Amber and help her with the party, so I’ll see you later. ‘Kay?”

“Okay,” she kissed your cheek. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

“Stop fucking in my couch, horny fuckers,” Amber said, pushing two kids away from said couch.

The party was in full swing, almost everyone from school within Amber’s house walls. You thought of Wes, and how he’d take people remembering him with a party. He would have probably hated it, but it had been Amber’s idea, and it was hard to convince her not to do something once she had put her mind to it.

“Hey,” you said, glad you had finally found your girlfriend. It was hard to miss her, considering her attitude filled every room she was in, but parties like the ones she threw were so overwhelming even she could easily disappear in the crowd.

“There you are,” Amber smiled, shortening the distance between the two of you. She rested the red cup in her hand on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around you, nose caressing your neck. “Mm… I’ve missed you,” she said, pulling away to give you a kiss.

“You just saw me,” you giggled, standing on your tiptoes to give her another kiss. She smiled, pulling you even closer to kiss your cheek.

“What? Can’t I miss my girlfriend?” She raised an eyebrow, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Of course you can,” you said, wrapping your arms around her neck. She rested her head on your neck, kissing it softly. “What got you so happy?”

“I’m throwing a party and I have you in my arms,” Amber said, pulling away. There was a glee in her eyes that made your bones chill. “What else could I want?”

“A lot, actually,” you said. Despite how close you two were, it was still somewhat hard to hear her over the music coming from the kitchen. “A million dollars, three hundred puppies, world peace…”

“Nah,” she said, smirking. “I still prefer you.”

You blushed at that, kissing her again. “You dork.”

“A dork you love making out with.”

“That I do,” you smiled, tangling your hands into Amber’s hair as she put her lips on yours.

“You’re so hot,” she said, kissing your jaw. You moaned, tilting your head to the side to give her more space. “Fuck. I love you, baby,” she said. Her voice was sweet and velvety, just like how it was when she talked with you on the phone. You loved these moments where she was vulnerable; it made your heart skip a beat.

“I love you too,” you said. Amber was kissing your neck again, and you tightened your hold on her hair when she began to suck on your neck.

“You do?” She asked, pulling away. You were a little taken back by the sudden movement. “You love me?”

“Wha— of course I do,” you said, looking into her eyes. There was something there, swimming with the glee in the brown waves of her irises, something that made you want to run away from her arms. Instead, you pulled her closer. “I love you.”

“Even if I was the killer?” You tensed, trying to step away from her. She shook her head, dragging your body into hers. “Would you?”

“What the fuck, Amber?” You asked. Mindy’s voice came into the front of your mind; Do you think your girlfriend is capable of killing someone? “Are you for real?”

“Of course not,” Amber said, kissing your forehead. She sighed in anger when she noticed you were still tense. “Relax, babe. I’m just fucking with you.”

“Don’t joke about things like that, Am,” you said, resting your head on her shoulder. “It’s not funny.”

“Jesus,” she said, stroking your back. “Don’t be such a bitch. I was just playing.”

“Let’s just drop the subject, alright?”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Amber said. She was swaying you softly, and the motion was helping lower your frantic heartbeat. “Would you?”

“Uh?” You raised your head.

“Would you still love me if I was the killer?”

“Fucking hell, Amber.”

“Would you?” She repeated. You remembered those random questions she would sometimes ask, out of the blue— would you still love me if I was a worm? Would you still love me if I took shits the size of cars? Would you stay with me if I lost all my teeth?

But that question… it felt different somehow. Like a test you weren’t even aware you were taking.

Would you still love her if she was ghostface?

“Of course I would still love you,” you said, hoping it was all just one of those times she would ask stupid questions.

She smiled, all perfectly lined white teeth popping out in glee. You were taken aback by her happiness, and even more when she pulled you into a passionate kiss. It left you breathless. When she moved away, you could still see the happiness dancing in her face. She looked like a kid that had gotten away with stealing a cookie from the kitchen while their parents weren’t watching.

“Oh, look,” she said, moving away from you. You were momentarily confused at the loss of her warmth. “Tara is here.”

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

The phrase “Welcome to act three” changed your life. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought as you hid from your girlfriend, Liv’s blood still fresh in your face. You had plans for the future, in which you moved into the city with Amber, and graduated college, and then got a nice job and got married. You couldn’t have planned for this. Who would?

Amber was ghostface. And you had been too blind to see the truth. If you made it out alive, you knew Mindy would never shut up about it.

How could you have been so goddamn stupid?

“Y/N.”

You turned to your side, seeing Sam kneeling beside the sofa, hiding away from Amber as she dragged someone into the kitchen. Sam raised her hand and gestured for you to go with her, and you did without even thinking. When you reached the older girl, you grabbed her arm, looking into her eyes.

“Fucking hell,” you said. You couldn’t even blink; it felt like your eyelashes had been glued to your face.

“Sh,” Sam whispered, moving closer. You could see her hands were shaking as she looked around. A gunshot was heard, followed by a ringing so deafening you closed your eyes as you covered your ears, cradling your face in your hands. “Fuck.”

“She killed someone else,” you said, still trying to wrap your mind around how she meant ghostface and also Amber.

“Ri—” Sam took a deep breath. “Richie. I— I heard his voice right before— before she—”

“Fuck,” you said. “Sam…”

“Y/N,” Amber called from the kitchen in a singsong voice. “Baby, where are you?”

Sam put her hand over your lips, pulling you closer into the sofa, as if it would magically cover the two of you. You saw Amber enter the living room, wearing the infamous ghostface robe. A chill went down your body at the sight of the blood on her face.

“Baby—”

Tara appeared then, hitting Amber with one of her crutches. Sam went quick into action, getting up and kicking away the gun that had fallen on the ground.

“Bitch,” Amber said, grabbing a handful of Tara’s jacket and pushing her away. You ran towards the girl, helping her sit up. Tara had fallen face first, and it looked like she had broken her nose, judging by the blood running down her chin.

“Fuck you,” Sam said, grabbing Amber and throwing her to the ground. She eyed the gun the same time Amber did, but you knew Sam was cursed; she had pushed Amber right into where the gun was.

“Not so fast, bitch,” Amber said, gun in hand. Sam moved to stand in front of Tara, and all you could do was stare at your girlfriend. “Baby,” she said, turning to look at you. “Come here.”

“Am—”

“Come here,” she repeated, voice sweet. You could see her finger, pressing harder onto the gun’s trigger. If you didn’t move fast, she was going to shoot Sam.

“Okay,” you said, raising your hands. You walked towards Amber, allowing her to grab your arm and turn you around, pushing you into her body.

“Ah. Much better,” she smiled, kissing your cheek. “Now we just have to wait for the bitch to show up. I’m guessing she’s close, right, Samantha?”

You saw Sam’s hand hold tighter on her phone. “How do you know about Sidney?”

“Oh, honey,” she laughed. “If Sidney is anything, it is predictable. I’m guessing she has already figured out whose house is this, and is coming with Gale to save the day, as always.”

“You’re sick in the head,” Tara said. Blood was still dripping from her face, and you were thankful when Sam held her; she looked like she was going to pass out.

“Haven’t you heard, Tara?” Amber asked. She was pushing you away from them and towards the stairs, her grip on your shoulders so hard you knew it would bruise. “We all go a little mad sometimes.”

“Fuck you,” Tara said. You admired her— she could barely stand still yet she was facing off a killer with a gun in hand; you, instead, did nothing as she manhandled you around the house. If only you could do something to stop her…

“Fuck me?” Amber laughed. “You little shit. I kept you alive and this is how you repay me?”

“Should’ve killed me,” Tara said. The girl looked terrifying, with a bloody mouth and eyes opened wide.

“Okay,” Amber said, aiming the gun towards Tara. You watched as her finger pulled the trigger, and didn’t think twice before slamming your body against her, pushing her into the ground. The bullet hit the ceiling instead of Tara’s forehead. “What the fuck?”

“Run!” Sam said, rushing towards your side to pull you up. With your help, she carried Tara upstairs, where you hid in one of the guest rooms.

“Holy shit,” you whispered. You were leaning against the door, breathing fast. “I can’t believe— fuck.”

“How are you?” Sam asked, always the protector.

“How am I? Look at Tara. I think she’s got a concussion.” Sam turned around to see her sister lying on the bed. She was resting on the side, and even though her nose had stopped bleeding, she still looked too out of it. “We should hide her,” you said.

“What?”

“We can’t stay here,” you said. You could hear the front door opening, and Amber screaming. What the hell was she doing? “She’s going to come looking for us. Tara can barely move. She needs to stay somewhere hidden.”

“She needs a fucking hospital,” Sam said, harshly.

“Yeah, but she can’t really get help until we stop Amber. She might kill the people in the ambulance.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded, swallowing hard as she looked at her sister. Running a hand through her hair, she looked around. Soon enough, your eyes met. “The closet,” you said at the same time.

You heard gunshots, followed by a door being slammed shut. You looked at Sam, and took a deep breath. “Take care of Tara.” You ran downstairs, closing the guest room’s door behind you. You hoped Sidney and Gale were okay, and that everything was over. Instead, someone dressed in a ghostface costume greeted you on the last step, making you almost fall.

“Hello, Y/N,” ghostface said. He was using a voice changer. “Fancy seeing you here.” Ghostface pushed at your legs, making you trip. When the person grabbed you by the waist and pushed into their chest, you knew immediately who it was.

“Amber,” you said. You felt tears in your eyes as you walked into the kitchen. Richie —holy shit, Richie was the other ghostface— was holding down Sidney. When he saw her, he threw her another piece of rope.

“Tie her up and go find Samantha,” Amber said. Without even looking at you, she tied your hands together.

“I’m fucking trying,” Richie said. The rope in his hand was being wrapped around Sidney’s hands. What the fuck were they doing?

“Jesus, you’re useless,” Amber said, taking off her mask. “I’ll fucking do it. Go find that bitch before she ruins everything.” Richie nodded, but still stayed until Sidney’s hands were tied. Only then did he leave, pushing the woman into Gale’s body. You followed shortly after, falling into the two injured girls.

“You won’t win,” Sidney said. You were momentarily surprised by her calmness, but of course, she was Sidney Prescott; she had probably gone through worse at the hands of ghostface and survived to tell the tale; this was probably a normal Tuesday night for her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Amber said, raising her gun.

“You never win,” she went on. “You think you do, then you make some mistake and it all goes to shit. I’ve seen it happen before, four times. It’s better if you just untie us and let us call the police.”

“I’m gonna win,” Amber said, moving closer to her. “I’m going to fucking win, okay?”

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Gale spoke. It petrified you how scared she sounded. Was this really the way you died? “You could be the first ghostface that doesn’t die. I could write about you.”

“And what? Call me the bitch that killed your ex-husband while I rot in prison?” Amber laughed. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You really want your girlfriend to see you die?” Gale asked. You were taken aback by her words. Of course she would go for manipulation, she was a writer after all. It surprised you when you saw Amber hesitate, lowering her gun slightly as she looked at you with dark brown eyes.

“I’m doing this for her,” she smiled then, all doubt cleared from her face.

“Ah, so that’s your motive,” Sidney said, sounding annoyed. “Love. I think that’s a new one.”

“You shut your fucking mouth,” Amber said, aiming the gun back at Sidney.

“Here she is,” Richie said in a singing voice. You heard struggles, and then he entered the kitchen, dragging Sam with him.

“Perfect,” Amber said. “What about Tara?”

“Passed out in the bed,” Richie said. Sam groaned in pain as she was pushed to the floor in front of you. “Tied her up and locked the door. Caught this one,” he kicked Sam on the stomach “trying to hide her.”

“Aw,” Amber said, in a mocking soft voice. “Aren’t you the perfect sister?” Richie laughed at her words, stepping away from Sam.

“Time for the big finale,” Richie said.

“Tara is tied up, then, right?” Amber asked. Richie nodded, a gleeful look on his face. “And Chad is gone too?”

“A bullet between the eyes,” Richie laughed gleefully.

“Good,” Amber said. The next second, she shot Richie in the head. All four of you stared in shock. Your ears ringed, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the loud gunshot or the sight in front of you. Richie fell to the ground, blood seeping out of his head and mouth. You almost threw up at the sight of his gray matter laying on the ground. “Now, the real finale,” Amber smiled, turning back to you. “Who wants to die first? Uh?”

“Me,” you said, sitting up straighter. It was about time you were the brave one.

“Oh, baby,” Amber said, chuckling softly. “No. No, you’re not going to die. You and I are going to survive, and we’re gonna be the final girls.”

“Jesus,” Gale said. “Are you out of your mind? All of this for… for what? To be the new Romeo and Juliet?”

“Romeo and Juliet die at the end, you dumb bitch,” Amber said. “No. This is about Samantha.”

“My father,” Sam said. Even though you couldn’t fully see her, the sadness was clear in her eyes. It wasn’t fair, all the guilt she would carry with her if she made it out alive.

“Yes,” Amber nodded. “Your father, your grandma… you have a pretty crazy family, Samantha. Once this is over, all we have to tell the cops is that you wanted to live up your father’s legacy. Once they took a look at your pills and therapist notes, there’ll be no questions about who’s the killer.”

“There’s always two ghostfaces,” Gale said.

“And the other one is right there,” Amber pointed at Richie’s body. “You convinced your boyfriend to kill those people as an act of love, and he did. Good thing I was there to stop you before you killed Y/N.”

Sidney laughed, looking at Amber with almost pity in her face. “And why would Y/N be Sam’s target? Just because? For this to work, it’d have to be Tara.”

“No, no,” Amber said, shaking her head. “You’re not taking everything into consideration.”

“We’ve been through this before,” Gale said. “You think you can outsmart us?”

“I’ve already done it,” Amber said. “Because I know something you don’t. Something that explains everything,” she shook her head, smiling. She looked crazed.

“Jesus,” Sidney said. “You’re even worse than Jill. Stop with the dramatics.”

“Y/N is Stu Macher’s daughter.”

“What?” Gale asked, looking at you. You felt as confused as she did.

“Amber, what the fuck are you talking about?” You asked.

“Stu is—”

“In an asylum,” Amber said. Something shifted in Sidney’s face, something that told you she already knew. “Locked up for years. I know what you’re gonna say,” she chuckled. “How could he have a daughter?” Amber kneeled down beside Sidney. “That’s what I told myself for months when I saw the papers. I thought, “but how? It’s not possible”, until I realized that it could be pretty easy to explain since Y/N’s mom is a psychologist.”

“What is with people in this town and leaving important documents just laying around?” You murmured.

“You can’t be serious,” Sidney said, interrupting you. “How…?”

“Why do you think she got fired?” Amber looked at you. “For sleeping with a patient. With Stu. C’mon, Sidney, I thought by now you were used to secret family members appearing out of nowhere.”

“So that’s it?” Gale asked. “You find some papers and you decide to start killing people?”

“No!” Amber said. You flinched at the scream. “No. Of course not. I had to check everything. This was too big to just say unless I knew for sure. So I investigated, and once I was sure, I searched for a partner online. Someone who would appreciate this plot. Someone who would know how important Stu Macher being alive truly was,” she eyed Richie, on the ground with blood slowly escaping his body.

“Plot? This isn’t a fucking movie!” Gale said.

“It will be, one day. The two daughters of the first Woodsboro massacre killers, facing off each other. Isn’t it perfect?” Amber turned to look at Sam. “Spoiler alert, you lose.”

“You’re sick in the head,” Sidney said. “You know the danger you’re putting her in? People are going to chase her like they will with Sam.”

“But Sam doesn’t have me,” Amber said. “I’m always going to be there to protect Y/N. Always.”

“Not if I kill you,” Gale said. Within a second, she was up, taking advantage of the surprise movement to throw Amber to the ground. Sidney got up next, grabbing a knife to cut the rope, and Sam, to your surprise, ran out of the kitchen and upstairs. You watched everything unfold before your eyes landed on the gun that had once again fallen.

“Stop!” You screamed, gun in hand as you pointed it at the three women. 

Amber had Gale by the hair and Sidney had the knife in her hand, raised to stab Amber in the chest.

“Baby,” Amber said, pushing Gale into Sidney’s body. “Lower the gun.”

“Y/N,” it was Sidney this time, looking at you hesitantly. As if you were going to shoot her. Were you? “Don’t listen to Amber. You can’t be sure.”

“I would never lie to her,” Amber said. She turned her face to look at you. “You know I wouldn’t. You know it, baby. I’ve told you nothing but the truth.”

Your hands shook, but you didn’t lower the gun.

“I love you,” Amber said, in that soft voice you only heard late at night, head pressed on her neck while she ran her hands through your hair. “I’ve done this for you, so you could be the new Sidney— so you wouldn’t have to live under the shadow of Samantha.”

“Am…”

“She’s lying,” Gale said. “Once this is over, the moment you do something she doesn’t like you’ll be next.”

“I’d never hurt her,” Amber said through gritted teeth, grabbing Gale by the shirt. “I’ve done nothing but take care of her.”

You knew your time was running out. Sam had probably opened the guest room upstairs already, and once she was done checking in on Tara, she would come back, more than likely with a weapon. She would be ready to kill Amber, and Sidney and Gale will help her.

Did you want them to kill her? Was it an honor reserved just for you?

Were you going to kill everyone but Amber, and save her?

You weren’t sure, not as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, getting ready for your next move. Still, you pulled the trigger and hoped to god you had made the right choice.

[christinebloodwrittings]

I ran into this little darling who wanted this as a request, and I just couldn't help myself hehe, my Hobie Brown brainrot is huge xD

So I hope you enjoy it, I suck at writing his accent so, I'm sorry in advance hehe, and also Y/n is always the victim so let's shake things up a bit.

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, unwanted drug, p in v, oral, cursing, a very drugged Hobie.

Words: 2530

Summary: Everything was going great at the concert until he went against a very dangerous perfume.

You've never felt comfortable or safe among so many people, especially in a space as small as the bars where he usually plays. But there you were, supporting him as always.

At some point in the evening, thirst had invaded you, so you asked the bartender for some water or soda, who gladly served it to you and so far so good.

"Hey beautiful, how was it?" Hobie had pushed his way through the crowd and groupies to the chair where you'd cornered to watch him play. "Loud and protestant, perfect" with emotion he hugged you, pressing your whole body against his chest, his chin resting on your head.

"I'm goin' to go to the back, store some things with the band, I'll be back to pick you up in a bit, 'kay?" Despite the fact that nothing between you and Hobie was formalized, there was a lot of affection and consideration towards the other, however he always presented you as his friend.

And how much it hurt

He always came to your rescue when some jerk made a move on you, but after that you were just his friend, and he did it because he had your back, but nothing more.

That was really getting old.

Hobie made his way through the fans again, when a girl dressed in leather and a mini stopped him, one of her hands took his face, the other grabbed the back of his neck to force him to bend him down to kiss him, but he resisted, separated from the girl's hands with a push, and he moved away fast.

After managing to get past the stage, he tripped on his feet, his mind was all over the place and his spider-sense told him something was awfully wrong. A cold feeling caught on his neck, panic crawled up his spine, he put his fingers to the back of his neck, scooping up some of a watery, clear liquid, it had a nice smell so he just assumed it was the girl's cologne.

He was in denial, so he just wanted to think there was a raid outside and he´ll have to take you round the back so you wouldn't be hurt by mistake. He didn't exactly convinced himself but it was enough to get him a bit calmed through the whole packing the band stuff up.

Right at the end, when he was picking his makeup supplies off, his sense froze him up and made him look up, in the mirror he caught on the sight of the girl that had tried to make a move on him.

The fans were leaving, soon the place was empty, Hobie was taking a lot of time more than usual, thus why you began to worry and why you went to the dressing room to find him.

That was the moment when you saw his panic eyes and the girl attempting to get her tongue down her throat. "Get the fuck away from him, bitch!" you pulled her hair and punched her on the gut to get her out of movements.

"You're my savior" he put his arm around you, being that the only way he could make a decent step, "Get out of the way whore, it will last long after I'm finished with him, then you can get your way with him" she stood up hardly, but didn't approached further, since you got out a taser, "You know, I bet no one will miss you if I just shock your senses into oblivion and toss your bitch body into the garbage" she opened her eyes to your lashing and stood there.

With a few extra help from members of the band, they managed to get him to your place in one piece, you weren't going to let him go off alone in that state.

That's when you understood, she drugged him somehow. "It's okay, Hobs, let's get you in the shower" cold water seemed to be the less weird way to handle his condition.

His hand found yours, pulling by it you hit his chest, looking up you found his face all blushed and sweaty, "It's okay, it will wear itself off, just stay" you cupped his face with your free hand, he leaned over your touch with his eyes closed, "Please?" His voice was so smooth and whiny, never in your life have you seen him like that.

"I'll stay, let's get you into something more comfortable ok?" He nodded, lazily getting out of his leather jacket and vest, leaving you to slip away his shirt, "Woah baby, if ya' wanted to get me naked, you should've asked" he had a shit eating grin, ear to ear, "Shut up, you're out of your senses" you folded the shirt lazily and left it on a chair he has discarded on a corner, so did his pants and socks, it seemed to you that removing his underwear was going a little too far, so you ignored them.

You tried to guide him to the bathroom, but he just wouldn't move from the bed, "C'mon Hobs, let's go" he refused with a whine, so you leave him there to go fill up the tub in the meantime.

You figured he would be in a different disposition when you returned to the room. A couple of minutes went by, *he probably passed out asleep* you hoped, but as soon as you opened the door of the bathroom, the sound of his moans filled your ears.

"Ah~ Y/N~♡" you couldn't believe what was happening. Taking a quick peek at him you noticed his boxers were discarded somewhere in the room, and he was stroking himself, his rather large self.

And moaning your name, *Oh God, please tell me this is a test! * heat was crawling up from your legs to your face, his moans were incredibly sexy and erotic, that was going to be well fit material for a lot of nights in the future.

"Y/n please, I need you, pretty please darling~♡" He sounded so desperate. You stepped outside the bathroom, and as soon as his eyes caught sight of you, a loving smile was painted on his face.

"I'm in a tight conundrum" he fought with his own tongue to word that out coherently, but you understood, "I feel like I'm taking advantage of you" He shook his head, making grab gestures with his hands.

As soon as you were in within his reach, he pulled you into his lap, emitting a hiss when your pelvis brushed his hard dick. "Please, I need you" He peppered kisses under your jaw and cheek, every contact on his lips and his piercing made you shiver.

His hands found the hem of your shirt, toyed with it for a second before looking up into your eyes for permission, after your embarrassed nod, he pulled it off, carelessly taking your bra as well and throwing both items away.

He started by nibbling at your collarbone, leaving small red marks along his way up to your neck. "I've wanted to do this for a long time" He panted, biting softly at your earlobe making you shift on his lap.

"You're so beautiful, so sweet, so lovely, you're always there for me" he said before kissing you, taking full control of your mouth. His hand circled your waist and the other held your neck in place, making you melt into the kiss. He then tilted his head back a bit, taking in the way you looked.

The he pulled up your shirt, he was clumsy while at it, so you finished for him, the bra following it into the darkness of a corner. The festival of kisses and bites started from your neck to every inch of your collarbone, working his way down to capture a nipple in between his lips.

His hands rocked your hips against his bulge, making his voice sing with moans and sighs, calling your name.

"I need you to say it"

"What?"

"I love you too much, say I can do this"

"Do it Hobie"

He released you, reluctantly. You tried to put yourself in a comfortable position, so you got rid of your jeans, his eyes followed each of your movements, even more so when you stood next to him.

"Where do you want me?" He didn't think twice, he pulled you by the waist to accommodate you, with his muscular body on top of yours. It was kind of silly, saying that, but with the few sexual experiences you'd had, none of them 100 percent complete, you really didn't know what to say or do. He, even in his drugged and frenzied state, noticed your shivering hands and how much you avoided looking into his eyes.

"I wish I could make it slow and special for you, but I don't feel like myself" you agreed, it's what you could do, the truth, you were uncomfortable because of the situation, the heat, not that any of those factors made you forget to have a condom nearby.

As he sensually kissed your neck, his fingers worked to open you up, slow and steady movements, his thumb brushing against your clit from time to time. Your senses were being attacked simultaneously, his teeth and his mouth sucking at the skin of your neck, and his fingers caressing your G-spot with the dexterity of a guitar player. Your back arched against his torso, an opportunity he took to hold your waist with his arm and lead you to sit on his lap, his hand still pleasing.

"Hobs, I need you" you whined, he smiled, mouth still latching down your neck, leaving several red spots along the way. Your legs were straddling his hips as he helped you get down on his dick, the length and thickness made you squirm and stop midways, he always reassured you, “You’re doing it very good, my love, just a little bit more, I’ll let you accommodate to it” speaking sweetly, brushing your hair away from your face and caressing your cheek.

When it was all the way in, very painfully so, he didn’t made any single attempt to move or you on it, he wanted to wait for you to be ready. As soon as you were, giving that you were rocking your hips slightly, he started pulling you up and down at a slow pace.

Moans and whines were filling the room, “Fuck, you feel so good” he bit gently into your shoulder, “I’m gonna lay you down princess, I need a-“, you pointed to your night stand, “Prepared are we?” he purred as he softly put you down on the covers, grabbed the condom and put it on.

“You can be more aggressive if you need” your voice came out almost as a whisper, but he caught it anyways, “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just want it to be decent” he was holding back, “Hobie, we need to get the drug out, please” Bad way for you to find out, but he had a creative thought, without thinking twice, he put your hands on your head and used his webs to tie your wrists together. Obviously your thoughts were snatched away when he propped inside again, soon the fact that he was Spider-Punk was long forgotten.

His pace accelerated, your whole body tensed up and you just wanted to be connected to him, you just wanted to keep kissing him, hugging him, if it ended and you were never like that with him again, you wouldn't know what to do. You just wanted to be like this with him, hitting every place that mattered, sending electric shocks through your body.

At some point you seemed to have passed out, but the change of position woke you straight up. On your fours, his hands pushed his shaft right into you by your hips, then he pulled you up, his arm working like an anchor across your chest, which by the way, was covered in saliva, red spots and bite marks, and so will your back as soon as he is over with it.

He wasn’t behind with the hickeys, you subconsciously left him lots of open mouth kisses, bites, he was fairly happy with each and every one.

“I know you’re tired, my love, but I’m almost there” your moans didn’t even sounded as such, they were grunts, sloppy non sexy at all choked grunts. You guys started around eleven, by the time he was almost there the clock marked three in the morning.

He finally came inside the condom, the one that by some miracle stayed on and unbroken though all the abuse the thick shaft made in your insides. Speaking of which, he was considerate enough to come out of you carefully and lovingly accommodate your body into his.

“Thank you, love” he slurred the words, his body was so big next to yours, so he easily surrounded you, arms around you, legs intertwined, he wanted all you to be with all of him.  

“How do you feel?” your voice was hoarse, “Better, tired, you?” you made a sound, it confirmed to him that you were the same as him.

"I'm still very on, I wanna eat you out" he hugged you tightly, "Maybe let me sleep a bit and then you wake me up with your face in between my legs" he laughed at you, "I'll take you up on that, love".

Around seven pinches on the insides of your thighs woke you up, turns up he really was in between your legs, hickeys adorning both inner thighs, "Good mornin' luv" he wasn't drugged anymore, just horny and hungry, giving on how he was licking and grinning.

Your back arched as soon as your brain connected with the rest of your senses, "Hobie, jeez fuck! Too damn early" you whined, getting hold of his hair, "I just obliged to your wishes" the vibrations made the assault even more intense.

"Don't talk with your mouth full" he was kind of liking the slight yanking you were taking on his hair, furthermore the tremble down your legs as you came.

"I love your sounds" he crawled up your body, gently laying down on top of you, his weight never fully on you though, he was careful, and his head fell down on the crook of your neck.

"Thank you for last night" he laced his voice with kisses behind your ear, "No problem, now please for fucks sake, sleep" he chuckled at your groggy voice, "I meant it, by the way" given your lack of response he pulled his body off of you for a bit, just to get a fair look at you face when he spoke those words that died already to come off his lips again.

"I love you" and then he smiled.

"And I love you" somehow, him being all bare for you, your case as well, made the confession deeper.

"Just so you know, you're trapped now, I'm not letting you go now" his smirk made you giggle a little, "Good, there's just nowhere I rather be than here...with you".

The end.

[brooooswriting]

hey babes. what about prompts 4, 20, 23, and 69 with tara carpenter. just looking for some hurt comfort with reader taking care/being protective over tara. thanks

4. “If I could, I would kiss all your scars away”

20. “How did you get this scar?”

23. “If even one of them touches you again, I’ll make sure they aren’t able to ever again”

69. “You’re not your past”

When you first met Tara you’d never heard about the ghost face attacks. Since your parents had a clear plan for your life, ace all your classes, do football to get a scholarship etc., you were living in your own small world.

You met Tara a bit after college start, she was in her first year while you were in your second. She was helplessly wandering around one time which was the first time you had seen her without her ‘bodyguards’ as you liked to call them. These two brunette people were always with her making it nearly impossible for you to make a move. At least until that day. You finally talked to her, offering her to walk her to her lecture.

You were the first person in months that had talked to Tara that did not want to know about the attacks and ghostface which was honestly quite refreshing. And that is how you two ended up in a relationship.

Sam doubted your innocence at first, not believing that you didn’t know about the attacks but Anika, who always knew everybody, talked to some of your friends who told her that you really were just that clueless.

So Sam started to accept you to the point where you were allowed to sleep over. That was the first time you had seen the brunette in shorter clothes as you met in the winter but the apartment was quite warm especially under the thousand blankets Tara wanted to sleep under. After you also changed into some shorts and a shirt you laid down flat on your back, Tara coming to lay against you on of her legs on top of yours, her arm wrapped around your middle and her head on your shoulder. You were quick to wrap your arm around her middle, your hand rubbing over her side and back while you watched a movie.

At some point your hand went over some scars making Tara tense up noticeably. To calm her you pressed a soft kiss to her head before sitting up a bit, you had seen the scar on her hand even before you started to date and you had counted at least four more on her back and it started to worry you.

“How’d you get these scars love?” You asked once you were leaning against the headboard. Your voice was soft and reassuring as your hand rubbed over her arm in a comforting manner.

The deep sigh tara let out and the way she sat up told you that this was going to be a long and uncomfortable discussion. But once you saw the look in her eyes you knew that it was a hard topic for her, so you opened your hand closest to her and put it on your leg giving her the opportunity to grab it for comfort whenever she wanted. “So you know where I originally come from right?” She asked you and you nodded, she had told you once very briefly before changing the topic.

“Okay, have you ever heard of ghostface?” She continued to ask, giving you a moment to think.

“Isn’t that like the villain of a horror movie or something?” The brunette in front of you chuckled lightly, wishing that she was as innocent as you were.

“Kinda yeah, but the movie is based on an actual story. All of these attacks happened in my hometown, the first ghostfaces were Billy loomis as Stu Macher. They tried to kill Billy’s girlfriend but ended up dead, since then every couple of years new people try to.. you know” she explained, her eyes fixating on the blanket that rested on top of her legs.

“Oh god, Tara. I’m so sorry, were you…?” You weren’t quite sure how to formulate what you wanted to ask but luckily for you Tara knew what you wanted to know.

“Last year it turned out that Sam’s father is Billy loomis and that made us to the top victims. So many of my friends died as… Sam’s boyfriend and my best friend decided to be the new ghostfaces. My own childhood best friend tried to kill me several times by stabbing me several times. Hence the scars” you could see some tears rolling down the younger girls face while yours was red with anger. Now it finally made sense why they wouldn’t leave Tara alone and why Sam was suspicious of you at first.

“I’m so so sorry my love, you should have never had to live through something like this. You’re so strong I hope you know that” you reassured her, your hand carefully stroking her leg.

“That isn’t all” she paused making you stop caressing her leg as you didn’t want to overwhelm her “I killed her. She tried to kill Sam again and I- I just… I shot her” she chocked out making you immediately take her into your arms, softly shushing her cries.

“It’s okay, you’re okay and Sam is okay. Everything’s fine” you whispered over and over again.

“Please don’t leave me, promise me you won’t leave me” she mumbled into the hug making you tighten your grip on her and place soft kisses on top of her head.

“I won’t. You’re not a bad person Tear bear, you’re not your past alright?! You did what you had to do to protect your family and there’s nothing wrong with that. You didn’t want to shoot her because you thought it would be fun, you did it in defense” her sobs started to calm making you take a deep breath in relief.

“And you know what?” You asked as you titled her head up so she would look at you “I’ll even do you one better than just promising you not to leave. If even one of them touches you again, I’ll make sure they aren’t able to ever again. I will promise you that too” you shot her a soft smile which she returned making your heart beat even faster.

Once she was better you laid back down and pulled her with you so she was in the same position as before. But this time you grabbed her hand with the scar on yours and brought it to your lips, pressing soft kisses to the length of it. “You know, if I could I’d kiss all your scars away” you both grinned at each other with a love sick smile before Tara leaned up to press several soft kisses to your lips. Once she was done she put her head back on your shoulder and closed her eyes, you doing the same.

And for the first night in forever, Tara felt save. Your strong arms around her made her feel like she was invisible. Oh how she hoped that you weren’t just a second Amber…

[bethanydelleman]

Writing Villains (Advice from Jane Austen)

One of the reasons that I find Jane Austen's novels so wonderful is that they have amazingly realistic villains, some that are fully fleshed out characters. Austen's biggest strength is that she gives her villains clear, logical motives. In fact, for many of her villainous characters you can turn the entire story around and see a rational story from the other side.

For example, Lucy Steele. She doesn't attack Elinor out of mindless evil, but because Edward Ferrars is her golden ticket to wealth and she knows that Edward loves Elinor. Lucy might twist the knife a little on Elinor out of sadism, but generally she attacks Elinor in an attempt to secure Edward. When it comes to other characters, Lucy is overly sweet if she wants something from them, otherwise she acts normally. As an example, she leaves Marianne alone because Marianne is not competing for Edward and also can't do anything for Lucy. Anne, Lucy's sister, likes her. Lucy has friends and family she stays with, she's a fairly well-rounded person.

You can put yourself in Lucy's shoes, you can turn the entire narrative on it's head and play it out from her perspective and it would make complete sense. You could even make Lucy sympathetic! She probably sees herself as a hardworking underdog, trying to wrest her one chance at prosperity away from the conniving Elinor Dashwood. I'm sure she thinks the pain she causes Elinor is justified.

If you can't do that with your villains, then there is a good chance they are just evil for evil's sake. I picked Lucy Steele on purpose because I hate when the entire motivation for a antagonist female character is "bitches be crazy". Bitches may be mean, but almost always for a good reason.

Even Mrs. Norris, who is probably the most cruel of Austen's female villains, can be perspective switched. Her life is about being useful to the Bertram family so she can feel important because her married status/wealth is lower than she wished. As she must always be deferential towards the Bertrams, she takes out her negative emotions on those below her, the servants and Fanny, while also showing off how good she is at "managing" those people. (And yes, she is your childhood bully)

We often hear her perspective and she clearly sees herself as a useful part of the family and a defender of Sir Thomas's wealth. She thinks she's a good person! Which is also an important point: most people doing wrong do not believe that they are doing wrong. That is what really makes a villain scary. Mrs. Norris thinks she's helping Fanny in a very twisted way by teaching Fanny her station in life. If you asked her, she'd give you a self-justified answer and she'd probably actually believe it.

Another way to do a good villain is to just make a person very selfish. Henry Crawford doesn't sit around all day laughing about how much pain he causes women, he doesn't think about it. He only thinks about the fun of flirting for himself, not the harm to others. The glimpses we get into her perspective are not cruel at all. It's the same with Willougby, he thinks only of his own pleasure and tries very hard to ignore that he has crushed Marianne and destroyed Eliza Williams. When he is forced to accept that people were hurt, he blames everyone but himself.

Wickham thinks that he's a victim, Caroline Bingley is ambitious and doesn't care who she steps on to get to the top, Mr. Elton is insulted that Emma could even dream he's a match with Harriet but he can't touch Emma so he punches down at Harriet. They all make sense, they all probably believe that their actions are justified.

Also, imagine taking the heroine/hero right out of the story, would the villain still act the same way? If Anne didn't exist, Mr. Elliot would still try to bring himself into the Elliot family because he was afraid of losing the title. If Elizabeth didn't exist, Wickham would have had another favourite in Meryton. If Fanny didn't exist, Mrs. Norris would have found some other puppy to kick. The villains don't just appear for the plot of the main characters, they have their own reasons for moving around and messing shit up.

Lastly, explaining but not excusing (though unfortunately some people will excuse anyway but that's not your fault). Mary Crawford is mercenary and doesn't seem to believe that love is even a real thing. It's pointed out several times in the novel that her defects have to do with being raised in an immoral environment and a broken home. She was taught by her aunt to marry for wealth and disregard love. Austen doesn't excuse Mary, she doesn't give her a happy ending, but she does explain how she came to be. She's not just greedy, she has been taught that wealth is the best recipe for happiness. As an adult now, it is her responsibility to question that maxim or remain a villain.

Austen wrote amazing morally grey characters and "villains" (a term I used a little liberally here, some of them probably only count as antagonists, not full blown villains). I love how real and human she made her characters, it's something I aspire to myself!

Linking my Caroline rant because it's related, people remove her motives so often and flatten her into a "bitches be crazy".

[diagnosedpsychosis]

Hidden Feelings

Description: The reader has a thing for her boss, but is too oblivious to see the feelings are reciprocated.

Word Count: 1.7k

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Like the cliché it was, everyone could feel and see the tension between you and Hotch, except for the two of you. The lingering stares, the inevitable smiles when the other looked away, you and Hotch were drawn to each other like a moth to a flame, a very blind, very oblivious moth.

It always managed to work out perfectly that the moment you looked away from Hotch, his eyes would subtly shift over to you and where you sat. From his office looking out at you in the bullpen, on the jet, even in the rear view of the suburban, Hotch loved looking at you.

He loved the way your full lips curved up and the lines beside your mouth as you smiled. He loved your eyes and how you subconsciously batted your eyelashes at him anytime he stood above you. He loved all your little mannerisms, and that he was usually able to read you as if he was in your mind listening to your thoughts, feeling your emotions.

He loved your little quirks and the fact you were the kind of person that'd actually 'touch wood' to protect yourself from bad luck. He loved the fact you'd always smile and wish a person you passed on the footpath a good day, before taking a big step so that between each square pavement you'd have taken exactly three steps, because two was too little and four were too many.

He loved the fact you always kept change in your purse, and that whenever you saw a gumball machine at the front of a store, you'd stop, pull out a coin, slot it in and turn it until one popped out the bottom. And then if the gumball was orange you'd hand it to him, leaving him no time to turn it down before you were getting another one. He liked the colour orange and he loved that you knew it.

He loved it when you noticed the number '64' in everyday life, because it was your favourite number, and you'd always point it out.

'Half of 64 is 32. Half of 32 is 16. Half of 16 is 8. Half of 8 is 4. And half of 4 is 2' You would always say. You loved even numbers, and whenever Spencer made the comment that half of 2 was 1, an odd number, Hotch loved watching you smack the back of his head. He also loved that not too long after he'd catch you apologising to Spencer for hitting him.

But what Hotch loved the most about you, was how late at night, when it was just the two of you alone in the office, you would always accidentally first name slip. He loved when you would accidentally call him Aaron, but he loved the way you'd stutter and apologise, face red and flushed in embarrassment, even more.

There wasn't a single thing, good or bad, about you that Hotch didn't absolutely adore about you. Sometimes you got too emotionally involved in a case which wasn't a particularly good thing, but it made you work extra hard, and it always made you the perfect person to talk to a victims family. You were insanely empathetic, and felt for another person like they were your twin.

Sometimes you'd let people walk all over you, but after a conversation with somebody like Hotch or Rossi, and even sometimes JJ about standing up for yourself and being true to what you feel and believe, you'd come back harder than ever. You'd grow a backbone 10 times stronger and Hotch genuinely adored watching you evolve.

Hotch loved you more than anything, that much was clear, but he didn't take it that way. He didn't think he could love somebody he wasn't actually involved with, but he certainly knew he's admired you to no end and that if you were to fall off a cliff, he'd jump off after you. He loved you.

You thought Hotch saw you, purely as another acquaintance, a subordinate he was on a team with, but you couldn't be more wrong. To be fair, you had a hard time at reading him more than you did anyone else. His face always remained passive. He didn't smile much, and whenever you did catch each others eye he would be quick to break eye contact. But when you did catch him looking at you longer than usual, it seemed more like he was looking through you, when in reality, he was daydreaming about you.

It was another late night at the office, and you'd been busting your butt on completing the case file from the murders you and the team just solved. You'd gotten to emotionally involved again. Nothing bad happened, in fact it made you find the unsub faster because your mind had been running a thousand miles an hour, but you knew you shouldn't have, because being so invested in a case doesn't always end the way it did this time.

Sometimes it helps, sometimes it jeopardises things.

Almost falling asleep, you stood up and headed towards the kitchen, needing a fix of coffee. Finish the case file and go, that way you could sleep in a little bit whilst everyone else completed it in the morning. But you were surprised to find out you hadn't actually been alone in the office all night. Sitting at one of the small tables in the kitchen was Hotch.

"If you'd rather migrate to the kitchen table I'll happily steal your office from you" Hotch knew you were in the office somewhere, but he hadn't expected you to come into the kitchen where he sat. He looked up from the case file he was working on, and immediately the sight of your smile warmed his chest. What he didn't know, was the sight of his smile in greeting did the exact same thing to you.

Pointing the tip of his pen up to the roof, he finally spoke. "The fluorescent lighting is keeping me awake."

"I think going home might work better" You stated, walking over to the coffee pot to make a fresh batch.

"You ever think about taking your own advice?" You glanced over your shoulder and grinned at Hotch, finding him still watching you, his pen on the table. He was giving you his full attention and whilst it made you nervous, you couldn't deny the way it warmed you.

"My logic behind it is if I finish the case file now, it means whilst everyone else is doing theirs tomorrow I can sleep in" Hotch snorted at your explanation.

"You certainly deserve one. You did good, really good" You turned back towards him, leaning your back against the bench. You placed your hands on either side of you, eyes locked with Hotch as you frowned slightly.

"Yeah?" Your voice was so soft and unsure, all Hotch wanted to do was protect you at all costs, all day every day forever. He slowly nodded his head, his smile warming your body and drowning out your worries.

"Yeah, y/n. You did" He replied, the soft gaze of his pulling a sigh from you. You had been doubting yourself and your judgement on the case since the second you felt your emotions expand. Getting reassurance, and from Hotch, meant everything.

"I know I got a bit emotionally involved-"

"And because you did we found the unsub, and Emma Harlan alive. You should be proud of yourself" You grinned.

"And the team" Hotch scoffed.

"Sweetheart, the team would be nothing without you. This isn't our victory, it's yours" Your cheeks flushed as you looked down at the ground, struggling to take the compliment and push aside the fact he'd just called you sweetheart. You wanted to heart it again and again until you got sick of it, but you don't think you ever would.

"Thank you, Sir" You mumbled softly, Hotch shaking his head ever so slowly, the expression on his face unreadable as he stared at you. You wished he felt what you felt every time you looked at him, little did you know he did, and more.

"Aaron...just Aaron" The kitchen went silent, the two of you unable to look away from the other. You could feel it, the tension, and you were sure he could feel it too. No two people, who are purely acquaintances look and breathe that way around each other.

"Thank you, Aaron."

"Are you vegetarian?" The question caught you off guard and confused you beyond belief. How did that have anything to do what what the two of you had been doing and talking about.

"Pardon?" You asked again, just making sure you hadn't heard him wrong.

"Are you vegetarian?" Slowly, you smiled and chuckled, shaking your head in a 'no'. You certainly were not a vegetarian, and you knew Aaron knew that, but you didn't know why he was asking so.

"No. Never."

"This kebab joint opened up just down the road from my place. I've been meaning to try it out, but I haven't really had the time, or any good company. Sometime, would you...maybe want to...." Aaron trailed off, hoping you caught his drift. You did. Your cheeks flushed which made Aaron's smile burn brighter. Was this the easiest way he thought to ask you out? Ask if you're a vegetarian, knowing your not, and using that as leeway into asking you out for food? It didn't matter how he did it, you just couldn't believe he was asking you out. It had been a dream come true for years now that he was finally doing it, it felt like a dream.

You quickly nodded your head, Aaron's shoulders sagging in relief as your smile stretched wider despite you biting down on your bottom lip. "Yeah, yes."

"Alright. Friday?" You nodded quickly again, filling your mug with coffee before backing away towards the door, needing to leave before you screamed and then collapsed in front of him.

"It's a date" You said, leaning against the door as Aaron smiled, slowly nodding his head as he repeated after you, in disbelief he had finally worked up the courage to ask you out after years of fawning over you.

"It's a date."

[zepp-l1n]

The Same

Pairing: Daniel Matthews x Fem!reader

summary: Daniel meets someone in the same boat as him at a "Jigsaw victim therapy group" session. fic type - hurt/comfort, post Saw 2, fluff?? warning - 2000s emo x 2000s emo, canon level Saw violence, both reader and Daniel have PTSD, mentions of past drug use, mentions of body scarring from the traps, self harm (??) word count - 1,779 a/n: hiiii! sorry my posting has been kinda off and on for the past few months, but I'm hoping now that school and my personal schedule is a little more chill, I'll be able to write and post more often. <3 (also, what's up with the lack of Daniel fics?)

Group therapy wasn't Daniel's idea. He knew he needed to talk about the things he had gone through and seen, which is why he had originally gone to one-on-one therapy, but when his therapist had suggested joining Bobby Dagen's group he had been very apprehensive. At first, Daniel had been very against the idea. He found Bobby very pretentious and overzealous, and the entire "Jigsaw victim therapy group" to be a scam for Bobby's fan's entertainment. For months his therapist and his mother brought up the group again and again, leading to Daniel finally deciding to go in the hopes of getting them to shut up about it.

Now, Daniel found himself in the room Bobby would rent out for each session. They were all sitting side by side in the formation of a circle, letting each person have a clear view of everyone else. Not one person in the room, other than bobby, looked elated to be there.

Daniel sat in his folded out seat, arms crossed and head turned downward. So far, the entire experience had been uncomfortable. Bobby had gone on one of his regularly scheduled "We should be grateful!" spiels, and multiple people had shared their sob-stories. For 30 minuets Daniel had to endure the same arguments and conversations over and over. He sat in silence, never once making himself known - choosing to sit and pick at his black, long-sleeved undershirt the entire time.

Daniel had been so focused on his own thoughts that when he finally glanced back up, he noticed all the eyes on him. "Daniel?" Bobby called out.

"Hmm?" his reply was short and uninterested.

"I asked if you would like to share your story with the others. Would you?" Bobby asked. The smile he gave Daniel as he spoke made him divert his eyes. Daniel shrugged, not knowing if he truly wanted to. "If you'd like to wait that's okay. Whenever you're ready, Daniel."

The other's diverted their attention to Luba afterwards, taking in her story. Daniel silently listened, just waiting for the session to be over. They continued this way, story after story, until the door swung open, creating a loud noise. In it's opening was a girl, presumably around Daniel's age from what he could see.

"Ah, (Y/N), nice of you to finally join us." Bobby sarcastically spoke.

The teen stepped into the room, waving at a man in the corner that Daniel hadn't noticed before, and continued towards the circle. The silver chain hanging from her belt loops lightly rattled against her black cargo-jeans as she walked his way. "Oh shut up, Bobby. Some of us have lives outside the whole Jigsaw shit." she scoffed, her eyeliner covered eyes glaring at the older man. The girl, (Y/N) as Daniel her Bobby call her, took a open seat a few chairs down from Daniel, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a wave of her ringed hand before turning towards the others.

"Now, now, (Y/N). There's no need for hostility here - we're all the same." Bobby cheerfully stated, causing the girl to roll her eyes. "Here, since you missed when everyone else did it, why don't you introduce yourself to out newest member. This is Daniel." his arm directed (Y/N)'s eyes to her fellow teen.

(Y/N)'s dark-red lips turned up into a forced smile before she spoke. "Hi, I'm (Y/N). I'm the girl who was found a week after a trap that wasn't even hers, half dead and tied to the mutilated corpse of her sister. Nice to meet you!" The smile dropped immediately after she finished her sentence.

"Sorry Daniel. Just ignore her. She's still a little apprehensive to be doing this." Daniel awkwardly nodded at Bobby's explanation. "Good, now why don't we continue..." Daniel couldn't focus on Bobby as he spoke - his attention was solely caught on (Y/N)'s appearance. On top of the jeans and chain, she also had a shirt similar to what he would usually wear. It was red and white, and he could tell it was showing some kind of band-logo, but he couldn't get a clear enough look to tell what band. Glancing down at his own white t-shirt, he caught similarities between the two, finally realizing who it was. "Wrath of the Gods." he whispered.

(Y/N)'s head lightly turned her head, seemingly asking him to repeat himself.

"Your shirt. It's 'Wrath of the Gods' - like mine." he lightly smiled. "You like them?"

She glances down, taking in her own shirt and then his. "Huh... Yeah, my sister, she uh, introduced me to their music a few years ago. This was her shirt actually; she gave me it when she got a new one before the trap."

"Sounds like she was pretty cool." Daniel muttered. By this point, (Y/N) had moved over a seat so they could talk without bothering any of the others.

She smiled before whispering back, "She was."

Now that she was closer, Daniel could see the scarring on her face, neck, arms, and hands. He couldn't help but wonder what she fully went through if that was the result of her trap. It also made him wonder if the same scarring would cascade down her legs and torso too. Did the scarring all look the same; how many were there; were some more gory than others? Hundreds of questions flew through his mind as he looked at her.

"How'd you get them?" Daniel didn't even register the fact that he had spoken.

"Huh?" (Y/N) whispered.

"Sorry, uh, your scars. If you don't mind me asking, how'd you get them? I mean, you don't have to tell me. Y'know, I don't want to cross any boundar-" Daniel's rant was cut off by (Y/N).

"It's fine, Daniel." she sighed, giving him a sad smile. "I got these during my sister's 'game'"

"Your sister's game?" Daniel asked, hoping she would clarify.

(Y/N) looked over at the others, making sure no one was bothered by their conversation, before continuing. "Yeah. My sister was the one being tested. It was my fault, but she was the one who got the consequences." she paused, taking a moment to fully think about how to explain her experience. "My parents died when I was little, and my sister had turned 18 a few weeks before they did. After that, she took me in; became my legal guardian, y'know. She was a nurse too, so a lot of the time I was either by myself or out with friends. When my friend Amy finally got her learners, we went out one evening and ended up in an accident. That led to me being on a shit-ton of pain meds, and eventually I got hooked. It was really bad. Jane, my sister, had access to a lot of pain medication, and I used that against her. I begged for weeks for her to steal me them. She, uh... She eventually couldn't take seeing me so bad, so she broke a lot of rules and brought me some. I guess Jigsaw found out, and he thought I was pulling her down. When he took us, his whole argument in the tape was that I was bad for her, and if she got rid of her baggage - me - then she'd be free and would go places in life. If she didn't get rid of me, she'd die." Once again, (Y/N) paused, collecting herself. "He had us tied together to this weird chair set up. It was on these rails, and in front of either of us were these things I could only describe as 'the open-faced turkey sandwich version of a woodchipper'. She was supposed to kill me - push me into mine. I begged and pleaded for her to just do it, cause, I mean, he was right. I was the only bad thing in her life. She would've been better off without me."

"If she died, and didn't want to hurt you, then how did you end up with all the scars?" Daniel quietly asked.

"I did it to myself." Daniel's eyes widened at how casually she said it. "She wouldn't push back and put me into the woodchipper, so I did it myself. I put my feet on the edges of the rails and pushed myself forwards into it. I got close enough to cut myself up a bit. I thought I was gonna save her." (Y/N)'s eyes began to water, and she quickly wiped it away. "Jane was always stronger than me, though. She pulled back and kept us at the midpoint. We were there when the timer went off. I guess it was motorized, cause when the timer went off, we moved backwards. Jane went straight into it. There was nothing I could do but sit there and listen to her screams. Jigsaw and his little groupies never came for me. I was supposed to die, so they left me there. For about a week I was strapped to the trap and what was left of my sister, out of it from blood loss, hunger, and dehydration. Some homeless guy eventually found everything and called the police."

"Wow..." Daniel muttered.

"Yeah, I know." (Y/N) hesitantly chuckled. "Since then I've been doing two sessions of regular therapy a week, this, and rehab."

As she finished her sentence, Bobby loudly spoke up. "Alright guys, today was great! It is time we wrap up though. I hope to see everyone again next week, and I hope you have a great rest of your week." The two teens watched as he walked back to the doorway of the room, stopping next to his wife, lawyer, bestfriend, and publicist.

"Well, I guess that's enough trauma dumping for today." (Y/N) glanced back over at Daniel. "Listen, uh, y'know, 'Wrath of the Gods' has a show this weekend. You should come, so we could hang out some more. To be honest, I need more friends who listen to music I like." she laughed.

Daniel grinned, "Yeah, why not?"

"Good, good." (Y/N) mumbled. "Listen, I gotta go, my foster dad picks me up from these things, but I'll see you this weekend."

"Yeah, yeah, see you later." he smiled. Daniel contently watched as she got up, and headed for the door.

As she got closer to the door, (Y/N) turned back around and waved at him. "Bye, Danny."

(Y/N) turned back around and exited, leaving Daniel to sit in the room alone, thinking over what had just happened. "Holy shit." he dramatically exhaled. Maybe coming to the "Jigsaw victim therapy group" wasn't that bad of an idea.

[odezsmi]

good n plenty

pairing: rin okumura + reader

warnings: light angst, hurt w/comfort

now playing 🎶 : good & plenty by alex isley, masego, + jack dine

an: hello !! this is my first time writing fics on tumblr ! while written elsewhere, i thought it would be amazing to try this out here now bc now or never lolol.

“You know you really don’t have to be here, right? feels like you’re monitoring me at this point.”

“Monitoring you? I can’t simply spend time with my boyfriend?”

The words came off as playful, but while his tone mirrored yours, you knew what he meant.

See, Rin Okumura eventually had come to terms with who he was. While it took a bit longer than he had wanted, he knew who he was inside and out.

Being Satan’s son was the heaviest burden anyone could carry, and Rin had fallen victim to that.

With every event that had transpired so far in his life, from the Blue Night to Kyoto and other following events he accepted the fact that he was Satan’s son.

Satan. A fallen angel, once radiant and powerful, who defied divine authority and was casted out of Heaven. A symbol of evil, human frailty even and the enemy of God. A being who sought to destroy God’s children and bring nothing but destruction.

But Rin Okumura?

Oh, nothing hurt more than to see how wrong people could be about this careful being.

Rin was anything but destructive. If anything, he’s more gentle than anyone you’ve ever met.

With the kindest words and the gentlest of gazes towards you, you never understood what it was about you that caught his eyes.

And each time you asked whether it be a joke or not, you were always met with his softness and light words.

“Because you see me.”

And that, made him more human and less of a spawn.

You saw him for his eccentric self, whether it’s over his cooking for him and his brother. Or how Kuro slept the previous night and he’s showing the 45 pictures he took.

Whether it be how he’s excited he’s invited out of a simple game of baseball with the other ex wires or an older woman took time out of her day to chat with him, you saw him for who he was.

Not what he was forced to be.

Sometimes though, the reminders of who he is catch up to him and he’s left shaken up with fear and doubt. The fear of his friends leaving him for good, of losing Yukio, or even losing you.

You received a call at 3 am and now you’re snuck into the dorms, not caring that he’s seeing you with crazed hair and your athletic-based pajamas.

“Plus it sounded like you realllllly wanted me here. Didn’t we just have a date? Didn’t know you’d miss me that much.” The cheesy grin was enough to make the boy scoff.

“Hey- I have a cat I can also talk to-“

“Who I can’t understand-“

“And go back into my super comfortable twin bed by myself. Well. With him too.”

It wasn’t long before you were laughing gently at his banter, reminding yourself Yukio was asleep down the hall.

If he were awake he’d certainly scold you two for being up so late.

“Well, can Kuro enjoy some nice chamomile tea and spend time with you like this?”

It was unfortunately also a late night with heavy storms, the drops pattering against the windows. It was loud and clear for the two of you, and you had managed to distract Rin for a bit from it (in case he felt guilty for making you come here).

As he glances over at a window from the empty cafeteria, you stare at his features for a bit and exhale through your nostrils.

What you would give to ease his troubles, to take away all of his fears and insecurities. It was a late night and he clearly had a nightmare, one which his friends had shunned and demeaned him for his heritage.

While not possible with all you guys have been through as exwires, who are you to dismiss that?

You’ll never understand the full extent of it, but you’ll be there as much as you can for him.

“Rin?”

His head turns from the window to look at you, a puzzled look on his features.

His expression was precious enough you’re already smiling, eyes crinkled and teeth showing. Thumb drawing patterns on the back of his hand, you hum.

“You’re… you’re so good. You’re just… a beautiful being.”

The words caught him off guard, and both of you sat in a moment of silence.

Him? Good?

Are you sure you’re talking about him?

“But-“

“You’re a gift from the universe, a blessing to many. You’re choosing a life for yourself, and defying anyone else who disagrees. Who tells you what you should be and what you are. Except…” You frown, and that worries him for a moment.

“I wish you saw how wonderful you are from my eyes.”

Wonderful.

Wonderful? All he can remember being called is aggressive, a brute, hell even a thug.

But a blessing? Wonderful? Satan would be laughing if he heard the formal.

But…

Hands withdrawing from him, you chuckle to yourself out of meekness. “Maybe that’s a bit much. Sorry if it was weird-“

Your words died in your throat when his arms engulfed you, yelping a little from the force. Your arms hung in the air uselessly as you tried to look at your boyfriend.

“Rin?”

“Stay the night with me.”

“Huh? But-“

“Please.”

The word is forced out, in a way which you understand in a snap. His hug was tight, body trembling and voice strained.

Brushing his locks down for comfort, you stand from your chair and nod. “Okay.”

With you in his arms, his soul was able to find a little bit more peace. The tranquility of the rain and him holding you close to his chest brought on sleep to him.

For so long, he had been haunted by the echoes of his past, the weight of his bloodline threatening to drown him in despair.

But in your arms, he found sanctuary — a haven where his flaws were not condemned, but embraced with love and understanding.

And just like that, he fell asleep and remained asleep throughout the rest of the night.

Until of course, a very hungry cat woke him up and an irritated younger brother scolded you both for this recklessness.

It was all worth it in the end for Rin.

(teehee I didn’t proofread so sorry for any mistakes; I wrote this at 2 am.)

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Hii! I feel like I’ve been loving angst and smut all being put in one fanfic as of recently, so I thought about heartbreaker Johnny because we all know he’s not the most loyal man 🌚 so I was wondering if like it could be the sort of where the reader was basically taken by the slaughter family and instead of killing her they kept her as bate for more victims like she’s very attractive and they use her whenever they go out to hunt, (I hope that makes sense but I figured that would prob be the only reason they kept someone alive 😭) but ok so one day basically she and sissy are sitting on the couch watching Tv in their free time , and Johnny walks into the house with yet another girl, like the 3rd girl of the week, and like the reader rolls her eyes and sighs a little too loud out of jealousy and I guess Johnny notices, so later on he like teases her about it and she pretends to hate him when in reality he was one of the things she looked forward to when they first kept her alive, so they kind of like hate fuck? Or jealousy fuck idk, but she ends up riding him at some point,

(also I’m sorry this is so long, I had this whole long elaborate idea in my head 😭)

I finished 😈

Johnny Slaughter x reader

MINORS DNI this is fairly fucked up please spare yourselves

Contains: abuse, angst, blood, degradation, humiliation, knifeplay, mentions of self-harm, implied cannibalism, jealousy, fingering, hate-fucking, and breeding

(Sorry for double spacing, I still don't know how to format on mobile)

Eight months ago, Johnny Slaughter brought you home for dinner. 

Well, he brought you after a full night of fucking you out of your senses in a seedy hotel room. And it was thanks to your chemistry with him that—when he made clear that you were to be the family's next meal—you were able to talk your way out of it. 

"Johnny, you don't have to kill me," you pleaded.

"Well I can't let you go, doll," he said, looking down at you with a predatory gaze. You were in the gruesome basement with the scent of death flooding your nostrils, but nothing felt so visceral as the blade of his Bowie knife at your neck, one wrist flick from ending your life. 

"You don't have to. I can help you." 

He barked a laugh. "Yeah? How so?"

You'd swallowed hard, then placed your hands on his firm chest. He'd raised an eyebrow but didn't pull away. "I'll do what you did to me: lure people back to the house. I'll bring in five times my weight in the first month, I swear."

"You do have a certain," Johnny's eyes flicked down to your breasts, "charm. But how can I trust you?"

"Come with me. If you see me doing anything against you, you can claim to be my caretaker. Say I'm mentally unwell."

"How exactly are people gonna believe me if I say that?" He asked, his head cocked. 

You held out your arm somberly, self-harm scars littering your wrists. "It won't take much convincing, Johnny."

Rather than the usual looks you received when people noticed your scars, Johnny's face lit up. 

"You like the pain, huh?" He'd said in a low tone. 

"Proves I'm still alive, doesn't it?" You responded, a strange sort of calm flooding you at his reaction. You tried to lower your wrist, but Johnny caught it with his free hand. 

He removed the blade from your neck, then brought it to your wrist, making a quick, shallow cut. He then brought the blade to his wrist and made an identical cut. Finally, he brought his wrist to yours and pressed the cuts together, mingling your blood with his.

"Blood oath. If you break my trust, I'll know."

You nodded, adrenaline lighting up every inch of your body, especially the cut.

"Oh, and," his eyes narrowed, and he reached a gloved hand down, cupping you through your shorts, "this pussy is mine. If I hear you slept with another man, I'll kill you both myself."

Once again, you nodded, and watched entranced as he brought your wrist to his lips and licked it, humming contentedly at the back of his throat. 

"Let's see how long you can last, sugar."

—

Now, you and Sissy sat on the couch, watching the only TV channel available when Johnny kicked the front door open. He had a screaming young woman thrown over his shoulder, pounding his back with her fists.

Johnny locked eyes with you, wearing that same predatory smile he often had. Ever since you'd shown an aptitude for luring people back home for slaughter, you and Johnny had become quite competitive. It didn't take long for him to recognize that you had fully assimilated into the family, and he'd allowed you to hunt on your own.

This month, Johnny had been far more successful than you – three kills to your zero. His cockiness was becoming unbearable, and that smug look on his face stirred up a now-familiar ache in your gut.

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms as you turned away from Johnny, sinking deeper into the couch. Sissy looked at you and shook her head as Johnny slammed the door to the basement behind him.

"How you feelin', girly?" Sissy asked, patting your forearm.

You shrugged. "I don't like it when he does better than I do at bringing people home."

Sissy stroked your arm as she leaned closer. "Hon, I don't think that's your problem." She smiled, revealing her tooth gap as she caught your eye. "You wishin' Johnny was the type to settle down, hm?"

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. "No!" You responded a little too quickly. "I just... I wish he wouldn't sleep with them," you added in a low whisper.

"Well, don't you sleep with those guys you bring home sometimes?" Sissy asked with genuine curiosity.

"No, I..." The oath you made to Johnny flashed in your mind. "I don't."

Sissy giggled. "I'll get grandpa to bed and take Bubba out tonight. Sounds like you and Johnny need to talk."

–

You remained on the couch until the door to the basement clanged open. Johnny had been down there for a while, and by this point, your jealousy had you seeing red. You stood up from the couch and turned to face Johnny in the narrow hallway by the stairs. He wiped his blade off on his bloody shirt and locked eyes with you.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah, you haven't been pullin' nearly as many people as I have. Losin' your touch, sugar?" He taunted, leaning against the staircase and toying with his knife.

You put your hands on your hips. "Some months I got more than you did!"

"Yeah, like that month you brought in those slimy truckers. I couldn't even stomach their rancid, fatty meat." He spat in the corner by the door. "But it figures. You have lower standards than I do."

"'Cause I'm not sleeping with them!" You yelled, your fists trembling at your side.

Johnny's smile grew so wide it reminded you of a great white shark.

"Jealous?" He purred.

Your face heated, and you sputtered. "No, I fucking hate your guts, you piece of shit! Why would I be jealous?"

He pushed off the staircase and approached you slowly, a dangerous sway to his step.

"Needin' some attention? Has mean ole Johnny been denying you?" His tone was sickeningly sweet as he stopped in front of you, making your rage feel small and insignificant in his overwhelming presence.

It was true. When you were first brought home, Johnny had fucked you and only you daily for two straight months. He was the only thing you ever looked forward to in this hellhole, but in the last few months, Johnny had been using you less and less.

And you couldn't deny the anger that swirled in your gut whenever he brought a girl home. You knew how he was; you remembered how he'd hooked you that first night, and some of those girls he brought home had that same cock-drunk look in their eyes, some even willingly descending into the basement before realizing their fate.

It ate you up inside. Johnny had sworn you to him, but he took whoever he pleased, and the jealousy was making you more irritable than usual. You probably would have brought at least two men home this past month if it weren't for your overly-aggressive demeanor scaring them off.

But you couldn't help yourself. When you got horny, you were straightforward about it. Johnny had gotten you used to being with him, and without him to satisfy your urges, you were becoming more unhinged.

So now that Johnny was inches from you, admitting he was neglecting your needs with that cocky grin on his face, you couldn't believe the surge of desire that coursed through you. You hated how your body reacted, despised the urge to close the gap between your bodies, and grab him by his slicked-back hair, mashing your lips onto his. Damn it.

Johnny leaned even closer, whispering against your ear. "I can smell your cunt, you little slut."

Your face flushed deep red, and you pushed Johnny away as hard as you could. He took two staggered steps back, which gave you an odd sense of satisfaction.

That was until his predatory eyes narrowed, sending a shiver down your spine. He closed the distance between you two in one stride and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled against the wall, cracking the drywall under the force of his kiss. Johnny couldn't care less.

His hands found your shorts, practically tearing them off your body to plunge his thick fingers into your needy core. You gasped and blushed harder as you heard the sound of your wetness squelching around his digits.

"You fucking brat," he growled low in his throat, biting your lip. You whimpered in response as he withdrew from you, bringing his fingers to your lips. You parted them, sucking yourself off him greedily, your eyelids fluttering shut.

When he removed his fingers, he harshly grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "You've been a real bitch lately. Are you in heat or something?" He asked mockingly.

"Shut up, Johnny," you panted.

He ignored you entirely, turning your chin from side to side. "You need fucked, don't cha?" A slow grin formed on his handsome face. "Beg me for it."

Blood flooded to your core at his words, but you tore your chin from his grip. The words 'I'd rather die' welled up in your throat, but you realized Johnny might take you up on that offer, so instead, you glared at him.

"I'm waiting, darlin'," he drawled.

Your eyes unwillingly traversed his body, and you thought about how good that muscular form under his bloodied clothes felt against you. The thirst was truly getting to you, and he looked like a tall glass of red-tinted water.

Shame flooded you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "Please, Johnny," you mumbled.

"What's that, doll? Please, what?" He asked, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.

You gave him a spiteful look, hoping that your hate might set him on fire. "Please, fuck me," you said through gritted teeth.

"Ahh, there's my little kitten. You'll need to do something for me first, though," he said.

"Oh, come on!" You spat. "What could you need from me that you don't already get from your sluts? I'm the one who isn't getting any!"

Johnny couldn't have looked more pleased. "Jealous AND possessive. How pathetic."

Your anger grew white-hot, and you slapped him. Hard.

The instant your hand made contact with his chiseled jaw, you knew you'd made a grave mistake. His eyes narrowed to slits, and he slammed you against the wall by the throat. You felt his blade against your collarbone, digging in, rivulets of blood rapidly staining your shirt.

"I'm sorry!" You squeaked out from between already-bruised lips, memories of the first time you'd begged for your life flooding your senses. He tightened his grip.

"Remember who you owe your life to, dollface," he snarled, pressing the knife deeper. "I like that bitchy mouth of yours, but if you ever try to hit me again, I'll end you. Understand?"

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks, unable to muster more than the tiniest of breaths. Yet, even as your life balanced on a knife's edge, your desire dripped down your thighs.

Johnny loved a fight, but when he fought, he always had to win. In Johnny's mind, the only true victory was taking his opponent's life. His demand meant he didn't want to kill you, you realized. He was holding himself back because... some part of him wanted you around.

Johnny's eyes moved from yours to your cheeks where tears formed salty streams that raced down to your chin, slipping down your neck and pooling against his grip.

You always knew Johnny loved tears; be they from fear or ecstasy. As light began to prick at the corners of your vision, you wondered if you'd pushed him too far.

All at once, he released you, and you fell to your knees, choking on air.

"Suck my fucking cock," he commanded. He gave you next to no time to recover before his thick length was in your face, stiff and upward-curved. 

Your throat was already aching, and you could barely breathe, but you complied, taking his flushed tip into your warm mouth. 

His cock was salty and musky, and your envy flared. Johnny was never yours, was never going to be yours, but you had grown to crave him, and the fact you were likely tasting another woman on his cock made you livid. 

There was no woman in the world who wanted to please him more than you did, and you were going to show him that he needed you at least half as badly as you needed him. 

You poured all your hate, anger, and devotion to him into sucking his cock. Johnny was a narcissist through and through, and for some fucking reason, you reveled in it. The higher you put him, the higher he brought you with him, and the harder you fell when he spurned you. 

Tears continued to pour down your cheeks as you forced yourself to deep-throat all of him. He let out a delicious groan. "Fuck yeah baby, take it!"

You gagged and sputtered, saliva gushing from your lips when he grabbed the sides of your head and pulled you as far as you possibly could go. He held you there, choking on spit and pre-cum, until you couldn't take it anymore and pushed off his muscular thighs, stumbling backward onto your ass.

Johnny took this as an open invitation. He knelt down in front of you and grabbed your knees, pushing them apart and slotting himself between them. 

"You need this cock, don't you?" He said, using one hand to tease your clit with the slick head. 

"I need it," you respond, your voice raspy.

Johnny grinned wickedly before he plunged into you, making your back arch off the floor and your legs tremble. 

"Knew you were too proud to ask me on your own," he said as he gripped your hair and thrust so deeply into you that you saw stars, "so I wanted to see how long you could hold out. After all, it ain't like I wasn't getting any."

Jealousy bubbled up yet again from your core, and turned those stars in your eyes green. You needed him to know those sluts had nothing on you. They weren't form-fitted to his cock, they weren't so rabidly in… 

Your mind drew a blank. In love?

No! You hate Johnny. He's your captor.  Your judge, jury, and executioner. 

You love him?

You really were pathetic. Tears bloomed in your eyes again, and as Johnny sunk his teeth into your already-bleeding collarbone, you sobbed out loud.

He ground his hips against yours, his cock completely filling you. "There's my girl," he rumbled against your bloody skin. You practically melted. His girl. His. But he wasn't yours. Even though the two of you were clearly sexually compatible, and you couldn't do much more in his personal life for him than you already were, he still remained out of reach.

Then, it hit you. 

"Cum inside me, Johnny," you begged.

His harsh thrusts slowed. "What?" He pulled back and looked down at your tear-swollen eyes gazing back up at him so desperately. "You're joking."

You shook your head.

"Then you're a fucking idiot," he muttered, returning his attention to your neck and rocking his hips so that you felt him at every angle. 

"No, I'm not!" You protested, and you felt his smirk against your neck before he gripped your hips and pulled you closer. 

"You are, but I'll humor you. Why?" 

He wasn't moving, he was just holding you impossibly close, planting small, bruising bites up and down your neck. You felt every inch of him viscerally, and lust clouded your mind as you struggled to articulate your thoughts. 

"I- I want-" you moaned, writhing in his grasp. 

"Speak up, sugar," he chided, digging his fingernails into your hips.

Fuck. Your vision was spinning, and you let your head fall back and hit the hardwood floor. Johnny didn't allow you to rest long; he took one powerful hand and gripped the back of your hair, pulling you to face him. 

"I already know, so why don't ya just admit it?" He whispered, his lips inches from yours. 

Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you squeezed your thighs around his hips. "I want your baby, alright?" You admitted, humiliation mixing ice with the fire in your core. 

"Honey, there've been more women than you who've wanted that. What makes you think you're so special?"

Shame and desire in equal measure painted your cheeks, but you finally knew what to say. 

"I'm the only one you kept." 

He hummed against your pulse point. "You already kinda act like a mama; cleaning the house and makin' my favorites for dinner." Johnny's lips, which had traced a path along your neck, paused for a moment. He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "But I thought you hated me."

"Hate you so much it reached the end and flipped to the other side, I guess," you conceded.

Johnny rewarded you by slowly resuming his thrusts, giving you the cock you craved so primally. "I hate you too, baby. I hate how every damn thing you do drives me crazy, how you make me lose control then force me to keep you safe from me." 

He leaned close, fire burning in his gaze. "I hate that I can't kill you 'cause I can't imagine my life without you in it." 

In that moment, as your lips met again, it was a collision of contradictions—the fierce passion that had grown in the midst of hate and chaos.

Johnny was on a mission now, and you felt it in every fiber of your being. He sat up on his knees and pulled you into his lap without breaking the kiss, pistoning his cock so deeply you felt the head bruising your cervix. 

But you didn't care, you reveled in the pain. Johnny was claiming you, finally. All those women, and none had him like this—breeding them like the bitch in heat that you were. You moaned so loud Johnny broke the kiss with a cruel laugh. 

"You hopeless little slut," he chided as he moved one hand to your back and bent toward your chest. He licked at the still fresh blood before reaching your nipple, rolling it between his teeth and sending shockwaves through you. 

You gripped his shoulders and rode him harder. A low groan escaped his lips, and you felt his length somehow become even more hard before a warmth spread through your core as his cum shot deep inside you. The sensation was too much to bear and you came as well, holding onto him for dear life as you rode out your orgasms together. 

When he was done, he laid you back down on the floor and stood, leaning against the wall and gazing down at you, the girl he'd chosen to claim entirely. 

You laid spread-eagle on the floor, your chest caked in blood, wanting to meet his eyes but unable to move as his precious cum seeped from your abused pussy. 

"Get used to this," Johnny said, as he grabbed a cigarette from his pants pocket and lit up, "you want my baby, you're gonna get it."

[wosowrites]

Cool Heart, Hot Headed(Lionesses x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️blood, trash talking⚠️

a/n: also, writing this as chelsea are in the FA cup final… LETS FUCKING GO!!! BLUES UNITE. based off this request here (this seriously flopped)

prompt: during the euros, the swedes are playing incredibly dirty and as the reader tries to brush it off, her teammates are very angry and protective of her

Patience. It was definitely your best quality. Yes, you felt anger and disappointment, as well as rage and pain. But you were always patient.

It did come to a shock to your english teammates when Sweden suddenly had it out for you. But it didn’t surprise them that you were as calm as ever.

The Euros semi final had everyone on edge. This was the moment. This was the chance to bring it home. The lionesses needed this. They needed a major trophy for England. The men sure as well weren’t bringing it anywhere near the airport, let alone home.

So it was your chance to make your country, your people proud.

You walked onto that field behind Mary and Leah, sang your national anthem loudly and proudly.

"You look pale," Leah whispered in your ear. "All good cap. Just kinda scared of Björn. She’s giving me looks that make it seem like she wants to kill me," you said, locking eyes with the Swede, smiling lightly and receiving a scowl in return. "Don’t worry about them. They’re all look no game. Don’t tell Magda I said that," Millie said, having overheard.

You nodded and then took the team picture. The girls huddled up, did a cheer and then you took your position as the CAM.

Right off the bat, the game was nail biting. Any english fans watching at home, or in the stadium, surely felt as though something was going to happen. The swedes were coming in strong. But they weren’t attacking anyone as violently, as hard, and with as much resilience and they did to you.

The first hit you took was in the eighth minute. Fridolina Rolfö came out of nowhere. You were scanning your options from the midfield, no one around you. You were taking small touches to move forward, and then out of nowhere you heard "Man on!" and then felt a strong force hit you from behind. You went flying forwards, falling oto the floor with a loud thump. You groaned loudly, rolling onto your back as you heard the referee blow her whistle.

In your mind, that was a yellow, but Rolfö got let off with a warning. Lucy helped you up, brushing grass off your back as you tried to get dirt of your white kit.

Only two minutes later, you were the victim of another attack. This time by Jakobsson. As you turned with the ball and carried it down the middle, you felt your jersey getting tugged from behind, you tried to keep running but the pull made you stumble and fall awkwardly on your shoulder. Sofias momentum was still going, and she tripped over you, leaving a deep clear mark on your thigh.

You could hear scrambled voices of your teammates yelling at the referee who somehow decided the ball was to be given to Sweden. Fran helped you up gently, and you could see Millie trying to calm down Sarina as she was all worked up.

"What did you do to them? they’re going at you hard!" Fran joked. "I don’t know. But it’s okay. It’s fine," you answered calmly, walking towards Elle and Leah who were having a pretty angry talk with the ref.

"Girls! It’s okay. It’s fine. Let’s keep going," you said.

Swedens free kick resulted in nothing, and then you kept moving.

In the thirtieth minute, you were awarded a corner. You took your spot in the box, at the back post, and prepared yourself. The second the ball came in, you tried to jump up, but you felt a hand pushing you. Quicker than you knew it, you had fallen into the net pretty aggressively, your body crashing against the netting.

Zecira Musovic had caught the ball, and looked at you strangely as you struggled to get your cleats undone from the net. "She fucking pushed her! Yes you fucking did. Yes you did," Keira yelled, addressing the ref and then Hannah Glas.

"Keira!" you whispered harshly in her ear, making her turn to look at you and put her arms on your forearms. Most of your team was surrounding you now. "I am okay. Can we play this game please. Let’s go girls," you said sternly. "Y/n… this is getting unsafe," Leah said, concern in her voice. "I don’t care."

For once, you got away with the last word, walking off from the girls as they shared looks of worry.

At the end of the first half, your kit was a mess. There were more brown and green patches than white ones. Your face was dirty and your England kit was absolutely grimey. As you lifted the corner of your shirt, one of the only clean parts, to wipe off dirt from your cheek, you realized how scratched and bruise your stomach was.

You were quick to drop your shirt, hoping no teammates or cameras had picked up on your state.

The second you exited the pitch, Sarina had her arm around you. "You’re a fighter. You know that? I don’t know how you’re not loosing your shit out there," your coach said to you, squeezing your shoulder. "Loosing my shit won’t help anyone. It won’t help us win," you said simply. "That mentality, that’s gonna get us that cup. You hear me?" She said, keeping a hold of you as you both walked into the changing room. The second you walked in, the girls were all talking over each other with worry.

"I’ll kill them!"

"Are you okay?"

"How are you not screaming right now?"

"I don’t know how you’re so patient."

"Are you bruised? Cut? Bloody?"

"I am fine! But I won’t be fine if we don’t win this. So let’s win it," you said, sitting down next to Mary who gave you a quick kiss on the forehead.

Sarina went over what we were doing well, and what we weren’t, as you changed your kit into a clean one. You threw the dirty one away and then put your cleats back on as you had chosen to change socks too.

The girls and Sarina left the changing room, leaving you and Leah behind. She had given you a look that said "stay back."

"Listen to me, y/n/n. If you feel unsafe on that field for a second. You tell me, and Sarina will sub you off. Your safety is more important than a trophy. And this team is full of brilliant players, you’re irreplaceable… but what i’m saying is your spot can be… filled in if needed," your captain said. "Leah… we both know how bad you want that trophy," you said to her as you walked out of the room. "Yeah. I do. But I don’t want it enough to sacrifice you for it," Leah said.

"I won’t die, Lee. Let’s play," you said.

You jogged onto the field with her, the stadium erupting at the sight of their skipper and co-skipper.

Sweden seemed to have slowed down a little, on their attack on you, that is. The game was still very much packed with action. They left you along for a solid 30 minutes, which you were immensely grateful for.

But with the 75 minute, came what felt like the 75th foul on you.

Everyone lost their shit.

All, but you.

Everything about Asllani’s tackle was dirty. They way she didn’t even touch the ball. The way foot was way off the ground and her studs were pointed upwards. The way that went she connected with you, and you fell sideways with a scream, she made no attempt to stop her slide, choosing instead to let her studs graze all the way up the side of your leg.

Magda Ericsson had been the only sane Swede on the pitch, rushing toward her midfielder and grabbing her under the arms to pull her off you. She told her off in swedish before trying to check on you. But your team was having nothing of it. Millie gently told the swedish captain, and her club teammate, to back off so she didn’t get yelled at by the lionesses

Your eyes were teary due to the pain of it all. Your leg lay bloody on the turf, the crimson mess of it all starting to trickle down the sides of your thighs. You couldn’t really register the whole thing, but you could see the referee pointing at Asllani and giving her a yellow. But you also saw Leah get one, and Lucy, and then Keira. What were they saying to get them into that mess? "Tell them to stop before we have to play with a man down," you let out to Georgia who was kneeling beside you.

The medics were quick to soak up the blood, revealing a series of cuts made by the studs, but nothing too too serious. "I can keep playing, right?" you asked the medics. "No!" Leah said at the same time as all the other girls let out scattered cries of "no way" and "nuh uh".

"Guys. It’s a cut. It’s fine. I’m sure it was an acc-" you started saying. "No! No it was not an accident. You are too patient at this point, y/n. You need to protect yourself. But if you won’t, I will. You’re going off," Leah said with a sternness you hadn’t seen before.

You held eye contact with her for a while, the air tense. "No. Thirty pounds. Thirty pounds says i’ll score. Don’t take me off, don’t let Sarina sit me on the bench when I can make a difference for this team," you said, standing up, so determined to prove you could stay on the acknowledge the pain you should have been in.

"Fine. Thirty pounds," Leah said.

And then you were playing again, your leg bandaged up, your body in pain, and your mind set. You were everywhere on the pitch. Defending, attacking, demanding a goal. Everyone was shocked, shocked to see you so agressive after being pushed around so much. It just went to show that all your pain and annoyance was fueled into football.

Twenty minutes later, in 90+5, Leah because thirty pounds poorer.

A corner taken by Leah had gotten cleared away by a header, and came straight to you in your position from the outside of the box.

You didn’t think twice. You waited till the ball was perfectly low, and then hit it on the volley. The power on the shot made the ball spin, and it went straight into the goal, hitting the roof of the net.

You screamed loudly, running towards the corner flag, your team chasing after you, and jumping into Ellen’s arms. "LETS FUCKING GO. LETS FUCKING GO!" you screamed at full force.

Ellen let you down and your teammates took turn grabbing your face and kissing your forehead in excitement. The subs were all celebrating around you, and as you ran back to your position, you pumped your first in the air, making the fans screams double somehow.

When the final whistle blew, you cried. Partly of joy, but mostly of pure agony.

Your teammates helped you off the floor, basically carrying you around the field in their arms, making you laugh. But the second you were inside, you let out a shaky cry. Of relief, yes, but of pain. "It’ll be okay. You were amazing, and you’ll be all fixed for Wembley," Leah said, handing you thirty pounds and winking.

[immediatebreakfast]

I love how Renfield is the oldest (59) and Mina is very likely the living youngest, and yet they bond so well. (It reminds me how well Mina befriended the 99 year old Mr Swales that he sought her company and felt care for her.) It probably contributed that Jack may have experience with interacting with "madmen" and studying, Mina had lived with and loved a "madman".

It's truly incredible how a simple conversation between an old man in physical cell, and a young woman in a mental cell put such a dent in the Count's plans that he had to flee to Transylvania once it was clear that nothing would stop the crew.

Even if the repercutions were huge in the narrative, in between the horror and the action it was just a visit (probably the first visit that Renfield had in a long time) to talk.

Reading again the entry I noticed how hostile Renfield is towards Mina at first,

"You're not the girl the doctor wanted to marry, are you? You can't be, you know, for she's dead." - R.M. Renfield, september 30.

and even with everything one can say about sexism, and the building infantilization of Mina, let's remember that this is the first time Renfield meets someone that is specifically associated with Jack. Renfield's remarked abuser in both authority, and personhood in general. Also by probably being informed by Dracula himself that both Mina and Jonathan are the key players in this continuous attacks against his plans in England, on top of just almost correctly assuming that Mina must share the same opinion towards the mentally ill that society has.

Three strikes against Mina that she switfly defeats by treating Renfield like the person he is, and talking to him in a normal manner. After taking care of her beloved Jonathan, and being at Lucy's side most of her life Mina is aware of how the Other is viewed. Maybe as she saw Renfield, Mina thought of a worse reality where the man on the bed was her Jonathan in Budapest, maybe she saw how Seward reacted to Renfield's words, and realized what was actually layed out in the room. Or maybe Mina just saw an old man in need of an ear, and she just listened.

This is the first time that Renfield puts a face on a victim of the Count's games, he puts a voice on the young victim whose life is going to violently end in what he thought was supposed to be eternal bliss. Lucy is a distant dream for Renfield, the revenge against these people who dared to put up a fight against this old ancient evil that goes beyond all of their years combined.

Renfield never knew Lucy, but he knows Mina now.

Renfield sees the young Mina Harker, entering life with her equal young husband in hand, and trying to solve the murder of what he knows now was her best friend, and he reflects. He reflects on everything he has done, on what has passed, and what he can do tomorrow.

Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much; I am crying when I think of him. This is a new weakness, of which I must be careful. Jonathan would be miserable if he knew I had been crying. - Mina Harker, october 2.

And the man is devastated to see how he is helping orchestrate the murder of another young lady to please the Count. He becomes desperate to leave (a request that is denied by both Seward, and Van Helsing), so the Count can't have access to the inside of the asylum. It doesn't matter if he looks like a coward by the time's literary standards because if the only way to at least save that young lady is by acting like one? Then Renfield might as well do it, he has nothing to lose sans his life.

I think that the key difference between Mina, and Jack when it comes to Renfield is empathy, and the ability to simply treat the other person with the same humanity you should be treated.

Jack may have studied, and climbed until he got to be the head of an asylum, but his own biases, mental problems, and ableism blurred the lines between patient and doctor so hard that he made Renfield's life a boring hell. From when their dynamic was introduced, to Renfield's death, the narrative dictated how Seward was putting both into a deep spiral in which, not even with Renfield's manipulations, none of them were going to come out in victory.

In contrast, Mina has cared for Jonathan without any restrain, and has lived in service of what the situation demands of her at all times. She knows, as a young victorian lady, how to balance herself without trying to compete, or win the other person in the room with her. Mina only needed to genuinely talk to Renfield to break his heart because she gave him the respect, and honestly she expects for herself when talking.

[witheredoffherwitch]

Not here to start anything but did you not reach out to the person who was the victim of racism here to see her opinion on it? Because she's been quite vocal and clear that things with Em are patched.

Hi nonnie,

I am taking your ask because this ABSOLUTELY needs to be addressed. Your question is a prime example of why I made that post in the first place. So many of you are completely missing the point: this is not just about "fanfic drama" between two people anymore. The main post that detailed all the leaked text messages is WILD to me, because while they revealed some nasty mean girl behaviour from some, it also showed a blatant display of participation and encouragement in bullying, harassment, and racism from everyone involved. And yet, the most disturbing part is the reaction from your community. It's beyond baffling atp!

To answer your question in a nutshell, I joined this fandom after all that drama went down. When those texts came out, I was honestly confused and had to reach out to my own desi community to figure out what was going on. Turns out at the time, Shruie mentioned getting racist attacks but Bel had everyone convinced she was lying - and since Shruie was a considerably smaller blog, she was ostracized and her concerns were brushed off as mere ploy to get attention and sympathy. And now, with the recent revelation of Bel's use of rat emojis, do you see why that part is crucial here? Can you grasp why even the slightest knowledge of Bel's despicable behaviour is significant here? And, do you comprehend how the lack of condemnation only perpetuates a culture of racist hatred towards this person of colour? It's time to confront and acknowledge these issues head-on.

This drama happened back in July of LAST YEAR (?) and now it's being leaked? And you expect us to just forgive and forget because they made up with one person involved? Sorry, I'm not buying it. They only reached out to the victim because they had a falling out with the main perpetrator. If they truly take responsibility for their actions, then GOOD! But excuse me for being wary of this community who will coddle these grown ass women to tell them repeatedly how they are an “integral part of this fandom” or how they “meant well” while making these mistakes over and over again.

Some of us don't see this as just a petty fanfic squabble anymore. And if you still don't see it, then I don't expect you ever will. Your biases blind you - and frankly, I no longer have any interest in trying to make you see. This ain't my first rodeo with people who want to jump on the anti-racism train but are actually part of the problem. My post was meant to call out the toxic behavior that has gone unchecked for too long. Grace, @the-heartlines said it perfectly, so I'm linking her post here for those who need it spelled out more eloquently. This isn't about the fanfic community - because let's be real, I'm not even a part of it. You're all too focused on maintaining your little popularity contests and chasing upvotes to see how your own biases affect your actions. My words are for the rest of the fandom, who can see through the facade and finally speak out against this BS.

[jiggy-manda]

hiiii

please write about Amanda Young x fem!reader :)

she gets very jealous and furry when someone flirts with us :)))))

jealous!amanda young x fem!reader

warnings: none… age gap kinda? obv amanda is in her 30s but reader is in her 20s so just take that how you will

wc: 1.6k

your situation with jigsaw and the apprentices was… different.

you weren’t an apprentice, per se, but you also weren’t completely a victim; you floated around somewhere in between. like a middle-man, almost. you were never directly involved with the crimes, though you were definitely knowledgeable of them. you’d been tested as well, but for some reason it seemed like your test wasn’t… as brutal.

you’d talked to amanda a few times, mainly when you were begging to be let go and she was busy laughing at you. some part of you kind of thought she went easy on you, but you couldn’t tell if that was true or if it was just you making up things to cope with what had happened.

ever since your test, you’d been staying with john and the apprentices— which you later learned was not normal for other jigsaw victims. you never found out why, but there was always a slight feeling in your brain that the lingering looks from his female apprentice had something to do with it.

either way, it was something you chose not to dwell on because you knew it would only lead to more questions and more disappointment.

it felt pointless to continue stewing over it, so for the next few minutes you continued on in your notebook, writing down different plans john or the apprentices had mentioned over time and looking over the new list of people and their offenses.

you were so busy reading a file on some new contraption that you didn’t even notice the shadowy figure suddenly hovering above you.

mark hoffman was perched on the side of your desk with one leg hanging off the edge. “what are you working on?”

amanda quietly scoffed at his presence from her makeshift bedroom, a bit in shock that you would even entertain the man. you, on the other hand, were just looking for a way to exit the conversation with him.

looking up at mark, you quickly realized he was way too close— you could smell his cologne, or lack thereof.

she tried not to keep looking at you, but amanda couldn’t help but stare. she smirked as she watched, noting how you subtly crinkled your nose when he leaned towards you.

amanda has never liked hoffman. hoffman, not mark— she’d never dare give him the pleasure of addressing him by his name. she never liked him, but she disliked him even more when he interacted with you. in the back of her mind, a small part of her thought he just continued to talk to you simply to piss her off. he’s not completely clueless; he knows how to push amanda’s buttons. he’d probably talk to you even if he didn’t like you just to fuel his vendetta against the small brunette.

she didn’t like it when he was around you.

“…oh, you know. just, traps and stuff, i guess…”

“you guess?” he laughed at that. “c’mon sweetheart, you gotta have more confidence than that.”

you sighed, setting down the pencil you’d been holding to look up at him. “do you need something, mark?”

“oh come on, don’t be like that,” he replied. “you barely talk to any of us! i’m just trying to get to know you.”

you looked down at the hands you had eventually clasped and set against your desk. you then gave him a tight smile. “okay… what do you want to know?”

he grinned. “you got a boyfriend?”

you instinctively recoiled back, hoping the disgust you felt didn’t show on your face. if you asked amanda, she would’ve said it did— but she wasn’t even watching, of course not.

taking a moment to clear your throat, you met his gaze to respond. “no, i don’t.”

the brooding woman in her makeshift bedroom finally spoke up, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “but i’m sure she’d love to hear a proclamation of love from a man twice her age.”

he turned his head towards amanda, the force of his movements causing even his body to shuffle. “can’t you just mind your business?” he shot back.

you were planning on jumping in, eventually— but the decision of what to say was still playing around in your mind. to be fair, you were in a borderline cult of serial killers, so your sexual preferences really should be the least of their concerns.

“whatever you say, old man. im just pointing out the obvious, that’s all. i don’t think a woman your age would even go for you, honestly.” the corner of amanda’s lip turned into a grin when she saw mark’s hand twitch.

“you know what, smartass?” he said, slamming his palms on your desk as he stood up. “you wanna say that again? what the hell is your problem?”

amanda pushed herself off of the perch she called a bed. “you’re my problem, asshat. you think you’re so much better than me and everyone else just because you’re some high class detective who’s never failed a drug test in his life,” she spat out.

mark got closer to amanda, nearly backing her up to one of the desks close by. at this point, your brain had finally started working again, so you rushed to get between the two.

“okay, can we please be a bit rational here?”

you were facing mark, watching as the upper part of his mouth twitched, and you just managed to keep a straight face when amanda mumbled something about ‘his lip injections going haywire.’

“and can you please sit down?” you finally addressed both of them. they both grumbled as they made their own separate ways to take their places.

clearing your throat, you returned to your seat and ran your hands through your hair. “she’s not completely wrong,” you said as you faced the man who’d started this whole thing. “i don’t mind if someone’s older than me,” you started, looking back at amanda to correct her comment.

you looked back at mark, studying his face before finishing your statement. “but i don’t date men.”

amanda, for once, was happy your attention was focused on mark and not herself. she did not need you to see the shock (intrigue) on her face at that revelation.

mark just stared at you for a few moments, not quite sure what to say.

“oh.”

“yeah,” you started, your face starting to heat up at all the attention on you. it didn’t help that the topic of the matter was your sexuality and love life. “so. um… yeah.”

“then… you got a girlfriend?”

amanda perked up at this, wishing she could appear less interested.

“nope,” you let out with a sigh. “but it’s whatever. i like it here anyways, working on traps and helping out.”

“sure,” he said, scanning the room. it seemed like he didn’t really know what to do at that point… it was clear that flirting with you was his only objective, so it’s not like you had anything else to talk about. “i’m gonna go ask john about one of the next traps but i’ll be back soon.”

you nodded, while amanda gave a “yeah, whatever.” you tried not to laugh at their back-and-forth demeanor. it was clear they didn’t like each other— though, you weren’t a very big fan of mark either. you had a hard time believing anyone was, really.

amanda, however… you weren’t quite sure how to feel about her. you never interacted much; mark made more of an effort to talk to you, and you didn’t even like him. if anything, you were confused by amanda.

she didn’t really talk to you, but for some reason it was like she didn’t want anyone else talking to you either. on the rare times that she did give you more than a few minutes of her attention, she would snap at anyone who interrupted the conversation— anyone besides john, of course.

“so you’re gay?”

the question struck you out of your thoughts, nearly making you jump. you turned and faced amanda completely, pausing a few minutes to take in her presence.

“yeah.”

“cool.”

a few silent seconds passed before amanda spoke again with a slight smile playing at her face. “me too.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, meeting her eyes.

“yeah… and i really didn’t like seeing hoffman flirt with you,” she replied.

you paused, not sure whether you should push it any further. “amanda young,” you said with a dramatic gasp. “were you… jealous?”

she immediately scoffed, rolling her eyes where she stood. “you wish.”

“i think you were,” you replied, taking a step closer. you tilted your head to the side and looked into her eyes. “i’m not stupid, amanda. you’re not subtle in the way you snap at everyone who tries to interact with me.”

her face slightly flushed at that. “that’s not true,” she sputtered out. “i snap at everyone.”

“pfft, yeah, whatever,” you let out.

“im serious,” she said, taking hold of your arm. you looked down at your arm and then back up at her, raising your brow. she quickly let go of it and brought her arm back. “i just don’t like people,” she reasoned. “it’s nothing personal.”

“sure.”

“whatever,” she huffed out. if looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under by now. you didn’t know a small body could hold so much rage, but you figured you’d save the psychoanalytics for later.

it was clear that you’d gotten under her skin, and a small part of you felt a bit of pride that you’d gotten the usually stoic girl to stutter and blush.

you grinned, making your way back to your desk covered in blueprints and plans. “and amanda,” you started. “let me know if you ever want to… collaborate.”

a/n: yayyyy more amanda fics 😙😙 this was really fun to write <3 i might make another part? idk i feel like leaving the ending open was kinda fun 🫣

[madame-mortician]

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Game - Family Relationships

In TCM the game, each family member has unique dialogue when interacting with each other. Going through all of them it is clear who does and doesn’t like each other, so I’ve decided to note it down here.

Cook:

Leatherface: Cook always seems rather annoyed by Leatherface and most of his voice lines directed towards him are angry insults. He is always yelling at him, mostly for things such as destroying the house.

Hitchhiker: Cook does not like Hitchhiker, he is always bossing him around and yelling at him. Unlike Hitchhiker who enjoys the thrill of the chase, Cook is completely stressed out about the whole ordeal and hates that Hitchhiker isn’t taking this whole thing seriously, yelling at him to stop being useless and to stop getting excited.

Sissy: Again, Cook spends most of his time yelling and bossing her around. He doesn’t seem to hate her more or less than the others but he does constantly bring up her running away, showing he still holds a grudge about this. He also blames her for this whole mess, along with Johnny even though it doesn't seem like Sissy was the cause at all. Out of all the people he speaks to, he seems firmest with Sissy and whilst he does still yell at her, he has more voice lines were he firmly talks to her instead of all his lines being aggressive insults.

Johnny: Bro he fucking hates Johnny. All of his voice lines directed towards him are insults for being the cause of all this. He is yelling at everybody but he is mostly mad at Johnny, and 100% blames him for this situation. He also brings up Johnny even when he’s not in the game, he’s just that mad at him.

Nancy: All of his lines towards her involve him insulting her parenting and telling her this is all Johnny's fault. He also bosses her around with the notion that it's his house so he's in charge. It seems he doesn't like Nancy all too much, or is just mad he thought she'd raised Johnny better.

Leatherface:

Cook: It’s a bit hard to tell Leatherface’s opinions most of the time because he is non-verbal, however since most of his interactions with him are Cook yelling at him, Leatherface usually only responds in angry grumbles implying he doesn’t like being bossed around.

Hitchhiker: His opinion on Hitchhiker seems to change a lot because their interactions are very random. It’s like a brother’s quarrel, one second they’ll be yelling insults at each other but then the next second Hitchhiker is cheering him on. Because of this, Leatherface changes from annoyed grunts to excited grunts, seeming to mostly like his brother, but doesn’t like being yelled at.

Sissy: Sissy is the only family member he is 100% on good terms with. Sissy is completely supportive of him and usually compliments him with sweet words so most of his interactions with her are wholesome and cute, with her cheering him on and him getting happy and excited with her around.

Johnny: A trend you will begin to notice is that almost everybody fucking hates Johnny. Leatherface, again, doesn’t speak so it’s hard to understand entirely what his thoughts on him are BUT no matter what he is always annoyed or angry at Johnny, and since Johnny is basically his cousin he isn’t that close to him at all.

Hitchhiker:

Cook: Because Cook is the head of the household, and the most “sane” out of the family, Hitchhiker doesn’t like him that much, however, he spends most of his voice lines asking what he's cooking or firmly telling him to stop bossing him around. He is probably the least rude character towards Cook honestly.

Leatherface: Hitchhiker's attitude towards Leatherface is pretty positive. He spends all their interactions together, complimenting his skills with a chainsaw and cheering him on. He asks for Leatherface's help with getting these victims and he even badmouths Cook to his face. They're on pretty good terms.

Sissy: Sissy is the family member Hitchhiker seems to like the most. He sometimes yells at her, mostly about running away, but a majority of his voice lines towards her are cheerful and supportive, with her being the only family member he tells about his grave-digging hobby (likely because everybody else would get mad since it could lead to them getting caught.) He also tells her that he thinks he and Sissy are Grandpa's favourites and he compliments her dress, especially after believing she stole it from a previous victim.

Johnny: Unsurprisingly, Hitchhiker’s opinion of Johnny is rather negative as he constantly argues with him and says he ain't so tough. Since Johnny is basically an outsider to the rest of the family, Hitchhiker just doesn’t like him and mostly just insults him, however, he does have one positive interaction with him, this being him asking Johnny if he takes pictures of the people he kills.

Sissy:

Cook: Sissy’s opinions of Cook are that of a rebellious teen VS their parents. She thinks he’s a useless old man and doesn’t like that he's constantly bossing her around and threatening her with his broken broom handle. She seems to mostly blame him for her habit of running away, though she probably means the entire family and isn't just singling Cook out.

Leatherface: Sissy adores Leatherface, and she always makes sure to compliment him or say something supportive, even if she’s busy. There’s a slight chance she’s being sappy on purpose to incentivise him to work harder, but it seems she is genuine and is just that sweet.

Hitchhiker: Her relationship with Hitchhiker is rather positive, she spends most of her voice lines with him, complimenting his graveyard artworks, promising not to rat on him and saying they work well together. Sometimes she gets mad and yells at him, but that’s usually after he gets on her nerves, other than that she’s completely chill with him. Though she does mention he keeps messing with her flowers, but all things considered she doesn't seem to pissed about this.

Johnny: To nobody’s surprise, she doesn’t like Johnny. She yells at him a lot and insults him, but interestingly she seems to know him a little more than Hitchhiker and Cook, since she mentions “always cleaning up his messes” implying she’s gotten into trouble with him before. Mostly she yells at him for calling her crazy or bossing her around.

Johnny:

Cook: Johnny hates him. He thinks Cook is old and weak, and insults him for not being able to run things properly. He also doesn't like being bossed around.

Leatherface: He doesn't talk to him much, and when he does he usually just yells at him to use his saw and kill people. It doesn't seem like he's trying to be rude, but he ends up coming off as rude when he bosses Leatherface around.

Hitchhiker: He's normally pretty chill with Hitchhiker. He calmly asks how he makes his traps and compliments how shifty he is, but he also seems rather awkward around him likely because they aren't close. It's like he's basically trying to converse with a distant cousin. He also yells at him for his body language and his stutter.

Sissy: He is rather rude to Sissy, yelling at her and bossing her around the most. He thinks she's insane and isn't listening to him and is getting frustrated with her. He also brings up her running away, showing he still has a grudge about that.

Nancy:

Cook: She yells at him for trying to boss her around and argues back to him when he says she didn't raise Johnny well enough. She then says he didn't raise his brothers well enough either and just seems altogether frustrated about being bossed around since usually she's the head of the household.

Leatherface: She’s supportive of him but not in the same way Sissy and Hitchhiker are. Sissy and Hitchhiker are genuinely nice towards him and cheer him on, whilst Nancy seems to just be calmly bossing him around, telling him to do stuff not sweetly and not angrily just… firmly. It almost seems like because she's not as close to him as the rest of the family, she doesn't want to yell at him because well... he is holding a big chainsaw.

Hitchhiker: She does nothing but yell at him to do his job and stop being so crazed, sharing mostly the same opinions as Cook where she thinks he is enjoying this a bit too much considering it could lead to them being caught.

Sissy: She despises Sissy, probably the most honestly. She yells at her for running away and calls her a heathen and devil girl, implying she is a devout Christian. Sissy has no voice lines talking to Nancy, but from how Nancy "responds" to her, it seems Sissy brings up her murdered husbands and thinks Nancy is a useless nobody. Nancy is also the only family member who hates that Sissy came back at all. Sure, Cook and Hitchhiker get mad at her and bring up her running away, but none of them ever said they wished she'd stayed gone.

Johnny: Unsurprisingly, she is super supportive towards her son and all her voice lines are her firmly asking Johnny to help her. She talks to him like he's a little kid which is interesting, but Johnny doesn't have any voice lines talking to her so it's hard to know how he feels about this. *UPDATE: So Gun released a Lore stream talking about each character, which includes Johnny. In the Stream, it was revealed that Johnny didn't know he was adopted until Hitchhiker told him when he was a young teenager. After this Johnny confronted his "mother" and she gave him that scar over his eye, and since then he's been torn and doesn't particularly seem to like Nancy that much, but it's like Stockholm Syndrome where she's the only mother he's ever known so it's not like he can just leave.

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 22

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: o boy, once again, death, murder, some body horror, angst, sad Tim

Summary: it's been a couple months but the murderers rise again, going after another member of the Batfamily

Gotham was quiet right now. Since first two murders it seemed as if the city were holding its breath. Crime was low, which let patrols be more dedicated to finding the killers than stopping criminals. In a way it was good, but it also haunted Jason. He kept seeing those kids, faces cut off, the closed casket funeral that Bruce had generously paid for, for all the victims that night. Jason was hanging on by a thread and that was only because YN was there, waiting for him to come back, and at the moment she was the only reason he wasn’t throwing himself off the top of the Wayne building.

Christmas was somber, and New Year’s passed with Jason sleeping at one of his safehouses, wanting to be in the thick of the city in case another murder was found. It was almost February now and he wasn’t sure how anyone was putting up with him. The nightmares were back, only now it was his dead friend and children telling him he couldn’t save them that haunted his nights. He was irritable, solemn, uninterested in anything but finding the killers. Bruce had told the media that Jason was struggling to reacclimate, which helped him avoid scrutiny when he had to go out into public, but it didn’t stop him from stomping a paparazzi’s camera and shoving him to the ground. He spent the night in jail before Bruce bailed him out, putting him on house arrest now. Why not? Jason himself had confined YN to the manor like a prisoner, why shouldn’t he join her?

Finally, just before Groundhog’s Day another murder happened. A senior center, the patients all in the community room, sitting and playing board games. All stabbed multiple times. 22 in all. All four of the Bats went to this one, but Tim stayed outside. This was a home he volunteered at for his senior work at school. These people were his friends, some of them like pseudo grandparents. He tried to enter but couldn’t when he saw the message on the wall, one of the older women posed to point at it, the woman who always was Tim’s dance partner when the senior center had Friday dances. None of your friends are safe Red Hood

Jason once again felt himself become sick, Batman having Gordon clear the room again so he could take off his helmet in a secluded corner and breathe. He looked over at the others and saw Tim’s face in the doorway, staring at him. Glaring. He blamed him. He should, this was all Jason’s fault. But right now, blaming himself would get them nowhere. He pulled himself together, put the helmet back on and got to work.

They searched the carnage, Batman examining the message, again in different handwriting, suggesting a third criminal. Jason took one side of the room and Dick the other. Tim stood back, scanning with his devices to see if there was anything in the walls.

“I found something,” Tim said. He walked over to the wall that had a group picture of the nursing staff and took the frame down. Behind it the wall was hollowed out and inside was a small suitcase. He took it out and checked it for explosives before opening it slowly. He jumped back, dropping it on the floor. Batman rushed over, kneeling by the case. They all stared. Inside was four clear plastic bags, one each for the faces of the first family murdered.

“This is fucked up,” Dick said, closing the case again. Tim walked over, scanning it more. He found a fingerprint and made a copy, planning on running it through the Batcomputer. He wouldn’t even look at Jason right now. “Why don’t you two head back, we have it here. Sun’s about to come up anyway, Tim, I’m sure you can take the day off school and Jason, just go home.” Jason opened his mouth, but Dick turned his back to him, and he knew dismissal when he saw it. He looked at Bruce who just nodded to him to leave.

At the cave Tim whirled on him the moment they were changed back into their regular clothes, punching Jason in the jaw. Alfred and YN stood, shocked. YN ran over to stop the fight, but Jason held a hand for her to stop.

“Go ahead Tim,” Jason said. Tim snarled at him and hit him again in the face, and again in the chest, wailing on him. Jason took it, feeling the hits getting weaker as Tim wore his anger out.

“Its your fault, all your fault,” he said, the boy looking very much like the child he still was he clung to Jason. Jason hugged him tight.

“I know its my fault,” he whispered. “I’m not going to stop until we find out who’s doing this.” Tim shoved him back, eyes red and hot with tears still.

“Don’t say that, you’re a murderer, even this is all on you. All of those bodies are on your hands! Why did you have to come back? Why couldn’t you stay dead?” Tim yelled, storming off to the tech lab. Jason stood there, head hanging. YN walked over, taking his hand but he pulled it away.

“You should go, run as far away from this city…from me as you can,” he said.

“I’m not going to leave you. Tim’s isn’t thinking straight…” she started.

“DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME!” Jason screamed, making her recoil, fear flashing in her eyes. He shook his head. “Go YN, get away from me.”

“Master Jason…” Alfred cut in. Jason turned on him.

“All of you just leave me alone! I am nothing. I should have stayed dead,” he said, eyes flickering to green. He put the helmet back on and jumped back on his bike and disappeared out of the cave.

You sat on Jason’s bed in the day, holding onto one of his favorite leather jackets, trying to figure out where he would go. You didn’t know all his safe houses and he wasn’t at any of the ones the rest knew. You wished he didn’t run, but you understood. Everything was going so well until the rug was pulled out from under him again. He couldn’t catch a break it seemed. You sighed and looked down at the black jacket, wrapping it around you and zipping it up. You put your hands in the pockets and froze, feeling something. You pulled out a small envelope. It wasn’t sealed and curiosity got the best of you, and you looked inside. There was a ruby ring and a note.

Will you be mine forever?

Want to be my Red Lady?

I love you, marry me?

You started crying all over again as you gripped the ring and the note. You got up, going to his desk, grabbing a pen and writing YES, setting everything on the desk in case he came back. You looked up when the door opened, hoping, but it was Tim. You wanted so much to be angry at him, to tell him that he shouldn’t have said that to Jason, that he hurt him again. But you didn’t. Tim was hurting just as much, and he was still so young. Fucking Bruce Wayne and his obsession with making children into soldiers.

“O, sorry, I saw the light and thought he came back,” Tim said softly. You offered him a weak smile. “I…I didn’t mean it.”

“I know Tim, you were upset, it’s a horrible situation all around,” you said. Tim laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “You know that its not your fault either right?” He looked at you and you could see the thoughts turning.

“If I didn’t volunteer…” he started, and you shook your head.

“What these monsters do isn’t on you,” you said. “Or me or Jason or Bruce or any of us. They are looking for things to hurt, innocence to destroy, what better way to do that then by taking away hope? And love? And friendship? They want to destroy Jason, and you, and Dick, and Bruce. We can’t let them.”

“I think I may know where Jason is,” Tim said. You perked up. “I’m going to find him.”

“Don’t go alone, please? Just in case?” you asked. “I’ll go with you.”

“No way, Jason will shoot me if I put you in danger like that,” he said. You chuckled and nodded, he probably would. “I’ll find Dick, he’ll go.”

Jason paced the one safe house he thought he had. It was rather macabre, making a safe house out of where you killed your greatest enemy, but he figured no one would come looking here for him. Imagine his surprise when his brothers jumped out of the track for the tunnel of love and came over, hugging him. What a sight, Nightwing and Robin hugging Red Hood.

“How did you find me?” he asked. Tim held up a tracking device. “I took that off…”

“There’s one on the bike too. And I also can route into your helmet whenever I need to,” Tim said. He was looking guilty. “Jason, listen…”

“You don’t have to apologize, you’re right,” Jason said. Dick shook his head, putting his hand over Jason’s mouth, despite it being under the helmet.

“No no, he talks, you listen,” his older brother said.

“I was wrong Jason. And you are too. We aren’t at fault for this, we do our best to give people hope and these guys they want to destroy that, to take all the good out of people’s lives. And I am devastated that all of those great people are gone but I know for a fact, because all of them told at one point or another, that the living shouldn’t become the dead just because their loved ones have passed. We should live and remember them so that they live through us. And we shouldn’t push away our loved ones, like you know, soulmates, in times of grief,” he said. Jason stared at him. “You’re my big brother Jason, I love you, and I want you to be there for me right now, not hiding in your Joker dismemberment room.”

“Are you sure?” Jason asked, voice hitching a little. Tim nodded. “Ok, and uh, not that I ever said this, but I love you idiots too.” Dick smiled and wrapped an arm around Jason and they followed Tim out to head back home.