#in a world full of serial killers how the fuck can I let a stranger tie me up and have their way with me

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

I can’t do online dating, man. It’s terrifying. I’ll either get murdered or catfished or worse, rejected, and I just can’t do it. I’m a walking catfish because everyone sees these cute selfies, and these fun facts, like this girl likes anime and 2000’s pop punk, how fun, and then they meet me, and I’m a fucking wreck and how do you tell someone that? Like yeah I’ll fuck you into tomorrow and cuddle you while we watch anime, and I’ll sing along in the car to my high school playlist, and it’s all fun in games, but I actively dream about dying, and I’ll never ever clean up after myself. last night I dreamed of eyeballs sprouting from my skin like some sort of boil, one brown eye spinning beneath a translucent patch on my thigh, and another protruding from my forearm, festering and infected before it finally fell out, leaving an empty socket pooling with blood. I dreamed of curses and ancient magic and murderers and parasites. I dreamed of my nephew lying in a pool of his own blood, wrists and throat slit in some sort of saw-like game for survival, the woman who orchestrated it feigning guilt as she pointed a finger at the person she forced into doing it, me hyperventilating, wondering how this all went wrong. this morning I forced myself to forget several others, dreams I couldn’t stomach remembering, and tomorrow I’ll repeat the same ritual over and over again, trying not to dwell on the memories, trying not to solidify them into existence, and always I’ll succeed at some and fail at others, and I’ll lie awake remembering blood and spinning eyes until I dream of them again. the nightmares aren’t new. they come and they go, but they never truly leave, and I’m not sure they ever will, and how do you tell someone that? Where do I put in my dating profile that my nightmares could fill a horror anthology, that I’m scared they mean there’s something wrong, that I don’t understand what my mind could be trying to heal by forcing me to bear witness to ugly things night after night. I have nothing to offer someone, and that’s not me being depressed or doubting my self worth, because I know some people will find me funny or attractive or charming, and some people would take me, baggage and all, but I have nothing to offer. I hate to cook and clean, and I shut down in a mess, and I have to pay my family to help me get things in order, and my anxiety keeps me awake at night, and I’m a hypochondriac, and I’m scared of the dark and demons, and I argue everything, and I’m easily overstimulated, and I get cranky when I don’t have control, and my head is full of nightmares and intrusive thoughts, and I’m always obsessed with something new that I’ll never stick to, and i ghost (almost) everyone if I forget to respond for even a day, and I can’t stop quitting jobs the moment I feel even a little less happier than usual, and I take Disney trips and eat out every time I’m feeling sad so I’ll never save a thing, and I don’t go to the gym, and I don’t dress up, and I was awful to every person who every meant something to me, and I don’t even have friends. I’m not just not good at anything. A guy on bumble asked me what I was good at, and I didn’t know what to say. I’m good at my job. How fucking embarrassing. It’s the only thing I’ve stuck with and invested in. I’m good at my job. At arguing. At self diagnosing. And planning Disney trips. At reading people and sensing lies and reading between the lines. At mirroring people. At surviving chaos. I’m not good at anything useful or pretty or kind. I used to be kind. And brave. And so many things, and I’m not. So how can I make you happy? How can I be your sunshine? How can I bring peace and value to your life? I can’t. I don’t have money or talent or looks or anything. I’m indecisive, and I take the path. of least resistance. and I don’t know how to get back the things I lost - my passion and creativity, my bravery, my willingness to stand up for anyone, my unwavering kindness and trust. I used to watch the eclipse on the beach, and I took everyone I met to climb a fucking tree, and I danced in the

rain, and I think I used to be someone worth knowing. but I’m not, and I can’t go on and app and pretend like I am. I’m touch starved, and I crave affection and sex and witty banter, and I’m selfish for wanting from someone what I probable can’t give back. And I’d try. God, I’d fucking try. I’d loved to be so good for someone, but I’m scared to hurt someone good again. And I’m scared to hug someone with sticky, tar-like fingers who won’t let me go, to face-check a relationship because anything seems better then what I had. Either way it feels like I’ll trick someone or I’ll get tricked, and I’m just not here for either.

Dating apps just aren’t for me, I guess. I hate them. But I wish I didn’t.

[celestiall0tus]

So, let's finally analyze this finale...

I , like many on here, feel that it is time to talk about the finale of Miraculous s5. I personally have had time to sit on it and read some of the views of others in the fandom and let's fully dive into this.

So, let's get the big one out of the way: Adrien. I know a lot of people are upset with the way that he was handled, and I see why. I personally am indifferent, but I see the issues clear as day. Adrien should have been there. He should have been there for the final altercation, but was denied that. Instead, he got to be the classic damsel in distress, a Grimm's fairytale heroine that had no true say in their fate. Yes, Adrien couldn't fight his father since Gabriel had the rings, but Gabriel didn't know that Adrien was Chat Noir. Thus, he could have been there for that fight so long as he was never revealed.

On top of this is the bad writing when it comes to the "nightmares." I had briefly mentioned this before, but didn't fully elaborate. So, allow me to while I blissfully ignore that BS magic was involved. Nightmares in the purest sense are vivid dreams that possess a threatening, upsetting, bizarre, or bothersome quality. What Monarch did would technically count as nightmares being bothersome, but shouldn't have invoked that level of response. I get that magic was clearly involved, but wasn't fully explained, at least to what I took in. As I understand it, he brought forth their worst fears to manifest as "nightmares." This is my personal biggest gripe as nightmares aren't like that. While vivid, they aren't clear cut and to the point. They are vague and terrifying. Like, being chased around a resort full of strangers by a murder that specifically wants to do you harm and you are terrified. Or even you being a serial killer that goes on a rampage, killing children. Or, better yet, a vision of a white-faced demon with a long, trunk like nose trying to invade your sanctuary while you run away in complete terror and before you dive into darkness you hear her ask that you come see her so she can die. Those are nightmares. Not what the show portrayed as "nightmares."

That leads me into Monarch's plan. On paper, it's actually impressive. And worked, but only because of unclear magic rules in effect. As I stated above, I don't remember a mention how the emotions would have been blown out of proportion, just that the nightmares would surface and haunt the people. As such, I find it incredibly irritating that everyone reacted the way that they did. I get brainwashing with technology and that BS, but it just felt so stupid. Like, I get the rest of the world turning on Ladybug and Chat Noir, but Paris? You're telling me that in the whole of Paris, where Ladybug and Chat Noir have been working to protect the people, are that quick to turn on their heroes and Alya is the only one to call bullshit on it? What the fuck? Seriously? Fucking bullshit on all aspects.

I have no thoughts on the fight between Bug Noire and Monarch until the final bit where Bugaboo holds Monarch at gunpoint. I do wonder if Bug was paying attention to all the rings on Monarch's hand and saw the twin rings. If I'm not mistaken (which I may be) those were present during Felix and Kagami's reenactment, so she'd know there was an amok in there, right? She'd know that was Adrien's entire life right there, right? So, I get why Gabriel acted the way he did. On some level, he was keeping his son safe. To a degree, Adrien has been a reason why Gabriel does what he does (even if he is willing to sacrifice his son at certain points and use him like another tool in his arsenal). It's actually poetic that Monarch is able to take advantage of Marinette being a fucking dumbass when she de transforms. Lesson learned, not everyone is trustworthy. There are people that are legitimately out there to get you. I get that she is young, but there you go. Or, well, maybe not.

One gripe I want to get to before something that has always irked me. Gabriel got his wish. A fucking reality altering wish. As much as I'd like to forget that Ephemeral exists, it does and we're left with the fact that is what happens when a wish is made. I was genuinely hoping that it remained contained to the what if scenario, but here we are. Reality has been warped to what Gabriel wanted in the end. A soft reset if you will. I fucking hate this shit. It's not enough that you have to pay a price for the wish. No, we need to rewrite reality on top of that. Fucking bullshit on so many fucking levels that I just fucking can't. Absolute bullshit. I don't fucking care if you let him have the damn wish, just don't fucking add in that it changes all of fucking reality. Like, FUCK!

So, that which irks me. The fact that the fucking kwamis are bound to obey those that hold their jewels. Like, fucking hell. This will always piss me off. These are essentially god like beings that they themselves see as a danger and need to be contained. Like, what the fuck? It annoyed the ever living hell out of me that Plagg and Tikki just had to bend over backward because of this. I get magic and that fucking BS, but I still hate it. If we're going to do this kind of shit, it needs to be better explained. Especially with magic because just saying "Because magic" isn't good enough. With X amount of magic systems, who fucking knows at this point. If you're going to include that shit, you need to actually explain it. And not in the fifth season where you still don't fully explain shit. Maybe they did explain it and I mentally blocked it out, but for fuck's sake, explain shit better!

I want to add in a piece I forgot. The finale could have been great if it tightened the script and series of events. A clear cut explanation for the magic and how the nightmares worked. Potentially allowing Chat to join the final battle. Cutting out all the scenes with the other people just for a reunion of sorts. They ultimately didn't add anything to Bug's final battle except as a distraction. We didn't need Luka knowing kung Fu (as hilarious as it was) we didn't need to see the other heroes from the specials, and we didn't need Bunnix returning if it doesn't help directly against Monarch aside from being a distraction. You can show us one scene of all that and continue on with the day.

That is all for this piece. I will touch on the subject of redemption and abuse as I believe they should be further explored, just not in this post. If you're interested for another L0tus rant, stay tune.

Have a good night everyone.

[fipindustries]

todos los demonios estan aqui

you've probably heard me mention multiple times that one of my favourite novels of all times is"la battala del calentamiento", an argentinian novel about a man who suffers from gigantism going on a trip to the argentinian south and encountering a strange little village there with strange people living in it and becoming the step dad of a girl with magical powers.

well, the writer of that book is called Marcelo Figueras, and it just so happened that a couple years ago he published a new book called "todos los demonios estan aqui". so, obviously, i had to read it.

it was fine i guess.

the book reads like a suspense horror movie, i could see A24 adapting this one day, with strong influences from stephen king. a psychiatrist is hired to work at a strange mental hospital, tucked away in an old mansion in a distant island in the middle of the Delta (an important argentinian river). soon he comes to find out that place is a lot stranger and much more sinister than he thought at first.

the twist at the end is that actually the institution, as well as all its franchises, are actually franchises of hell. the "patients" in those hospitals are all damned souls trapped in their bodies on earth, unable to access heaven. the goal of these hospitals is to treat those people and give them a second chance to repent and redeem themselves. our main character accidentally lets a patient escape and it turns out that patient was john gacy, the clown serial killer.

highjinks ensue.

its a pretty decent mystery book, the clues are doled out slowly and the reveal is satisfactory. although i feel the premise was never properly explored. as soon as the big twist is revealed we jump into the third act and we never really a breather to explore in more detail the implications of this (there is a throwaway line that hitler and stalin are also patients of this hospital in other countries) the only two "infamous people from history" we get to see are john gacy and ottis toole.

as a story its pretty decent but there are a couple of aspects that hold it back to me. first, as i said, most of the book is spent unraveling the mystery and once the premise is finally revealed in full we barely have any time to really explore it or let it sink before we rush to a typical horror movie third act serial killer type fare.

second, the main character is very unlikeable. he is a middle aged man who is EXTREMELY divorced, the most divorced man in the conurbano. with all the typical flaws associated. hates his ex, has only eyes for his son, is constantly oogling other women, he is a bit of an alcoholic, has a bit of a temper, is kind of a lonely loser, etc.

third, this book has what is probably the most out of place, shoehorned, tacked on sex scene i ever came across in a story. is completly ridiculous and the only explination i can find is that the writer got a sudden and uncontainable attack of hornyness as he was writing the book and he just had to type that scene with one hand while the other was occupied.

finally the happy ending kind of strains belief. the guy fucks up, he fucks up massively. he lets a serial killer escape from the hospital because he thought he was "harmless", the guy went on to kill two people, torture his ex and molest his son. a lot of energy and personel from the hospital had to be used to recapture the guy. the fact that he was not fired for this and gets to have a happy relationship with his son by the end of it all is absolutely ridiculous. it would have taken me out of the novel if it wasnt for the fact that it ends there.

honestly this book is more interesting for its premise and the fuel it gave me to extrapolate interesting stories in this world than for the book itself. like damn, who else is in these hospitals? how do they get them from the moment they die into these places? how do they make sure nobody recognizes them? i want to see how they handle guys like hitler, or charles manson or margaret tatcher.

in the epilogue we see the guy taking on a new patient, Mister J, who turns out to be his abusive father who was a colaborator with the military dictatorship of the 70's. i don want to see just a page dedicated to that, we could have had a whole novel based on that alone!

so yeah, competently written but with a few stumbles here and there that end up making the whole experience a lot more frustrating than it needed to be

7/10

[ramp-it-up]

Request:

Y/N is for one year in America and try to learn the language More (she is from Germany ).

Chris saw her at target and realized that she was kind of lost and was loved to help her 👀

Okayyyy Nonnie! How's this for a challenge?

At first I didn't know how I was going to get there from here, but I cruised IG for some German inspiration. As a result, instead of Y/N, reader is named Maëlle. I also struggled with the knowledge that most Germans know more English than Americans know of any other language, but this is all in fun. 😛

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (Maëlle)

Word Count: Around 2K

Warnings: 18+, RPF, MINORS DNI, CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE, not proofread, Google Translate for the German, verry limited American knowledge of Germans and German culture, not full on Smut, but smutty thots, thoughts of oral sex, fingering, degradation kink, allusions to Dom! behavior, disregarding of stranger danger, the Red Sox, and an age gap.

Maëlle

**********************************

One of your goals when you got settled was to go to Target, Ziel when you arrived in Boston for your graduate exchange year at Boston University.

You understood a great deal of English and could speak many phrases, but you’d hoped your year in America would make you fluent.

You were proud that you were able to get from the BU Student Union to the store. You surprised yourself with the ease that you used your phone to help you translate for what you needed.

Now, you were standing in front of the doors, almost in tears, trying to find where your Uber was to pick you up.

You didn’t pay attention to which way you entered and you needed to find VanNess street. It was about to leave. You suddenly felt helpless, hilflos.

—-

Chris needed to pick up some sunscreen before the game, he couldn't afford a burn right before filming. Even though he had his Red Sox cap on, he still needed some high grade sunblock.

He hurried through the doors of the Target near Fenway Park, head down, trying not to get recognized.

He passed by some beautiful long bronze legs and followed them up a smoking hot body clothed in a scarlet Boston University t-shirt tied up tight and short blue jean skirt.

Your face was framed by waist length blonde braids and your eyes were the most beautiful he’d ever seen.

Your lips deserved ten minutes all on their own, but he kept it moving, not wanting to seem creepy.

You were gorgeous, although you looked flustered. Chris didn’t slow his roll, because you were probably waiting on someone.

When he came back through, five minutes later, he heard your voice and slowed down. He was surprised, but shouldn’t have been. There were black people all over the world.

Even in Germany.

“Kannst du mir zeigen, wo die Van Ness Street ist? Can you tell me? Where is Van Ness Street?”

Your accent was heavy, but passersby just assumed you were crazy or joking with them and ignored you.

Chris was ashamed. That wasn’t what he wanted Boston to be. Even though he was close to being late for the first pitch, he stopped for you. He summoned some German from filming in Europe.

“Kann ich Ihnen helfen?” It was one thing he knew how to say with perfect inflection.

You perked up and smiled at him. “Ach bist du Deutscher? You’re German?”

You looked into the face of the handsome stranger. His eyes. Verdammt!

Chris melted a little bit. When you smiled, you were even more beautiful. Chris smiled back at you, smitten. He laughed.

“No. Italian.”

You understood, but you were confused. Why was this handsome American saying he was Italian and speaking to you in German? And why was he so familiar?

“Oh, Ich entschuldige mich. Sorry.” You smiled again, and Chris forgot all about the game. He wanted to try to talk to you for hours.

“No worries, he said. “Bitte?”

This handsome man’s German was indeed poor. He’d fooled you. He was a good actor. Something pinged in the back of your mind, but you overlooked it. Somehow, he’d made you feel better.

“Ich habe meinen Uber vermisst. Uber, gone!” You made a motion with your hand. “Kannst du mir zeigen, wo die VanNess Street ist?”

“Ohhhh! VanNess is this way,” he pointed toward the other side of the store, and he started leading you through.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you followed him.

You neared the electronics department and there was a giant movie display with dvds. The man saw it, pulled up, stopped, grabbed your hand and quickly led you back the other way.

You were confused.

“Come to think of it, I’ll give you a ride, my car is back out this way. Druben?”

Chris was not going to ruin his afternoon and a chance to talk to you by getting caught signing autographs in Target. He loved his fans, but he already liked you.

You followed him back out of the sliding doors to the parking lot and a blank Range Rover. You just went along with him, your hand feeling at home in his.

Then the panic set in.

You didn’t know this man from Adam.

Your mother had warned you about getting kidnapped by an American serial killer. This was it. You hated it when she was right.

“Wait!”

You said it perfectly, and the man caught your anxiety.

Chris stopped as he tried to open the door for you. He looked into your worried eyes. Shit, he’d gotten carried away. He looked down to where your hands were still locked.

He couldn’t help but smile at them. You smiled, too. Then he looked at you, blue eyes looking like the sea. You smiled back, somehow knowing that you were safe. You leaned back on the car.

“I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Christopher, what is yours?”

“Maëlle.”

Your smile was brightening his entire life. He was into you.

“That’s beautiful. Das ist schön?”

You smiled wider at his compliment. Then you bit your lip. Chris' knees got weak and he took a step closer to you to regain balance.

You were in each other’s space, Chris looking down at you and you at him. You were both getting warm even though it was a cool September day.

Chris pulled your hand instinctively, and you were even closer, your fingers entwined in his close to his thigh, which you could sense flexing through his jeans.

You were staring at his lips and he was doing the same as the butterflies flew around your stomach.

Were you really considering kissing someone you’d just met in Target? What would your mother think?

That thought made you smirk.

“What are you thinking?”

He was leaning over you, his voice in a lower register now. His breath tickled your ear and made you moan slightly.

Chris wanted to know what was going on in that mind of yours, if you were as crazy as he was feeling this kind of connection so fast.

You understood exactly what he was saying, but you just cocked your head and smiled as if you didn’t. You didn’t want him to think that you were thinking of his hands all over you, in your most intimate places.

Chris took a deep breath, trying to clear his head and regain blood flow to his brain. His cock was hard being this close to you and he had to regain composure.

He wasn’t that reckless kid he used to be, but man he wanted to do some depraved things to you. Like drag his tongue up your…

He had to stop. Chris took a step back.

You watched as his tongue peeled out to lick his bottom perfect pink lip. It was strange, but you felt like you knew him. And you wanted him to know you. Intimately.

And now those perfect lips were moving, but you weren’t paying close enough attention to translate what he was saying.

“Can I give you a lift to campus?”

You cocked your head in that pretty way again. He wondered what it would be like to feel your lips. On his lips. On his tattoos, around his…

Chris cleared his throat and tried to think of the words.

“Kann ich mitnehmen?”

He was so cute. You smiled brighter and nodded, “Yes, Christopher.”

Then you gestured to your bra-less breasts in your thin t-shirt. Chris could tell your nipples were hard. He licked his lips and looked around. This was a development.

Then he got your message. He shook his head, chuckling that his thoughts were in the gutter.

“Ooooooh! Boston University! You’re on campus. Yeah, that’s right near here. I’ll take you.”

“Danke. Thanks you, Christopher.”

Your smile would be the end of him. He had to think of a creative way to get your number.

“Hey! Let’s take a picture!” He had his phone out.

You were confused, but maybe this is what Americans did to get to know each other. Take pictures with strangers.

He took a couple of pics and then opened the door for you.

You brushed past him to get in, and Chris allowed his eyes to take in your form, especially your shapely legs.

You noticed him checking you out, and immediately got goosebumps, your nipples hardening again. Your panties were a little moist.

“Let’s just get you… “

Chris reached across you for the seatbelt with his right hand, face coming near yours as he leaned into the car.

“Buckled in…”

Now you were sure your panties were soaked.

Chris allowed his mind to go places, like your pussy, which he was sure was sweet, wet, hot and…

“….Tight.”

Chris gulped, trying not to drool all over you, although he would love to spit in your mouth and make you swallow as he fucked you raw.

“Danke.”

You whispered behind a breathy moan. You wanted not only to ride in this man’s car. You wanted to ride this man in his car.

Your eyes flickered down to his jeans and that’s when Chris realized that he had a raging hard on. He quickly put his hand in his pocket, trying to play it off, flashed a smile and closed the door quickly.

You giggled at how huge what you thought you saw was. You fanned yourself while you waited for him to get in trying to remember your decorum.

Chris stood outside the back of the car for a minute, trying to catch his breath and think. He had to be at least 15 year older than you, he just met you, and you didn’t speak English. None of this made sense.

He was going to drop you off at campus and try to be at the game for the second inning. And act his age.

Christopher got back in the car, much more formal, and started driving.

He looked over to see your legs open and started to wonder how easy it would be to reach over and under your skirt, pull your panties to the side, if you were wearing any, and…

Chris cleared his throat and focused on the road.

You could tell the air had changed. He was different. You wondered what happened.

You looked at his profile and decided that he was turned off by you being so forward. You decided to straighten up, so you did so, literally and figuratively.

You sat up straight and crossed your legs, like prim and proper young ladies do.

The curve of your spine and the crossing of your legs made Chris irrationally angry. It was like you were closing yourself off to him. Then he remembered.

You didn’t know each other.

You pointed out where to go as you neared your apartment. Chris pulled up in front of your unit and you both started talking.

“Danke, Christopher.”

“Hey, Maëlle…”

You both chuckled. Chris continued.

“Let me send you that photo. What’s your number?” He was fiddling with his phone. Then handed it to you. “Type it in for me.”

You grinned wide and his sly smile answered you. Now you understood. You entered your number and handed it back to him, your fingers sparking as you touched.

You were breathless.

“Well…”

“Christopher…”

You two interrupted each other again.

This time you continued.

“Thank you.”

You leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Chris closed his eyes. Your lips felt as soft as he imagined. He wanted to do the whole turn his head trick but he wasn’t 23 anymore. But you sure made him feel like it.

He did turn to look at you as you got out of the car and waved after you closed it. You swung your bag in one hand as you walked toward the building, also swinging your hips, watching him as he drove away.

Chris watched you too, as far as he could in the rearview. When you disappeared from sight, he said, “Fuck it,” did a uturn and peeled rubber back to your apartments. He rolled down the window.

“Maëlle! Maëlle!” You stopped just before you reached your door. Chris grinned at you. “You ever been to an American baseball game before?”

You skipped back down the walk happily, grinning back as you leaned in the open window. You cocked your head in that way.

“No, but I like playing wit the balls.”

Chris groaned. He couldn’t tell if you were talking about sports or something else. But he’d figure it out later. You climbed in the car, winked at him and crossed your legs.

Chris licked his lips as he drove back toward Fenway Park, thinking about how he would teach you about keeping your legs open that night.

——

Hope it’s okay Nonnie! ❤️

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @sillyteecup @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @lonelydance @chattykathysquietsister @anh1020 @nissameta1782 @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jbrizzywrites @stilltoyou @donutloverxo @wallowsgirl14 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @kiwisa @food8me @aiikaa @marvelfansworld @justanormalfangirlsworld @lost-in-a-state-of-mind @london-grunge @pheebsyells @douxtille @thesecretlifeofdaydreams @ximaginex @jdmacca92 @fofisstilinski @dyapraxicwhore @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @bit-of-a-timelord @aaronhotchiee @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @karolsboo @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @sickknik @photmath @whorekneebrain @mostannoyingbillioner @anacravalho @iconicshit @spicybibimbap @chaoticsteverogers @txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @assoftheamericana @ikatieebabyy @nerdymugsharkempath @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjean @maroonsunrise83

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Prologue

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers) 

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None, will be smut in eventual chapters

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for... A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

A.N: this is a bad bio but idk how else to put it. it’s a baby fic! I wouldn’t say this is enemies to lovers but they certainly don’t like each other at first so it kinda is. comment on this chap or message to be on the taglist. much love, Cia

                Prologue:  A Powerpoint, Really? 

If you had told 16 year old Y/N that she’d be working at the FBI, she would’ve called you batshit. 

Not only, did you not have any respect for authority or any inclination for rules in that matter, working for the FBI was never in the forefront of your mind. But when given the option of Jail or a full time job with benefits, it was fairly easy to make a choice. You remember the first day when you met your work partner and now best friend Penelope Garcia or specifically the day she caught you. 

You were waiting tables like you did every weekend to stay afloat. Today was unreasonably slow so you were just finding small things to do. That’s when she came in, an extremely brightly dressed woman, sat at the bar of the diner. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” You smile at the woman who looks up at you and smiles. 

“Yes, I’m looking for the Emerald City.” She says, smirking at you. Your face drops, you knew what she was talking about. 

When you started hacking it was only supposed to be a one time thing. You grew up poor, spent most of your life poor so when you saw your childhood home was set to be demolished to build a fancy new headquarters for Scotty Realins, an upcoming asshole tech CEO, without a cent going to your parents.  Something in you snapped. You had already been pretty decent at code and you flirted with a couple of guys in your STEM classes to learn how to hack so you would say you were pretty good at this point. So you hacked into the website and made sure all the Revenue for that day actually was wired to lower-income housing. At the end of the day, it was only a couple hundred thousand dollars but what was pennies to Scotty Realins changed some people's lives. 

So you started doing it more, to different companies under the pseudonym OZ. The money always went to different places that needed it whether it was paying the rent for a bunch of families or anonymous large donations to food banks or soup kitchens. You gained a bit of fame in the hacker community as a modern day Robin Hood. 

All good things come to an end though. And the end was standing in front of you in clunky, rainbow colored jewelry. 

“You don’t look like a cop.” you say, crossing your arms. 

“I’ll do you one better.” She says, pulling her FBI badge out, showing it to you briefly. You curse under your breath. “I’ve been following you for a while, OZ. Though I wasn’t expecting the man behind the curtain to be a woman. I will say, having my computers route back to a loop of “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” everytime I tried to track your IP was impressive. I couldn’t even be mad about it.” 

“Clearly not that impressive because you found me.” 

“Still took me longer than usual, which is saying a lot.” 

“This is a really long winded conversation if you’re just here to arrest me.” You say, taking off your apron. No use in keeping it on if you were going to be in handcuffs soon. 

“That’s because I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to offer you a job, to work under me as a Tech Analyst in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” Penelope says. 

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“Then you’re going to want a lawyer and my very good handsome friend outside is going to arrest you. You’re smart and you have a chance to help people which is why you started hacking in the first place, right? Please don’t make me do that.” She looked at you pleadingly like she really cared and didn’t want you to go to prison. You didn’t say anything but something told you she’d been in the same boat as you before. 

“Hmmm…. I’m tired of waiting tables anyway.” 

So you uprooted your life and moved from Philadelphia to Quantico. Garcia took you under her wing and pretty soon the two of you functioned in her batcave like a well oiled machine. You could do without the constant gore that filled your screens but at the end of the day, you loved what you were doing and you wouldn’t change that for the world. 

The team was an added bonus, it was nice to have your own little found family. Garcia, of course, taking on the role as best friend mere days after your first meeting. You met Derek Morgan right after you agreed to take the job, he’d been there to arrest you and was very glad he wouldn’t have to do that. He told you often about how you reminded him of his sister and he regarded you in the role of younger sister from that day on. The next person you met had been Aaron Hotchner, your new boss. It took him a couple of weeks to warm up to you, you guessed he had a difficulty trusting new people and when he would call you guys for information he would always ask for Garcia instantly instead of you, not very trusting in your skills yet. Though that changed when you had been the one to track down the Unsub once. 

Rossi was easily won over when you told him about your Italian side of the family, specifically your grandmother who loved to cook and left you a lot of recipes. You and him often went back and forth in sharing dishes. Emily and JJ had also been easily won over with one bottle of tequila and a regrettable girls night. 

Then there was Dr. Spencer Reid.     

You had a lot of opinions on Dr. Reid, most of them weren’t good. It wasn’t like you hated him in fact, you’d consider him a friend but the two of you seemed to butt heads on well, everything. Both of you needing to be the smartest in the room and neither of you wanting to admit when you’re wrong will do that though. You still respected Spencer though, he was an extreme asset to the team and he was your best friend’s other best friend so you couldn’t really hate the guy. 

You also didn’t have to like him. 

So you had a good job, good friends, a nice house to live in. You were finally happy, content even. So why did it feel like something was missing? 

The something missing came in a stroller pushed by JJ the next week. 

The last case had been rough. Really rough. So while the team was on their way back you and Garcia hatched a plan for JJ to come visit from maternity leave and surprise everyone with the baby. While you guys were waiting for them to land, Garcia wanted to show JJ something she had gotten her godson so JJ asked if you could watch him and feed him until she got back, which you obviously agreed to. As you were feeding the child his bottle, and his ravioli sized fist wrapped around your finger you realized what had been missing. 

Fuck, you wanted a kid. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You told Garcia first, it slipped when she noticed how off you were being. You wanted to have a kid bad now and you knew you didn’t want to wait. Penny tried to convince you that you’d “find the right person” but let’s face it, with this job, long term relationships were few and far inbetween. Plus you didn’t need a man, you had a good job and insurance, you knew you could provide a child with a life full of love it deserved. So you made an appointment at a fertility clinic. As the doctor was talking to you about your options, you felt yourself feeling more and more down about your decision and that only increased as you looked in the book of sperm donors in front of you. You looked at too many serial killers daily that it made you uneasy, carrying a stranger's baby. Maybe Garcia was right and your best bet was to wait for ‘the right guy.’ Even though you really didn’t want to. 

You walked into work later, a little sullen. Heading immediately towards the coffee machine. Penelope, who had been at Derek’s desk, makes a beeline towards you.  

“So how’d it go?” She says, smiling. “Did you make an appointment to be baby-fied?” 

You sigh. “I couldn’t do it, Pen.” You say, frowning. “I just-- We see so much here that I don’t want to accidentally end up with a sociopath’s baby because I couldn’t wait.” 

“But you don’t want to wait, do you?” She says softly, empathizing with you. 

“No, I don’t.” You sigh again, finishing making your cup before walking back out into the bullpen. JJ had brought Henry again for the others to see on the slow paperwork day. You tried not to look bitter but it was like she was flaunting the one thing you couldn’t have, even if it was unintentional. You watched as she handed the baby to Spencer, who instantly smiled and made faces at the laughing baby. 

“Spencer is actually a surprisingly good godfather.” Garcia says, smiling at the exchange in front of you. “Kinda makes you wonder what he’d be like with his own baby geniuses.” She says before walking over to the group and scooping her godson out of Spencer’s arms, Spencer still held on to his fist with his pinky, smiling down at the child. 

“Yea…” You say, to no one in particular. 

You had an idea. A probably bad one. 

-------------------------------------------------------

You were sitting in the coffee shop, nervously fiddling on your laptop while waiting for Spencer. You were surprised he even agreed to meet with you for coffee though you were sure he was just doing it out of curiosity because you told him you had something important to talk about. You weren’t even sure if you were going about this the right way. Hey Spencer, I know we’re not even friends but how would you feel about fathering my child? God, this was going to be terrible. 

You looked up when you heard the tell-tale bell on the door indicating someone walking in. Spencer gave you a small wave before going to the counter to get a coffee. You took that time to nervously sip yours. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, it was now or never. 

“Hey.” Spencer says, when he finally gets to the table, coffee in hand. “Why are you all the way in the corner?” 

“This isn’t really a conversation I want overheard.” 

Spencer tilts his head confused at that. “So what is the conversation we’re supposed to be having. I asked Garcia but she seemed to also have no idea.” 

“Yea, I didn’t tell her on account of this maybe going extremely bad.” You say, before sighing and turning your laptop around so Spencer could see the Powerpoint screen you have on it. When he reads it,  he chokes on his coffee.

“A Powerpoint, really?” He chokes, still coughing around the coffee. “Y/N, what is this?” 

“This is Reasons Why You Should Make a Baby With me.” 

“Yea, I got that from the title, Y/N.” He says, still shocked. “Is this a joke?!” 

“I wish it was, Reid.”

“Can I at least ask why you thought a Powerpoint was the best way to ask?”   

“Because I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.” 

“That’s true.” He leans back, taking a sip of his coffee, gesturing for you to continue. You hit the next slide. 

“Ok, reason number one is we both want kids.” You say, looking at him. “Garcia told me the other day that you were talking about how much you wanted a kid and I also want a kid.”  

“I did tell Garcia that.” He muses. 

“Reason two, an offspring between us would probably result in another genius. As you know, you are smart.” 

“Yes.” 

“And I am smarter.” You say, Spencer opens his mouth to protest but you keep talking. “A child between us could probably be the next Einstein.” 

Spencer nods and you continue. “Reason three, I’d be a great mom.” 

“That’s a debatable fact.” 

“No, it’s not. You’ve seen me around kids, have I ever given an inclination that I wouldn’t be?” You ask, he shakes his head. “Plus, I happen to think you’d be a great father. Which brings me to Reason 4.” You say clicking through the next slide. “If you don’t want to be involved in raising that’s fine. I’m perfectly fine raising the child myself an--” 

“What?! No!” Spencer says, sitting up. “If I do agree to have this baby, which I’m not completely doing yet. I want to be involved, I want them to know I’m their father and that I didn’t abandon them because I know what that’s like.” He says, seriously. You nod, already knowing this about Spencer. 

“Reason 5: I’d be the perfect platonic co-parent, I won’t ask you for anything unless it’s pertaining to the child and if you decide that later down the road you want your own family, I’d be supportive and help you along the way.”

Spencer nods. “We’re never home enough for a baby.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong because I’ll be here. I mainly stay here anyway and if there’s ever a case where you need a tech analyst to fly out, Garcia’s already agreed to have it already be her when I floated the baby idea around last month.”  

Spencer hummed, silent for a second. “You really want a kid, huh?” 

“Yes.” You say. 

“So much so you’re asking me?” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “A Coworker you barely speak to?”

Well, when he says it like that. 

“Yes. I’m asking because while we don’t get along the best you are still one of the most compassionate, understanding men I know. And I know that if I have to raise this kid with somebody, you would love them just as much as I would.” You say, Spencer nods at that. “So, please?” 

Spencer sighs. “When’s your next appointment? At the fertility clinic?” 

You didn’t even want to ask how he knew about that. “Next tuesday.” 

He nods. “I’m going with you.” He says, standing, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “This isn’t a yes.” 

“It’s not a no, either.” You point out. 

“No, it’s not.” He says, leaving you behind in the coffee shop with a huge grin on your face.

Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

Message/reply to be tagged!!

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (2)

pairing: taehyung x f reader

genre: horror au, yandere au, saw/john kramer au

synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughs, abusive relationships, stalking etc. dont read if triggered. there are some ?? fucked up things in this but idk what to word them. but also mentions of self harm/self hating thoughts.

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: unedited so pls forgive me for any mistakes and lmk if u want to be added to a taglist^^

series masterlist

part one part three

You’d spent a couple of hours in the café with Taehyung. Jimin popped over every now and then to talk with his best friend and to make sure you had everything you needed while there.

When you left, Jimin wrapped his arms around you as he bid his farewell, “It was lovely to meet you Y/N! Please, don’t be a stranger!” You simply nodded your head as you pulled away from the hug. You grinned back at him as he moved to Taehyung. You opened the door, carefully stepping outside to leave the boys with some privacy.

Once the door shut Jimin’s smile beamed, “so she’s the girl you’re always talking about, Flower? Right?”

“Yeah she is, thanks for that though man but, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later?”

Taehyung smiled as he made his way towards you, you looked up and he swore, he saw a hint of nervousness in your eyes, probably because it’s dark, he thought to himself. “Come on then, let’s get you home.” He held out his hand, you were quick to grab a hold of it. Taehyung intertwined your fingers as he tugged you back across the road, “it’ll take about twenty minutes, you gonna be alright to walk?” he glanced down to you.

Your heart warmed at the way his eyes smiled with him, “I’ll be fine, thank you.” He seemed happy enough with your answer as you fell into a steady rhythm. You felt a little conflicted, you may not know Taehyung well but he had an energy about him that made you wanna spill every secret you knew, you’d shared pointless stories while you were at the café, having learnt Taehyung was a family oriented person, he loved art and he was passionate about little subjects other people would deem small. Yet he had a warmth that you’d not seen in anyone else.

Fuck it, you thought, he’s shown nothing but kindness, you may aswell open upto him… atleast.

“I was in an abusive relationship.” Taehyung felt himself smirk but quickly wiped it from his face, he arched an eyebrow as he looked down to you, “it was my first too. It left me, fucked up, in a way. Not that I wasn’t already fucked up.” Progress. He squeezed your hand in reassurance, go on… “I’ve always been insecure and uh, uncomfortable with the way I look. After that disaster of a relationship, it left me worse for wear.” you kept your eyes on the road, you didn’t want to see the judgement on his face yet it didn’t stop you from carrying on, “I never told my friends or family about it. None of them knew I was struggling before it anyway so I’ve been letting it tear me apart.”

“Why tell me then doll?”

You risked a glance at his face. There were no traces of judgement or pity. Swallowing down your nerves, you added softly, “I had to tell someone. Even if that someone is a random person— who showed me kindness when I needed it.”

Taehyung felt his heart clench, she’s already trusting me… this was easier than I thought. “Don’t feel like you need to tell me anything baby,” I already know it all.

You felt your cheeks burn from the pet name, how could something so simple, affect you this much? God, talk about a schoolgirl crush. “That’s the thing, I don’t feel like I need to. I just, I want to.”

Taehyung presented you with his boxy grin, “Then you can tell me anything you want, whether it's big or small.”

“Thank you Taehyung.” It was like the sun had shone down on you, the simplest gesture meant the world. Here you had a person willing to talk to you about your darkest secrets. A person willing to listen. Someone who had no ties to your family, which made it easier for the words to flow from you, “It’s like, I was this happy, care-free kid. I smiled without forcing it and when I laughed… I felt free. I didn’t feel like I was losing my breath. Not like I do now, everytime I do so much as breathe, it's like these roots have twisted around my lungs and everytime a breath escapes, they crush them tighter. It’s like a reminder. You’re never fully alive. You’re never fully happy. Pain overrides any other emotion. I’ve learned that, after all those years. I used to think, I’d never accept it.” A solemn silence fell over you. The roots squeezed your lungs even tighter as you whispered, “I’m scared of living.”

“Flower, some people are anchored to this world by their feet, others by their fears. You don’t have to voice it, I know you’re scared. You have your fears. Your demons. The thing you were doing at the cafe; is destructive. Anything that harms you, is destructive. Fuck, it may only be something as simple as picking your skin but that can lead into bigger things.”

It already has.

“Taehyung, I know that. I knew when it started but it helps, it lessens my anxiety. You’re the only one to have picked up on it. My friends… they don’t notice. If they do, they don’t mention it.”

Taehyung scoffed, “You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?”

Your mouth was sewn shut. You didn’t want to admit it but, there was some truth to his words.

You walked home in silence.

That night haunted you. It forced its way into your dreams. It clouded your thoughts when Yoongi and Hoseok were with you. When you’d spent time together, you were vacant. A soulless body. It was like a poison had found its way into your brain, second guessing relationships and people’s motives.

‘You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?’

Why were you letting it get in your head so much? You knew your friends. They were the only ones you felt safe with. They were your friends for a reason, they supported you (albeit sometimes they had a sense of… tough love) but they always had your back.

You didn’t mention Taehyung to Yoongi or Hoseok. You felt as though that was something that should be kept between you and him. Plus, the duo would’ve felt betrayed and upset by the fact you had wandered into foreign territory alone and found company in a complete stranger-- especially after they’d warned you about the whole Jigsaw shit.

To save the arguments, you went about your life as usual. You helped out your Mum with the flower shop, the array of flowers made you realise how the simplest things were beautiful. That of course, didn’t include yourself. Rancid thoughts clouded what was once, a tranquil space. Those god forsaken roots hadn’t lessened. Breathing was still difficult— as was pretending that you were absolutely fine.

You avoided mirrors, a quick glance could wreck your entire mood. You hated people taking photos of you, it made you scrutinise every single thing.

My nose is too big.

My chin is too round.

My face just shouts ugly.

My legs are disgusting.

My stomach is embarrassing.

My boobs are weird.

Not to say, you didn’t have these thoughts on the regular. However, the more you eluded your appearance, the voices lessened. You could ignore the way you looked, forget it completely. Often convinced yourself you were a plain person. The stereotypical norm: someone that no one would look twice at. It helped you get on with everyday tasks, it helped you ease the anxiety.

After all, every flower must grow through dirt.

But how would you react? If you knew, he had all the pictures of you?

Tuesdays you worked at your Dad’s garage. You didn’t know much about cars but you enjoyed his company. As well as spending time with Hobi and Yoongi. You often found yourself pranking the former with Yoongi, little jokes that luckily, didn’t piss Hobi off too much.

Today though, you were late. You’d had to spend more time trying to find the more appropriate clothing… you didn’t want people to see the slashed lines of red that littered your body.

After you messily threw an outfit together, you made your way down to the garage. You found your eyes trained on the silver Nissan Skyline, mouth agape as you collided into something.

You felt hands grab your shoulders, “Watch where you’re going,” Yoongi brought his hands to ruffle your hair, “gotta be careful while we’ve got that here kidda. That fuckers expensive.” He released a chuckle as you rolled your eyes, softly elbowing him out the way.

Your dad was under the bonnet, a box of tools were scattered around his feet. Organised mess, your Dad was infamous for it.

“Sorry I’m late Pops, what do you want me to do?”

Not even a second later, your Dad turned to face you, “Ah darling, not a lot while we’re working on this. Can you go make us some drinks?”

“Yeah course, I won’t be too long!”

You passed Hoseok on your way to the little kitchen situated at the back, he sent you a wink as he shouted across, “Coffee for me kidda!”

Three cups were spread in front of you. Americano for Yoongi, Coffee for Hobi and Cappuchino for Pops. Just as you were about to shout the guys, a presence had situated itself comfortably behind you. Before you had time to turn around, a deep baritone voice addressed you, “You not gonna ask me if I want a cup baby?”

You felt yourself still. You knew that voice. The voice that was haunting your dreams, even your wake.

You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?

Taehyung watched the way your body tensed, your shoulders stiffened, your breathing altered. Hm, she’s nervous. How cute.

“What are you doing here?” the words passed your lips, delivered as though they were encased in thorns.

A deep chuckle filled the room, “What do you think I’m doing here?” Taehyung inched closer, the atmosphere was almost palpable. You felt the way his chest brushed against your back, a sudden chill shot through you as he brought his hand up— which grazed against your skin whilst he moved your hair from your neck. His eyes turned hungry at the sight of your goosebumps. Your heart raced when he brought his head lower, lips next to your ear, “You think I’m here for you baby?” I am… but you don’t need to know that just yet.

You spun around, squashed between the table and Taehyung. Heat radiated off of him, how can he be so hot? It felt like you were in a furnace (while face to face with the Devil.)

Fear stricken, you tried to fight through it. Don’t show him. Don’t let him see. With a sarcastic smile plastered on your face you retorted, “Of course you are Taehyung. You tracked me down using the information I gave you and figured out which Garage is ours.”

The sarcasm was practically dripping from your tone like venom. Taehyung felt himself stifle a laugh.

You just didn’t know. In all fairness, you didn’t know anything. How would you know that Taehyung had done exactly that, except he’d done it months prior.

He lowered his head to yours, your hands raised to push him away but Taehyung wrapped his fingers around each wrist and tugged them to lay between you before you even had the chance to nudge him. You felt like you were stuck in a Venus fly trap.

“I’m not some type of sicko, doll.”

You were just a naive, misunderstood, little girl.

“I’m getting my car fixed. Your dad’s working on it right now.”

Your body visibly relaxed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Oh, the Skyline? Wait, you have a car and made us walk back to mine the other week?”

“I didn’t make you walk for the fun of it baby, my car is literally in the shop so obviously it was broken.”

Only, the car was perfectly fine when you met him those weeks ago. He had made the pair of you walk so he’d have more of a chance to speak to you and to touch you. The only way he could follow you around without being suspicious, especially at your dads work, was to have a somewhat reasonable excuse (which resulted in him messing with the engine). He knew although you’d shied away from him that night, he could easily win you back around.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Taehyung. I’m also uh, sorry about how that night ended.”

“Don’t sweat it, I know what I said came off a little... weird but I didn’t mean any harm.”

With an angelic smile on your face in return, Taehyung knew that soon, that smile would morph into a grateful one. After all, he was going to help you.

Until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Live or Die.

Your choice.

He had first seen you out and about last year. However, he had first heard of you when the guys working for him had slammed a file onto his desk, Subject #13 was scrawled on the top. Filled to the brim with pictures of you and everything about your life down to the littlest detail.

L/N Y/N— D.O.B 03.11.02— 19 years old.

Phone number: XXXXX.XXXXX

Female. Lives with parents at: 171 Norm Street, Falfield F91 7DW. Was outcasted at school but befriended a Jeon Jeongguk [19 years, male. 92 Carriers Road, Cressage CY5 3EA. XXXXX.XXXXX].

Ex partner is Kang Jaehyo. [23 years. Male. Abusive and manipulative, laid his hands on Y/N multiple times leaving bruises and scars. Sexual abuse was also discovered. Have been broken up for 4 months. 13 Walkers Drive, Falfield, F73 1DL XXXXX.XXXXX]

Y/N has suicidal ideations (as well as 7 attempts). Self harms by “cutting” “punching” and “scratching”. Diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety Disorder on May 13th 2016. Works at Toret Garage and Letty’s Floral. Both places owned by parents.

The web of lies and deceit had barely scraped the surface.

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Chapter 3

⚠WARNING: Mention of previous characters' deaths

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You have no idea how you got here.

Here, being in front of the lone coffee shop on campus, on your way to meet the stranger who’s had the misfortune to get Hajime’s old phone number and receive your sad ramblings meant for no one else.

And you, the author of those sad ramblings, written in moments of weakness, are going to sit with this stranger and….

You haven’t gotten that far yet.

Honestly, you’ve been more incredulous at the odds of this meeting even happening.

What the hell am I doing???

You really have no explanation, not even for yourself. The time is 9:58 and in two minutes you’re going to walk into the cafe and meet with a stranger who is going through a traumatic life experience similar to yours.

Ok, so you can explain what you’re doing. But the why is what’s escaping you. And frankly that should scare you more than it is currently doing.

Especially seeing how you haven’t told your friends what you’re doing. You bugged off lunch (much to Oikawa’s annoyance) but didn’t tell them why. Not only would Oikawa throw a fit but he, Mattsun and Makki wouldn’t understand your reasoning for meeting a stranger you met only a few hours ago.

They really wouldn’t understand why you don’t have a solid reason for meeting this stranger.

Put all the red flags together and you would find yourself locked in your apartment with no means of escaping under Oikawa’s watch.

To be fair, you are meeting them in a public place and you have no intention of going anywhere with the stranger. You’re just going to go have a cup of tea, shoot the shit, and then leave.

Yeah, it’s definitely doable. And not at all crazy.

You take a deep breath before walking inside the shop. It’s a bit crowded - the weekend mid-morning rush makes the employees hustle behind the counter to fill orders. All of the tables are full, leaving no space for two strangers to sit and….

Oh, this was a bad idea. A really bad and stupid idea.

Your phone rings in your pocket. You pull it out and nearly jump at the caller ID.

Your brain points out that it’s not Hajime but the stranger you’re meeting. You pick up the phone quickly. “Hello?”

“Heya, how’re ya doin’?”

You hope you’ve schooled your expression into nonchalance but you can’t help your eyebrows jumping hearing the clear Kansai dialect through the phone.

Besides the surprise at the unfamiliar drawl, you’re pleased to hear a clear and strong voice on the other line. Nothing creepy or weird or anything your brain was trying to convince would be the case.

“Hi.” You reply into the phone. You can hear background noise from his end, which assures you again that he must actually be here.

“‘M over in the corner with the baseball cap.”

Your eyes move to the corner immediately and zero-in on a figure sitting at the table there. It’s a man, wearing a dark long-sleeve shirt and a dark ball cap. And he’s staring straight at you.

You hang up the phone and walk over to him. You spot a coffee cup on the table in front of him and watch as he takes his hat off and sets it on the tabletop. His silver-grey hair is messed up from the hat but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment.

No, what has you almost faltering in your steps is the exhaustion that lies deep on his face. The bags under his eyes are heavy and stark against his pale skin. His mouth is drawn in a small frown and with his eyebrows furrowed slightly it makes him look troubled.

You recognize his weariness. This is a man who is burdened to carry an intangible weight.

However this man still meets your gaze and gives you a small, tired smile. The small gesture brightens his face considerably but doesn’t completely erase the empty look. But you feel your nerves settle when he smiles at you.

“Hi,” he says when you approach the table.

“Hello.” You sit in the chair opposite of his and shrug your jacket off. “It’s busy, thanks for grabbing a table.”

“No worries.” Hearing his calm and measured tone in person relaxed you more than you realized and you felt some tension release from your shoulders. “‘M here all the time and I figured they’d be a bit busy on Saturday. D’ya want me to grab ya something from the counter?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You shake your head to emphasize your point.

“Nah, I insist. Coffee? Tea? Fancy mocha drink?”

“Uh,” you’re startled by his insistence but relent. “A tea, please. Jasmine if they have it.”

He nodded before standing and making his way to the register, letting you fully settle in your seat and try to still comprehend what the hell you are doing.

Mid-inner freak out (oh god, what if he drugs my tea, what am I doing?!) a cup materializes in front of you. Osamu comes around with another cup for himself and sits in the chair across from you.

“They had Jasmine and it smells amazin’.” He shifts in his seat and takes a sip of his coffee. “‘M not a big tea drinker but that smells like it would calm ya down real good.”

You send him a smile before lifting the cup up. The smell of jasmine tea was soothing and the taste was even better when you took a small sip. “It’s my go-to comfort drink. I’ve probably had a few more cups than normal in the past few months.”

The sympathetic look the stranger sends you makes you purse your lips, realizing too late what you said. You look away, cursing to yourself. Great, way to go and make it awkward now. It’s quiet for a bit, now awkward by your weird ~fun fact~

“My name’s Miya Osamu.” You look up at the man and see a rueful smile on his face. “I probably shoulda told ya my name earlier. ‘M a first year student at Sendai University.”

You blink. Of fucking course you didn’t know his name. You never thought to ask when texting him earlier. You met up with a LITERAL stranger for tea and coffee.

“Wow, I’m sorry for being so rude!” You hurriedly say. “I should’ve asked AGES ago. But my name’s L/N Y/N. I’m also a first year student at Sendai.”

“Huh.” Osamu (not The Stranger) says. “What a weird coincidence.”

You nod. “Yeah, um are you not from around here? I can tell by your dialect.”

Osamu hums. For the first time you see his face fall and set into something more stone-like. It’s a subtle difference but it’s there nonetheless. “Hyogo. Came to Miyagi for school and had to get a new number.”

“Oh.” It’s a dry answer that you really don’t know how to reply to. “Do you like it so far?”

He shrugs. “It’s not bad. Pretty far.”

You nod. “Yeah, it is.”

You both lapse into a silence that is neither comfortable nor relaxing.

Oh my GOD this is so awkward! Why did you agree to this? Why did you think this was a good idea?! Yeah sure, he’s not a freaking weirdo serial killer, you can check that off your list. But you didn’t think about what you would actually TALK about!

“Do ya wanna talk about Hajime?”

Your reply to his question is to spit your tea across the table.

You look up to meet Osamu’s concerned gaze. Neither of you move before you both reach across to grab napkins from the dispenser.

“Are ya alright?”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!”

In your haste to clean up your tea the napkin dispenser gets knocked to the ground, and the napkins explode out like an explosion of white confetti.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” The napkins springing up startle you so much that your knee knocks into the table hard, almost upending Osamu’s coffee.

“Argh!” You lean down to clutch your knee as it throbs painfully but your head collides with the table instead. “OUCH!”

“Are ya alright?!” Osamu asks frantically.

You exhale deeply. “Yep, I’m just a klutz. Fuck, that hurt my head.” You wish you could keep your head down and disappear. But you look up, your face bright red with embarrassment, and meet the concerned look from Osamu.

“I’m ok,” you reassure. “Really.” You look around at the mess surrounding your table and catch a few people gawking. Good lord. “Besides my pride taking a beating, I’m all good.” You stoop down to grab the napkins scattered around, wincing at the waste. Osamu also bends down to help.

“It looked like a pretty hard hit,” he notes.

“It’d be worse if I had something in my head worth keeping safe.”

Osamu smiles at your quip, a little half-smile. It’s nice.

Soon you both stand back up to throw out the napkins. Osamu grabs the bunch from you, letting you sit back down. You try to cool the fuck out and you will your face to not resemble a tomato when he comes back.

“Are you sure yer alright?” Osamu asks again.

“Yes, really.” You nod. “I’m sorry if I spat tea on you. I was just really surprised.”

Osamu tilted his head. “From what I said?” You nod. “Why?”

“I mean,” you start. “It mainly just caught me off guard. I’m not used to it, like just talking about him.”

“Do ya talk about him at all?”

You want to nod, but thinking about it you honestly don’t remember the last time you were able to tell someone about Hajime. Not his passing, but just talking about the person that he was.

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, looking at you considering. “Well my old therapist said it’s good to talk about this stuff, so I figured that’s what ya wanted.”

You don’t know how to reply to his simple explanation. Because you do want to talk about Hajime. You want to so badly. You want to tell the world how amazing he is, how he makes the world a better place just by existing, how strong he is and how much lighter you feel when he’s around

Or, how it was.

But you haven’t been able to talk about him. Every time you tried to talk outside of group therapy with your friends, Oikawa shuts down and Makki and Mattsun get uncomfortable. Your therapist is always able to handle anything you throw at her, but it’s not the same as just talking about a friend to someone.

So maybe Osamu is right about just talking about Hajime.

“He has hair like a porcupine.”

Osamu gives you a look of confusion before you continue. “Our friend Oikawa used to call him prickly, and we’d tease him when he’d bristle up and say he looks like a porcupine.” You laugh at the memory of Hajime bristling up, constantly egged on by Oikawa. “It wasn’t even bad hair, it was just so sharp. It was weird.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything for a second before he bursts out laughing. “Atsumu had weird hair too - dyed bleach blonde. Thought it made him look badass.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

You wrap your hand around your cup of tea, hesitating. An obvious question hangs in the air but for the first time since sitting down Osamu looks a bit lively.

“Was Atsumu your brother?”

The lightness on Osamu’s face is extinguished when he nods at your question. “Yeah, he’s a pain in the ass but I love him.” He pauses, looking down at his coffee cup. “Well, he was.”

You can feel the pain radiating from that one word. You understand the horrid dread that comes when you realize you’d been speaking about Hajime in the present tense. Even more so when you have to admit it out loud.

You look at Osamu and frown upon seeing his withdrawn expression. You feel immense guilt, knowing that you’ve contributed to his change in mood.

You’re desperate to lighten the mood and bring that smile back to Osamu’s face. You search through your memories, trying to find something funny. A thought crosses your mind and you feel a small smile grace your lips.

“There was one time that my friend was determined to roast smores on Iwa’s head.” You giggle at the disbelieving look on Osamu’s face. “Yeah, it was the stupidest idea he’d ever concocted. We didn’t even get one marshmallow on his head.”

“We?” Osamu asks, his voice lifting in amusement ever so slightly.

“Of course.” You reply, a smile spreading over your face at the memory and at Osamu’s content face. “I too was curious if we could do it.”

Osamu snorts, shaking his head as he brought his coffee to his mouth. “That idea would have intrigued Atsumu for sure. He was all about the far-fetched plots to piss off everyone around him.”

You smile, leaning forward in your chair. “Oh yeah? Wanna share some notes?” Osamu’s face brightens slightly at your words and he begins to talk, more animatedly than before.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: So nothing bad happened with Y/N meeting the stranger (besides her being a clumsy klutz, where are my fellow klutzes at?) Thank you for reading, I hope this chapter was a little soft respite from the initial angst~

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU (bold cannot be tagged): @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien

[cuttinqlines]

IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR

                                 IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR I

(richard ramirez [ahs 1984] x reader | mainly implied xavier plympton x reader)

trigger warning; drug use, toxic relationships, mentions of abuse, toxic characters, xavier is portrayed as a major piece of shit for the first few installments, glorification of a serial killer, knives, etc.

disclaimer: i do not support the real richard ramirez in any way, shape, or form. this is simply based on the fictional version from ahs 1984. no disrespect is intended in any way. please, feel free to click off of the fic if you don’t enjoy this type of content. any hate will be ignored.

word count: ?

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BILLY IDOL blared softly out of the large window, casting an eerie echo out onto the empty street below. The street lights cast a soft glow into the otherwise dark apartment, illuminating your face. You sat alone on your bed clad only in the white lingerie you hadn’t bothered to strip out of. The dark silk sheets of your bed were lazily draped over you, your comforter discarded on the ground beside the bed. You stared up at the ceiling blankly. Your thoughts were racing, a mixture of deep-seated rage and numbness eating at you. The day had been shit to say the very least, with a certain blonde wanna-be actor to blame.

“Fuck,” you muttered out loud, rubbing both of your temples lightly, “I need a bump.”

Slowly sliding your legs out from under your sheets, you stepped down onto the floor. The cold air hit your legs, causing you to let out a barely audible hiss. You could hardly see in the darkness, only making out the faint outline of your vanity that was placed adjacent to the large window. The thought of turning on the light briefly crossed your mind, but you hardly wanted to see yourself in the mirror.

A soft sigh escaped your lips. Your hands fumbled around in the top draw of the vanity, searching for the mirrored tray that was tucked just out of sight. Through the noise of the shifting of the contents of the drawer, a soft thud of shoes against the marble tile sounded. You hardly would’ve noticed it if it had been any other day. You rarely paid attention to the little things going on around you, living only in your own little world. It was harder to get attached that way- harder to get attached to things, to people.

Tonight, though, you were on high alert. All of the hairs on the back of your neck seemed to stand up. You took a step back from the vanity, cringing as the wood floor beneath you seemed to creak. You heard the thud of shoes again, but it was louder. Closer. “Xavier-” you called out, your voice wavering slightly. “If that’s you, get the fuck out of my apartment.”

The sound of a deep laugh filled your ears. It was unfamiliar. You had definitely given away your location, that much was clear. There was a stranger, a criminal, in your home and you had lost the one advantage you might have had. “Guess again, baby girl.”

Chills ran down your spine. The intruder’s voice was sinister. Yet, you found yourself being drawn to it, despite every fiber of your being urging you to hide. It was as if the devil himself had crept in and came to collect your soul. A shiver ran through you. You needed to get it together. More importantly, you needed a weapon. Luckily, your vanity seemed to be full of them. Well, it was full of blunt objects and that was more than good enough for you. Dying was not on your agenda, especially not today.

You took a tentative step forward, careful not to step on the same creaky floorboard from a few moments ago. Spotting a lamp to the side of the vanity top, you reached for it with one hand while the other flicked the lights attached to the gaudy mirror. Most of the bulbs had burnt out previously, you not having been bothered enough to change them. You were rarely home most nights anyways. With three of the bulbs still burning, you would at least be able to see the guy coming, instead of continuing to stumble through the dark.

The sudden light seemed to attract the intruder, like a moth drawn to a lamp. You could see the tops of his shoes stop in front of the door. Nervousness flooded your veins, though you didn’t have it in you to be completely afraid. All of the fear that your body could have possibly held had been taken from you by someone else. Pushing the nervousness now, you took a silent step back towards the wall.

The door swung open quietly, your eyes quickly moved towards the dark figure who had just burst in. His dark eyes scoured your scantily clad body, stopping at the base of the lamp you had an iron grip on. His facial expression flickered from one predator eyeing his prey to amused. He let out another laugh. It seemed to make his face light up. In any other circumstances, you would be enchanted by his handsome features. “Is that seriously all you got? I hate to break it to you, but that won’t be enough to stop the Night Stalker.”

He grinned sinisterly. “You’ll be famous, though. I’m going down in history. Doing the master’s work always gets the headlin-” He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze meeting your face. He studied it for a moment, his eyes feeling as if they were burning holes into your skin. “What happened to your face? Did somebody else get you?”

You couldn’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously. Was this his version of playing with his food before eating it? Why would it possibly matter enough for him to stop his clearly well-rehearsed speech? Still, at the mention of your face, your free hand carefully went to the deep bruise that had blossomed underneath your left eye. “‘Did somebody else get me?’” You couldn’t help but mock. However, your tune quickly changed when his hand seemed to grip his blade a little tighter and his feet took him a step closer.

“Somebody else got me, yeah. They always do. You’re about to, too. A robbery gone wrong, am I right?” your voice had gone soft, bitterness etched into every word. You knew that you should be afraid and you were extremely prepared to knock him over the head with your lamp, but at least he was someone to talk to. Something that had become scarce in your daily life.

The man took a few more steps forward until he was face to face with you. His eyes met yours more intently than before as if they were searching for something. He shifted his blade to his left hand, slamming his right hand into the wall directly beside your face. He had you boxed in, the smell of cigarettes and cinnamon filling your nose. Your breath caught in your throat. He brought the blade up to your face, dragging his thumb ever so lightly across the bruise under your eye. He brought his hand down to softly caress your face, the blade scraping your skin too lightly to leave a mark. “You know,” he said after what felt like decades, “you look like a fallen angel. Like a flesh for fantasy.”

Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might escape your chest. Every word he spoke caused your heart to skip a beat. He had an intensity about him. It seemed to add gasoline to the fire that was already burning around you. “And you look like the devil.”

“I could never live up to that, but fuck I am trying- It’s the ones like you that make it difficult. There’s so much untapped potential that I can taste it. I can feel your rage, little mama. And it burns. Give it to us.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper now. He brought the blade down until it was caressing your throat.

You dropped the lamp. It landed on the floor with a dull thud and surprisingly didn’t shatter. You couldn’t move now. You didn’t want to. So many feelings were overwhelming you. You weren’t exactly sure what he meant when he said ‘Give it to us’, but you wanted to give it to him. The rage, the numbness, the evil, the ‘perfect’ life that had been eating you alive. You would have thrown it in the fire right then and there, but you held yourself back. “I can’t.”

Annoyance and anger shifted across his face and his right hand slammed into the wall harder. He pushed back, pulling the blade back from off of your throat. He tilted his head towards you, moving to whisper in your ear. His lips grazed against them slightly as he spoke. “Giving in to the rage isn’t so bad. You just don’t know how to be free. I can teach you. ”

He moved away from you, his eyes flickering over to the vanity. The tray of white powder and wads of cash caught his eyes. He took a step towards the vanity slowly. “You can think about it. I’ll find you soon. Satan will show me the way. Tonight though, the devil is owed his dues. I’m taking the coke and cash. Next time, I’m taking you. You know you want to dance with the devil, baby girl.”

Before you could let out another word, he was out the window and off into the night.

[annunakichan]

An Ode to an Imaginary Person #2: The Caterpillar

The Caterpillar is one of the only characters in Wonderland who actually makes sense. He’s just chilling, smoking his hookah and singing to himself, when all of a sudden this human girl is just STANDING THERE, staring up at him. And for some strange reason, this human is TINY AS HELL, even for a child.

She then proceeds to babble complete and utter nonsense in response to a completely legitimate question one would ask if one were to find oneself suddenly confronted by an uninvited stranger in his own home:

“Who are you?”

“Well, I hardly know, sir. I’ve changed so many times since this morning, you see -“

“I do NOT see.” And why the hell would he? He literally just met you five seconds ago and he’s not psychic. And you didn’t answer his question AT ALL, what the hell are you TALKING about?? “Explain yourself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t explain myself, sir, because I’m not myself, you know -“

At this point, any normal person would be looking at Alice like she’s insane. Instead, the Caterpillar simply and politely says, “I do NOT know.”

“But I can’t put it any more clearly for it isn’t clear to me -“

“YOU…” Now the Caterpillar is obviously and quite justifiably ANNOYED. This crazy girl is talking in riddles, and she STILL hasn’t answered his question! “WHO ARE YOU???” It’s a simple damn question!!

“Well, don’t you think you ought to tell me who you are first?”

“Why?” Another perfectly legitimate question. YOU waltzed into MY home so you could ogle me like I’m in a fucking zoo, and when I asked for your name (which you STILL refuse to tell me), you started prattling on like you’ve got a few screws loose. Why on earth should I give you my name first? You could be a serial killer for all I know. You’re definitely insane enough to qualify, and now you’re just being rude.

And then Alice just squats down and sighs. “Oh dear… everything is so confusing…”

BITCH, I just asked for your damn NAME… “It is not.”

“Well, it is to me.”

“Why?”

“Well, I can’t remember things as I used to and -“

And the Caterpillar understandably cuts her off before she goes verbally wandering off again. Now it’s a bit clearer that perhaps she hasn’t given her name because she can’t remember it? But if you’re having trouble remembering things, then maybe it would help you to find out what you DO recall. So… “Recite.” As in, recite something standard that everyone knows, some time tables or a bit of poetry or something, and let’s see if that helps jog your memory.

Now the next part could happen between any two people who come from different places, especially considering how different the human world and the insect world must be. Alice starts to recite something that the Caterpillar learned differently, so he corrects her. Again, he’s a CATERPILLAR. There’s no reason to think he and Alice went to the same schools and learned from the same books. He really is trying to help her, but Alice doesn’t come right out and say, “I don’t know that poem.” Instead, she says, “Well, I must say I’ve never heard it that way before”, which is quite easy to misunderstand.

The Caterpillar is clearly quite proud of his perfect pronunciation and enunciation and verbal skills (perhaps a bit arrogantly so, but who knows, maybe he was top of his class at Caterpillar University), so he puffs up a bit and replies, “I know. I have improved it.”

Now I do have to say that yes, the Caterpillar has been blowing hookah smoke in her face repeatedly by now, but can you really blame him? He clearly wants her to GO AWAY but she won’t, so he’s trying to help her (even if it is half-hearted) so that she WILL go away and she’s not exactly making it easy. She’s also not taking the hint, so he gives her yet another face full of smoke. It IS quite rude, but then Alice gets all huffy like she’s about to tell him off.

“Well, if you ask ME -“

“YOU???” I DIDN’T ask you. In fact, why SHOULD I ask you?? Because, for the LAST GODDAMN TIME: “Who ARE you?!?!”

So now Alice is good and pissed, and she storms off. And the Caterpillar probably sighed to himself. Okay, that WAS pretty rude of me. She might be an idiot and a little batshit, but she’s still a little girl and she’s obviously troubled for some reason.

So he calls her back. Alice returns, clearly expecting an apology, and demands, “WELL???”

Oh, it’s like that, huh? You know what, I WAS going to apologize, but I literally JUST changed my mind. Instead, he very calmly says, “Keep your temper.” Not an apology, but an offhand remark to indicate that there was no need for her to get so offended.

“Is that all?” Alice huffs.

About two seconds from telling her to fuck off and forget it, the Caterpillar merely ignores her rudeness. “No.” Deep breath, just stay cool. “Exactly what IS your problem?” Because you very clearly have many, but how about we try to narrow it down, since you’re obviously expecting me to help you for some odd reason, considering how mad you got when I didn’t.

“Well, it’s precisely this - I should like to be a little larger, sir.”

Okay, he’s a CATERPILLAR. He’s about as big as he’s going to get and he has no problems with his size. He doesn’t really see why that’s a problem and asks her to elaborate. “Why?”

“Well, after all, three inches is such a WRETCHED height -“

Okay, FUCK YOU and your crazy ass. That is the LAST STRAW.

“I am EXACTLY three inches high, and it is a VERY GOOD HEIGHT INDEED!!!!”

And even after all that, after she bugged him, confused him, got mad at him, INSULTED him, he STILL helps her by telling her to eat the damn mushroom, which her nutty ass is standing right on top of. If you’d just told me that from the start, you could have spared me this WHOLE VEXING CONVERSATION, he must have thought as he flew away muttering to himself. Silly girl…

[morepeachyogurt]

we are good people (and we've suffered enough)

word count- 2.5k      Pairing- Temily

Summary- After Scratch, Tara and Emily run away to Italy to start a new life, ft. cats, cafes, and gardening. Based on this post, and this prompt. 

Part 2 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series, work is a standalone, part 1

read here on ao3

tw’s- very minor mentions of substances and ptsd

Things were never the same after Mr. Scratch. The two of them were filled with more trauma than they had room for in their hearts to still hold each other in. Nights were no longer filled with a movie and cuddling, or talking about philosophy but tense sentences, paranoia, and nightmares. Tara knew that something needed to change, anything to stop the monotony of desolation. But still, they went to work every day and drowned their sorrows in killers like that would bring back the part of her that died when Scratch took Emily. There are only so many times one can be held captive and wait for death before something inside them breaks.

One night they get wine drunk, Emily laying sidewise on their black couch, and Tara sitting on the table staring at the ceiling.

“I miss being young, god, that’s such a weird thing to say. I mean, I spent my youth hating it. Hated my mother, and all of our traveling, never could make friends. I hated that I never belonged, hated not being in control of my own life, and here I am 50 years old working for the government that I used to despise trying not to cry myself to sleep every night,” her voice takes on a bitter tone.

“We love in our old age the things we hated as children. Does that make us matured or foolish?”

“Both, I think.”

“What was your favorite place to live? I mean it sounds like hell to keep moving between places but there must have been someplace you loved, right,” Tara’s voice fills with a tang of desperation as she searches for a way to help her lover.

“Rome. The weather and the scenery,” her voice takes on a dreamy tone, “and the food! Man, the food is good, don’t tell Rossi but his carbonara tastes like Olive Garden compared to the real thing,” they both chuckled at that, knowing it would have sent Rossi in a fit if he were to hear that.

“That sounds really nice honey.”

“I miss it sometimes you know? I think about how gorgeous everything was. It feels like home in my distant memories.”

“Then let’s do it. Lets, go move to Rome. You aren’t happy here Emily, I know you say you are, but you do this job for our team, not the position now. I miss when you laughed,” both of them sobered up by now, knowing that it has taken a turn for the more serious.

“No, no we can’t. I, I can’t keep leaving this team and our friends. And, people need us. You love this job Tara I can’t take that away from you, not for me.”

“They’d understand Emily, they all love you so much. Yeah, I love this job, I won’t lie. But, I love you more, and I’m not happy if you aren’t. So let’s do it. Let’s fucking run away to Rome together and be happy .” The two sit in silence for a minute, the unanswered question still hanging in the air.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Maybe I’ll fulfill my long-lost dream to have a nice, big garden.”

The team took it surprisingly well, they’d all noticed a change in Emily in the months following Scratch and knew that Tara had Emily’s best interest at heart. Of course, they were sad to lose two of the best members of their team, but Emily was family, and family looks out for each other.

“I’m going to miss you my favorite dynamic duo and your guys’ jokes. Ugh, it’s going to be so quiet without you two lovely ladies,” her eyes are welling with unshed tears as she says goodbye to more of her family, “Send me things from Rome or I will install a virus in your phones,” they both laughed at Penelope’s antics and promised her that they’d send as much stuff as they could. The last two weeks of their stay in the United States were filled with mixed emotions. They were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Away from all the serial killers and monstrous people out there. They could finally live with a fraction of the naivety that most people carry. On the other hand, Tara only speaks minimal Italian, and now they’re going to be living in a brand-new country, surrounded by strangers. A fresh start, but one filled with anxiety.

“Okay 4:30 is way too early for a flight,” Emily grumbled as they made their way to the airport. The pair had woken up at three, knowing that Tara can’t sleep on planes they tried to go to bed early and were now making their way to the airport in the dead of morning.

“Wait, babe, look! It’s a full moon,” they pulled over just for a moment and got out of the car to sit on the hood. The silence between the two is peaceful, the wind was the only whisper in the air. Moonlight shone on Tara’s face and Emily knew that there was no sight in the world as beautiful as this. With the moon reflected in her eyes and a small simple ghosting on her lips. She’s home.

Security was a breeze, they are former FBI agents after all, and they made their way to their gate. Airports always have a certain air to them, a place where time seizes to exist yet completely runs the place. Their gate was quiet, filled with the tired murmuring of people excited to travel.

“Tara, honey, wake up we’re boarding.”

It was odd for the two of them to be flying commercial after all those years on private jets. It was nice to feel normal though, to fade in the background instead of being other . Human desire is both to be noticed and forgotten all at once.

Italy’s airport is very similar to the DC airport, it would seem like they never left. Outside was a whole different story, bustling crowds and hot air hits them as soon as they step outside the building. They had picked out a quaint apartment building a week prior. Yellow walls with a terrace looking out to an alley. The couple's belongings had been shipped and were waiting to be unpacked. Not right then though. Now, it was time to explore.

Hand in hand they walked leisurely down the narrow alley way of the small Italian town they are now calling their home. Vines and every other type of plant that could grow did. Hanging off banisters, and climbing up orange brick walls. The sunlight was close to blinding, and it hit Emily just right. The golden rays hitting her face and illuminating the ghost of the smile now appearing on Emily’s face. That smile told Tara all she needed to know about their decision. Emily catches her staring, “What are you looking at,” humor evident in her voice.

“You, I’m looking at you miss Emily Prentiss. You’re smiling again,” her words come out softer than she intended, but they convey her point.

Happy couples seem to fill the streets, old and new, young and old. The town may be old, but it was filled with a life that they had been lacking. They pass a quaint little bakery. Bread, cupcakes, and assorted pastries fill the windows. There're bookshelves on all the walls filled to the brim with different books. The walls are light blue and there are flowers everywhere. It looks like something from the movies.

“Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” Emily reads the name of the building in front of them, they’ve since stopped to admire the view in front of them. It reminds the two of them how Emily asked Tara out. With a cupcake and book who had ‘I know there’s plenty of sugar in that cupcake but it’d be even sweeter if you went out with me. Let me take you to dinner Tara? ’ written on the inside.

“As much as I love hearing you speak Italian, what does that mean? Something heaven?”

“Little Slice of Heaven.” It’s truly a perfect name for the place.

“Okay, now we have to go in,” they’re both smiling now. They push open the glass doors, greeted by the high-pitched ringing of a bell and the smell of freshly baked bread.

The woman at the counter finishes the greeting, “Benvenuti nel piccolo angolo di paradiso, cosa posso offrirvi, adorabili signore?” they blush at the compliment and Emily orders them both cupcakes and coffee. Tara busies herself with admiring the books. Some of them have the most beautiful covers she’s seen. She knows not to judge a book by its cover but sometimes the most beautiful things are just as gorgeous on the inside as out. Just like Emily. She buys a book, and they take their drink and desserts to go. They make their way to a waterfront and sit down on the stairs, side by side.

“Rome is just as beautiful as I remembered. I missed it. It really does feel like home, although, anywhere I’m with you is home,” at the end of her sentence, she turns to face Tara, a look of pure love shown clearly on her face. And for that, Tara just has to kiss her.

The next day they unpack their boxes of belongings into their apartment to help rid the homesickness. Paintings go up on the walls and furniture is placed with the best view in mind. After a couple of hours they’re done, their apartment a bit more homey than before. They crack open a bottle of wine, put on an album, and sit out on the terrace. They watch the sun set over the water, the sounds of big band music filter in as the soundtrack for their night. The sky painted yellow, orange, and pink in the way only nature can create. If nature were an artist they’d be in every museum and sold to the wealthy. Instead, they are for the masses, the beauty of nature is for all to enjoy, free of cost, for those who wish to escape and fly into the night sky.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Tara leans forward on the balcony, not taking her eyes off the view in front of her, even as the colors begin to fade the sky darkens.

“No, tell me, what?”

“I always wanted to open my own bakery. I know it’s stupid, me a baker. But, I don’t know making things, it feels so uncomplicated. Just me and the dough.”

“In this alternate universe, I’d be a gardener. You and your dough and me and my flowers against the world Tara. Wait a second. I think you and I are onto something my dear,” Emily’s joined Tara at the balcony, the two of them leaning against the railing.

“Actually? You’re serious? You want to do this.?”

“Yeah! Why not? We’ve got enough money in the bank for us to last a bit, you can work at Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” the Italian rolls of her tongue in a way that drives Tara nuts, “I’ll find a gardening place to work at. We’re in fucking Italy let’s make our dreams come true.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Alessia, the owner of the bakery, is pleased to have another employee. Especially one that is actually interested and isn’t in high school. Tara learns the basics of bread and pastry making. She has some skill, she used to bake with her mother before she died, it had been awhile since she had been able to bake without bumming herself out. Now it’s a nice memory of her. Gone but not forgotten, as is the saying. Emily comes in every lunch break for whatever Tara’s whipped up and to get her caffeine fix. One of the things that she still keeps from her law enforcement days.

They aren’t perfect. A move across the country isn’t going to cure PTSD, she has good days, bad days, and worse days, but now they have the time to deal with it. There was never anytime to process things at the FBI. It was always, distract yourself and throw yourself into solving cases. Now they can slow dance in the kitchen and stay up until three am telling stories from college. They fill their days with the happiness that was once stolen from them and bathe in it like perfume.

True to their word, they send Penelope all sorts of things, books from the café, pressed flowers, trinkets from the small shops to adorn her desk. In return, she sends them pictures of Sergio.

“I miss Sergio, his little paws, and his ability to climb on top of anything.”

Emily finds a job at a nearby garden that sells flower arrangements and herbs to local restaurants. It’s convenient, more than they would have thought. Emily now gets to stop into the bakery on occasion to deliver herbs and has plenty of flowers to give her lover. She also sends a few bouquets back to DC. Hoping that the flowers can brighten up the office in a way that fluorescent lights never can.

On one of their late afternoon walks, they hear a rustling by a trash can.

“What’s that noise?”

“I don’t know, let’s go look, it almost sounds like an animal. Could be a mouse,” Emily suggests, absently reaching to where her gun used to rest on her hip. They open the bag to find three small kittens. Seemly abandoned in a corner.

“Oh god, they’re so cute. We have to keep them.” It’s not a question, Tara knows that Emily is thinking the same thing, their minds connected in the way people who love each other’s minds always are. They look up the nearest veterinarian to make sure that their new pets are okay to take home and healthy.

The vet is sterile and a stark reminder of all the hospitals they’ve spent time in. Tara squeezes her girlfriend’s hand to remind her that they are both safe .

“They look fairly health, a bit malnourished but that is to be expected in these circumstances,” the vet is an elderly man with a mustache as thick as his accent,

“I’ve give them the shots they need, for now, come back in few months and let me take another look. Ciao.”

The kittens are fast asleep by the time they make it home. They gently scoop the kittens out of the bag and into their arms and the couch.

“Okay, what are we naming these angels?” Emily’s voice is pitched up as she talks to the kitten in her arms.

“Well, I’ve always been a classics enthusiast, what if we name them Artemis and Apollo?”

“That’s adorable. Little tiny archery kitties, yes, isn’t that right!” she coos, “And I think I’ll name this one Carter.”

“I love it, and you. Come on, sit with me, you look tired,” Tara grabs Emily’s hand and pulls her onto the couch. They fall over a bit and Emily yelps in surprise. They put the old music back on, a sense of peaceful needs for their new lives. The two sit on the couch, Emily’s head in her girlfriend’s lap, a hand playing with her hair. Apollo climbs on Emily’s feet and lays down to rest.

“I love you, Tara,” she doesn’t respond, just lays a gentle kiss to the back of her head.

The world is big and scary but the two of them feel safe in each other's arms.

taglist- @royalpenelope @criminalmindsvibez @haleymalaffey @scandinavian-punk @abitcriminalminds @hellskitchensmurdock @criminalmindzz2 @rosesonmyheart @ssaemxlyprentxss @reidrights if you’d like to be added to my taglist, the survey is here

[unsaidmar]

One, The meeting.

Plot: Both Spencer and Olivia mourn their losses. Maybe doing it together works best.

WC: 2k, I get carried away.

CW: Brief mentions of death.

A/N: Hi y’all! I’m very excited to share this. I submitted it for a creative writing assignment last week and I thought I would share it here too. This is the first time I post what I write and I kinda want to make this a series.

Olivia knew pain was lighter on the shoulders when carried with someone else, she was completely aware of the fact that pushing her friends and loved ones away was the last thing you’d want to do when grieving. Didn’t stop her, though. Opening up was a conscious effort she had to make.  

Lia had been gone exactly 467 days. Each one harder, longer and duller than the last.  Her mom had told her that pain didn’t have an expiration date, that she shouldn’t worry about getting over Lia’s death sooner than she was ready to, but nothing could help the feeling in the back of her mind, the little voice that reminded her that the world did not stop spinning when she left. Even if she felt like it did.

Mornings were almost automatic at this point. Get up, make an effort to look better, grab an excuse for breakfast, promise mamá you’ll get something else on the way to work, drive mindlessly to the place you knew like the back of your hand. The Grey Roots was special, it seemed to transform people’s perspective as soon as they walked in, it was full of memories and knowledge. That much was true for Spencer Reid.

Maeve had been gone exactly 278 days. Each one harder, longer and duller than the last. The team did their best to navigate around Spencer’s grief, always taking hints the he dropped. A fake smile that meant “we can ignore my loss today”, a shrug accompanied with the ghost of a smile that meant “today I’m feeling better, but I’m not expecting it to last”, and the words “I’m fine, I promise”, that roughly translated to “this is manageable today, so don’t ask me about it”.

The love and sense of protection the BAU had over Spencer was instinctual, which was hard when he seemed to be a thousand miles away while standing right there. Morgan had said that if isolation was what he needed right now, isolation he was going to get, but always with the promise of his friends running straight to him if he needed the comfort.

On his days off, he tried coming to terms with the loss. Loss was a tricky thing, Spencer thought. By definition, it was the state or feeling of grief when deprived of someone or something of value, so if it meant the absence of something, why did it feel like loss went with him everywhere?

The Grey Roots was a landmark in the man’s life. Maeve had recommended he visit the museum while they were corresponding, which he was more than happy to do, always trying to find a way to feel closer to her than he could actually be. Now his visits changed in nature, he was there to reminisce. To try and get the optimistic feeling of loving her to come back.

The stranger that usually walked around the museum with files in her hands went unnoticed for a while, but to her, Spencer had never gone unnoticed. She had been watching him his last four visits, visits that were a lot closer together than the usual visitors liked, which naturally, sparked her interest. She was drawn to him, always turning her head to check if he was there and her eyes lingering for a beat too long to try and come up with an excuse to start a conversation.

Olivia cared very little about dating and would usually turn down people’s advances, but as he sat there, earbuds in and basking in the sunlight the botanical garden side of the museum had to offer, she couldn’t help but hope he was one of those ballsy men that usually approached her. Apparently, the gods felt bad for Ollie, because as Spencer stood up to go, a book slipped out of his bag onto the floor. Oblivious to it, he kept walking.

“Thank the fucking gods” Ollie whispered to herself as she made a beeline for the book. Trying to reach the tall guy, she elbowed her way through the people walking in front of her and tapped him on the shoulder. Play it cool, dork.

“Hey” she said trying to get her breath back. “You dropped this back there” She tried not to fixate on the way his curls looked with the sun shining directly on them, or on the way his eyes took in her presence.

“Oh, thank you so much” He rushed out, grateful that he didn’t have to lose the last thing that connected him to Maeve and cursing himself for being so careless.

Make conversation, now. Say something. Anything. “I take it that’s important, you look relieved” she giggled to try and appear chill. Failing miserably, of course.

“Um, yeah. It was.” Beat of silence. “It is. It was a gift” He answered looking down at his feet, holding on to the book like it might disappear if he doesn’t.

Now, genuinely relieved she could spare him the disappointment, Ollie looked up at him. “Then I’m really glad you didn’t have to lose it” She replied, mirroring Spence’s thoughts, which made him smile.

To the doctor, looking at her felt almost offensive to Maeve’s memory, like she could see him staring curiously at this kind stranger whose eyes were enticing enough to make him forget how to talk. His best friend JJ was the best at reading his expressions and figuring out what he was thinking, she was smart enough to know Reid felt guilty for wanting to move on and leave the pain behind, so she made sure he knew that no one expected him to act like a widower forever, not even Maeve. After all, no one tells you how long you’re expected to mourn a loss, there’s no unspoken rule of appropriate sulking time. 278 days later still felt like too soon and just about enough at the same time. Strangely enough, he wanted to keep talking to this girl, and it would have to start with an introduction.

“I’m Spencer”

“I’m Olivia, but please call me Ollie” or call me anything you want.

“Ollie, good” he let out a giggle that was uncharacteristic of him to say the least. Mainly because he had never made it this far into a conversation with someone as pretty as Ollie. “You work here” It wasn’t a question, he noticed the plaque pinned to her shirt that read Dr. Olivia Vega, Conservator.

“Yes, I’m one of the conservators here. I know I might not look like it, but I promise I know my stuff” This observation prompted Spencer to give her a once over and he smiled at how right she was. She was wearing black cargo pants and a simple lavender t-shirt she seemed to have cropped herself, her arms were covered with little tattoos and her dark hair had streaks of purple in it. She was a sight to see, and hadn’t she been so kind and smiley, Spencer would’ve been intimidated by her. “My mom always says I look like I dropped out of high school to form my own punk band” She added, interrupting his train of thought. “I kind of agree with her now that I think about it, but I have a doctorate in history and that’s not very punk”

“Well, I’m a federal agent but I look like my grandpa, so I’m right there with you”

You do not look like a grandpa. “A federal agent, huh? The wall-climbing, gun-shooting, vest-wearing kind?”

“Sometimes, yes. But I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit so the work I do revolves around profiling people, we try to narrow down the suspect pool by studying the way the crime was committed and making educated guesses about what kind of person would do that and the possible motives behind it. I also have doctorates, but not in history” He said, glad he could sound cool in front of what appeared to be the coolest human ever. Maeve doesn’t mind you moving on, he repeated to himself.

“Judging by the fact that you didn’t introduce yourself as ‘Doctor so and so, but you can call me Spencer’ I think you’re nice and not full of yourself” Ollie joked. “I would have been super intimidated if you’d lead with that”

Is she a witch or am I thinking out loud? “You should see the people I work with. I look like a 12-year-old boy compared to them” She erupted in laughter, causing Spencer to blush. “I’m not kidding, they call me ‘kid’ and ‘pretty boy’”

They got that right, you are pretty. “No way, my older co-workers call me ‘kid’ too! And I’m their boss. The least they could do is call me Doctor Kid.” She pretended to pout.

A mom with a stroller trying to walk past them made the two realize they were still standing in the middle of the path, so entirely entertained with each other that they didn’t notice the third-grade class that had just passed them. As if the realization had struck them both at the same time, they looked back at each other, both of them trying to stretch the interaction as long as they could.

“Do you, maybe, want to have this conversation somewhere else? Perhaps not in the middle of the crowd?” She asked hopefully.

Taken aback by the offer, Spencer agreed and followed her back to her office, that looked exactly like he would expect it to. A bunch of framed pictures with friends and family covered the wall to his left, she had a jean jacket full of pins hanging behind the door and a bunch of miscellaneous books on a bookshelf right behind her desk, all of them with post its sticking out and what he assumed were her bookmarks.

After offering him coffee, they talked about all the things they had in common and relished on the things they didn’t. It was refreshing to get out of their heads and talk about something other than what stage of grief they were in. Spencer was glad that Ollie had approached him first, otherwise he wouldn’t have met her or even know she existed. A text from Penelope brought him back to reality and he sighed at his phone when he read it.

“I have to go, we got a case” He said, annoyed.

Ollie tried to mask her disappointment with an airy laugh, “Oh those fucking serial killers, so rude of them to interrupt our conversation”

Come on, Spencer. Say you want to see her again. Maeve doesn’t mind. Faster than he could process, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “I want to see you again” He declared; eyes wide, afraid he came on too intense.

“Well, what a coincidence. I want that too.” She smirked, thanking the gods for all the love they seemed to be showing her today. She took a bright pink sharpie from her drawer and scribbled her number on Spencer’s palm. “Please, don’t wash your hand before you save the number”  She hoped she hadn’t blown her cover as the chilliest most relaxed person ever with that one sentence that sounded like she was begging him to call her. He took out a little white card from his bad and handed it to her.

‘SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. Behavioral Analysis Unit’. Two phone numbers were displayed along with the FBI logo. Which made Ollie look up to question it.

“Bottom one is my personal line; top one is the work phone” He anticipated the question.  

The shit eating grin he was wearing did not go unnoticed by her friends back at the BAU, but he brushed them and their raised eyebrows right off. This whole thing with Ollie was his to keep. At least for the moment.

That night, even though spent in a dingy motel a few minutes out of Redding, Pennsylvania, Spencer slept better than he had in 278 days. He wasn’t an outgoing person at all, he didn’t ask for numbers, he didn’t agree to have coffee in some stranger’s office, he didn’t text bright pink numbers sloppily written on his hand. But maybe the way they met was a sign that he should, maybe, no matter the outcome, he wanted to see where this led. Not even sure what this was.

Here goes nothing.

“Hey, this is Spencer. I didn’t wash my hand” sent at 2:13 am.

“I mean, I did. Just not until I texted you” sent at 2:13 am.

Back at her own apartment, Ollie made a mental note to go visit Lia so she could hear all about the handsome man she had met. Following the advice her therapist had given her, she took out the notepad she had devoted to the letters she wrote her and started writing what she would give anything to be able to say to her face.

[let-it-raines]

all for a 56-pack of crayons

Prompt which has obviously been a little modified because of who I am as a person: “I was bartending at an Italian restaurant and it’s pretty much full of valentine dates. A guy walks in and sits at the bar by himself. He had come to the city to surprise his girlfriend for valentine’s day (about a five-hour bus trip between cities) and he sure surprised her. she was in her dorm room fucking one of his friends from high school”

so @shireness-says​ sent me the above prompt a dreadfully long time ago, and I was going to write it for her birthday. I missed that date by a few weeks, but who doesn’t love a late birthday gift? Keeping the party going! 🎉 

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“This,” Emma says, motioning out to all of the people in front of her. “People can go on dates every day of the year, but everyone in all of Portland is here tonight.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Mary Margaret sighs, a goofy little smile on her face that’s always there when she’s talking or thinking about love. It’d be obnoxious if she wasn’t so damn charming. Or nice. Charming is really more of David’s thing. “People like to go on dates on Valentine’s Day.”

“Because it’s a – ”

“Societal construct. Yes, I know. You’ve said that once or twice.”

Emma rolls her eyes and grabs the bottle of wine she was looking for. “Look, all I’m saying is that if you think proposing to your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day is romantic, you’ve got issues. There are a lot of days of the year, make another one of them special.”

“Emma.”

“I’ve got to go serve table ten. He’s got a ring being put in a dessert. Be right back.”

Mary Margaret isn’t behind the bar when Emma gets back. She’s probably off trying to help some teenagers flirt or listening to some couple’s love story. She’s very into romance and candy hearts and the whole big thing. It’s like this every year, but Emma can’t blame her, not really. Mary Margaret has been with David since they were fifteen years old, and her entire life is some kind of candy heart and giant teddy bear holding red roses world. There are obviously a few pieces of melted chocolate and fallen rose petals in there, but overall, she’s never had a reason to be sick of love and this holiday that just makes single people feel shitty about themselves.

“Whatever your strongest rum is, I want that.”

Emma turns to see a man sliding down at the barstool in front of her. No one is sitting up here tonight. Everyone is in the booths and at the tables, so what the hell is this guy doing up here?

Alone.

She quickly glances over him. He’s got on a white button-down, the top few buttons undone, and a leather jacket on top of it. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and Emma can’t tell whether he just doesn’t know how to do his hair or if he’s one of those guys who tries to artfully mess his hair up. From everything else about his looks, he’s definitely a guy who tries to do that.

You don’t look like him and wear a leather jacket if you don’t know you’re attractive.

The blue eyes alone could probably get half the girls in here into bed with him.

Woah, Emma.

That’s definitely taking her judgment of people a little too far.

“You don’t want something specific?” Emma asks him.

“Whatever can get me drunk.”

Emma’s brows raise, but she quickly tries to neutralize her face. She judges people all the time, but they can’t know that she judges them. She would lose her tips, and she needs those to live and to pay bills and to be able to buy Henry new shoes and the 56-pack of crayons he wants that has all of the specialized colors.

“I am technically not supposed to encourage a customer to get drunk, but I will get that rum for you.”

“Thank you, lass.”

Emma bends down and searches through their shelf of rum, pulling out a bottle that won’t break the guy’s bank but that tastes good enough, and pours him a glass. “You need anything else?”

“Do you serve food up here?”

“We do, but sir, if you’re here for a date, I’m afraid – ”

The man downs his drink before slamming the glass against the bar top. He winces and then adjusts the tumbler.

“I’m not here for a date. I’m simply here for some food and a few more glasses of rum.”

“I’m not supposed to let you have enough to get drunk. I wasn’t kidding about that.”

“Lucky for you, I have a high tolerance.”

Emma’s eyes roll, and she turns away to hide that before grabbing a menu off the shelf and then handing it to him. “You can look through this, and then when you’re ready, I’ll send your order back to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, love.”

“Not your love.”

Oh shit. She shouldn’t get snippy with him. She was just thinking about how she needs the tips.  

56 pack of crayons and all.

“Sorry,” Emma mumbles. “Force of habit.”

“You have a lot of people call you love? I didn’t know there was such a British population in Portland.”

“I have a lot of people call me by pet names,” Emma corrects, forcing her smile back onto her face. “Baby, sweetheart, honey, whatever else men can come up with when they’re trying to hit on me.”

The man nods and places his hand on the counter. She glances down at the movement, notices the fact that he has a glove on just that one hand, and as much as she is curious, she’s sure as hell not about to ask. Her five-year-old might ask, but she’s decidedly not five and has better manners than that.

“I apologize, love. Fuck. Didn’t mean to say that.”

Emma chuckles and turns around to get him a glass of water. She should have already done that, but she got distracted. “It’s Emma. Emma Swan. I’m sorry for not telling you my name earlier. I should have as soon as you sat down. I seem to be off my game tonight.”

“Killian Jones.”

She turns around with his water and puts it down. “It’s nice to meet you. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Emma stays busy for the next hour, serving drinks and doing the take-out orders, and while people come up to the bar, none of them stay. They’re here for a fleeting moment, getting what they need, and then going. She doesn’t mind. It’s busy enough in here that she never stays idle, and if she keeps working, this damn day will be over and she can go home, never thinking of engagement rings and candy hearts again.

A round of applause sounds around the restaurant, and Emma looks up to see a man on his knees and his girlfriend with her hands clasped over her mouth.

“Does that happen often?”

“Huh?”

“The proposal,” Killian explains. “Does that happen often?”

“I’d say we get a proposal in here every two weeks, but on Valentine’s Day? At least ten per shift.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of Valentine’s Day.”

“I think it’s cliched, and I’m not really a fan of cliched.”

“Eh, I think it has its pros and cons. A few clichés are good.”

Emma crosses her arms over her chest. “Like what?”

“Surprises, maybe. If you’re in a long-distance relationship and you ride on a train for five-hours to surprise your girlfriend, I imagine that can be a nice, cliched thing.”

“Is that what you did?”

He drinks half of his glass before stabbing a piece of his steak. “Funnily enough, I did.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Well, when I showed up to her apartment, she was fucking my oldest mate.”

Holy shit.

No wonder he wanted the strongest rum they have.

“You’re kidding? You have to be kidding.”

He scoffs and leans back on the stool, a smile curving on his lips while his eyelashes flutter. “I wish I was.”

Emma shakes her head and grabs his bottle, pouring a little more in his glass. “I’m cutting you off after this glass, but this one’s on me.”

“You don’t have to do that, Swan.”

“Look, I may hate Valentine’s Day, but no one deserves that when they were trying to do something romantic. Hell, no one ever deserves that. Unless maybe they’re an asshole.”

“I guess I’m an asshole.”

“I don’t know you well enough to say for sure, but I doubt it.”

“How would you know?”

Emma shrugs. “I call it my superpower. I’ve got an intuition about these types of things.”

“It’s true. She does.” Mary Margaret steps up beside her and leans forward on the counter. “So, I couldn’t help but overhear your story.”

“Marg – ”

Mary Margaret waves her away. “First of all, I’m so sorry. Secondly, I bet you don’t have a place to stay tonight, so why don’t you stay with us?”

Oh hell no.

“Marg,” Emma hisses, pulling Mary Margaret away from the counter and back against the shelves, “what the hell are you doing?”

“He was going to stay with his girlfriend tonight, but now they’ve broken up.”

“He can stay in a hotel.”

“That’ll be so expensive. Come on. We have a couch.”

“I don’t want to have to spend the night with a stranger. That’s not safe.”

“David is a cop.”

“He doesn’t know that. He could still plan on murdering us.”

“Well, I suppose I do now,” Killian says. She and Mary Margaret both turn on their heels to look at him. “Sorry. You’re not exactly in a discreet spot. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer, lass. I don’t – you’re too kind, but I can’t accept it.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret begs.

“No.”

“Emma.”

“No.”

“I’m Mary Margaret,” she suddenly says, turning to Killian and shaking his hand. “You’ve had a rough night, obviously, and I think you need some homemade brownies. Let me call my boyfriend, and I’ll clear it with him.”

“What about Emma?”

“Ignore her. She’s paranoid that everyone is a serial killer.”

“She has a point.”

“You’re not a serial killer. We can both tell.”

“Love, I really – I cannot impose on you.”

Emma blinks at him, wondering why the hell British people use so many pet names. She’s not sure what the hell is happening. Why is Mary Margaret inviting him to their apartment? Why is she so insistent on it? This isn’t the first time someone has stumbled into the restaurant wanting to get drunk because something shitty has happened, and it certainly won’t be the last.

But Mary Margaret is Mary Margaret, and Emma guesses she’s going to sleep in Henry’s room with the door locked and his dresser pushed up against the door.

Not that she thinks this is a bad guy.

But precautions and all that. She’s not naïve enough to think that everyone she meets is going to be a good person, and she’s not taking a single chance when it comes to Henry.

“You wouldn’t be imposing in the slightest. Our shift finishes at midnight.”

Emma turns around to Mary Margaret and hisses, “if he murders us, I’m coming back to life to kill you again.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

-/-

“So, what do you do?”

“David,” Mary Margaret sighs. “Don’t make him uncomfortable.”

“He’s sleeping on our couch. I can ask him what he does.”

“Be nice.”

“I’m getting my Masters in Civil Engineering at NYU.”

Emma lets out a low whistle before catching herself. Damn. That’s impressive, especially considering she’s currently in a bunch of lit classes with eighteen-year-olds who couldn’t care less about the classes they’re in. They also complain about having class at eight in the morning and then finishing all of their classes by noon, but, really, she can’t be bothered by them too much. If her life had gone the way theirs had, she imagines she would complain about being up at eight in the morning, too.

Hell, she does now. Just for entirely different reasons.

“Something to say about that, love?” Killian asks, both brows raised.

She bites her tongue at the name. He’s been letting them fly for both she and Mary Margaret all night, so it really must be a force of habit and not him trying to get into her pants.

“Not a thing.”

“So what do you plan on doing with that?” David asks Killian.

“Well, I am planning on – ”

“Mom.”

Oh shit.

Emma turns around and sees Henry standing in the hallway. He’s in his pajamas, his hair pushed up from where he’s been sleeping, and he only has one sock on. How the hell does that always happen?

“Kid, what are you doing awake?”

“You guys are loud. Who’s that?”

Emma looks between Henry and Killian, trying to figure out how the hell to explain this to a child.

“A friend,” she quickly answers. “He’s going to sleep on the couch tonight before he leaves in the morning to go back home.”

“Where is he from?”

“New York.”

“How do you know him?”

“Alright,” Emma sighs, going toward Henry and gently placing her hands on his shoulders before guiding him back to his room, closing the door behind them. “It’s late, and you need to go back to bed. We’re going to the playground in the morning, remember?”

“The TV man said it was going to snow.”

“Well, when has a little snow ever stopped us?”

She gets Henry back in bed and cuddles up beside him, tucking him in and fixing his hair before kissing his forehead and sighing. She’s exhausted, desperately needs to be in her own bed, but that probably won’t happen tonight.

“Did you have a good day at school?” Emma whispers while she still strokes Henry’s hair.

“Mhm.”

“Did you give your cards to your class?”

“Yep! Can I eat my candy?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to say no to that one. You’ll get far too much energy, and then you’d have to brush your teeth again.”

“Nooo,” Henry giggles, squirming as Emma runs her fingers over his belly. “I don’t want to brush my teeth again.”

“Then I guess candy will have to wait for the morning.”

Henry sighs and shifts in his bed, burying his face into his pillow. He’s quiet, so Emma doesn’t say anything, hoping that maybe he’s going to fall asleep easily. Henry’s going to be in a mood in the morning. She can already tell. Hopefully, and it is a big hope, he’ll sleep in.

There’s almost a 100% certainty that he won’t.

“Is that man your boyfriend?”

Emma nearly chokes on her own tongue.

“What?”

Henry twists around until she can see his face again. “Avery said since I don’t have a dad, that my mom must have a boyfriend. Do you kiss him?”

His face is so twisted over the thought of Emma kissing someone that she can barely hold in her laughter. Her stomach is probably about as twisted as Henry’s face is.

“No, kid, that man is not my boyfriend. I don’t have one, but I promise if I get one, you’ll be the first one to know.”

He won’t be. If she ever does decide to date again, Henry won’t be meeting anyone until she’s somehow sure that everything will go right.

She has no idea how people do this.

It takes a few more minutes for Henry to fall back asleep, soft puffs of air hitting against her neck, and when she’s sure that he’s sound asleep, she carefully untangles herself and moves out of his bed, quietly exiting his room and going back out into the hallway. Mary Margaret, David, and Killian are all sitting in the living room, quietly talking, and Emma tries to slip past them and into her own bedroom only for David to call her over to hear some story about how Killian managed to get here from London. She listens to half of it, but she’s not nearly as intrigued by the stranger in her apartment. When he was nothing but a handsome customer, he was fine. This is much too much.

And that’s exactly why she excuses herself to her room, slipping out of her uniform and taking a shower to wash away the smell of food and alcohol and everything she hates about her job.

She’s going to smell like garlic bread for the rest of her life.

By the time she’s finished, has braid her hair back, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and changed into a pair of pajamas, it’s far past three in the morning. She needs to go to sleep, but she’s not leaving Henry unattended. As quietly as possible, she grabs an extra blanket and steps out into the main room of the apartment, hoping that Killian is asleep and stays that way.

Because this is her life, he is obviously wide awake and sitting at the kitchen table with a still steaming mug of what smells like tea in front of him.

He looks up the moment her bedroom door clicks behind her.

Shit.

“Swan,” he nods.

She nods. How rude would she be to ignore him and walk to Henry’s room?

“Oh. You’re still up.”

“It would seem so.”

“Do you need something? Another blanket? A pillow? Is Netflix not working?”

Killian shakes his head and takes a sip of his tea. She didn’t even know they had tea. Mary Margaret must have had some.

“I’m fine. I assure you that the three of you have been nothing but hospitable when I was fine to find a motel.” He reaches up and scratches behind his ear. She tries her best to ignore the fact that the fingers underneath his glove don’t move. “If I had known you had a son, I – ”

The hair on the back of her neck stands. “You would have what?”

“I would have never accepted Mary Margaret’s proposal. I’m sure you don’t want someone you don’t know being that close to your kid.”

“No, I don’t. You could be the nicest guy in the world, but don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second.”

“I would despair if you did.”

Emma scoffs and turns her head away. Stupidly, she looks back. “If you want to spike your tea, I think we have some whiskey.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“I’m off the clock now. I feel like you might deserve it.”

His head tilts back in quiet, broken laughter. “Aye, I suppose I do. It’s been a banner night.”

“I don’t know her or anything, but your girlfriend is obviously an idiot to cheat on you.”

“You don’t know anything about me either.”

“I know that very few people deserve to have their heart broken like that.”

“Is that what happened to you? You had your heart broken?”

She tugs the blanket around her shoulders. “That’s not your business.”

“Forgive me, love. You’re something of an open book to me. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Now she’s the one who needs a drink.

This has not been her day.

Far too much love.

Far too many thoughts of Neal.

Far too many British men thinking they know her when they don’t.

“You don’t know anything about me either.”

Killian sighs and takes another long sip of his tea. “I know you hate Valentine’s Day and have a son while also living with another couple who are slightly older than you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out a few things about you just as I’m sure you’ve done the same to me.”

Emma almost protests. But only almost. He’s right. She’s been watching people for a long time, and it’s easy to know that he uses his looks more than his intelligence to initially make people be fond of him. He’s charming, but he’s also smart. He’s studying a crazy difficult subject at a school that isn’t exactly for slackers, and while he may secretly be an asshole for his girlfriend to cheat on him, she doesn’t get that feeling.

She gets the feeling that he might be as down on her luck as she is sometimes.

“I’m getting the whiskey,” she blurts out. She’s not tired anymore, and if she goes to Henry’s room, she’s going to end up not being able to sleep. “Do you like hot chocolate?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had any.”

“Well, we’re changing that.”

Emma has obviously lost her mind in some kind of sleep-deprived, stressed-out kind of way, but she finds it easy to talk to Killian.

Which is dumb.

She wanted to hate him.

She really did.

But he’s easy to talk to despite the fact that she’s mad about that and that it’s probably one of the worst days of his life. She would assume. She doesn’t know.

What she does know, however, is that he was in the Navy for one year, was involved in an accident, and the compensation he got for that funded his move to the US and his education, which is a lot more information than what he shared with David earlier. It’s kind of fascinating, if not a little tragic, and maybe today wasn’t the worst day of his life.

She may have a little bit of whiskey in her, but she’s not about to spill all of her secrets.

Then again, she’s never going to see this man again. He’ll be a fleeting memory, just a ship passing in the night.

But no. She won’t share. Wounds never close if you keep picking at them, and she’s not going to do that.

Instead she tells him she just started at a local community college and that she hopes to get into the nursing program. She’s never been great at science, but it’s a good career with good pay, and by the time she’s finished with the program Henry will hopefully be at least a little self-sufficient. Besides, she’s got David and Mary Margaret to help her, and she can handle it.

She always has.

His mom was apparently a nurse, and she doesn’t ask about the way he refers to her in the past tense. It’s easier not to. Instead she listens to him share stories of she’d once told him when he was younger. It’s all crazy and stressful, and if Emma didn’t want a better life for she and Henry so badly, she’d probably drop all of her classes out of fear right now.

But the better life is calling.

Killian keeps the conversation flowing from topic to topic more easily than anyone has a right to, and he only occasionally stops, a dark flash settling in his eyes and in the curve of his lips. But just as quickly as it appears, it disappears and he talks of his favorite shows or the runs he likes to go on early in the morning when, miraculously, most of Manhattan is asleep.

“Thanks for this, love.”

“For what?” Emma asks.

“For keeping my mind occupied. I don’t – well, I bloody don’t know what I’d do if I’d stumbled into another restaurant tonight.”

Emma leans forward and tears apart a piece of her pop tart. “You’d be sleeping on some other bartender’s couch.”

“There’s not currently a lot of sleeping going on.”

She laughs and takes another bite before looking down at her phone. “Holy shit. It’s almost six thirty. How are either of us awake?”

“I’m fueled by anger, sadness, and the conversation of an incredibly charming woman.”

His brows wiggle with his words, his smile more of a smirk, and in any other situation, she’d have the urge to slap him.

“I’m going to be dead inside today.”

“I should probably let you go to bed, Swan. I’m sure you’ve got plans today that require sleep.”

“Yeah, I do. I – ”

Almost as if on cue, Henry’s door creaks open, and he walks out into the living room. His hair is disheveled like it always is when he wakes up, and now he is officially missing both socks.

Why can kids not sleep in?

“I’m hungry,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes. “Can we have pancakes? With the faces on them?”

“Kid, I – ”

“I can make them,” Killian interrupts. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“Um, yeah,” Emma nods. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m going to make some coffee, and then I’ll help. Henry, go brush your teeth.”

“Okay.”

“And I’m going to check to make sure you actually did.”

Henry groans, and Emma hears Killian chuckle. “I was exactly the same as a lad. So, pancakes with faces on them? Where do I find the ingredients?”

-/-

The pancakes are really good.

Much better than the ones she makes, which seems impossible when the recipe is on the box.

And Killian is fantastic at entertaining Henry’s questions, even when Henry asks about Killian’s gloved hand. He makes up some story about being attacked by Peter Pan and being like Captain Hook, and it helps Emma be a little less mortified that her child has no manners.

So on no sleep and a slight hangover, Emma has breakfast with her kid and a half-stranger, and it’s not the worst thing in the world.

It’s actually kind of nice.

And when Killian leaves to catch a train home, he slips her a note with his phone number. He leaves the ball in her court, which she likes, and even though it takes a few weeks, she does end up calling.

Well, texting. It’s easier that way.

Really, the whole thing is easy, and Emma is as surprised by that as anyone. For once in her life, she has hope that something is going to work out.

-/-

Next year Valentine’s Day is spent eating pizza with Killian and Henry with the only acknowledgement of the day being Henry giving the two of them the leftover cards from his class.

It’s perfect.

The year after that Killian doesn’t have to travel five hours to see them.

That’s somehow more than perfect.

“Can we say that our anniversary is Valentine’s Day, love?” Killian asks her as his lips press into her temple.

“Never,” she sighs, “but maybe the day isn’t as bad as it used to be.”

[theparanormalperiodical]

The 13 Scariest Paranormal Investigation TV Show Episodes You Need To Watch - And The Links To Watch Them For Free!

As a paranormal blogger, I’m used to fangirling with other occult-obsessives about anything that’s spooky. 

It could be a scary movie. It could be a ghost they’ve seen first hand. It could even be an urban legend that frightened them to their very core! Either way, they always have a turning point in their life that pushed them towards the paranormal. 

My epiphany was different.

Sure, I’ve always had this constant connection with otherworldly spirits - but it was developed by one thing: paranormal documentary TV shows.

Most Haunted, Ghost Adventures, Celebrity Ghost Stories…

Each and every one made me want to be there with them!

I wanted to wander ‘round castles for a living. I wanted to read ghost stories everyday and explore the history behind them. I wanted to connect the dots and explore a new, hidden world.

It’s for that reason that I’ve decided to share my love for these shows with you, dear reader.

I’ve brought together the best episodes from Most Haunted, Ghost Adventures, Paranormal Lockdown, Celebrity Ghost Stories, Ghost Hunters and Paranormal Witness, explained the ghost stories that are the centre of the episodes, and have even provided links (and the terrifying timestamps) to the episodes. 

All you’ve got to do is press play!

Oh, and leave a comment on which one traumatised you the most…

Now, let’s get spooky.

#1 - The Dorothy Puente Murder House - Ghost Adventures (S12, E3)

Ghosts give me the heebeejeebies. Demons make me want to hide under my quilt and cry to a Sigrid song. But it’s stories of entrapment that really fuck me up. 

This is one of those stories.

Dorothy Puente was a landlady who ran a boarding house in California for elderly and mentally disabled residents. Don’t be fooled by her charitable exterior, though - what was happening inside the boarding house was a very different story. 

Puente was a serial killer who committed 9 murders - a number which is still disputed to this day - throughout the 1980s, and then cashed their social security checks. 

Whilst there are a number of details to this case, I thought I’d leave that to be discovered during the episode. 

Nevertheless, I thought I’d wet your appetite with some seriously traumatising tales:

In 1985, she hired someone to do wood panelling in her apartment. Not only did she give him an old pickup truck that I assume contained traces of evidence of her crimes, she asked him to build a 6-by-3-by-2 foot box. In non-maths terms, that’s the dimensions of a coffin. 

Claiming it was full of books and other small items for disposal, she journeyed with him to a local dump to dispose of these, uh, books, and stopped him before they reached the local area to dump the waste.

She directed him to instead drop it into a river cause that’s not suspicious at all.

But suspicions were roused when she began repeatedly hiring a local homeless man to do certain tasks like digging the basement and removing soil from it, or putting concrete in the garage. It was when he disappeared that the pieces began to connect together. 

Given the dark details behind the case, when Zak Bagans and his squad rocked up, they were on the receiving end some of the most striking paranormal activity they had ever witnessed:

Featuring EVPs crammed full of aggressive growls and demands for them to “Get out!”, or Ovilus Voices spewing words eerily similar to the murders and how the bodies were disposed of, this investigation stays true to what happened there.

But outside of the equipment used, the physical effects on the investigators was incredible!

One medium felt a choking sensation believed to channel the feelings of victims being force fed sleeping pills and then left to die in the Death Room. And the other? She drew a picture uncomfortably similar to a spirit seen by a tenant of the house - the spirit of Dorothy Puente. 

The other physical contact experienced includes pain felt in Zak’s lower back, as well as Zak entering this trance like state from which he fell off the bed!  

Here’s the episode:

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x55gpad 

Want to seem some spooks, like, right now? 

09.10 - an EVP with Peggy, the resident who sees Puente’s spirit frequently.

13.10 - a medium begins to sense spirits and experiences some shocking effects.

17.30 - a medium produces pictures of the spirit she senses.

25.20 - EVPs in the backyard - where the bodies were buried - answer some of the questions that still go unanswered. 

30.20 - Zak Bagans begins to exhibit extremely peculiar behaviour.

#2 - Idaho State Tuberculosis Hospital - Ghost Adventures (S18, E10)

Whispers, children and angry old men.

No, it’s not the title of Fall Out Boy’s latest album - it’s just a few of the current inhabitants of The Gooding Inn.

Once a TB hospital that was shut down in 1976, this building has witnessed its patients literally choke and drown in their own blood as their lungs fill up. 

But what’s seriously scary about this episode is the effects on the most recent residents of the inn:

Not only was the housekeeper clearly upset about her encounter with an angry male ghost, she clearly feels the negative energy such spirits embody.

But it's when the current resident is interviewed that the reality of this location is realised. Two of her children had died whilst living in the former hospital, forging a strange link that is explored in the episode.

Yet before I spoil the whole show, here’s a taste of what’s to come:

A playful child spirit and a woman with a child make their own appearances, as well as the strange tale - and even stranger spirit - of Anton Beaver.

Ready to watch?

Here’s the episode:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdCxNtshvhg

Looking for a quick fear fix?

These are the timestamps of note:

05.25 - Zak Bagans starts the show with the housekeeper’s own tale of the hauntings she’s witnessed.

10.00 - One woman recounts the potential impact of the hauntings on her family.

12.15 - a paranormal investigator brings his own footage and experience of activity in a passage from which gurneys and wheelchairs would bring in the patients

16.00 - Zak Bagans researches those who died there - and creates a sudden shockwave of paranormal activity across the building.

21.50 - a weird non-human noise is heard when a dark shadow appears.

32.00 - pranks set by a spirit of a former child patient begin to haunt the team.

#3 - 30 East Drive - Most Haunted (S18, E1 Halloween Special)

Take a look around my blog - no, seriously, look at what I write about: old manors, haunted abbeys, demonic forests… They all seem to stand out. And I think that’s what makes this tale - and this episode - quite so scary.

Welcome to 30 East Drive, a council house nestled in Yorkshire, England.

It started in 1966. The Prichtard family had just moved into a new home when they started to notice rather peculiar occurrences:

A fine layer of dust fell on everything in the house, puddles would appear from nowhere, even if one was cleaned up, the tea dispenser would go off randomly, and items would levitate!

Given the evident paranormal resident, clergymen were called to exorcise the house. 

They were not successful. Holy water would leak out of the walls, ghostly hands would appear and ‘conduct’ the hymns being said to remove him, faces were slapped and people were pushed. Despite the rather playful poltergeist at first, this spirit slowly became more aggressive:

The daughter, Diane, began to find scrapes and bruises appear on her body, and was even dragged up the stairs by her hair! It was eventually deduced that this could be the spirit of a Monk whose body was discarded down the well that the house now sits on. Why was he thrown down a well?

Because he - or perhaps his twin brother - raped and murdered a young girl.

And as he is often seen wearing black robes, the house was given labelled the Black Monk House. Fancy a watch? You’ll be spoiled for choice then - Paranormal Lockdown also had a stay in the house.

Here’s the Most Haunted Episode:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dO3EeYBGNuo

“But, spookyllama, where are the timestamps?”

I couldn’t find any timestamps of note because the activity in this episode is constant!

Within the first 1 and a half minutes, a marble is thrown, echoing one of the most common hauntings in this house. Knives were also found sticking out of sofas, as was a crucifix jumping off the bed. 

#4 - The Wentworth Woodhouse - Most Haunted (S17, E6)

Our next episode also features a ghostly monk, but this time we see activity beyond marbles being chucked at cameramen. Indeed, this episode is just as iconic as the former - this is due to the controversy surrounding the evidence captured in this video.

One of the most famous hauntings of the Wentworth Woodhouse is the first earl of the house walking down the main stairs of the house. Only he’s headless. And they claimed to capture this footage:

https://www.mirror.co.uk/tv/tv-news/most-haunted-team-finally-catch-12417869

This footage only taps into one component of the paranormal activity seen in this house, however.

This house has seen centuries worth of aristocratic family feuds, deaths and drama which still roam its halls. Whether its footsteps, ghostly laughter or opera singing, it seems all past residents never actually left. 

Yet aside from the earl taking a nightly stroll, the scariest spirit has to be a ghost that stands still during his hauntings, leading many people to think he’s a statue. 

Specifically, the most haunted locations - aside from the library - are the George VI quarters. With shadows tracing the walls and dark figures standing in the doorways, the Most Haunted team were certainly not alone.

You can see the episode here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdTnJC4cO54

Want a speedy scare?

28.00 - a door rattles and sounds as if its being opened, only its not - it’s locked and there’s no handle.

30.00 - The team hears a whistle, so they whistle back. What happens next is mind-blowing…

50.00 - The crew hears a couple of footsteps follow them around a part of the house.

#5 - The Washoe Club - Ghost Adventures (S16, E7)

The Ghost Adventures team might have investigated this wild-west location 3 times, but it gets no less spooky as time goes on. The oldest saloon there, The Millionaires’ Club, is the centre of the activity as a former exclusive saloon for rich businessmen.

Upon Zak Bagans and his team’s final return, they are reduced to tears by the activity witnessed.

This activity includes the spirit of a prostitute who committed suicide in room 77, a full-bodied apparition in the ballroom, a brick thrown in the basement and a women, Lena, haunting the staircase.

The episodes in particular have also captured EVPs saying their names: “Zak, look out”, and "Nick, Zak, coming..., they're scaring me".

Ready for a trip to the Wild West?

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/xqhyh6

#6 - Hinsdale House - Paranormal Lockdown (S1, E5)

If you thought these buildings were scary, wait ‘til you hear about the Hinsdale House. Question is, what separates it from the other contenders? 

This is a demonic haunting.

Considered this generation’s Amityville, the whole property exhibits signs of activity an exorcism couldn't rid it of: mysterious phone calls, chanting from nearby woods, animal hybrids and full bodied apparitions are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this house.

Lucky for us, the Paranormal Lockdown team spent 72 hours here, investigating the hauntings both during the day and night.

Within the first 7 minutes of filming, an abundance of flies fills the house, not unlike horror films that trace the stories behind houses just like this. The following emotional impact on Nick further forges a link to the supernatural. 

Featuring choking, consistent EVP’s saying Nick’s name and even Lorraine Warren on the blower telling them to get out of the house, negative energy is an understatement for this house.

You can watch it here:

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x6tujvf

Head to 25.00 if you want to see their investigation of the forest - including the Gregorian chanting that is claimed to still echo on this former Native American burial ground.

28.00 - when Katrina asks spirits to go to Nick and show their presence when he’s in a different room, the spirits follow orders.

Unfortunately, the spooks don’t end when the credits roll:

Nick claims spirits from this house followed him home and told him to go to a little house tucked away in England.

And that house was 30 East Drive.

#7 - 30 East Drive - Paranormal Lockdown (S2, Halloween Special)

So, we know Most Haunted’s verdict of the Black Monk House - what about Nick and Katrina’s?

Having spent 100 hours there - one of the longest amounts of time they’ve been in lockdown for - they witness apparitions, marbles flying across the house, a scar appears on Katrina’s stomach, and even a murder attempt by the spirit.

That’s right - a Grandfather clock is pushed over, nearly killing Nick! 

You can watch that happen here:

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x6azzx0

#8 - The St. Augustine Lighthouse - Ghost Adventures (S2, E19)

Haunted locations aren’t just famed for paranormal fanatics like me rocking up.

It’s the history which matters. 

And this haunted lighthouse is celebrated for its history with its own museum denoting the things it was witnessed as a part of America’s Oldest Port. And with multiple people living and dying on the property, the subsequent variety of activity is what sets this lighthouse apart from, well, non-haunted lighthouses!

But it's that history repeating itself that makes this one of the scariest episodes included on this list: a woman in white roams both the nearby forest and the top levels of the lighthouse, a man walking in uniform wanders round the basement, and spirits make use of the famous staircase that fills this building.

Have I piqued your interest? You can satisfy your supernatural needs here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHsNtvT8uHU

Check out the walk through of the lighthouse and description of the main activity at 05.30.

19.45 - you can hear the chattering of multiple spirits on the staircase - and you might even see someone - or something - walking down it, too.

24.00 - this is the most incredible evidence they’ve ever captured - trust me.

#9 - The Stanley Hotel - Ghost Hunters (S2, E22)

Famous for inspiring the Stephen King classic, The Shining, this hotel is infamous for its real life haunted history. First opened in 1909, the 420 rooms - including an underground cave system - hold many ghosts who still make regular appearances.

Room 217 for example, once belonged to a housekeeper. Often visitors to this room notice their luggage is unpacked, items moving, or the lights flickering. Oh, and she’s not a fan of couples sleeping together in the same room, either!

After that, why not visit the Concert Hall? Haunted by a spirit who was once believed to be an usher, you may hear a voice telling you to leave, a nudge, or even see flashes of light of his torch.

You might even hear the giggle of a child echoing down from the attic, a former nursery.

Question is, why is it quite so haunted? There’s 2 claims behind this: the crystals in the cave system below the hotel channel the energy, and the staircase is a vortex for ghosts, allowing them to come and go as they please.

Ready to see what happened?

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x6ekji3

#10 - The Rain Man - Paranormal Witness (S1, E6)

Ghosts and spirits, demons and death; all the episodes mentioned in this post stick to relatively confined notions of the spiritualistic and pagan religions. However, this episode takes us further than I ever expected.

Paranormal Witness is a show - a bit like Celebrity Ghost Stories - where paranormal stories get retold and acted out.

And this episode follows a young man, Don, who becomes possessed by his abusive grandfather. Having displayed the typical signs of possession, he then began to have strange encounters with water. 

Water began to seep from the walls, and then from the ceiling. But this wasn’t water - when someone touched it, it felt sticky.

It was only when Don was stuck in a trance, that water began to go upwards, towards the ceiling, and pots and pan began to rattle.

When religious rituals were used to cleanse Don, the water was directed towards the bible and person performing the cleansing.

This was only the start of Don’s new powers. And they were to intensify during his final stint in prison.

Hungry for more? Check out the full episode here:

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2hvjvg

#11 - The Haunted Highway - Paranormal Witness (S1, E2)

Like I said: Paranormal Witness doesn’t stick to the typical hauntings we see. And this episode involves a UFO.

This story - without spoiling the episode - revolves around a mother and son who go missing in the desert. With a relative’s strange dreams pointing her to where they might be and a medical mystery twisting the tale, all that is left is one question:

What really happened in the desert?

You can watch this episode on Amazon for £1.89.

#12 - Celebrity Ghost Stories (S1, E9)

This episode featuring Morgan Fairchild, Lili Taylor, John Salley and Vincent Curatol is considered one of the scariest episodes of this popular episodes from which paranormal experience are acted out.

Here’s the synopsis to tickle your tastebuds of terror:

“A young Morgan Fairchild is abused by a spirit when she moves into her new husband's family home; an unidentifiable stranger comes to John Salley's aid during a nightclub shooting; Lili Taylor hears unexplained noises when she goes on retreat.”

You can watch this episode on Amazon for £1.89.

#13 - Pendle Hill - Most Haunted (S6, Halloween Special)

Pendle Hill might feature as a hiking opportunity in the Pennines, but it actually has a history - and a haunting - to boot. 

Back in the early 17th century, a family of peasants were believed to possess a variety of paranormal powers. And the effigies they made of human hair and teeth didn’t make them appear any less suspicious, either!

The Pendle Witches, as they were known, were arrested, tried and then hung on Pendle Hill.

The witches never left the hill, however. 

Not only did the neighbours of the Pendle Witches experience and die from mysterious illnesses, to this day supernatural activity has stuck close to this location.

Teeth have dropped onto tables during seances, and unnaturally frequent rainfall on the hill is a common occurrence. 

So, what did the Most Haunted team see when they visited the site?

Acorah was apparently possessed by a witch, and a table and a glass smashed during the seance. Oh, and the whole cast and crew felt as if they were being strangled at certain points during filming.

Were they experiencing the final moments of the Pendle Witches as they were executed for their crimes?

You can check that episode out here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wu7yRqoLxLc

Or, you can have a speedy spook, instead!

30.00 - the equipment batteries drain, a classic indicator of paranormal presences.

32.00 - Acorah begins his readings of the area, and clearly becomes quite emotional and intense when describing the spirits he sees and hears.

45.00 - Acorah exhibits strange behaviour, and is on the receiving end of harmful spirits.

59.40 - Acorah sees a spirit - or perhaps an otherworldly being.

01.48.00 - the team perform the seance.

Now it’s time to hear what you think.

Which episode are you watching tonight?

And did I miss any seriously-spooktastic episodes out?

[sherrybaby14]

Casual Sex

This is for Fvckingavenger’s writing challenge. Thanks for hosting!  

Prompt:  I’m never gonna fall, but I’m never hard to catch // My heart will never break, I’m just here to break a sweat // We’re wild under the covers, crazy for each other (Casual Sex - My Darkest Days).

Summary:  You have some casual sex with Captain America.  

Pairing:  Steve x reader

Warnings:  Smut

A/N:  I had never heard this song when I picked the prompt…I gave it a listen and the music video is very odd!  

                   The TV switched from captivating to boring without you even noticing.  You were glued to your phone, unsure what you were watching at this point.  What a boring Thursday night.   You had to get up in the morning, but there was still time for something fun.  

                 You debated on calling a friend, maybe heading to a bar to try and find some random ass.  But that sounded like a lot of work.   As you looked out the window of your apartment you noticed it was raining. Definitely not leaving now, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t order in.  

                 As you flopped back down on your couch you went back to your phone, opening the hook-up app.  

                 “Let’s see…men…within one mile…currently online.” You set the filters and watched the tiny dots dance.  

                 You rolled your eyes as you were hit with over 1000 results.  New York was such a crazy place.  You slid the distance meter down until you got to .4 miles, knocking your prospects down to a much more manageable fifty.  

                 “Nope.”  The first picture didn’t do anything for you.  “Un-un.” You swiped the second away.  

                 All of these guys looked the same.  You wanted something different.  Exotic even.  Something you’d never tasted before.  

                 A super-hot guy appeared on your screen.  Tall, dark and handsome.  You licked your lips about to message him when his icon went black: USER NO LONGER ONLINE.

                 “Fuck man!”  You sat up frustrated.  “You were a second away from maybe getting some.  Unless you got swiped up by some other user.”  

                 The next icon appeared and you smiled at the familiar image.  Steve Rogers. Captain America.   You liked a guy with a sense of humor.  And what could be more exotic than meeting a complete stranger? You tapped the icon to direct message.

                                 YOU:  Hey stranger, what’s your name?                                

               The little bubbles showed up.  He was responding right away.

                                 STEVE:  Steve.

               You crunched your nose as the response.  

                                 YOU:  Very funny. Why don’t I just call you Captain? Would you like that?  I can dig out some fourth of July panties for you?    

                 You giggled, watching the typing bubble appear and disappear.  He was flustered.  

                                 YOU:  A newby on this site?  I’ll help you out.  First, don’t use a fake picture.  Nobody will respond to it.  Second, don’t be so shy.  Everyone on here is looking for a quick lay.  There’s no need to hold back.  

                                 STEVE:  You can tell? First night.   I guess I still have things to learn.  

                                 YOU:  Well I am a great teacher.  Do you want to come over?  Once we’re done I can help you set up your account better.  Keep the Captain America pic for now.  I enjoy a good surprise.  

                                 STEVE:  Alright.

               You tapped the icon that sent your GPS and address to the mystery man.  He accepted and the screen turned into a map.  He was at the coffee shop around the block.  You had five minutes to freshen up.  

                 Your apartment was clean enough and you were going to be undressing anyway, so the lounge pants were fine, but you went to your underwear drawer and started to rifle through it, unsure if you had any red white and blue undies.  

                 A knock sounded through your apartment.  Shit! That guy was fast.  You left your bedroom and went for the door where the knocking continued.  

                 “Just a sec.”  You pulled open the door, what you saw made your mouth fall open.  

                 You weren’t sure what you were seeing and had to pinch your thigh.  He was more beautiful in person, his thick hair and trimmed beard, let alone the sparkling blue eyes.  

                 “Hi.  Do I have the right apartment?”  He looked a little nervous.  “I’m looking for Y/N. The girl on the app whose photo looks just like you?”  

                 You realized you were staring and shook your head out, moving so he could walk into your apartment.  

                 “So Teach, you do this sort of thing a lot?” Steve brushed some raindrops off of his jacket.  

                 “Yes.  I mean, holy shit! That was your picture?”  Your initial instinct was to profess your love for the man and thank him for all his service to the world, but that would work against your now new goal:  casual sex with Steve Rogers.  

                 “What if I was a serial killer?”  Steve looked around.  “Or tried to rob you, it’s not very smart to let strangers into your home.”

                  “Then I would be dead or you would be a disappointed thief.”  You shut the door.  Ordering yourself to treat him the same way you would treat any other random from the hookup app.  “It’s worth the risk for some good sex.”  

                  “Why casual sex?”  Steve cupped his hands in front of him.  “Why not a relationship?”

                 “Don’t do relationships.  I’m busy. I’m happy.  But every few months I need to get laid.”  Your eyes took him in.  “What about you? Why casual sex?”  

                  “Thought I would try something different.”  He didn’t seem as confident in person.  At least not about this.  

                 You licked your lips as you walked up to him, so you were only inches from his face.  

                 “Am I…different enough for you?”  You reached out and cupped his cheek.  

                 He followed your cues and dipped his head, pressing his mouth to yours.  Inside you were screaming!  You were making out with Captain America.  In your living room.  But externally you played it cool.  

               He wasn’t a bad kisser but moved a little slow. You tried to coax his tongue into more action, teasing yours into his mouth.    You brought your hands around his neck, but noticed he kept his in front of him.  

                 “Mmmm.” You pulled away from the kiss.  “You have to relax.  You’re not going to break my heart.  You’re going to break a sweat.”  

                 He smiled as you grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom.   This time he put his hands on your waist when he resumed kissing you. There was a dominance to his lips now.  One that you welcomed as you started to tug on the hem of his shirt.  

                 Steve broke the kiss and tugged off his top. Your eyes glossed over at the picture of perfection in front of you.

                 “I don’t mind admiration.”  His hands went to his belt as he kicked off his shoes.  “And yes, I’d like it if you called me Captain.”

               It felt like someone cranked the thermostat, your clothing more than unnecessary.  You pushed and pulled it off as fast as you could.   Then found yourself in your underwear with Captain America.  

                 “No Fourth of July?”  Steve kissed your neck. “I’m disappointed.”  

                 “You came too quick Captain.”  You brought your arms around him and nipped his ear.  

                 “I wouldn’t worry about that Teach.”  He scooped you up, hands under your ass and tossed you on the bed, falling down on top of you.  “I have super stamina.”  

                 “Let’s find out.”  You ran your hand across his chest, turning it around when you got to his boxers.  

                 When you went under the waistband you gasped at the size of him.  Tonight was going to be amazing.  He was sucking on your neck, when you moved both hands to his boxers and pushed them down, raising your foot so it caught them and pulling them down the rest of his legs by straightening your leg.  

                 “Nifty trick.”  Steve raised his head.  

                 “Nifty?”  You giggled. “I’m full of them.”  

                 “I bet you are.”   Steve rolled over, pulling you with him.

                 His hands went to the sides of your panties and he gave one tug.  The fabric ripped without hesitation.

                 “Hey, I liked those.”  You wiggled your hips as Steve tossed the ruined panties aside.  “But, I have to say nifty trick.”  

                 His hand came behind your head and pulled it down for a kiss.   When your lips met you crawled upward, repositioning yourself to take him. There was no chance you were going to miss the opportunity to ride Captain America.  

                 With your hand on his head, you ran it over your slit. You were horny before he got here, but having the chance to live one of your fantasies was too much and now you were soaked.  

                 That was a good thing though because when you held him at your entrance and started to lower yourself you needed the lube.  

                 The kiss broke as you sank lower, your pussy stretching around him to an almost painful level.  

                 “This is so hot.”  Steve’s hands were on your hips, but his eyes were watching your body take his.  “The hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”  

                 His reaction increased your desires.  You parted your legs further, taking him all the way in, back arched forward.  

                 “Lick your hand.”  You sat up all the way.  “I want you to rub my clit while I ride you.”  

                 Steve’s blue eyes looked like they were about to shoot out of his head, but he put two fingers in his mouth and then wasted no time putting them on your clit.  

                 You started to roll your hips first, waiting until he got a good pattern going on your pleasure center.  

                 “A little harder.  Set the pace.”  You looked at him.  “I’ll go as fast as you’re going.”  

                 “I’ve never been instructed like this.”  He tilted his head.  “I may have lied about that stamina thing.  This is so hot.”  

                 “I told you.”  You smiled since this was how you almost always had sex.  “I’m a good teacher.  Now rub.”  

                 Steve put more pressure down and started moving in a circular pattern.  

                 “Good.”  You licked your lips.  “Real good.”

                 You began to rise and lower your body, sliding up and down his shaft, trying your hardest to keep pace with his hand.  He increased and you bit back a moan, loving how he was bringing your clit to life and how stuffed you were with his cock.  

                  “Move to this motion.”  You raised your hand made the come hither motion.  “Do that while rubbing.”  

                 “Yes.”  He did just what you instructed.  

                 “That’s a good student.”  You were taking him with ease, his cock and fingers both bringing you immense pleasure.  “Captain. If you keep that up I’m going to cum real soon.”  

                 Steve let-out almost an inhuman noise as he started moving his fingers faster, flexing his cock inside of you while you bounced up and down.  

                 A long moan left your mouth as the orgasm shattered over you.  

                 “Are you on birth control?”  Steve’s voice was shaky.  

                 “Uh-huh.”  You had an IUD from the last relationship you never bothered to take out.  

                 You realized this was the first time you’d had sex without a condom since then and that ended years ago.   He grabbed your hips and pushed your body down hard.

                 You cried out and fell forward at the loos of his fingers, your orgasm still fresh in your limps.  His cock twitched inside of you as he followed you into orgasmic bliss.  

                 “We should have used protection.”  You curled up on his chest.  “Don’t do that with anyone else on here.  You don’t want to get a disease.”  

                 “I can’t.”  Steve looked at you.

                 “Can’t?”  That seemed like a rude remark.  “Allergic to latex?”  

                 “I am immune to diseases.”  Steve looked at you.  

                 You shook your head.  Of course, he was.  You pushed yourself up from the bed and looked at your ruined panties.  

                 “Where are you going?”  Steve turned on his elbow.  

                 “Bathroom.”  You winked. “Do you have another one in you this evening or do you have to hit the road?”  

                 “What do you mean?”  Steve had a quizzical look on his face.  

                 “I mean, casual sex.  Do you want to do round two or leave now?”  You stopped in the doorway.  “I have to get to sleep around ten, but you can stay until then?”

                 “Oh right.  Casual sex.”  Steve gave a pressed smile.  “Ten works.”

                 “I’ll be right back.”  You winked and headed for the bathroom.  

                 Once you were out of sight you did a little happy dance.  A night of sex with Captain America.  How in the world were you this lucky?  

~~

                 Break a sweat had been the right choice of words. Your breath heaved in your chest. Both of you reeling from the latest finish,  but you weren’t sure if yours was a new one or just a long continuous one.   You turned to look at Steve when your eyes caught the clock.

                 “Shit.  It’s almost midnight.”  Even though everything felt like jelly you popped up in bed.  “You’ve gotta get out of here.”  

                 You went to grab his clothes off the floor.  

                 “Or I could just stay the night.”  He wiped the sweat from his forehead.  “You can kick me out in the morning.”  

                 “Ha, nice try.”  You handed him his clothing.  “That’s too relationship-esque for me.”  

                 “Right.”  He started to get dressed.  “You didn’t teach me how to use that app though.”  

                 “It’s not hard.”  You laughed. “I think you’re doing fine. I mean, you found me. That picture is going to confuse some people.”  

                 “Honestly, you’re not the first one I tried to meet up with.”  He stood up from the bed.  “The rest, um either thought I was lying and swore at me, or when I did meet up with them stared at me awkwardly until I left.”  

                 “Not going to lie, I had about five seconds of that.”  You wrapped a towel around yourself, hating how tired you were going to be tomorrow, but needing a shower.  “Good luck with that.  No advice there.”

                 “Well, what I am trying to say is.  Would you want to do this again sometime?”  Steve was pulling on his shoes.  “Maybe I could get your phone number?”  

                 “That’s sweet.”  You smiled.  “But no. I mean sure, we can do this again sometime if we’re both on the HookUp App at the same time and you’re close enough to me.  I set it my radius.  But A friends-with-benefit relationship gets messy.  What if you call me and I’m not in the mood?  Then I feel guilty and like I have to since you’ve been there for me when I was feeling horny?”  

                 “Oh.”  There was no hiding the disappointment in his voice.  

                 “But I did enjoy tonight.” You smiled. “Really. Thank you. Maybe lightning will strike and I’ll find you again?”  

                 He almost looked like a bruised puppy.  It was tempting to give him your number, but you weren’t looking for anything.  You had been honest.  

                 “Have a good night.”  Steve nodded and you watched him leave, locking the door behind him.

                 Once you were sure he was out of earshot you did a happy dance.  Banging Steve Rogers.  Tonight was one for the books.

~~

[msjr0119]

The Unexpected Roommate

Part 1

What happens when your roommate of many years falls in love and moves out unexpectedly? Drake Walker was in this situation, until his friends fiancée suggested that her friend moved in to replace her fiancé. The new roommate is causing tension already. Will they be able to survive living together? What’s the worse that could happen?

Drake x Riley

Leo x Olivia

Warnings: Swearing, tension, mention of smut.

Tags- using combined tag list for this, as always if you want to be removed please do let me know. I won’t be offended.

@pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @drxkewalker @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @nz1091 @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @princess-geek @jared2612 @desireepow-1986 @twinkle-320 @queenjilian @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog @princessleac1 @scarletreesex @bebepac

******

“So why is your roomie such an arse... what’s up with you, Riley? With every other roomie you’ve used that charm. He can’t be that bad?” Riley rolled her eyes back, knowing that no one would fully understand the extent of Drake’s awful attitude. Most people would assume that she was over exaggerating- wishing deep down that she was. Ordering another tray of shots for herself and her friend Daniel- she believed that this would numb all the negativity at home, even if it was only going to last for a few hours. I hate him. Or do I? Hate is a strong word. I think I’d have a closer friendship with a serial killer. Yes, I hate him. He doesn’t deserve me to be nice to him. He hates me too, so the feelings are mutual.

“He’s just... so frustrating. He’s horrendous towards me. He hasn’t even given me a chance- you know to get to know me.”

“It’s still early days, moving in with a stranger is going to be tough at first especially as you don’t know each other. Maybe when you are both off work, sit down and talk. Find out what each other like, what you both dislike.” Daniel had his own thoughts regarding his friends new roommate but wouldn’t dare expose this. Not needing to give her an excuse to pour alcohol down his new Armani shirt. In his mind, he believed that the man possibly actually liked Riley rather than hate her. Using the ‘hate’ as an excuse to not confess his true feelings- Daniel believed this way the reason why. Daniel himself had been in the same situation with a previous relationship.

“He wouldn’t even give me the light of day, so he’s definitely not going to talk to me like that. Fuck him. Is there any overtime at work? The less time I spend at home, the better.”

“I’ll text Carlos and find out. But for now, let’s drown our sorrows. Let’s drink!”

****

Fumbling through her bag for her key, she soon regretted having far too many shots with Daniel. Squinting her eyes, she was staring through the keyhole rather than inserting the key. Not knowing how long she had been stood up attempting to complete the ‘difficult’ task of opening a door- she believed that there was a god, saving her from any embarrassment if anyone was to walk by. As Drake opened the door, he caught her before allowing her to face plant the floor. For fuck sake, muttering to himself- he helped Riley stand up. As soon as she regained her balance after a few wobbles- he soon let go of her.

“Heh. Thanks, roooomieee.” Giggling like a naughty school girl, she was grateful that he was still awake in a way. That was until she saw his body tense, and the anger that surrounded his face.

“Past your curfew! It’s a good job that I’m still awake. Get inside now!” Shrugging her shoulders, she wasn’t his child, but she damn felt like it. Deciding to act like a teenager, to suit the ‘role’ allocated to her- she decided to become cocky and back chat him.

“Technically, I could stay outside for another minute. It’s 2.59am. So I’m back before my curfew. Arsehole.” Checking his phone, she was in fact correct- much to his annoyance.

“Just get inside before you vomit everywhere. I’m going to bed.” Following his commands, she walked into the kitchen- turning the kettle on she knew that she needed to sober up. Mainly to be able to provide Drake with any insults back- insults that would actually make sense, rather than them being garbage. Removing her dress, once it had reached her ankles- she kicked it through to the living room. Landing in the bin, she spun her body around in circles- even her drunk mind was contemplating doing a back flip to celebrate. “Goalllllll....” She cheered, before becoming silent hearing that all familiar stomp echo around his room.

Impatiently waiting for the kettle to boil in her matching lacy underwear, she was wondering if she had actually turned it on- knowing full well that didn’t trust herself when intoxicated.

I will wait, I will wait for youuuu 🎵.... to boil. I’ll wait for the boil to kettle. Maybe I should become a songwriter? I’ll send the updated lyrics to Mumford and Sons. She laughed to herself.

And I'll kneel down 🎵 ... oh fuck how am I getting back up?

Wait for now 🎵.... did I even turn it on? I need to stand up!

Struggling to stand back up, she pulled the drawer handle off, rather than stand up. I’m a dead woman, he’s going to kill me. Get up Ri! Eventually after a few attempts she stood up, and held on to the side for the dear life. Finding some gum in her purse, she hoped that it would hold the drawer handle in place- for now at least. Continuing to sing, random songs to herself-the noise of the door swinging open with full force, muted her- she was prepared and ready for Drake to comment with some sarcasm or a insult. One, two, thr...

“Will you shut the fuck up! You sound like a strangled cat! Put some fucking clothes on too! Jesus Christ, Riley! I don’t want to see all your flab.” That’s a lie. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Just be nice to her. Remember the letter. Shit. Where did I put it?

Flab? Who the fuck does he think he is? What an insensitive comment to make.

“Yeah, because I’m a fucking obese whale aren’t I? I don’t really want to see your face or smell your whiskey scent breathing down my neck, insulting me every fucking goddamn opportunity that you get!”

“At least I can handle my drink. Stick to one drink next time and you won’t stumble around...” Actually stumbling as if on cue, she regained her balance yet again- losing count of how many times she had been in this situation. Making sure that the coffee was black she picked up the mug and began making her way to her room.

“What the fuck do you want from me Drake? I stuck to the curfew; I cleaned up whilst you was at work, I replaced all of your food. Just get a pen and paper, write down your likes/dislikes- anymore rules and I’ll fucking abide to them. Goodnight!”

“Oh, I will do. Another rule. Don’t leave your clothes scattered on the floor, or in bins. I dislike you and your attitude.”

“Ditto!” Unable to prevent her bottom lip from trembling, Drake soon realised that he had upset her. Did he care? He wasn’t too sure.

“Riley... I’m sorry. I’m tired, you keep disturbing me. I’ve got work in a few hours. You are being pretty damn selfish.”

“Don’t. I didn’t ask for you to fucking be a parent to me- I didn’t ask for you to be my babysitter. Good fucking night.”

“I need to be a fucking babysitter, you’re a loose canon! You couldn’t even insert the key into the keyhole. Good fucking morning, you idiot!” Slamming the door like some stroppy teenager, Drake slightly jumped realising that he had once again become the bad guy. Picking her dress up from inside the bin, he lift it up to his face as he inhaled the sweet perfume that was on it. Throwing it into the washing machine, he shook his head not knowing why he insisted on wanting to be close to her by smelling it.

****

Has he gone to sleep?

Yeah, I think. Come up now. I’ll sneak you in. He’s a wanker.

Ten minutes later Daniel text her, informing her that he was waiting outside. Since she had her spat with Drake, she had sobered up a bit- seeing her friend at the door, she soon realised that the hangover was due back on the agenda for the next day.

“I’ve brought alcohol! Alcohol is fun. Nice place.” He whispered, as he tip toed inside.

“You are the best! It would be nicer if he wasn’t here.” Quietly they snuck off into her room, Riley reiterated what had happened when she had returned. Also explaining about Drake’s silly rules- one that made Daniel laugh was ‘no visitors without permission’.

“Well you’ve broken a rule. He’s going to go apeshit.”

“So?” They both provided each other with a mischievous grin.

****

Drake stirred in his bed, many thoughts were roaming through his mind. One, where the fuck did he put the letter that he had wrote after supping a full bottle of Jack Daniels. Two, his obnoxious attitude towards Riley- again, making him feel slightly guilt ridden. Three, why the fuck had he woken up at four in the morning? Knowing that he must have only shut his eyes for a slight moment- they were heavy and he wished that he could just fall asleep instantly. Forcing his eyes closed, the banging and the noises suddenly awoken him.

“Oh. My. God. Yes!! Right there... harder Daniel!”

“You like that baby? You like my big hard cock inside of you...”

“Yes.... give me more! Please!”

What the fuck? Shooting out of bed, the noises increased- attempting to block it he couldn’t. Riley was getting fucked, she wasn’t his but he couldn’t help but feel disheartened. Why do I wish it was me instead? I hate the girl. Hearing her continue to moan, gave him a slight stiffy. Get down, Walker. We hate her. She’s an annoying bitch. Talking to his cock didn’t help the situation, no matter what he did- it was still growing thinking about Riley.

“Riley! Shut the fuck up!”

“Do you want to join in Drake?”

“Do I fuck! You’ve broken a fucking rule! Some of us have work in a few hours! Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m... I’m so close... oh.... Drake? I’ll be quiet soon.... I promise....go and get some beauty sleep babe!” Punching the door, he stormed back to his room- practically suffocating himself with the pillow, he was thinking about how he was going to get revenge on her.

****

Riley bit her lip as she listened to Drake stomp off to his room. Daniel was sat on the edge of the bed practically hyperventilating due to the reaction of Drake. They were the best of friends, colleagues - most people believed that their friendship was odd. On many occasions when they had been drinking they often masturbated in front of each other not giving two fucks. It turned neither of them on. Tonight she was debating whether or not to use a dildo for that extra effect, to make their prank seem sincere and real.

“Imagine his face if he finds out that I’m gay and that I actually would never fuck you. Fishy fannies. No, thank you. Big hard swollen cocks- yes! They are welcoming. What are we doing with these condoms then?”

“I have just the plan. But first, more shots!”

****

Drake had never been able to sleep in late, unless he was on a bender. Usually he would have an early night and be an early riser. Despite the annoying disturbance only a few hours ago, he was fully awake- deciding to work at home rather than go into the office, he was grateful that he had the option to do this. Sneaking quietly out of his room, through to the living area- his eyes widened. Firstly noticing the mess that Riley and her one night stand - as he assumed - had caused. Then he saw her half naked on the couch, his previous anger had deteriorated- instead he was admiring her. Placing her into a more comfortable position than she originally was in- he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her. Caressing her cheek, his hand lingered there for a moment. Kissing her on the forehead, he was unsure as to why she was like a magnet pulling him closer to her. Fluttering her eyelashes open, shock was written all over her face. Why is he so close? Has he found the condoms? Oh god, he’s going to kill me.

“Drake! What the actual fuck? You pervert! Have you just kissed me?” Using all of the energy she had in her, she pushed him away- forgetting how she ended up in the living room, she quickly scrutinised the room for clues. Empty bottles on the floor, my bra is on the floor- when did Daniel leave? Fuck, my head hurts.

“Have I fuck? Why the fuck would I kiss you? I hate you! I was just checking your pulse. I don’t really want to have to hide your corpse down the laundry chute!” Feeling slightly embarrassed that she called him out for something that he would always deny doing- he opened the curtains and decided to do something productive- work.

“Soz to disappoint ya but I’m very much alive! Get me some pain killers please.” The constant ache surrounding her head felt as if someone was hammering at her brain. Wrapping the blanket around her, she didn’t really want to move from the couch- however her dry chapped lips and the dehydration couldn’t be ignored for much longer.

“Enjoy your hangover, darling. I have work to do. And thanks to your antics, I need a lot of caffeine- get off of your arse and get your own pain killers.” Rolling his eyes back, he just wished that she would leave him in peace- at least until she was sober. Remembering that he wasn’t her ‘babysitter’ he didn’t owe her anything as far as he was aware. Standing up, the room was spinning and her body was swaying- Daniel you mother fucker- why is he such a bad influence? Drake typed away on his laptop- every so often he looked over towards her, quietly laughing as she was struggling to cope he had no empathy for her.

“Hey, Drake?” She turned to face him, as she swallowed the pain killers and water- not really knowing what she wanted to tell him. In the back of her mind, she felt slightly guilty for her drunk antics as she noticed that he was knackered. Feeling like she had to apologise, she decided against it- he deserved it in a way.

“For god sake what?” Slamming the cup of coffee on the table as he shouted, she flinched. No he definitely doesn’t deserve an apology.

“If you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.” Smirking at him, he returned the smirk followed by the middle finger gesture. “Oh so you prefer fingering a girl, I see.”

“No, that was my polite way in saying fuck off.”

“I am. Don’t worry. I’m tired. Sorry, by the way.” Pausing, she noticed his perplexed expression. Sorry, that’s a start- he thought to himself.

“I used all of your stash of condoms. I also gave my lover your ‘Tom Ford’ aftershave too, to thank him for the passionate night that we shared together. I’m sure you won’t mind, it’s not like you need it. It’s only aftershave. You’re a boring bastard so don’t need it to pull. No girl in their right mind would go on a date with you.” Waving to him, she left the room- looking smug with herself. Drake assumed that she was lying about the aftershave, after a while he walked into the bathroom- it was indeed missing. There was however a lingering smell of it, as if it had been sprayed.

“Fucking bitch!” Condoms were scattered around the bathroom, each filled with different things such as; shampoo, shaving foam, toothpaste and Drake’s aftershave. Cleaning the mess up, he wasn’t sure as to why he was doing this- she made it, so she should do it. But he didn’t have time to argue, he needed to complete some work today. When he believed that he had finished, his eyes filled with anger as he looked into the mirror. Riley had left him a message on it with what he assumed was lipstick as well as a ‘kiss mark’ - his teeth grit together as he read the message.

Don’t fuck with me Drake, this is only the start! Be nice, and I’ll be the most sweetest roomie. Ri 💋

“Enjoy your hangover and work Riley, because when you return home later- I’m going to get payback.”

[sandalaris]

OTP/Pairing questions: SethKate 1, 9 and 10? 💖

I put 1 under a cut, because it became really very long.

9. Favorite aspect of them/their relationship dynamics? (Can be headcanon)

Probably how, despite everything working against it, there’s an equality to them once they get out of the abductor/abductee mentality (which happens fairly quickly all things considered.). There’s hints of it through out the show, but my favorite moment of it is when Sonja enters the picture. Seth does the same power play with both of them, glaring them down while advancing towards them in a display of dominance, and yet Sonja backs down, dropping her gaze and giving up ground to him while in her own work space, a place she should feel in complete control in, and a large, uncovered window right there that keeps her from being isolated with him. But when he pulls that same shit with Kate, while utterly alone in a motel room that belongs just as much to him as it does her and no one around to play witness, she stares right back and refuses to give into his dominance play. (There’s absolutely more evidence to Seth and Kate being on equal footing, but this one *chef’s kiss*)

There’s something I find so utterly delightful in someone like Kate, young and a little naive at first and all softness wrapped around steel, able to stand on equal footing to the bank robbing murderer who’s at his utter worst for a bulk of the time she knows him. Especially when the tough and fiery tattoo artist/forger who’s used to being in the criminal world and dealing with people like Seth couldn’t do it.

10. Least favorite aspect of them/their relationship dynamics? (Can be headcanon)

As much as I like what all it means/represents for them and how it contrasts with the Seth and Sonja dynamic, the fact that Seth pulled a power play on Kate in the first place, that he tried to cow her into submission, is something I don’t care for (wouldn’t change it, too necessary for their individual story arcs and I like what it reveals about their relationship), and how much Kate aimed for Seth’s most vulnerable points when fighting with him in season two. (Which if I’m honest, I would be tempted to change, even though logically I know it’s a character flaw for her that helps round her out as a character. Which probably says more about me than her that I’d be tempted to change it if I’d had the power.)

I know they’re each dealing with a ton of shit in season two. Seth’s got control issues to begin with, and that’s not even getting into all those protective instincts, both the new one’s with Kate’s name on them and the one’s belonging to Richie that find her a convenient target, and how much Seth feels that if he can just bully Kate into obeying him he can keep her safe and with him. And Kate’s angry and hurt and lashing out at someone who she feels holds some of the blame for those feelings. She keeps threatening to leave, and Seth’s abandonment issues are extra sensitive after what went down with Richie and Kate knows this. They’re both in a fucked up place, although Kate is trying to put herself back together while Seth’s still wallowing in his hurt and anger.

It’s something that I don’t think is a big problem after season two. Kate was already on the path to healing before she left (even if she’s not there yet by the end of the season) and while it falls more in the realm of headcanon, I think she acknowledges her destructive lashing out to herself and makes a point to try and not let herself slip back into the habit. And while Seth still has his issues, he’s not being ruled by them quite so hard after season two. He probably still does some controlling things, ordering her meal for her if they’re at a sit down restaurant and phrasing things more as commands than requests, and I still have a headcanon that he assigned her bodyguards without her knowledge after the events of season three, but those things are manageable. Again, I wouldn’t change anything that happened or their respective issues, but if I had to point out my least favorite part of their dynamic it would how they were in season two when he was too controlling and Kate took careful aim to hurt Seth as much as she could with her words.

1. If you had to change the pairing’s very first meeting, how would you change it? This has gone into full on What If territory and thus is long and under a cut. :P

If I had to change how they met and somehow keep it in the same canon-universe, I’d probably have Carlos drag the Fullers to the Twister, because he’s the one who wanted the family there so badly. Seth and Kate wouldn’t really meet until all hell broke loose and the initial massacre had passed, leaving the Geckos, Scott and Kate, and Professor Tanner still alive, and Seth wouldn’t really get to know/care about her until after they were on the road together (meaning no scenes where they’ve linked arms or him shoving her behind him while they navigate the underground tunnels, because Kate doesn’t mean anything to him at this point, is just another body to place between him and the vampires).

Instead of asking if he wants company, Kate would ask for a ride to the nearest town, because she doesn’t know enough about who he is and what he’s capable of to truly trust him not to mean her harm, especially after Tanner. Everything, both good and bad, that happened between them in season one wouldn’t be there to bind them together or give the other insight into who the other is. They’d stick around after actually finding the nearest town because Kate doesn’t actually have a plan and Seth’s terrified of being alone and they’ve talked just enough and are just tired enough to find it easier to not leave the other just yet, but it would be with this idea that’s its temporary. Their relationship would be different, far less trust or care between them, but still enough of a foundation and understanding that they decide to stick together for a bit. First week would pretty much be the same because trauma needs sorting through.

Seth would be a lot more obvious about his physical interest in her as time goes on, because he doesn’t have the guilt of being the one to put her in that place or her daddy’s death hanging over his head (Carlos would have disposed of Jacob before they ever even got to the Twister in this, and Seth only finds out after the fact that he even existed at all or what he meant to Kate and the fresh grief she’s carrying with her), and because he doesn’t care for her nearly to the same depth here and is therefore less careful with/protective of their relationship/her (if he makes it too awkward and she leaves, oh well. He'll wish her luck and then find someone else to travel with.) It doesn’t mean as much as it would’ve had he made the offer in canon, more just him making it obvious that he’s interested if she is as opposed to the declaration it would have been in show. Kate is a still a sheltered, sexually-repressed teenager who’s never gone past kissing though, and while she’s been through a shit ton of trauma that has her questioning where she stands on her convictions, she’s not really ready to jump into bed with anyone, let along an almost-stranger, even after she realizes he’s interested in something more akin to dating than a one-night stand. They may or may not start something, I’d have to write it out to see (and I’ve got too many fics in the works as is :P), but if they did it’d be caught somewhere between Seth’s jumping in feet first and Kate’s more celibate dating habits. All shared meals at actual restaurants and heavy make-out sessions in various stages of undress and Kate still asking for separate beds (they sadly never do grow to that level of familiarity and emotional intimacy while on the road together that they do in show). She’s not comfortable telling Seth about her inexperience here and he makes his own assumptions based on hormonal teenagers who stiffen everytime he messes with the button on her jeans. (They both keep jumping to the wrong conclusions, but neither are at a place where they will ask the other such questions.)

It’s a much slower emotional build, taking those weeks on the road to get to what they had by the end of season one in the show, but Kate still leaves, because Scott is still the most important person to her and Seth still has issues with brothers. It happens sooner and without a big fight, because they don’t mean as much to each other here to try and convince the other to stay/come with, but it’d feel more like an end to both of them than it ever did in canon. They’d eventually come back together after they fix things with their brothers (and maybe dealing with Amaru, I’m not sure how much of that would change in this without diving deeper into it). Scott’s still a culebra but holds none of the loyalty he did to Carlos in canon, and would be more likely side with the stranger wearing glasses who wants to rule Malvado’s territory than the man who murdered his dad and gave his sister to a serial killer, and Kate’s going where her brother does. Her and Seth give off a This is my Ex vibe when they meet again, but it’s not as awkward or as angry and hurt as people think it should be and Richie is a nosy little shit who genuinely likes Kate (a first for him with Seth’s romantic entanglements) and Scott has no problem sharing stories of his sister’s past exes with the new guy and basically they learn about each other’s pasts through the other’s brother in a way that means they understand a bit more of what they are getting into when they get back together.

Fin!

If I got full room to play and didn’t need to keep the storyline in tact in the slightest and can do an All Human AU (which I not-so-secretly want to explore) where they meet under entirely ordinary circumstances....

Kate’s in college and living away from home, and has come to the realization she doesn’t want to live the life she was always told she wanted.

(Kyle put a promise ring on her finger during senior year and keeps making comments about getting a job so he can support them and looking at houses in the same small town she grew up in and no one gets why she went to college in the first place when she’s already got a man to take care of her and why don’t you come home, Katie, when are you getting married already, what are you waiting for-

Kate can’t breathe when she thinks about it because she’s only eighteen and there’s so much she wants to do even though everyone she went to high school with is already settling down and talking babies and she’s not ready not ready not ready--- She calls and breaks up with him while sporting her first ever hangover. She only went to the party because the semester was almost over and she needed a break, but she got drunk on purpose. Some part of her wanting to experience this one thing that she was always told she shouldn’t do, and somehow started talking to a complete stranger and out it spilled just how utterly terrified she was of being trapped into a life she’s come to realize she's never wanted. She doesn’t go into details, but she wakes up with an inner peace and utter clarity of what she has to do under the headache and rolling stomach and the taste of something having died in her mouth, and she can’t help but know is was the best decision she ever made.)

After that she settles into this life she’s built, gets her own place off campus and learns who she is in a way most people don’t do until they’re in their thirties, and maybe she doesn’t know where she’ll end up but she knows its not Bethel and the life she’d almost fallen into.

They meet at some hole-in-the-wall restaurant that Kate goes to with friends now and again and has good enough burgers to attract someone like Richie who’s a secret foodie at heart. Seth’s at the counter waiting for his to go order and she’s been sent up to see if her group can get more napkins or something else equally mundane.

Seth’s not really the kind of guy she normally goes for, sprinkles of gray in his hair hinting at him probably being too old for her and a rough manner of speech that would have shocked her not even a year before when she was still getting used to life outside a small town. She notices him though, and that’s worth noting she thinks. When he looks over, quick and casual, before looking again less so.

Kate’s close enough to his type, even with the modest layers of clothes and apple pie sweetness, that he starts flirting before he’s really considered it. She doesn’t quite flirt back, but she doesn’t not flirt either, something smothered and peeking out at him when he manages to catch her attention more fully. She snarks at him when he gets cheeky and isn’t quite able to stop the smile from creasing her cheeks that makes him want to coax another from her. Both of them linger at the counter when their purpose for being there has long faded, not quite ready to end their little back and forth until its stretched past of the point of Too Long and Kate makes her excuses to go back to her friends. He ends up turning around in the parking lot to go back inside and ask for her number, half cursing himself for it because he doubts he’ll be in town long but part of him felt far too disappointed when she walked away to not go for it. If she’s entirely honest, Kate’s not sure if she would have given it if her friends weren’t watching the whole exchange, because she’s always been able to logic her way into making the smart, safe choice over the one she wants (one of the reasons it took quite so long to break up with Kyle) and Seth seems to have Bad Idea stamped across his forehead - see rough manner and possible too old age and hints at a crude sense of humor - and the way he leans forward with that smarmy, utterly confident grin that says he knows just how much she likes that suggestive flash of teeth and play of muscles beneath his button up... She consoles herself with the (very disappointing) thought that he probably won’t contact her anyways.

He calls her that night.

(I’m gonna stop there, because I have ideas on how Kate and Seth’s relationship would progress in something like this, and this question is entirely based on how they met, not how their relationship progresses. Plus, this is way too long already.)