#it did creak ominously

[chameleonsallinvermillion]

Climbed a scaffold today. It was just there, unsupervised, on the side of an empty building. Nobody around. No signs. So technically there's nothing to say you shouldn't climb the ladder up to the top. Could see the whole valley spread out. Oak trees electric green.

[aeide-thea]

i bicycled 15! whole! miles today! pls acclaim this accomplishment(?) as you would a colorful daubing by a preschooler. :D

[ozzgin]

Yandere!Monster x Reader [Asylum Spider]

A/N: This feels a little bit strange to post. It's an older OC (the drawing I used is like 3 years old) I had for a horror manga. I thought it would make a good yandere if you're into actual monsters. And the atmosphere is a lot like an indie horror rpg. :)

You wake up in a damp, dark room with no recollection of how you ended up here. Hovering above you is a repugnant beast whose appearance terrifies you into silence. Yet it doesn’t attack you. Quite the opposite, it seems to want to guide you outside. You must escape quickly, as whatever lurks above causes the creature to squirm in fear. Yet as departure approaches, a desire blooms within its ancient heart: must you really leave it behind?

TW: Monsters, horror, implied violence/abuse

Your vision is blurry and your head is throbbing with a harrowing, unbearable headache. You've been awakened from your unexplainable slumber by cold yet burning drops of liquid hitting your cheek at irregular intervals. You squint and try to focus on whatever lies before you. Slowly, the object becomes sharper and your eyes widen in terror. Drooling above you, a monstrosity. It looks almost human. Sharp, curved teeth are grotesquely gawking their way out. The skin is discolored, similar to the blueish tint of someone struck by hypothermia. The creature seems to be wearing a strange sort of straight jacket, tightly securing the arms and ending in a shredded rag, dangling between the skinny, crooked legs. Yet the most disturbing feature are the massive arthropod appendages that fan out from behind, suspending the abomination above ground.

The ridiculous, offensive sight drains the blood from your face and you hold your breath. You wait for the final blow that never arrives. It lowers its head and inhales deeply, trying to detect if you're still alive. Satisfied with the answer, it scurries aside and leaves you enough space to lift yourself up. The wide smile remains plastered on its face, making it look like a deformed mannequin. With nothing left to lose, you decide to risk it. "Can you talk?" you mumble, unsure about the potential response. It shakes its head in denial and you raise your eyebrows. So it can understand human speech.

You stand up and look around. There's a pungent smell irritating your nostrils, and large pipes slither their way over walls and ceilings in a maze of rusted metal. The floor is flooded and your ankles are sunken in murky water. Above the only door hangs an old plaque, eaten by mold and age. "W∎ter & Drain∎∎∎: Pro∎∎rty of ∎∎∎∎∎ Asylum". Ah. This must be the sewers, then. How did you even end up in the sewers of an asylum? Maybe someone upstairs can provide you with answers. You turn to the creature that has been obediently observing you.

"Can you take me to the main building?"

The humanoid spider screeches and trashes its appendages across the water. You jolt and step back instinctively. Is it mad? Have you upset it somehow? No, if anything, it looks afraid. You stare at its bizarre convulsions until it occurs to you the movements aren't quite as erratic as you assumed. It is drawing something using a swamped patch of ground.

Don't let find you Get out

You're choking with dread again. The ominous words send a cold chill down your spine and you shiver, helpless.

"How am I supposed to get out if I don't know where the exit is?" You demand with your last ounce of energy. 

It wobbles its way towards the door, and stops to face you expectantly. Is it offering to guide you? You're not quite sure whether to trust the ghoulish creature, but the rotting room is filling you with panic. 

Anything is better than being alone here. 

What a suffocating atmosphere. The corridors are tall, narrow and black. You can barely discern anything around you and the only sounds are the ghastly echoes of the metal creaking and bending from the water pressure. That, and your uncertain steps across the muddy flow. You glance at the creature. Its eyes are covered by a leather blindfold, so the darkness mustn't be an impediment for it. Then again, how can it tell its way within this colossal labyrinth?

"Is this where you live?" you whisper, trying to make conversation. You need something to distract you from your pounding heart.

It nods hesitantly. 

Your foot hits something and you instinctively attempt to kick it off. Perhaps some algae that begun developing in this forgotten grave. It seems to have wrapped around your ankle, so you bend down to remove it with your hands. It's a soaked sheet of paper. The ink has mostly diffused into the page, but you can still read some of the larger headlines. "Dozens have disappeared. The mystery of the abandoned Asylum, believed to be haunted by the countless victims of horrid experimentation". Next to the title is a photograph too smudged to make out.

You stop in your tracks, focused on the blurry letters. The monster patiently waits for you. Is it something to be asked? You gaze up at its features, trying to take in the details. You take a deep breath in and open your mouth. 

"Did they...um...do this to you upstairs?"

It seems to ponder your question with the same unfaltering grin that now feels painfully forced. Finally, it nods.

What a strange little creature you are. He returns your curious stare. Now that he thinks about it, you must be the very first person to follow him. When was the last time he spoke to another living creature? He can't remember. The others would panic beyond control at the mere sight of him, blindly running away and getting lost in the sewers. Later he'd find their bodies quickly decomposing under the running water, and he'd dispose of them outside. No one deserves to die here. The really unfortunate ones made it upstairs, into the asylum. He'd rather not brood over it. 

Yet here you are, asking questions and walking alongside him as if you were on a stroll. He doubts he's gotten less hideous over the years. Then again, he can't see to confirm. Just as he can't see you. Despite his lack of vision, he is overwhelmed by the feeling that you're a beautiful being. You must be. And thankfully, you won't have to worry yourself with any of the horrors lurking these cursed grounds for much longer. He'll help you escape.

Then he'll be alone once more. It shouldn't bother him this much, it's always been like this. But meeting you has reminded him just how much he missed the presence of another human, how dearly he longed for a kind voice. Is it selfish to fear isolation? 

"Oh! You're right, I can see a gate from here." You exclaim in gratitude. 

You sprint towards the rusty bars and feel a cool breeze against your skin. This must lead outside. The creature has kept its word. Soon enough all of this will be a nightmare of the past.

"I-" 

The monster seems to be making an effort to speak, but all that comes out is a dissonant croak. You're confused and he can sense it. 

Must you really leave him behind? He needs to let you know that he'd like to stay with you, but his throat is contracting pointlessly and there's nothing he can use as a writing surface. What is there to do? His chest is tightening with the frenzied desire to keep you with him forever.

Please don't leave him.

[aylish91]

New chapter incoming!!

Sea Of Hope Chapter 8

Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster

This masterful piece of art was done by @aoi-kanna as a commission. They are truly talented and I appreciate all the hard work they put into making this for me. Go check them out, they are absolutely wonderful!!!

Story below or AO3 above.

~~~

While Axe checked you over, Edge grabbed Red by the back of the neck and stormed down the main hatch, loudly yelling at the rest of the crew to mind their own business as they scurried out of his way. For the most part, Red's protests went unheard as he was dragged down the steep steps. Blue, on the other hand, had hesitantly approached Papyrus, whispering something before they too turned and headed past the hatch, disappearing through a pair of doors into the upper levels of the ship. 

The clearing of a throat had you tensing and pressing closer to Axe. Black had once again gotten closer than you were comfortable with, standing only a couple paces away. “AS HEARTWARMING AS THIS IS, IT IS QUICKLY BECOMING LATE AND THE LADY STILL NEEDS ADEQUATE DRESS. MY BROTHER’S COAT IS HARDLY A FITTING SUBSTITUTE.”  

Rus chuckled beside him. However, when he made to comment, a look from Black had him looking down instead. 

Axe narrowed his sockets. “Don’t know where you’re planning on get’n somethin. Ain’t exactly swimmin in extras and you’ve refused to mend mine so I could give it to her.”  

Black scoffed. “YOU FAILED TO MENTION IT WAS FOR YOUR MARKED. YOU HAVE ALSO YET TO COMPLETE THE TASK I ASKED OF YOU. I DID NOT SEE THE POINT IN TURNING IN YOUR FAVOR WHEN MY OWN HAD BEEN UNMET.” 

“Been busy.” 

“AS WE’VE ALL.” 

Something shifted in the air, both of their eyelights brightening. Rus glared, moving closer to his brother. It took Crooks placing a hand on Axe’s shoulder for the two to back down. 

“Petty bastard.” 

“WHEN IT SUITS ME.” With a flourish of a hand and a half step back, he indicated the direction of the doors, continuing to meet Axe’s gaze. “NOW, I BELIEVE WE SHOULD ATTEMPT TO FIND SOMETHING MORE SUITABLE UNTIL NEXT WE MAKE PORT. SURELY YOU CAN AGREE IT WOULD BE IN EVERYONE’S BEST INTEREST.”  

“Fine, but we’re not leadin’.” You could hear the creak of Axe’s teeth. 

“OF COURSE.” With a tight turn, Black nodded, marching forward with Rus trailing behind with a wink. "AS YOU WISH." 

Axe refused to move at first, tugging his empty socket and prompting a sighing Crooks to nudge you both. "I Know You Don’t Like Him, But He Is Fair.” 

“Bastard never does anything fer free.” 

“And Yet, He Has A Point.”  

Neither you nor Axe was reassured but allowed him to guide you forward regardless. Crewmen brave enough to linger eyed your group with various degrees of emotion. When a dog monster growled, another was quick to slap the back of their head, nervously hunching at a glare from both of your skeleton friends. You tried not to show your fear or your growing limp as you passed, hoping Rus' long coat hid what you couldn’t. It didn't seem like a good idea to show weakness around others. The watchful eyes and aggressive postures spoke volumes to your already heightened nerves. Entering the ship did nothing to ease your discomfort.  

It felt cramped and pressing despite having more than enough space and light. Unlike the previous ship, several lanterns lit the expanse leaving no ominous shadows or darkened areas. You could easily see all the doors lining the walls as well as the beautifully carved and decorated windowed doors marking the end of the hall. Rus waited near the last door on the left.  

It was calm and warm, but you couldn’t shake off the feelings of danger. 

“Ya c’n go inside Darlin. Milord’s wait’n.” Rus stood to the side, motioning you inside the now open door. 

You looked to your companions. While Axe kept his eyelight on Rus, Crooks’ soft smile and nod gave you enough of a boost to cautiously cross the threshold. It smelled of lavender tinted with something you couldn’t quite place, the overall size relatively small. What looked like a narrow modified canopy bed connected to the wall was on your right. In front of you, under a single window, was a rather lovely desk intricately carved with polished knobs. To your immediate left was an open decorative chest shoved in the corner. Everything was of exquisite taste and quality, from the bedding and carvings on the furniture to the upholstery on the chair at the desk. The few trinkets left out were of fine gold or silver with glistening jewels. 

You jumped when the door closed behind you. Axe nor Crooks had made it inside. It had your stomach rolling with nerves. You did not anticipate having the others closed out. Having Black now between you and the only exit made it worse. His eyelights were too bright. 

Didn’t Rus call him a lord...? 

Your chest tightened at his approach, making sure to lower your gaze. 

“TRUE TO MY WORD, THAT HORROR’S GARMENT HAS BEEN MENDED. HAD I KNOWN IT WAS FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS, I NEVER WOULD HAVE HELD ONTO IT.” In his hands was a large linen shirt, neatly folded and dark in color. Holding it out, he offered it to you. “PUT IT ON. I WILL ADJUST IT AS NEEDED AFTER.” 

You froze, intently focusing on the simple article of cloth. Was he expecting you to do it here and now? In front of him? Wasn’t it bad enough you were laid bare in front of all those on the deck, or stars, when you pressed yourself against Blue? At least Axe had good reason to see you. Multiple! To willingly undress now in the presence of a man other than your husband...  

By the angel, what would Axe think of all this? 

Black must have noticed your silent panicked uncertainty when you didn’t immediately take it. Clearing his throat, something in his tone changed. “I SHALL, OF COURSE, REFRAIN FROM LOOKING WHILE YOU DO SO. YOU MAY LEAVE MY BROTHER’S COAT ON THE CHAIR WHEN YOU ARE READY.” 

It was hard not to squirm. While that was greatly appreciated, it still felt uncomfortable. Could you trust his word? You hardly knew the man. Perhaps things may have felt different if the room wasn’t quite so stifling or the door hadn’t been shut so suddenly. 

Luckily, heavy thumps in the hall distracted Black enough for him to hand you the garment himself, squinting at the door behind him. He was just about to speak again when another set of thumps sounded, this time shaking the door. Growling, he finally turned when the muffled voices following the noise got angrier. 

You really didn’t want to do this right now. Not here. Not with all the uncertainties surrounding you.  

Taking a slow breath in, you let it out. The sooner you changed, the sooner you could be rid of these unsettling feelings. With unsteady fingers twitching against the fabric as you took one last glance at Black’s back. 

One more breath. 

The sound of your rattling bones was louder without the security of the coat. Placing it on the chair, you did your best to quickly dress.  

The feeling of fabric against your bones was surprisingly comforting as you pulled it over your head. True to Axe’s size, the shirt almost went to your knees. It was so large the fabric pooled on your much smaller frame and reminded you of the nightgowns you used to wear back at the manor. 

If only it wasn’t so short. 

Though your more private areas were covered, it was not good for a lady to show so much… leg. You tugged at the hem, the sleeves threatening to engulf your hands.  

“I’m dressed, my lord.” 

A calculated breath was your only answer before his eyelights found you, fuzzy with a slight warble. You had to second guess if you had seen them correctly, for the next moment they were back to their bright and sharp orbs. Getting closer, they traveled over you as he hummed, the heel of his boots clicking as he circled. If you had hair, it would have stood on end at the subtle brush of his hand against your back. 

“AS I EXPECTED.” 

You startled, yelping when he came around to lightly grip your hips. Instinctively, your hands came to your chest from the forwardness, sockets wide. He paid no mind, eyelights intent on the bunched fabric. He only let go to pull a satin rope from his pocket. 

You squeaked again when he reached around you to wrap it around your waist. 

“MUCH BETTER. HOWEVER," His gloved hands touched your elbows, slowly moving up your arms to grasp your hands for inspection. “YOUR MAGIC. IT IS MUCH TOO THIN…” He turned them over. “Hmmmmm. Knowing Him…” 

Your chest clenched. He was close enough you could feel his ambient heat and wisps of breath. 

Before Black could say or do anything else, his door nearly burst off its hinges, a very aggravated Axe forcing it open. Black pulled you into him with a snarl, eyelights vanishing with the click of his teeth. Stuck in a headlock was a disgruntled Rus, resigned to the hold around his neck. 

You didn’t know if you could physically handle any more stress.  

“BY THE ANGEL, YOU WILL REPLACE THAT LOCK IF YOU HAVE BROKEN IT!” 

Axe’s voice was low, grin tight as he took in the scene. “Don’t appreciate the closed door, Black. Hell ya think yer doin’ in here?” 

Black placed you behind him, grumbling a growl. “AS I STATED EARLIER, I HAVE GIVEN HER SOMETHING TO ADEQUATELY COVER HERSELF UNTIL WE CAN PROCURE SOMETHING MORE FITTING.”  

Axe narrowed his sockets at Black’s squared shoulders. For a split second, you could see the red orb of his eyelight flick over the man in front of you before it focused on you.  

“Sure that's all ya were doin’?” 

The fabric of Black’s gloves creaked. “IF YOU MUST KNOW, I WAS INSPECTING HER MAGIC FLOW. I’M NO EXPERT, BUT EVEN I CAN TELL IT’S RUNNING LOW. A MORE IMPORTANT QUESTION WOULD BE, WHY HAVEN’T YOU—” 

“I’ve been doin’ exactly what I need ta be. Don’t need ta explain myself either.” Rus stumbled into the room when Axe unceremoniously released him to motion to you. “Now, if yer done?” 

With a snarl, Black pointed a finger. “NOW SEE HERE YOU–” 

Instinctually, you reached out, stopping just before Black’s arm. “My lord, I!” You faltered at his abrupt attention, pulling back to dip your head in respect. “I thank you for your kindness, but I should return to my lord husband before any more misunderstandings occur.” 

His eyelights stuttered. “I, I BEG YOUR PARDON?” 

There was a beat of awkward silence before Axe broke into heavy laughter, the loudest and deepest you’ve heard from him. It was enough to warm your cheeks as he beckoned you out and away from the room. Black gaped, slack-jawed and sputtering as you passed. You were already being guided onto the deck by the time he was able to call out one last time from his doorway. 

“AXE! YOU WILL… THAT… YOU WILL EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” 

Axe only laughed harder, closing the doors behind you. 

The sun had mostly set by the time you stepped out into the humid sea air. You would have done anything in the past to be able to look up, out, and around but Axe was swift in guiding you down the main hatch. You didn’t want to linger longer than necessary anyway. 

You didn’t have Rus’s coat to hide under. 

You were grateful for the darkness once you were under. The lanterns were farther spread, some empty of light altogether. It helped ease your mind against the wandering eyes. Most gathered under the brightest lamps, playing cards at makeshift tables, drinking, and socializing while others lounged in hammocks hanging interspersed between the canons. While some watched you pass, Axe was surprisingly good at slipping through the darkest areas to avoid the unwanted attention.  

The closer you got to the front of the ship, the fewer people there were until you came upon barrels and crates stacked near and around an area quartered off by familiar heavy sheets. You could even recognize the stack you and Blue had hidden next to, the sheet on that side still halfway pulled down. Axe was kind enough to hold the flap for you to enter. 

Finally, you were able to relax the tension out of your shoulders and pained joints. You wanted to climb back into the hammock and rest your aching pelvis, maybe snuggle against Axe and his warmth. The way he moved about though had you gingerly sitting on his stool, setting it upright from where it had been knocked over. 

You wondered when that had occurred. What happened after you had been taken? 

... 

A quiet curse had you looking back at Axe as he re-fastened the makeshift wall. There were a few more rips in it than you remembered. If he had any sewing supplies, you would have to mend them. It was the least you could do as thanks. 

You let out a slow breath, peering down at your clenched fists. They were cold and stiff on your lap. Black had been interested in them. The lot of them had been interested in general, but he had seemed so focused. 

Your voice was soft, hesitant as you summoned the courage to speak. “Axe? I have so many questions, but I’m afraid… I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask.” 

Axe chuckled. “Don’t gotta be afraid with me, Dove. It’s good ta ask questions around here. The more ya know the better, good or bad. Don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise.” 

You picked at the hem of the shirt, smoothing it down as much as you could. “Is that true?" Axe simply grunted. Collecting yourself, you forced yourself to ask the questions burning your mind. "What is a Banthos? What does it mean to be one? And what did Black mean when he said my magic was too thin? I don’t have magic. I’m not… I’m not even a monster.” 

It was hard not to flinch when, from your peripherals, you saw him stop. His voice had become more serious but thankfully still soft.  

“The hell yer not. Listen, I don’t know what you’ve been told, where ya come from, or what ya been through. But you’re as much of a monster as the rest of us. You’re made of magic and hope just like me.” He came over to place your hand in his scarred one, taking a knee to look directly into your sockets. “We’re the same. Dust and all. It don’t matter about anything else. As fer your magic,” he rubbed his face with a frustrated sigh, “let me worry about that. Just know ya got it and I’m gonna make damn sure ta get it where it needs ta be.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that, but it sent a comforting feeling to your chest. He was always so warm. It reminded you of your mother.  

Nodding, you were about to ask about your first question when footsteps interrupted you. Axe stood, moving between you and the flap.  

“AXE, IT IS GETTING LATE. I HAVE TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF PREPARING SANS’ ROOM FOR THE LITTLE MISS. I HOPE YOU HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN.”  

Axe only slightly relaxed at the sound of Papyrus’ voice, not moving but calling out to the other skeleton. “I can take her when we’re ready. Just got a few–” he bristled when Papyrus entered and smiled down at you, hand twitching at his side –“more things ta take care of.” 

“AND WHAT MIGHT THAT BE SO I MAY HELP?” When Axe only grumbled, Papyrus took it upon himself to continue. “WELL, WHILE YOU FIGURE THINGS OUT, I SHALL MAKE SURE TO GET HER SAFELY TO HER NEW LODGINGS.” 

You both tensed. “Papyrus. Paps. At least let things settle before ya drag er away. You saw Sans. I don’t trust him.” 

Papyrus looked a little sheepish at the accusation. “I UNDERSTAND YOUR CONCERN, BUT I HAVE FAITH THAT THIS WILL WORK. I MYSELF WILL KEEP AN EYE ON THINGS IF I MUST. He Means Well. NOT THAT, THAT IS AN EXCUSE FOR HIS TERRIBLE BEHAVIOR.” He came forward to place a hand on Axe’s shoulder, humble and pleading. “WON’T YOU AT LEAST TRUST ME?” 

You couldn’t place the look that crossed Axe’s face from the question, the red orb of his eyelight quaking until his free hand brushed the edges of his empty socket. “That’s cheat’n…” There was a heaviness to the silence.  

When Axe’s shoulders sagged, Papyrus gave him back his space. “All WILL BE WELL. I’M SURE OF IT.” 

You were uncertain as to what you needed to do, but before you could stand, Axe nudged you back down. With the reluctance of a stubborn cat, he then went about gathering items he had deemed yours, going so far as draping his favored blanket over your shoulders. When all was said and done, you were left with a surprisingly intricate box full of puzzles, Axe’s blanket, and an affectionate nuzzle to your neck.  

It was with a heavy heart and a glowing face that you eventually followed Papyrus back out into the darkness. 

You did your best to keep up with his long strides, missing Axe’s purposely slowed gait. You could feel the grinding strain on your pelvis and lower joints with each step. You focused on the clack of your feet to keep your mind off the aching. Papyrus was already several steps ahead of you when he got to the steps.  

Blessedly, he turned to wait for you. 

It was embarrassing how out of breath you had become from such a short distance, especially when you knew you didn’t technically need to breathe. You were even more so when Papyrus cocked his head to look you over with a contemplative hum. 

His smile was kind. “MY APOLOGIES MISS. I KNEW YOU WERE IN ROUGH SHAPE, BUT I HADN’T REALIZED…” He glanced up the steps. “PERHAPS IT WOULD BE BETTER FOR ME TO HELP.” 

Without so much as a warning, he picked you up and draped you across both of his arms. You almost dropped your box, squeaking in surprise as he ascended to the deck. Your mind and tongue had stopped working from the suddenness. Though Axe had carried you once before and had moved you a few times, you didn’t quite know what to think of this stranger picking you up so nonchalantly. It was as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him, smile just as polite and kind as before. 

With him carrying you, it took little time to cross the rest of the way back through the double doors and down to the end of the hall. Standing in front of the windowed doors, you were only jostled a little when he turned the knob. He used his boot to kick it open the rest of the way with a bang, making you flinch when the glass shook precariously. 

You thought you saw a flash of blue, but when you looked, there was nothing there but a railed raised platform with an extravagant-looking bed, windows lining the entirety of the back wall. 

You shuddered. It smelled overwhelmingly of snow and cold rain. 

Scrunching his nasal ridge, Papyrus walked around a heavy round table with a scattering of papers and a lantern. Stepping onto the platform, he carefully set you down, turning to furiously rip the blankets off the bed to ball and fling them across the room with a fwump. 

“FORGIVE MY IDIOT OF A BROTHER. I WILL BE HAVING A TALK WITH HIM ABOUT APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR LATER. FOR NOW, I’M AFRAID THIS WILL HAVE TO DO. AT LEAST THE BED IS EXCEPTIONALLY COMFORTABLE.” He put his hand down to pat the mattress. “IT IS A GIMBAL BED, MADE WITH LARGER MONSTERS IN MIND SO YOU WILL HAVE PLENTY OF SPACE AND WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE TIPPING OF THE SHIP.” 

When you didn’t move, he gently ushered you to sit before making his way to the windows. It was so dark now that the light from the lamp effectively turned them into mirrors. You were grateful, too afraid to look through them. To your relief, Papyrus closed the many curtains for each once. Once done, he gently took your box and stood at the end of the bed, bowing slightly from the waist. 

“I WOULD STAY TO HELP YOU SETTLE, BUT I UNFORTUNATELY HAVE OTHER DUTIES I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF AT THIS TIME. BUT DO NOT FEAR, I WILL MAKE SURE SOMEONE WILL BE BY IN THE MORNING TO BRING YOU SOME TEA AND BREAKFAST AND TO WELCOME YOU.” Walking away, he stopped to place your box on the table and extinguish the lantern. “SLEEP WELL MISS.”  

With a wave, he picked up the bundle of discarded blankets and walked out the door, closing it behind him. 

… 

It was frightening, alone in the dark.

Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 3)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Your infuriating ex is planning something, and it's putting everyone on edge. But if he wants at the hotel, he'll have to go through you (and Alastor) first.

<— Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

—6 HOURS AGO—

"What," Valentino growled, claws creating cracks in the table from how hard he was gripping it. "The fuck did you just say?"

Velvette was no better. Her lip was pulled into a furious snarl, and for once her phone was nowhere to be seen. "Vox, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Relax," Vox reclined in his chair, raising a brow at his murderous business partners. Velvette's eye twitched and the table creaked in protest under Valentino's fury. "I'm not actually going for redemption, damn, calm your tits people."

"What happened to keeping up an image for the brand?" Velvette banged a fist against her armrest, gritting her teeth. "The Morningstar bitch was literally humiliated on live television, and now you're going to personally advertise for her?!"

"The next extermination is coming sooner than ever, and people are getting desperate. This little publicity stunt can work in our favor," Vox crossed his claws under his chin, megawatt smile growing. "What's a little pity pitch going to hurt? Think about it, I can gather intel, fuck up Alastor's little project, and show Y/n where her allegiances should lie. Win-win-win," he chuckled ominously.

"Cut the shit, Vox," Valentino scoffed, leaning forward to sneer in his face. "It's obvious you're only going this far for that bitch. Can't keep a leash on your toys, hm?"

Vox grit his teeth, digging his claws into his thighs under the table. He knew this wasn't going to go over well, but to be talked down to by someone who was benefiting from him? "So what if I am?" He hid his rage with a large, mocking grin. "And by the way, where's Angel Dust? Haven't seen him around in a while."

Val's face twisted with rage. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Velvette snapped, glaring at both of them. "I don't have time for this stupid shit. Get on with it or this meeting is over."

Vox's unhinged smile slowly relaxed into his charming PR one. "Of course, my apologies Velvette, Val. I can see why you're not...convinced yet. Let me fix that."

The projector on the wall suddenly sparked to life, displaying three pie charts and a legend with many colorful categories. He gestured to them from left to right. "This is a distribution of our profits from ten years ago, five years ago, and last year."

"We have eyes," Velvette droned boredly.

Vox's antennae sparked in irritation, but he continued regardless. "Y/n's helped develop countless programs and softwares, and with her expertise our earnings jumped thirty seven percent, especially during the collaboration between Voxtek and DeepSpace VR. Now, what happens now that she's taken her business elsewhere? Hell knows she has the computing power to run it without our servers—"

"So, we're supposed to just bend over backwards for a few bucks?" Valentino snarled, crossing his arms.

Vox's screen glitched as he struggled to keep his composure. Thirty seven percent was not just a few bucks. But he knew antagonizing Val right now was more trouble than it was worth. "Val," he chuckled, sauntering forward to rest a hand on the backrest of Valentino's chair, leaning into his space. "Since when have you said no to money?" His eye widened, rings spinning.

"Since it walked out on two legs and ignored us," Valentino snorted.

"Val, I need you to see the bigger picture!" He grasped both of Valentino's shoulders, moving behind him so he could speak enticingly into his ear. "This is an opportunity to keep our brand at the top, and get dirt on that radio bitch. The future is what matters, and we are going to be the ones pioneering it."

The projector flickered to one of the surveillance cameras pointed at an exterior angle of the hotel. Then, the image suddenly rippled to show an artificial video of the same property, but instead of the tacky hotel, there stood a modern building adorned with a bright, neon V logo.

Valentino's smile grew at his last sentence, and he turned in his seat, leaning his forehead to rest against Vox's screen. "I like your vision, Cariño," he purred, grinning wickedly to show off his golden tooth. "But, if your little money-making cocksleeve doesn't come back, well, don't say I didn't tell you so~" he said in a sing-song voice, long tongue coming up to lick languidly along the side of Vox's monitor.

Vox's grin froze on his face, screen glitching.

Valentino chuckled, pushing out of his seat before strutting away. "Oh, and Vox baby," he threw a saucy wink over his shoulder. "Come find me when you get lonely, yeah?"

The double doors slammed shut behind him, bathing the room in silence. Which Velvette quickly broke, of course.

"What the fuck, Vox?" She scrubbed a hand down her face. "All this for a profit we can afford to lose? Really?"

"Velvette," his smile twitched up to full, blinding attention again. "Have I ever let you down before? Everything is under control, trust me!"

"Uh huh," Velvette scowled, unconvinced. "You know, Alastor and Y/n are the only people you've ever really lost it for, and you're going to a place where there's both of them."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself?" His smile strained.

Velvette shook her head, standing up from her chair and approaching him. "You know, that PR shit might work on everyone else, but I can see through your bullshit, Vox," she gave him a hard stare. "Just don't fuck everything up, got it? Or I'll make you wish you didn't."

His fists clenched as she walked past him, smile dropping into a scowl as soon as she was out of view.

****

—PRESENT—

"Whatever you do, make sure he's at least ten floors away from me," you muttered to Vaggie, watching as Charlie gave the bane of your existence an awkward tour of the hotel.

The atmosphere was so tense and suffocating, it was starting to make you incredibly antsy. The others were no better. Angel was drumming his fingers anxiously on the bar counter, Niffty was curiously regarding the new "resident" and Husk was already chugging his second bottle of hard liquor. Holy hell, and you couldn't even forget about Alastor if you tried, the radio demon releasing a constant stream of static and looking about ready to sacrifice someone—preferably Vox—in an incredibly painful and sadistic ritual.

"I can't believe she's letting him stay," Angel hissed under his breath, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Actually no, what am I saying? This is Charlie, of course she'd let him stay. God damnit."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, only to find your favorite stiff drink on the counter behind you. You nodded gratefully at Husk, taking the glass and throwing it back like water.

"At least the hotel's in one piece!" Niffty chirped, her one eye back to tracking any stray insects. "Less mess to clean up." Her knife gleamed as she stabbed a cockroach clean in half with a deranged giggle.

"This isn't going to end well," Vaggie scowled darkly. "He's going to try something, I fucking know it."

"Yeah, no shit," Angel groaned, Husk grunting in agreement.

"Or," Pentious chimed in, hair flaring thoughtfully. "He truly does want to redeem himself?"

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at him incredulously, before a unanimous, resounding "no," rang out.

****

"Anddd here's your room key," Charlie presented it to him with a flourish, beaming brightly. "We hope you enjoy your stay! Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served downstairs in the dinning room, or you can go out and get your own food! We'll get your survey ready for you tomorrow so that you can start building your schedule."

"Schedule?" He quirked a brow, taking the room key from her outstretched hand. "For what, exactly?"

"Oh! Um," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "We actually host group therapy activities and trust exercises with the other staff and residents! You'll fill out a short survey so that we can personalize—"

"O-kay, let me stop you there, sweetheart," he chuckled, grin widening condescendingly. "I think it's great what you're doing, really, I do. But I've already got a schedule, and a billion dollar company to run. I'm quite the busy man, you know?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "But—"

"Seriously, my sales would fall and what would my clients say? Hm?" A crowd booing track played in the background as Vox shook his head like she was just some uneducated child. "So thanks, but no thanks." He shot her a wink, before the door slammed in her face.

Charlie blinked in shock, taking a few seconds to process that she'd been dismissed in her own hotel. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged away.

But that only lasted for a few steps, before she perked right back up. What was she thinking? Giving up so quickly on one of her clients?

Charlie grinned, smacking a fist into her palm. She'd just have to try harder.

Unbeknownst to her, a figure had been watching the entire exchange from the shadows. Your jaw clenched, claws digging into the drywall.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head in disdain.

****

As soon as the door shut, Vox deflated like a balloon.

"Fuckkk," he hissed under his breath, sliding down the door tiredly. "The hell am I doing?"

He allowed himself only a few minutes to wallow in self-pity, before he sighed, pushing off the floor and getting to work. In less than twenty minutes, he had the whole room wired to his needs, electronic Voxtek devices littering the previously empty spaces. Now he had a way to travel without leaving his room.

He was just about to dematerialize into one of his laptops when a familiar, chilling presence made him freeze.

"Why, you only just got here! Don't tell me you're leaving already," Alastor chuckled, tilting his head in mock concern.

The radio demon was leaning an elbow against his dresser, just casually invading his privacy. God, just his smug face made Vox want to kill him already.

"What's it to you, old timer?" Vox sneered, electricity sparking from his claws in agitation. "Unlike you, some of us actually have responsibilities. So if you don't mind—"

"Oh my, breaking your word to Y/n already!" Alastor shook his head with a grin, sound effects of a heckling crowd emanating from his microphone cane. "How very...disappointing. Truly, I'd expect better from you!"

Vox's eye widened, the swirling rings on full display as his teeth grinded in rage. "Y-y-y-you keep her fucking name out of your filthy, cannibalistic mouth! You hear me?" He glitched furiously, electricity sparking in glowing webs from his monitor.

"Aha! Someone's a little on edge," Alastor laughed in tandem with an artificial, mocking laugh track. "Really, that was too easy! You're losing your touch."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Vox snapped.

"Gladly," the radio demon grinned menacingly, the corners of his mouth stretching to unnatural proportions. "But first, I came to deliver a little message."

Vox gritted his teeth, curling his fists by his sides. His electricity buzzed under his skin, ready to electrocute the fuck out of this crazy fucker if he needed to.

"If you and your merry band of idiots pull even the smallest stunt to sabotage the hotel," Alastor approached him, antlers growing as his eyes turned to radio dials. "I think you'll find out that absence did not make my heart grow fonder."

"What, don't tell me you actually care about this place," Vox grinned, baring his teeth. "The whole redemption thing doesn't really seem to be up your alley, no offense."

"Oh, of course not! Haha! Don't be ridiculous," Alastor chuckled like he'd said something hilarious, but it was overlayed with bursts of radio static. "But I'm afraid I've invested too much in this source of entertainment for you to ruin it with your cheap, unoriginal touch."

The message was clear: don't touch my things.

Vox curled his lip, unwilling to back down no matter how utterly disturbing Alastor's demon form was up close. It gave him chilling flashbacks of their last explosive disagreement. "Then stay away from Y/n," he spat.

Alastor's grin widened, eyes glowing an eerie green as he held out his hand. "Is that a deal?"

Vox grimaced, looking at Alastor's creepy, voodoo doll appearance. "Hell no, you creepy fucker."

Then, like whiplash, Alastor's demon form receded and the air became breathable again. "Well, glad we cleared that up, then!" He laughed exuberantly, twirling his cane. "Nice catching up, chum!"

The demon grinned as he disappeared into shadowy wisps of smoke, melding with the darkness against the walls.

Vox's jaw clenched, electric anger vibrating through him and rattling his teeth. "Fuck!" He kicked over the first thing he saw, which happened to be a wooden workbench. It took a few deep breaths for him to finally calm down and collect his thoughts.

When he was no longer at risk of causing a city-wide outage again (that had been fucking embarrassing), he made his way back to his laptop like he was originally planning to do, only to pause in shock when he saw the brand new device short circuiting, screen full of pixelated static.

An explosive rage convulsed in his chest, the lights in the hotel flickering ominously.

"You red bambi ass fucker!"

****

<—Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111

[caramelberzatto]

sunshine baby // c. berzatto

pre-fatherhood dad!carm, loosely inspired by the fact it's so hot in australia that it regularly feels like i'm sweating my eyeballs out of my head <3 enjoy!

- clarke xx

(warnings: mildy suggestive content, pregnancy. fem!reader, use of fem pronouns.)

The temperatures in the past week had sky-rocketed, leaving you sweating with even the slightest amount of movement, and that wasn’t taking into account the hot flashes that came with pregnancy. At least the air-conditioning unit hadn’t given up yet, though it rattled ominously every hour-or-so. Whenever it happened, you’d glance at it, expecting it to blow up or break down. But it never did.

Until this afternoon, when you’d just gotten comfortable on the couch, ready to watch some television. The unit had spluttered and hummed, trying its very hardest to work, but eventually let out a long, stuttering creak and fell silent.

You sighed, briefly wanting to sit on the floor and cry. Instead, you dragged yourself to your closet, picked out a simple t-shirt dress, and pulled on some sandals. Braving the heat armed with your sunglasses, keys, and a sudden desire for the world's largest iced latte, you hopped in the car and headed for the nearest drive-thru. While you waited in line, car idling, you thought of Carmy. 

He’d left the apartment at five, as he usually did on Friday’s to over-prep for what was usually a particularly chaotic lunch rush, and you’d mumbled a sleepy goodbye, cradling your small bump tenderly. If you’d opened your eyes, you would’ve seen him linger in the doorway, a soft smile on his face.

The bell above the door announced your arrival as you swept into The Bear, balancing two cardboard trays of iced lattes. 

Now, in the drive-thru, your hand rested on your stomach, and you smiled as you felt soft kicks against your palm.

-

“You alright?”

“Coffee’s up,” you called as you stepped into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding Richie storming by in a tuxedo, megaphone in hand. Some things never changed.

“Cousin! Can you watch where you’re fuckin’ goin’, please?!” There was Carmy, his hand on your hip, as he shouted across the kitchen at Richie, who was already out in the back alley, not hearing a word.

“Yeah,” you nodded, setting the coffee down on an empty section of the counter. “The AC broke at home, and I wanted something cold, and then I thought of you, and wanted to see you.”

“Fuck, the AC broke? I’ll get Fak onto it this afternoon.” Carmy cupped your chin, kissing you gently, a stark contrast to the urgency with which he ran his kitchen. “Stay here a while? I’ll make you somethin’, yeah?”

“Okay, Bear, thank you.”

“Nat’s in her office, she’s got the best AC. I’ll bring you a plate soon.”

He kissed you again, a little harder this time, and lingered a little longer than he should’ve. His hands skimmed your stomach, drifted to your waist, holding you against him. To anybody else, it’d just look like a moment of tenderness. But to you… Damn him, he did it on purpose. He knew your hormones were fucking whacked out. And from the look on his face as he pulled away, the subtle smirk, the little glimmer in his eye…

“Mean,” you muttered as he walked away, but you were smiling. That smile only grew as you stepped into Nat’s office, relishing in the fresh wave of cold air that enveloped you instantly. With a sigh, you sat down on the grey couch against the wall, clean fabric soft against your fingertips. You groaned in appreciation, sinking into the cushions.

“Hi, sweetie,” Nat said, smiling. “Comfy enough?”

You hummed, grabbing one of the throw pillows and hugging it to your chest. “I think I dream of this couch sometimes.”

Nat nodded along, knowing exactly how you felt, having spent many hours on the same couch when she, too, had been pregnant. “I’ve just got some paperwork to do, honey, but just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

A dim light filled the room, emanating from the lamp on Nat’s desk, but Nat was nowhere to be found. Blinking sleepily, you rubbed your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbow, wincing at the slight pain in your lower back.

You nodded, adjusting yourself so you were propped up a little better. Fak came in, delivering the coffee you'd brought, and you hadn’t realised until that moment that you’d forgotten all about them. Sighing at your brief lapse in memory, you sipped your iced latte and closed your eyes.

-

“There’s my girl,” Carmy whispered from where he sat at the opposite end of the couch, his hand resting protectively on your calf. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“What time is it?” Stifling a yawn, you lifted yourself up, back resting against the end of the couch.

“Just past one, baby.”

“One in the morning?”

“Mhmm.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back. “You should’ve woke me up, Carm. We need to go home, you need sleep, too. God knows we won’t get any in five months' time.”

Carmy shook his head, sliding his hands up your shins, rubbing softly, soothingly. He moved to hover over you, resting his forehead against your own. The soft press of his lips was enough to shut you up.

“It’s Saturday, sweetheart, I don’t have to come in until after midday. I just wanted you to get your rest.”

You kissed him back, cupping his jaw in your hands, smoothing your thumbs over the light smattering of stubble. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“S’okay, baby.” he murmured, peppering your face with kisses. One on your forehead, two on the tip of your nose, one on each cheek. And he descended, pressing a particularly delicate one to the side of your neck, just below your jaw. One against the tender spot beneath your ear.

“Carm,” you whimpered, and part of you was embarrassed at how easily he’d set you alight. 

He persisted, sliding his knee between your legs, the fabric of your simple dress riding up with the movement. His hands found their way beneath, skimming up your sides, fingertips brushing over your cotton bra. You arched up, already breathless at the slightest touch.

Carmy pulled back, and the way his messy curls fell in front of his face, shadowing his eyes, the way his chest heaved through the tight fabric of his white shirt… It made you want to take back everything you’d just said. To hell with morals.

“So sensitive,” he mused, the reverberation of his words against your skin like the low bassline of some song you’d never heard.

“Carmy,” you whispered, not wanting the moment to end, but knowing it had to. “Carm, baby, I’m not having sex on your sister’s couch.”

“Yeah, no, yeah. You’re right, that would be weird. Disrespectful and stuff.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. You couldn’t help but laugh, gazing up at him with a soft smile.

“God you’re pretty,” you muttered, propping yourself up on your elbows. Carmy climbed off the couch, taking your hands as you reached out for him, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

“Is that right?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded sleepily, kissing his lips once, twice. “Let’s go home.”

Carmy rubbed your back as he led you out of the restaurant to his car, placing a gentle hand on your stomach as he reached over and secured the seatbelt over your lap. After pressing a kiss to your temple, he shut the door and walked around the hood of the car, running his hand over the cool metal. 

The drive home was quiet, accented by the quiet hum of the radio as the city lights flashed by, streets and alleys rolling by. When he finally turned onto the home stretch, you sighed, eyelids heavy.

Yawning, you leaned on him a little as he let himself into the apartment, the jingle of the keys echoing down the entry hall. And so began the nightly dance of winding down together. Carmy started the shower, adjusting the water to the perfect temperature, while you headed to the bedroom and grabbed pyjamas, turning down the covers on your way back. Your fingers threaded in his hair, massaging shampoo into the roots, while his hands rested on your waist.

You drew hearts and stars on the foggy mirror as Carmy finished off, spending an extra minute under cold water. He towelled off your legs so you didn’t have to bend down, despite your argument that your belly wasn’t too big yet and that you could manage just fine.

“Doesn’t matter, I like doin’ it.”

And finally, once you’d brushed your teeth and made sure the door was locked, you climbed into bed. Carmy pulled you into his side, making sure you were comfortable, careful not to put any pressure on your stomach.

The moonlight filtered through the crack in the curtains, and you lifted your hand, letting your fingertips drift through the silvery glow. Carmy slid his hand into yours, holding it to his chest, and you could feel the steady thump of his heart against your knuckles.

“Sleep, baby,” he murmured against the top of your head, pressing a kiss there. And because he asked so nicely, you did as he said.

[twindeer]

woke up last night at 3am because of a thunderstorm completely disoriented first thought is Wtf Are The Neighbours Doing bitch what neighbours do you mean God???

[hedgehog-moss]

Writers who use imitative harmony + the movement of their language to evoke meaning are so great to re-read once you’ve learnt this language, if you’ve read them in translation before, it feels like the best reward. I’m reading Annie Proulx in the original for the first time, and so much of her writing style was just not salvageable by French translators (< my condolences), because she intertwines sound with meaning so often, at least in Close Range, and French just doesn’t sound the same! so by translating the meaning you’ll sacrifice a lot of the style... It reminds me of a haunted house book in French that also made me think “haha RIP translators” because it made great use of sound—a lot of “u / eu / ou” to create a sort of sinister howling effect in some sentences, and one sentence about a closed door used “i” and “rr” sounds to give an ominous “creaking open” sensation without actually opening the door in the text...

This kind of thing always makes me reflect despairingly on how many authors I’ll never get to appreciate fully as I can’t read them in the original, but I’m glad to re-discover Annie Proulx at any rate! I mean compare the sound of a phrase like “a hundred dirt road shortcuts” to the French “des centaines de raccourcis, des routes de terre”... First of all the English phrase sounds clippety-cloppy, it sounds like hooves on a dirt road in a way that’s very hard to preserve in a language without syllable stress, but also the French language demands that you turn it into ‘a hundred of shortcurts of roads of dirt’, so it’s best to dilute it into two phrases, and you just lose the clippedness. It sounds less tight, more leisurely.

Same for the phrase “the tawny plain still grooved with pilgrim wagon ruts” vs. “la plaine fauve encore marquée des ornières laissées par les chariots des pèlerins.” That’s a 54% expansion ratio and once again you turn the tight clippedness of ‘grooved with pilgrim wagon ruts’ into ‘grooved with the ruts left by the wagons of the pilgrims.’ You just can’t avoid it, French words have to hold hands in a long procession rather than being stacked like pancakes on top of one another. And sometimes it makes for lovely stylistic effects too (*), but it doesn’t fit the style of a text like this one, which uses rhythm and sound in a very un-French way—rhythmicality in French tends to rely on long flowy phrasings rather than the potholed ruggedness this story demands. (I saw a NY Times article describe it as Annie Proulx “mining the ore of language out of a gritty Wyoming rockscape”)

The rhythm of this whole bit is so neat, you can snap your fingers along with it: “hard orange dawn, the world smoking, snaking dust devils on bare dirt, heat boiling out of the sun until the paint on the truck hood curled, ragged webs of dry rain that never hit the ground, through small-town traffic and stock on the road, band of horses in morning fog...”

The French version is not finger-snapping material but you can tell the translator did her very best to preserve the author’s intention by creating interesting rhythms in French as well. For “hard orange dawn” she could have kept close to the original with, say, “la dureté orange de l’aube” but instead she chose to turn ‘hard’ into a four-syllable adjective (éblouissante / blinding) to end up with a noticeable rhythm—“les aubes orange, éblouissantes,” one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four (and she made ‘dawn’ plural for the same reason.) She wasn’t able to preserve the g/r alliteration of “GRooved with pilGRim waGon Ruts” (although her translated phrase also has a lot of R’s) but she did preserve the ‘sss’ alliteration of “Smoking Snaking duSt” (“pouSSière Serpentant Sur le Sol”). Even with languages as close as French and English, for every stylistic effect you can save you have to sacrifice a few, or replace them with opposite effects which align better with your language’s notions of literary style (like with the orange dawn bit, doubling the length of a tight phrase so it can sound rhythmical).

You can tell all throughout the book that a lot of thought and care went into respecting Annie Proulx’s writing choices and you still end up with sentences that sound and move so differently. You get to see the limit of translation when authors fully lean on their language’s syntax and melody to help convey meaning, like poets do!

(*) Re: English stacking words and French linking them—this reminds me of an essay I read by an English translator of Proust who despaired of this difference in the opposite direction—saying some long, descriptive phrases in Proust with articles & prepositions linking words, and commas linking phrases with regularity, read like telling the beads of a rosary. And the sensation (or a lot of it) had to be sacrificed because English just does not use as many linking words as French, information is conveyed in a more economical way, so a lot of these sentences with a hypnotic rhythm like “the A, of the B, of the C, whereby the D, of the E, on an F” were often not achievable with English syntax or created redundancy (e.g. having to use ‘that’ or ‘which’ 5 times when French used different tool words). But he said he did try to form sentences that had this continuity, and meditative quality.

I don’t have a conclusion to this post other than to say something precious will be lost if human translation is replaced by AI translation, because literary translation involves creativity and ambiguity and aesthetic considerations and a dimension of instinctual feeling for your own language and the original style, and I don’t think any amount of data and processing power and artificial neural networks will yield the flavour of literary quality that emerges from human sensibility and care, from someone reading a sentence and thinking “this feels like hooves clippety-clopping down a dirt road” or “this feels like rolling the beads of a rosary” and starting from there...

[yabakuboi]

steddie request! pre steddie during a pool day eddie feels cute aggression and bites the back of steve's shoulder and surprises him

It should be ILLEGAL, Eddie thinks, for Steve Harrington to allowed out into polite company, much less in a community pool where innocent eyes could gaze upon him. Objectively, sure, Eddie knows that those little pink swim shorts aren't any more scandalous that what anyone else is wearing today. Ted Wheeler is knocked out on a lounge chair with only a speedo. But it's Steve. And Eddie's doing his best to rehab his image in Hawkins, so drooling after the local Harrington prince wasn't going to help.

Never mind that it was Steve who drug Eddie out into Satan's crack that is Indiana summer in August. He'd made a good case about it, too—something, something, being seen doing good in front of all the moms at the community pool, something, something, Holly's birthday party, yada yada. Honestly, Eddie didn't hear most of it, lost in Steve's stupid, beautiful brown eyes.

What was Eddie going to say? No?? Be for real.

That was how Eddie found himself sat on a deck chair (thankfully one with an umbrella), in his jeans next to a cooler, handing little girls juice boxes and snacks when demanded of him.

Holly Wheeler must befriends with the entire elementary school, Jesus Christ.

Steve himself, in his aforementioned pink swim trunks, was playing as pool jungle gym and had kids crawling all over him. It helped a lot to keep Eddie from drooling after him, but didn't do a lot for Eddie's heart.

Worse than Steve being hot, was Steve being cute. Eddie couldn't take it. He was going to die.

Steve had one of the smaller kids perched on his hip, held safely up out of the splash zone, while the rest of the hoard took turns climbing up onto his shoulders and using him like a diving board, his free hand guiding them safely into the water as they jumped. It looked like hell to Eddie, but Steve was grinning ear to ear, rating each jump with a booming cheer that had all the kids screaming around him with each splash.

"Um, excuse me," snaps a little girl in front of Eddie. He glances down and feels like he's looking at a mini Erica Sinclair, her hands on her hips and scowling. A chilling sight.

"Whatcha need, shrimp?" Eddie sighs, flipping the cooler lid up to take another order. "We're out of red barrels, and our stock of blue is going fast."

She eyes him skeptically for a moment before her little shoulders slump. "Fine, I guess I'll take the blue."

"Here you go," he says, pulling the foil off for her since little wrinkled baby fingers have yet to manage it all day. "Now be gone with ye."

Treating him with another incredibly bitchy look for a third grader, she bounds off just as a shadow appears over Eddie. A wet arm hooks over Eddie's shoulders, just as Steve crashes into the deck chair beside him, too small for two nearly full grown men, the plastic creaking ominously. Steve is practically in Eddie's lap.

"Harrington, what the fuck," Eddie squawks, cold pool water soaking into his clothes because Steve is dripping wet.

"What the language, Munson," Steve says, still grinning, looking at Eddie with those brown eyes. His face is round and a little pink, and he's so close that Eddie can see the faint trail of summer freckles across his nose. He's so beautiful, and he looks so happy and excited to have Eddie's attention. "There's little ears—OW WHAT THE FUCK!"

Eddie opens his jaw and yanks his head back, almost as shocked with himself as Steve. He can taste pool water in his mouth. There's a line of pink teeth-marks on Steve tanned shoulder.

"Uh," Eddie says.

"Did..." Steve starts. He leans back a little, still half in Eddie's lap, to gape down at him. "Did you just... bite me?"

"Y-Yeah," Eddie breathes. "Whoops."

"Whoops?" Steve repeats, brows high on his forehead. "Why the hell did you bite me?"

"You're very bitable." Eddie's going to drown himself in the pool at this rate. "You're too cute. I had to bite you."

He watches as Steve's eyes narrow, watches as Steve begins to suss him out. Eddie's still too shocked with himself to do anything, can't even panic, because he's that much of an idiot and his brain has gone completely offline. Because Eddie bit Steve Harrington and then called him cute, Jesus Humphrey Christ.

Then Steve leans down, slowly, until his face is right in Eddie's, and an insane thought goes through Eddie's brain. I bit Steve Harrington, told him he was cute, and now he's going to kiss me.

Except Steve bypasses Eddie's face and lands his lips against Eddie's neck, where he then tries to take his own pound of flesh.

Eddie screeches.

Distantly, he recognizes what a weird blessing it is that they're at the community pool, surrounded half the elementary school, all of them screeching and screaming and splashing. Everyone is completely oblivious to whatever homosexual nightmare is happening to Eddie right now.

"You're pretty cute yourself, Ed," Steve says into the small space next to his ear. And then he's up and standing between one breath and the next. "We really gotta teach you some manners though," he says, grinning, before he turns and dives into the pool.

"Y-Yeah," Eddie says weakly in his absence. He can feel Steve's spit on his neck, rapidly drying the summer heat, the bite mark aching with promise.

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Chavs No More

Liam and Josh, two 19 year old mates who were known around their neighbourhood for their cocky, rebellious attitude and distinct dress, found themselves wandering through an area of the city that had been neglected for too many years. As they walked and 'chatted shit' they spotted a disused warehouse with smashed windows and broken doors. It seemed like the perfect place to kill time, perhaps, indulge in a bit of mischief and check it our as a possible place to get together with their other mates for drinking and smoking.

Josh took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the crisp air. The two life-long friends approached the rundown warehouse, its windows broken and doors creaking ominously on their hinges.

"Oi, Liam, reckon we can get in there?" Josh asked, nodding towards the entrance.

Liam smirked, "Easy. Watch and learn."

With a swift movement, Liam produced a crowbar from his bag, expertly jimmying the lock on the door. The two scallies slipped through the doorway into the building; their footsteps echoing in the emptiness of a very large space. The expanse of the space they found themselves in suggested the building's original purpose was a factory, although neither had a sense of what was once produced there. Josh lit up another cigarette, while Liam explored the desolate space hoping, perhaps, that he would happen upon something of value.

Josh stamped out his cigarette as Liam returned empty-handed.

"Liam, let's see if ther is like owt worth stealin'. look ova ther", Josh said pointing towards a set of double doors on the far side of the building.

The two friends began to wander across the former factory floor eventually reaching the double doors. Josh was about to push on the doors, but something was niggling Liam. He was unsure about going any further; grabbing Josh's arm.

"Did ya hear that?" Liam asked, looking around.

"Na, it's nothin'. Old buildings mack noises - c'mon"

That would be the last time that either of the two chavs would subconsciously assess the risks they may possibly face going further into the building.

Josh pushed on one of the doors. The squeaking noise made by the door opening suggested no one had used them in a long, long time.

The doorway opened up to a long corridor. Light emanated through opaque glass windows, many cracked and broken on one side of the corridor. On the other side there were rooms, which has clearly been used as in the past as offices. Most were just empty shells; the fixtures and fittings having been removed long ago.

As the two lads continued walking down the corridor they were so preoccupied by the thoughts of finding something valuable they could purloin that they didn't notice two wheelchairs left to one side. If they had been more observant they might have wondered why there were relatively new wheelchairs in an abandoned factory.

Liam and Josh carried on walking, passing more empty rooms and another wheelchair. Eventually they came to the end of the corridor where there was one, solid door. Unlike the others they'd passed by this door was padlocked. It also looked as though it had been recently fitted. The two older teens were eager to make their exploration of the derelict building worthwhile financially, so there was no way they wouldn't try break through the door.

Liam raised an eyebrow at Josh, who grinned in agreement. The crowbar made quick work of the padlock, and the door swung open, revealing a surprisingly bright, modern room filled with computer equipment. The room appeared unoccupied, but in the background was the sound of technology. All the screens were active; filled with row upon row of green text. There were two huge screens on one of the walls.

Josh was looking around the room; figuring out what they could easily pilfer and get the most money for. What caught Liam's attention was the dozen or so circular platforms in the middle of the room.

Josh tapped Liam's shoulder, "Look at these bruv," he said pointing to the middle of the room. Liam turned around looked to where Josh was pointing.

"What the..." Liam didn't finish the sentence before Josh interrupted.

"What the f*** is this like place?"

"You tell me bruv."

Intrigued by the peculiar sight, Liam and Josh couldn't resist walking over to the platforms, their chav bravado overcoming any sense of fear. The two chavs stood on the platforms, smirking at one another.

Until now they'd not noticed the body-sized, circular perspex tubes retracted above their heads. Just then they heard a motor start up above their heads.

Looking up, "look out," Liam shouted, but it was too late.

In a split second, the tubes above their heads dropped to the floor, enclosing the two scallies inside. Panic set in as they screamed for help, finally realising the gravity of their situation.

Josh and Liam's screams echoed through the room as the perspex tubes trapped the chavs on the platforms below. A weird mist began to seep into the tubes, swirling around the panicking duo. Initially resistant, the mist began to work its magic.

Josh and Liam's screams softened to muffled protests, and eventually, their once defiant voices fell into an eerie silence. The spine-chilling mist continued its work, transforming the rowdy chav friends into docile and compliant figures. As the eerie mist continued to swirl around the tubes, their eyes glazed over. After a few minutes the two chavs fell unconscious, succumbing to the mysterious effects of the mist - their fate unknown to them.,

Once it was confirmed that Josh and Liam were knocked out, the tubes retracted into the ceiling, leaving the room eerily quiet. Just as the last traces of the mist dissipated, the door creaked open, revealing two imposing figures in their early thirties. Tough and athletic, they entered the room pushing empty wheelchairs. The same ones that Josh and Liam had ignored as they walked along the the corridor not long ago.

Without a word, the mysterious pair approached Josh first, effortlessly lifting his limp form and placing him into the first wheelchair. The same process followed for Liam, their actions efficient and practiced. The once unruly chavs now sat, unconscious and passive, in the wheelchairs.

The two males wheeled Josh and Liam into an adjacent room, where a dim light revealed an array of sophisticated equipment. They positioned the wheelchairs in a calculated manner, whilst the transformative effects of the mist maintained its hold on their bodies and minds.

Whilst two chavs were unconscious, one of the males retrieved a pair of clippers. To finalise the process the two friends would go through they needed their heads shaving, and this was to be done before they came round.

Minutes passed, and gradually, the chavs began to stir. Their eyes blinked open, confusion replacing the previous chaos. Yet, as Josh and Liam looked around, their mannerisms had been already changed irrevocably. The aggressiveness and defiance that once defined them had been replaced with a newfound obedience and compliance.

Josh and Liam sat in their wheelchairs, their once-rebellious spirits now subdued. They looked at each other and then took-in their surroundings. The room was sterile, and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead added an eerie ambiance to the atmosphere. The two chavs awaited their fate.

Two shaved-headed males in green scrubs entered the room. They walked over to where Josh and Liam were sitting in the wheelchairs. They released the wheel brakes and pushed the two lads towards a pair of hospital beds. Without a word, they efficiently transferred Josh and Liam onto the beds and gently made them lay back. The once-rebellious duo stared blankly ahead, their eyes devoid of the spark that once characterised them.

The mysterious figures produced a pair of helmets from a nearby table. The helmets had curved face covering visors and were equipped with an array of wires and sensors. The men is scrubs carefully placed the helmets over the heads of the two chavs.

Left alone in the room, Josh and Liam lay motionless as the helmets began their work. Unseen forces rewrote their minds, further erasing traces of defiance and moulding them into compliant, obedient beings. The room remained silent, save for the faint hum of the equipment that orchestrated the transformation.

Once the process was complete, the two shaved-headed males returned to the room. The chavs' minds were now blank slates, ready for the next phase of their transformation.

They replaced the iconic chav tracksuits with sleek black skinsuits. The transformation was both symbolic and practical, signalling the departure from their previous identities. The once distinctive and brash street-wear was replaced with a uniformity that mirrored their new, compliant state.

With the skinsuits in place, the helmets were refitted once more, this time for further programming.

The room buzzed with unseen energy as the final touches were applied. The chavs' once-chaotic personalities were long gone. All that remained were compliant shells, devoid of all human emotion; ready to embrace a new purpose.

In a room filled with monitors, the shaved-headed males observed their work with a satisfied nod. They watched Josh and Liam laid on hospital beds, their minds blank and their bodies clad in black skinsuits.

The door opened and two technicians entered the observation room. It was time. The moment had come to usher the former chavs into the next phase of their transformation.

The compliant duo was wheeled into an adjacent room, where a series of machines resembling MRI scanners awaited them. However, these were not ordinary medical devices. Instead, they were machines designed to augment the human body, turning ordinary individuals into hybrid human-cyborgs.

The technicians meticulously positioned Josh and Liam in front of the metallic chambers, securing them in place. Over a three hour period, the two young males would go through a series of transformations, the first of which would prepare their bodies for the synthetic augmentations to come.

The low hum of the machines echoed through the room as the transformation began. The beds were pulled backwards into the MRI-like machines.

Once inside the first stage of the process began. Metal plates descended from the tubes, fitting onto various parts of the chavs' bodies with precision. Once this was complete, circuitry was added connecting the various metal plates. What couldn't be seen to the casual observer was that under the metal plating, a synthetic bonding was taking place. A bonding that permeated through the skinsuit and into the human flesh.

One by one, an artificial, mechanical limb replaced one of their natural ones. The flesh coloured arms and legs were now adorned with sleek, metallic enhancements, making them stronger and more resilient. The technicians worked with practiced efficiency, their gloved hands expertly activating the cybernetic upgrades.

Next came the ocular implants. The machines were programmed to approach installation of the eye replacements with precision. An implement descended from inside the machine, carefully removing one human eye from each chav and replacing it with the advanced technology. The blue glow emanating from the ocular implants signalled the integration of their new cybernetic enhancements.

As the machines continued their work, the once-defiant chavs had now been transformed into hybrid human-cyborgs, their bodies now a fusion of the biological and the synthetic. That said, other tha their heads, observers might struggle to find any visible evidence of the humans that were Josh and Liam - so much of their bodies now covered in metal.

The technicians stepped back, admiring their creation as the final adjustments were made.

The door to the room opened once more, revealing a figure cloaked in shadow – the former chavs' new master had arrived. With a wave of their hand, the technicians and shaved-headed figures in scrubs retreated, leaving Josh and Liam standing motionless, now fully augmented and awaiting the programming that would dictate their new purpose.

The master approached; a sinister figure with pale white flesh. dark veins and gas mask with eerie blue lenses that looked like it had absorbed into his face. The room hummed with anticipation as the final step of the transformation unfolded. The once-chavs, now hybrid human-cyborgs, were ready to serve their mysterious master. The machines had worked their magic, creating two obedient, formidable entities ready to carry out the bidding of their creator.

The enigmatic figure, shrouded in darkness, stepped forward and issued their first command to the newly transformed duo. "[Hiss] Josh, Liam, [Hiss] your first task is [Hiss] to bring others to me. You will bring [Hiss] your former friends to me. They, too, [Hiss] shall undergo the transformation [Hiss] and join your ranks as cyborgs [Hiss]."

Obediently, the two cyborgs nodded in unison, their blue ocular implants began glowing with a cold intensity. With a calculated efficiency, they left the room, their enhanced limbs moving with a precision that betrayed their former chav recklessness.

Before the cyborgs that were once Josh and Liam exited the disused factory, which was now serving a darker purpose, they donned a Nike Hoodie and skinny trackie pants - so they could blend in. The two friends roamed the streets, scanning the corners and alleys for their former comrades. Their new master's command echoed in their minds, drowning out any remnants of their past lives.

Finally, Josh and Liam located the group. The chavs, unaware of the transformation that awaited them, gathered in their usual haunt. The familiar faces turned to greet their once brethren. Expecting to see Josh and Liam, instead they saw the cold, unyielding gazes of the hybrid human-cyborgs.

[delinquentfiction]

Dancing Lessons With the Radio Demon

Content: Alastor x GN!Reader, no use of y/n, size difference mentions, reader is sleepy, fluff

Word count: 2,076

No trigger warnings

The bed creaks slightly as you turn and wiggle on it, trying to get into a comfortable spot. Unfortunately, despite the pure exhaustion from your day of running errands for the hotel and essentially being the gofer, your brain refuses to allow you to slip into sweet unconsciousness. It has now gotten to that lovely part of restlessness where no matter how you lay, no matter how long you stare at your phone to distract yourself, you cannot get comfortable. At this point there is nothing you can think of but to get up and find something to do and hope that something is enough to help your brain calm down. You don’t care if you fall asleep walking down the stairs as long as you get a wink.

You wrap your blanket around yourself before leaving the bed, not willing to part with it. Once up and walking you felt like one of those edited cat memes with those dumb relatable captions. One of the good things from life that still made it down into Hell. Cats look different down here and look slightly terrifying with their shark-like 4-way opening mouths, but they’re cats nonetheless.

Once in the hall, you somehow feel like you’re stomping and floating at the same time. Not awake enough to be fully aware, but aware enough of how your walking is the only noise being made. At least in the part of the hotel you reside in. As you meander around and approach the grand staircase, you hear the faint sounds of piano and sax playing a slow jazzy tune. Right then you were reminded that there would be only one other person awake at this hour. A person a little too chipper for the state you were in, but at least it would be company.

You recalled how when you were alive people would say that sometimes it would be hard to sleep because your brain feels like it’s in danger and having someone there or having a stuffed animal can help. Things that trick your brain into thinking you’re protected. Would you feel safe around this ever smiling demon? Would the same logic even carry over now that you’re a demon? Well, you’re going to find out.

As you wander up the hotel floors the song becomes louder and the air seems to feel thicker. It’s not as if it’s never been ominous to visit Alastor’s room before, after all you never know what you’ll open his door to see him doing. There’s always that little fear at the back of your head telling you that you know better than to walk right into a lion’s den like this. The feeling that just walking into his room is asking for a contract you’ll regret later but can’t refuse in the moment.

Once you reach his door, everything comes to a halt. Your walking, his music, and even time, seemingly. Did he know you were standing here? Just outside his door? Did you make a noise you didn’t hear but he did? That wouldn’t be unusual for you. Maybe he was simply getting ready to play a different record. ‘Perhaps now is the time to interrupt, then.’

You softly knock on his door and almost immediately the door swings open which causes you to jump back a little in surprise. He looms over you, crimson eyes peering down over a practically glowing sharp grin. You stare up at him, a shy smile slowly creeping onto your face. “Why, good evening! To what do I owe the pleasure of such a late visit?” Alastor greets.

You stutter a bit as you answer. “Ah, good evening! I just couldn’t sleep and I thought that, uh, I should come say hi!”

“Well, this is a very nice visit! I don't get many late-night callers these days; make yourself at home!” He opens his door wider and gestures with a grand swish of his arm for you to come inside.

And you do. As you walk in you glance around his room, wondering what he was up to while listening to his music. Some of his furniture was moved closer to the walls and a fire blazed in his fireplace, growing ever bigger as a breeze came in from the forest half of his room. ‘Huh, didn’t know that there was weather in here. Noted and hoping it never rains.’ With the warmth of the fireplace it feels unnecessary to have a blanket on so you placed it on one of the couches that is pushed to the side.

“I didn’t have much to do tonight so I resorted to getting into the swing of dancing to pass the time.” The red head explains as he made his way to an awaiting record player that looked to have seen better days, but from what you heard on your way here, it did it’s job much better than appearance would lead you to believe. “Would you care to join me, my dear?”

“Join you? Oh, I don’t really know how to-”

“I’m sure you’ll pick it right up! It does get so boring singing and dancing by oneself, and you seem like you need something to pass the time, yourself.” He looks over his shoulder at you, record in hand. His usual big grin had become more of a smirk, as if he knew about your tired wondering.

You nod at him, figuring he just wasn’t going to take a ‘no’ or an ‘I’d rather watch you dance and hang out on your couch’. You step over to the record player and pick up the sleeve the demon got the record out of. Judging by the title, it seemed to be a collection of old hits from the 30’s. None of which you were familiar with. There is a respect that comes with older music since more modern music couldn’t exist without it, however older music just tends to be a bit too slow for your liking. Perhaps you’ve been listening to the wrong songs though, since Alastor doesn’t entirely seem to be the type to enjoy slow music either. At least not on boring nights with guests like tonight.

As you set the sleeve back down where you found it, music started playing from the record player. A bit distorted at first but sounding just as clear and blaring as it was earlier once it had a second to do its thing. A much more energetic tune than earlier begins to play, confirming your earlier suspicions. Alastor leads you to the center of the room where it’s the clearest and stands next to you, offering his hand for you to hold. It was when you comply and take his hand in yours you begin to remember the sheer difference in size between you two. His clawed hand easily swallowed yours and at this closer proximity than normal it felt like he was a tower to you being a cottage.

“Now, all we’re gonna start with is moving side to side like this.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot, keeping his hips loose and going with the motion. You stare for a moment before awkwardly (at least it felt awkward) mimicking the action. “Use the same foot I’m using on my count. 1, 2, 3, 4.” He kept count until you got it and were able to keep up. Simple enough. “Now we’re going to do the same, but vertical. Slightly more tricky, try not to tie your legs together, dear. Outside foot goes back.” It was trickier, and you did lose balance in the beginning, but luckily Alastor didn’t entirely seem to mind it. You guess it would be less bothersome to someone who could lift you with their pinky. You think you got it down and it seems that Alastor thought so too when he directs, “Now we’ll combine them. Bring your outside foot back up, there you go, and rock on your outside foot, inside foot, outside foot rocks back, then rock back to the front foot.”

As soon as you got that down Alastor was off, adding an extra tapping step, throwing in a few kicks for himself, even switching the position so you were holding hands in front of each other. Once in front of the other you could swear that Alastor is staring a bit too intensely. It’s like he is attempting to peer further into your being and get a better read on your soul. What is more jarring is you could swear his eyes flicker to your lips and stay there, but your tired brain isn’t able to confirm for sure that’s what you saw. Honestly, you had no idea what was going on. Trying to focus hard on his steps and mimic and predict them was difficult, especially in your half awake brain. Considering he kept going you figured you were somehow keeping up well enough; you haven’t been looking at his face much, trying to watch his feet.

Your focus retreats entirely once you hear him say something, but as you look up at him you are suddenly stumbling right into a twirl and then into the deer demons’ chest; one clawed hand now on your waist and the other moving your hand to his padded shoulder. Your nose suddenly filled with a pine and metallic smell and your face so close to the crimson fabric of his clothes, it took a second before you realized your feet had been dragged for a second before the both of you weren’t moving.

“I did try to tell you I was going to pull you in, my dear.” His radio filtered voice brought you fully back. You find your footing again and look hesitantly up at his ever grinning face. Alastor is leaning over you, face coming closer until his sharp teeth become a little too close. Just inches from your own lips.

“Sorry.” One of your feet tries to go back so you would be able to create a bit of distance so you could see him properly, but his hand on your waist keeps you solid against him. You instead opt to move your hand from his shoulder to his lapel to keep your stability. ‘Did he just freeze for a second?’

The demons’ grin widens impossibly more, eyes flashing with an unknown emotion. “No need to apologize, my sleepy friend. I’ve found your company to be quite pleasant on this eventful night. Perhaps it’s time to bring this evening to an end.” He suggests. The hand that is still holding yours let’s go and lands on top of yours on his lapel. “ You caught onto the steps very quickly. You do enjoy keeping me on my toes.”

“Thank you.” You reply a bit flatly, your vision starting to unfocus as you stare at your joined hands. You both were just dancing so it makes sense, but somehow the warmth was still causing cogs in your mind to stutter. As if you can’t believe this as anything but a dream. “I think it’s time I head back to my room. I think I’m at the point where I could go into a coma for the next few days.”

He chuckled a bit to himself. “I see that. You look like you’re going to collapse as soon as I let go of you. Tell you what, I’ll send you back to your room if you agree to come back for lessons after supper tomorrow night. A time when you should be more awake. I am so curious to see how you fare fully awake.” You nod your head numbly, just wanting to allow sleep to take you. “Splendid! Have a lovely rest, dear.”

As he snaps the fingers on his free hand, you could feel the floor disappear under you. Before you could drop, Alastor allows you to essentially float for a second while he lifts your hand he had been covering and kisses the back of it. Next thing you know you fall into inky blackness before feeling the familiar softness of your bed. As sleep begins to over take you, you think back upon those final moments and let them sink in. ‘Oh shit.’ The radio demon just kissed the back of your hand. Not to mention, he also now has one of your blankets. Your eyes snap open, and suddenly you didn’t feel tired anymore. ‘God fucking damn it, Alastor.’

[loveydoveysortastuff]

Feast Upon You...✨

Anon: How would Wanda react to someone hitting on her girlfriend? 🔞

Rating/Warnings: NSFW. Public sex, eating out, fingering, jealous Wanda. Pairing: Dom!Wanda MaximoffxSub!Reader Word Count: 1364

This is my first fic so please be nice! Comments and feedback are welcome :)

If you have a prompt, send me an ask! - Kara ✨🌛

✨Wanda would quite literally freeze on the spot.

 ✨Walking back from the bar with both of your drinks in her hand, when she spots the jerk putting his arm around your shoulders, she’d quite literally stop moving.

✨And glare directly at the man who is trying to put his moves onto you.

 ✨The glasses in her hand would creak and groan against her strong grip and Wanda (not so secretly) wills one of them to break, just so she can shove one of the sharp shards through his eye socket.

 ✨You let out an awkward laugh and try your best to create room in the already enclosed space of the booth.

✨It does little to make a gap between you both; his leering body chasing you, eager to keep you pressed to him.

 ✨Wanda catches the moment you heave at his smell: a grotesque combination of sweat and stale alcohol filling your nostrils.

 ✨When you finally glance at your girlfriend, your eyes are full of irritation.

 ✨That look alone makes Wanda move again; legs moving quickly as she strides towards the two of you.

 ✨The man doesn’t look from you when she clears her throat, in an attempt to be polite.

 ✨Or when she slams the two drinks on the table.

✨He barely flinches when Wanda says: “Hey, dickbag.”

✨Instead, he cosies up closer to you, reaching a finger to trace it down your jawbone.

 ✨And mercifully, that’s Wanda’s final straw.

✨Her eyes glow red and it illuminates the dark corner the three of you are in; and finally, that ominous glow catches his attention.

✨“Can I help you?”

✨You can pinpoint the exact second he registers that it’s Wanda Maximoff glowering down at him; not some random stranger.

✨He all but jerks, face paling like a mother’s face in her early weeks of pregnancy, and you can’t help but giggle at that.

 ✨“Not so cocky now are you?”

✨“I didn’t - "

✨ “Didn’t what? Believe my girlfriend when she said she was waiting for me? I suggest you move. Now.”

 ✨He falters and that alone makes Wanda’s anger spike.

✨The red consumes her eyes and clouds around her fingers; and the man, lets out a pathetic whimper before his body is thrown from Wanda’s seat and out of the double doors to the bar.

 ✨Wanda doesn’t even check to see if he’s okay, doesn’t give the blatant stares and whispers a second look, as she grabs you by the arm and all but drags you into the back.

✨Shoving you into the vacant (and mercifully very clean) disabled toilet.

 ✨Smashing her lips to yours seconds before the door can even fully shut. Wanda not caring if anyone sees.

 ✨It takes your breath away and you stumble backwards; feet tripping over themselves as Wanda completely takes charge of you, hands gripping the back of your neck so tightly it’s borderline painful.

 ✨"Who owns you?” She growls as your ass bumps into the small sink on the wall.

 ✨"You do, mommy.”

✨"Such a good girl for me, aren't you, prinzessin? My good girl."

✨"Yes, mommy. I'm yours. Always yours." 

✨Her lips move down to your neck and she bares her teeth.

 ✨It drives Wanda wild, licking and nipping at your skin that is scented with the perfume you always wear.

✨Your head lulls back, eyes rolling shut, a happy sigh escaping your lips.

✨Wanda knows your neck is your weak point, knows that all she has to do it grab it with her hand or bite down with her teeth, are you're nothing but putty in her hands.

✨"Did he hurt you?" she asks.

✨Your brain falters and Wanda nips you, causing you to let out a pained gasp.

✨"I asked a question, baby. Answer it."

✨You force your brain to focus.

✨"I - no, he didn't, mommy."

✨"Are you sure, baby?" Wanda asks as she moves to the other side of your neck. "Waste of space, hitting on what's mine."

✨"I'm sure."

✨She hoists you with little to no warning, picking you up and settling you on the edge of the cupboard as her lips find your own again.

✨"I want to taste you." She tells you, fingers pulling up at your skirt. "And I want you to be loud. Let the whole bar hear you."

✨She goes to yank your panties down but only finds your soft skin instead.

✨Her eyebrow quirks up, a smile pulling at her lips.

✨"No panties this evening, hmm?"

✨You shake your head, blushing slightly.

✨"Naughty, naughty girl." Wanda murmurs. “I’ll have to think of a different trophy to take then, won’t I?” 

✨She very slowly drops to her knees between your spread legs and you can feel how wet and needy your pussy is. 

✨Wanda’s mouth waters and her tongue pokes out to lick her bottom lip. 

✨”I was thinking about taking you to get ice cream after,” she says, planting a kiss on your left inner thigh. “But I think I’d much rather eat you for dessert - what do you think?” 

✨And Wanda - your ever crafty girlfriend - waits until you open your mouth to reply before leaning forward and kissing you directly where you ache for her. 

✨You let out a strangled sound, one that is on the verge of being just too loud. 

✨She kisses you again, wet mouth pressing against your soft lips; doing so until your hands latch into her hair and you try to tug her where you need her the most. 

✨Her tongue parts you, your taste filling Wanda’s mouth as she rises higher until she finds your puffy clit with ease; arms worming around your thighs to keep you in place. 

✨Her lips close around it and she sucks your clit into her mouth.

✨”Oh fuck.” 

✨There’s a dull thud as your head falls back. 

✨Wanda’s eyes drift up to look at you and she smirks against you, seeing how your body is already tensing against the mirror behind. Your bottom lip is trapped between your teeth and your eyes are screwed shut. 

✨”You’re soaked, darling.” Wanda says, slurping you greedily; a string of your wetness attached to her lips. “I bet I could slip three fingers into you so easily.” 

✨She attacks your clit, tongue flicking at it with such a pace that it has you arching. 

✨You hate that you’re already so worked up, hate that she edged you for two hours that morning because you refused to drink your water the day before. 

✨But you love the stretch as she slowly pushes three of her fingers into you. 

✨Love how you clench around her and almost pull her hair from her roots as she curls them just right into you.

✨”There you go, baby.” Wanda bites your thigh again. 

✨When she moves her fingers and slams them back into you, her mouth finds your clit again and you moan, toes curling. 

✨There is one thing you adore about Wanda, and it’s the use of her hands - no, her fingers. She’s a woman of many talents and her finger work is definitely in the top 3.

✨You’re chanting the word fuck, body coiled tight, and you both know your release is imminent. 

✨”You have 5 seconds to cum.” Wanda orders, fingers working in and out of you quickly. “Otherwise I will edge you until next week.” 

✨“Shit.” 

✨It hits you when she gets to 3, a body trembling orgasm that tears through you violently and leaves you with trembling legs around Wanda’s head. 

✨She slurps everything you have to offer, drinking it down as if she was a starving woman and you can’t help but grind your pussy down onto her face; desperate to chase that second high that is just tantalisingly out of reach. 

✨And just when you think Wanda is going to grant you another release, she stops. 

✨Pulling away and out of you as you let out a mewl of incoherent words. 

✨"I’m taking you home and you will be cumming until I decide to stop, understood?” 

✨You nod. 

✨"My good little slut. Mine."

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (10)

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

Part Summary: she finds herself as a pivotal lead in the case. wc: 4k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: I’m so sorry this took so long. I realize I’m not smart enough to be writing a crime-mystery plot so this went through a lot of editing😭

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

Y/N NEVER THOUGHT SHE WOULD SPEND HER MORNING THIS WAY, the unfamiliarity of this foreign place had her questioning how her life turned out the way it did. Becoming a witness to a heinous crime was already overwhelming enough for her, and now sitting in this cold, empty interrogation room was making her lose her mind.

She had never thought of being in this situation—a scenario that solely belonged to crime novels and thrilling movies. Yet, here she was, feeling more uncomfortable as time passed by. She slowly glanced toward the two-way mirror and the thought of watchful eyes observing her every movement intensified her discomfort, leaving her feeling judged and exposed. But above all that, there was one question that seemed to float at the top of her head.

Was Spencer there?

She heaved out a sigh. The one time she allowed herself to indulge further with her one-night-stand, it didn’t go the way she expected. She had thought that maybe—maybe—opening her heart was something she could try again. After a long time of not wanting to be romantically involved with anyone, waking up in his bed hadn’t seemed so bad...

Now it was just wishful thinking, her past naive self becoming a mockery to her now.

She was engrossed in her own thoughts when the door to her left suddenly creaked, drawing her attention, and she couldn't stifle the disbelief laugh slipping through her mouth.

"Out of all the agents in this building and they decided to send you?" She wondered as Spencer cautiously walked into the room with a file in his hand. "Isn't this against the rules?"

"What is?" He asked, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Questioning someone you know personally."

He regarded her with a look she couldn't quite decipher. Something about him seemed so different, it was baffling how someone could change so drastically in such a short period. Last night he had been sweet, attentive, and full of affection. But now, as she looked at him, it was as if he had morphed into a completely different person. The warmth that had once radiated from his eyes was replaced by a distant, guarded gaze.

Spencer Reid and Doctor Reid were really two different people.

"My personal matters won't intervene in the work I do."

"Somehow I doubt that," she murmured, watching as he sat down. She leaned back and crossed her arms. If he was going to act like they hadn't spent the night sleeping on the same bed, she might as well give him the same reserved attitude. "So, what now? Are we going to continue where we left off?"

"Actually, there's something else I'd like to know." He pushed the folder in his hand across the table and opened it. "I'm aware that you were associated with Harvey Webb?"

What the—

A sudden chill ran down her spine as the name slipped from his mouth. It was the last person she wanted to remember, a name she had fought so hard to push into the depths of her subconscious. But now it all came rushing back, threatening to engulf her in a wave of memories. She saw glimpses of piercing eyes that held malice, a voice dripping with menace, and a presence that loomed like an ominous shadow.

As she laid her eyes upon the files in front of her, a shiver coursed through her body. The face that stared back at her from the photograph was etched with lines of time. His eyes, once filled with unsettling intensity, now bore the weight of years gone by, their depths guarded and inscrutable.

"Why are you showing me this?" She asked quietly, trying to think of any possible reason why she was forced to recall her past.

"Did you know him?"

With a hesitant pause, she uncrossed her arms. "I did."

"And how did you know him?"

"He—" she stopped, trying to decide how to describe the nature of her relationship with that awful, dreadful man, and finally responded with, "He was my landlord."

"Was that all there is? Was your relationship with him simply one between a landlord and a tenant?"

She met his gaze. "What are you trying to imply?"

"One of our agents visited his wife before this."

Oh.

This was probably why he seemed so guarded, his words laced with a hint of something familiar yet unspoken. She was sure he already knew what happened. It was in the way he carefully chose his phrases, the slight pause that followed, and the knowing glimmer in his eyes that gave it away. But even when the buried memories were fighting to resurface in her head, a sense of unease gripped her. Why was he delving into her past?

"Why are you—" She shook her head. "What does he have to do with the current case?"

There was a pause before Spencer replied, "We believe he might be a link to the investigation."

She narrowed her eyes. "How?"

The room suddenly fell into an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the quiet hum of tension that seemed to hang in the air. Their eyes locked.

"Let's make a deal," he suggested. "If you answer all the questions I have for you, I'll tell you what you want to know."

She considered his words and slowly nodded. "Fine," she agreed. "But you probably know who he was to me if one of your agents had already questioned Mrs. Webb."

"I want to hear it from you."

The weight of her past bore down upon her, pressing against her conscience. She understood, with unwavering certainty, that the time had come to lay bare the chapters of her history that she had kept hidden. With a breath that carried the weight of her past, she finally mustered the courage to speak her truth.

"Harvey and I had an affair."

A subtle change swept across his face as her words hung in the air. His expression remained stoic, a reflection of the knowledge he carried within him. She wasn't sure how much he already knew, but she continued.

"It wasn't my proudest moment," she admitted. "I was young, it was my first time in the city and I got this great apartment at an affordable price. Harvey helped me when I moved in so we talked a lot back then and easily became friends. He eventually mentioned how his divorce had gotten to him very badly, and I... I guess I took pity on him."

"He told you he was divorced?"

"Yeah, he told me the property that he owned, this apartment building of his, was the only asset he got for their divorce settlement. I was too young and naive to even consider he could be lying, I guess I was too smitten by the attention he constantly gave me."

"How long did it happen?"

"A couple of months. It wasn't until he kept on disappearing that I started to suspect him. He said he had to go out of town for his work, but curiosity got the better of me and I decided to follow him one day." She gave him a pointed look. "Turned out he wasn't leaving town, he was going back home to his wife and kids."

"What happened then?"

"I confronted him about it..." Her body shifted uncomfortably. "That was when I realized how messed up he really was."

"What do you mean?"

"Harvey was a manipulative son of a bitch." He raised his eyebrows at her choice of words, which she shrugged in return. There really was no other way to describe him. "It was as if a switch had turned inside him the moment I confronted his lies. He became overbearing, controlling, possessive, and just—he became someone I was very afraid of."

He studied her closely, trying to decipher the unspoken layers of her narrative, the nuances hidden beneath the surface. "Did he ever hurt you?"

“Physically? No—well, there was this one time he got physical when he got so mad, but that was it," she confessed as her past flashed through her mind. "Although mentally, he was draining me. He would often threaten to harm me, or himself, if I ever left him. I think he was also diagnosed with a lot of mental disorders."

"Was his wife aware of everything happening?"

She nodded. "One day I visited their house when he wasn't home and confronted her about everything. Instead of blaming her husband's questionable behavior, she blamed me for ruining their marriage and started calling me a slutty home wrecker."

"Did he find out about this?"

"Yes," she replied. "He was not happy about it."

"And how did you get out of that situation?"

"I got accepted for the current job I work at now."

"He was fine with that?"

"I didn't tell him about it." She looked down, her gaze focusing on her hands sitting in her lap. "I had to move my things secretly whenever he went home to his family. When most of the stuff I needed was secured at my new place, I finally left, changed my number, and never looked back."

"You never saw him again after that?"

"The next time I heard of him was his own obituary printed on the paper." As the weight of her past slipped into the open, exhaustion suddenly settled over her. Her gaze then flickered toward the files on the table. "Now will you tell me how he's linked to the case?"

Spencer’s attention was completely focused on her, analyzing every detail of her movements. He paid close attention to the way she shifted in her seat, the way she blinked, and the way she tilted her head. "Were you aware of how he died?"

"Yes, he... he hurt himself."

Spencer shook his head, the lines on his forehead etched themselves deeper, highlighting the concentration etched upon his features. He leaned forward, his movements deliberate and controlled, as he turned the files over, taking out a few pictures before presenting them in front of her. "We believe his death was a homicide."

"What?" Her eyes widened in surprise as she gazed at the collection of photographs spread out before her. She should be appalled by the amount of blood seen in the shots, but her eyes darted across the blotched writing carved along the bruised skin. "Something was written on his arm?"

"You didn't know?"

"Of course not, why should I know of this?" She glanced up and was taken aback when she noticed the same doubt on his face she saw this morning. Her heart sank as the realization washed over her like a chilling wave. "You're still pining me down as a suspect."

"Your personal connections to all three victims have raised some concerns," he pointed out, voice carrying a controlled intensity, each word measured and deliberate. "And what's even more concerning is that they all had somehow wronged you in the past."

She suddenly felt a surge of anger as he leveled his accusations. Her lips thinned into a tight line, and her eyes narrowed as all her frustration and tension bubbled over. "I had nothing to do with their deaths."

"So it's a coincidence that they all suffered the consequences of their actions that affected you directly?"

"Just because I had issues with them doesn't mean I'd resort to murder," she spat. "Why are you so persistent in painting me as a suspect?"

"Your past grievances with these victims paint the picture." Spencer leaned forward, his palms pressed firmly against the cool surface of the table. His eyes, narrowed with determination, locked onto hers with palpable intensity. "Tell me, do you have an alibi for the times of their deaths?"

She leaned forward and held his gaze, not wanting to back down. "I'm not responsible for any deaths, so no, I don't have an alibi for something I didn't do."

"That's a very vague answer."

"You don't say?" She responded sarcastically. "Are you going to dump me with facts on how my body language is being defensive right now?"

"Would it help you to answer my questions clearly?"

She felt her patience breaking. She had been doing her best to remain calm and collected, but as his gaze remained fixed on her and he continued judging her with that harsh stare, she finally snapped.

"You know what, you want an alibi? I'll give you a damn alibi."

The tension she had been holding in her body suddenly exploded. With every inhale, her chest tightened, a reservoir of pent-up emotions yearning for release. And then, like an unleashed storm, she let it all pour forth.

"According to his obituary, Harvey Webb's death happened on Halloween and that was when I attended this stupid party held at the office. I was in the parking lot when Jamison called for my help before I scurried back only to witness his death. And don't get me started on Kevin Marshall."

She steadied her gaze on him.

"I studied his files for work so I'm aware of the time frame when it happened, and for someone with an eidetic memory, you sure had forgotten where I was that night so let me help you jog your memory back, Doctor Reid, because I spent the night in your bed before you fucking kicked me out the door!"

A heavy silence settled upon them only to be broken by her labored breathing and the pounding of her heart.

Had she really said that?

Y/n was never one with a foul mouth, but with the way the cuss word flew out of her lips in the heat of the moment, it was clear to her how furious she was. Although she did feel a sense of relief as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders after speaking her truth... But at what cost?

The room seemed to hold its breath, suspended in a fragile stillness, as his eyes locked onto hers. The weight of her words settled between them, casting a heavy shadow in the room. And there he sat, frozen in the moment, his face etched with shock and surprise. His mouth opened and closed, but no words emerged, as if the force of her words had momentarily robbed him of his ability to respond.

She wondered what was going through his mind right now. Was he processing her words, attempting to unravel the layers of her frustrations? Or was he grappling with his own emotions, struggling to find the right words to respond?

And suddenly she couldn't take it anymore, feeling an overwhelming sense of exhaustion washing over her. All of the emotions unleashed during her frustrated rant had left her feeling drained. Every fiber of her being ached for respite and seeing him again felt like an additional burden she wasn't ready to bear. So she let her eyes fall on the two-way mirror, focusing in nowhere particular.

"I want to request another agent in here."

She noticed the way his shoulders tensed from the corner of her eyes but decided to ignore it, keeping her gaze on her reflection instead. And just as she was about to accept the fact that nobody was going to listen to her, the sound of the door opening echoed throughout the space, its noise cutting through the silence.

A dark-haired woman stood by the entry, her hand gripping the door as she focused her attention on the only man in the room. "Dr. Reid, I can take it from here."

The weight of the situation suddenly settled him. He studied the woman sitting across from him who was trying to maintain her control. But beneath it all, he saw the cracks in her facade, the vulnerabilities concealed beneath her frustration. It became clear that her actions, though seemingly distant and cold, were rooted in a desperate attempt to protect herself from further hurt.

And he was responsible for it all.

With a heavy sigh, Spencer finally rose from his seat, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. His mind was telling him he was only doing his job, yet his heart was pointing out the unfairness of his judgment of her. And for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.

"There you are," Emily announced, walking into the meeting room as she spotted Spencer standing by the large board adorned with webs of information, his back facing her. "Are you okay?"

Spencer turned around and regarded her with a sigh. "No."

She gave him a sad smile. "She left already." Then she crossed her arms, studying the way his expression fell at the mention of the woman she had questioned for the past hour. "Do you really think she has anything to do with the case?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head, his shoulders dropping at the revelation of his words. "No."

"Then why were you being so hard on her?"

"I... I don't know."

As her gaze focused on his face, she observed the flash of vulnerability that briefly danced across his features. His eyes darted away, evading direct contact, betraying a flicker of unease that she couldn't ignore.

"I think you do," she noted. "I think you have this logic in your head that if she had something to do with the case, you'd have a reason to stop getting involved with her. But now that you know she's innocent, you think it's too complicated to harbor your feelings after the way you accused her. "

He drew his eyes back to her. "I thought we agreed not to profile each other."

"I wouldn't consider this profiling when you literally have your heart on your sleeves."

He let out a sigh, his voice trembling as he mustered the courage to acknowledge the truth of his actions and the pain he had caused. "What should I do?"

"You're asking the wrong person for relationship advice here," Emily remarked. "But what I do know is that if you wronged someone, you apologize."

But was it enough? Was apologizing to her enough to compensate for the hurt he had put her through?

Guilt has a funny way of coming after the moment has passed, like a relentless pursuer in the shadows of our conscience. Right now it was sneaking up on him, resurfacing with a relentless grip on his emotions. After he left the room, he got inside the small space behind the two-way mirror, continuing his job as an observer instead of the one questioning her.

Hotch had looked at him pointedly when he stepped to his side, and although his boss kept his mouth close the entire time, Spencer knew he was secretly assessing him with judgment. Especially when, after observing Y/n behind the glass, it was clear that she wasn't a suspect. He saw the scars of his misjudgment etched upon her face and the guardedness in her eyes.

It took him as an observer to comprehend she was innocent, that the darkness he had attributed to her was merely a reflection of his misguided assumptions. But it was too late now. He had allowed his biases to cloud his judgment, staining their relationship—or the potential of it anyway—with a hue of mistrust that was now difficult to wash away.

"I don't think she'll ever forgive me," he admitted, feeling dejected.

"Reid, you haven't even tried, and even if she won't, I'm sure you'll find a way to fix it." As the weighty words of their conversation hung in the air, a playful spark suddenly ignited in her eyes. "So."

Her teasing look cut through the tension, catching him off guard. "What?"

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," he quickly responded.

"After all that tension between you two and you're still denying it?"

"She's—" he stopped. "I'm not sure what we are, honestly."

Emily let out a soft chuckle. "Well, any type of relationships are complicated. That's why I don't bother with them anymore." Her eyes then shifted behind him, noticing the numbers written on the board that wasn't there the last time she was here. "What do you have there?"

Spencer let out a sigh of relief. Her request to shift the conversation to something else offered him a lifeline, a respite from the vulnerability of delving into his own feelings. A flicker of gratitude flashed in his eyes as he realized that she had unknowingly granted him an escape from his discomfort.

"I did the geographical profiling and these numbers are each respective coordinates of the location where all the victims were found." Emily nodded and he continued, "Basically, I did a coordinate rounding to eliminate the decimals until I come up with two digits for each location."

"And you think these numbers mean something?"

"They must. Here, take a look at this." He motioned her to step closer toward the round table before showing her the map he had drawn over with his handwriting, highlighting three precise locations that formed a triangle. "Even when Harvey Webb wasn't found at his house, he was found at his apartment which was technically his second residence. The same goes for Kevin Marshall, his body was found at home."

Then he pointed at one of the marks located at the top of the map.

"But Jamison Lynch was found at his workplace. The Unsub must have a reason to commit the crime six blocks away from his house."

Emily scanned the map before turning her attention back to the board. "So these numbers represent each location? Eleven is the first victim's residence, ninety-one is the second victim's workplace, and nineteen is the third victim's apartment?"

"Precisely."

"You know," she started, head tilted to the side and eyes piercing onto the numbers presented before her. "The third victim is technically the first victim if you consider the timeline."

As her words lingered in the air, a spark of realization ignited within him. It was as if a puzzle piece he had been searching for had finally fallen into place. "Wait." He walked over and grabbed the marker by the table. "You're right."

Emily watched as he rearranged the line of numbers.

19 91 11

"Does that mean anything to you?"

But Spencer couldn't hear her, his head was already turning its gear as shreds of evidence he had gathered these past few days swarmed his mind. "The Unsub has the same MO in all the victims and they're fixated using verses from the bible so if those numbers have an indication of that conviction then the first two digits could be the number of The Old Testament which means—"

He quickly wrote down his next words.

"Psalm 91:11," Emily read out.

"For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways,"Spencer recited. "That's it—a guardian angel."

Emily's eyes widened as she stared at the revelation before her. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, revealing a connection that had eluded her grasp until now. It was as if a veil had been lifted, granting them to reshape the narrative of the case.

"Y/n isn’t the killer," she mumbled, turning her head towards him. "She's being protected."

He returned her gaze with the same disbelief.

"Someone else is doing it for her."

>> NEXT PART

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[brummiereader]

Hi everyone I'm back with another series! This is going to be a Dark!Tommy series, that some readers may find triggering, so I really wanted to give you all a warning beforehand. Overtime the following potential triggers will become more apparent...manipulative behaviour, psychological mind games, toxic relationship, controlling behaviour, violence, and psychological abuse.

Killing Me Softly (PART ONE/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: Reader is arranged to marry the notorious gangster of Small Heath Tommy Shelby. Going into the marriage with an open heart she soon realises he is not the man she once knew. How long will she be able to endure his cruel games?

Warnings: Angst, fluff, violence, language, psychological mind games, manipulative behaviour, Dark!Tommy (This is a dark series, please read the warnings before continuing)

Writers note: Inspired by this ominous version of the song "Killing me Softly" by Aretha Franklin. Just to note, we follow off from the intro later on in the series.

"Y/N Ohh Y/N...come on love, I'm not gonna hurt you" He said taunting you, as you heard him open each door along the dimly lit hallway on the second floor of your home Arrow House. His heavy foot steps walked slowly along the wooden floorboards as he checked each room looking, searching...for you.

Hiding under the bottom shelf of a small closet room, you made yourself as small as you could possibly get. Shaking, tears streaming down your face you brought your knees up to your chest clutching yourself, hoping and praying he wouldn't find you.

"Come out come out wherever you are, I'll count to ten you can't be far.

Under the bed, behind a door, was that a creak I heard on the floor?

I'll shout and call out your name, but you'll keep quiet, it's part of the game.

Come out come out wherever you are, I'll count to ten you can't be far...Ohh Y/N..."

Snapping your head up, you listened to the nursery rhyme as it echoed loudly through the corridor. Once an innocent song you used to sing as a child whilst playing hide-and-seek, now a menacing taunt filled with unspoken threats. All of a sudden his cruel singing came to a stop. Hearing the creaking floorboards just outside the door, your eyes widened in terror.

" You know I'll win...i always did" you heard him say in a deep menacing voice as you covered your mouth trying to silence your heavy breathing. You watched intently as his dark shadow moved underneath the door, with your whole body trembling, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to escape. Putting your hand to your chest you breathed a silent sigh of relief as you heard his intimidating footsteps move on.

"I don't like to be teased sweetheart!" he said loudly, annoyed, as he slammed a door shut in frustration. Jolting at the sudden noise your foot slid against the floor hitting the wall in front you. Shit. Silence filled the house, the noise of his footsteps absent from your ears. Taking your hand away from your mouth, you reached out to bring your knee back into your chest, only to gasp in fear as you heard one single creak of the floorboards just outside the closet door.

"Peekaboo..." he said tilting his head as he opened the door, a sinister smile spread across his face, a bloodied knife in his hand.

"Come on now, darling" he said as he dragged you kicking and screaming out the small dark room by your night dress.

" Tommy please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, wait...wait!"

One Month Before...

An arranged marriage. If anyone would have told you this is what you had agreed to this time last year, you would have laughed in their face at their preposterous suggestion. But yet here you was, two weeks away from marrying your childhood friends brother, Tommy Shelby. You had spent most of your early life at the Shelby's house, you being close friends with Ada, you would see Tommy almost every day. Maybe that's why you had agreed to the proposition so willingly, you knew Tommy, you grew up with him, a small affection grew over the years for him, and you trusted him, or at least...you thought you did. It was a cascade of events over many years that had led up to the day when Tommy's Aunt, Polly Gray, proposed the arrangement. Your father dying in combat was the start of everything that eventually went wrong, then when your mother moved you both to London to escape the constant reminders of your late father, her health started to deteriorate. The grief of losing him had taken a tremendous toll on your mother's body, unable to work anymore, and with only a war widows pension, you had to take on extra hours working in a press factory as your mother stayed home, you were barely getting by. Now you found yourselves back in Small Heath, back home, back in search for easier times. Hearing of your mother's ill health and your struggle to find employment, Polly Gray a friend of the family, re-entered you lives, offering you help when no one else would.

The proposition Polly made at first, was not one of marriage, but one of employment, you was to work in the Shelby Company Limited offices as a secretary, but when Tommy caught wind of his Aunt's plans and the knowledge of your return to Small Heath, with no need of another secretary he proposed a different arrangement, one of marriage. A wife in return for the financial support of your mother and the help she so desperately needed, that was the offer Polly came to you with that late spring day, the day your whole life changed.

Arranged marriages were not unheard of in the 1920s, and Tommy being a man who had so little time to find a wife, found himself needing one. He didn't particularly want one, but he needed one if he was ever going to rub shoulders with the people he wanted to do business with. With a wife by his side, he would be able to portray himself as a stable family man, an image he needed to paint to finally be taken seriously by the circle of people he wanted to be acquainted with, or at least, that's what he told everyone. You had very little family left, most of them having died in the war or from illness, your mother was the only immediate family you had. With no other options, your mother's health worsening, and no money to pay for the doctors she so badly needed, you had willingly agreed to the arrangement without much hesitation. An almost transactional agreement, but one you entered into with an open mind and heart, naively thinking that this arrangement would eventually turn into a loving marriage... how wrong you would be.

"I'm ready" you said as you straightened out your white summer dress.

" You look beautiful darling" your mother replied as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

" I'm sorry I can't come with you" your mother said as she handed you your small black purse.

"It's ok, you're not feeling well, get some rest ok?" You said as you kissed her cheek. Saying goodbye you opened the front door and walked out onto the busy streets of Small Heath. It was summer and surprisingly a beautiful day in the small Birmingham town. The sun breaking through the thick smoke of the factory chimneys, beamed down on your skin as you walked the ten minute journey to Watery Lane. Your thoughts turning in your head, you started to doubt your decision. What if he doesn't like me ? What if this doesn't work out? Does he even remember me? It was so long ago, you couldn't even remember what he looked like. Walking across to the next street you was now on Watery Lane. Standing in front of the door you straightened out your posture as you painted on a smile, before you could even knock, the door flew open.

"Are you Tommy's wife?" A small boy with a peaked cap and muddy knees said, as he opened the door.

"Not yet she's not" Polly said moving the boy out the way as she ushered you in, planting a kiss to your cheek.

" Polly" you said hugging her, smiling as she welcomed you into the house.

" Come sit down dear" she said as she pulled out a chair for you at the round table in the middle of the room.

" Hello you" you heard a voice say from behind you.

"Ada!" You said turning around, as she bent down to give you a hug.

" Look at you!" she said smiling to you, as she brushed your hair away from your shoulder " You're a beauty Y/N, Polly isn't she just beautiful?" She said turning to her Aunt.

" That she is, Tommy's one lucky man" she replied smiling to you with a wink. Sitting down in front of you, she poured you each a glass of whiskey.

" Bit of Dutch courage" she said handing you the glass, which your gratefully took, downing it in one go.

" Steady on!" Ada giggled covering her mouth, "You're not marrying the Devil himself" she laughed once again.

" Nervous?" Polly asked, as she looked at your anxious face, reaching out for your hand.

" A little...Polly what if this doesn't wor..." you said only to be interrupted by the small boy from before.

"Tommy's here!" He shouted as he ran through the kitchen knocking over one of the wooden chairs.

" Finn out!" Polly demanded, pointing to the stairs as he stomped up them, his arms folded, a grumpy thrown forming on his face.

" Ello ello" Arthur announced as he entered the room, John not far behind him.

"There she is" he said reaching out to hug you. " You've grown" he said motioning up and down your body with his hand, his eyes stopping at your chest as he cleared his throat.

" Move over you old perv" John said with a big smile, his arms stretched out to hug you.

"John" you said, hugging him tightly. Being closer in age, you and John had always gotten along, he was like a brother to you, often the first to come to you if you ever needed help. Turning his head around, John moved out the way as Tommy walked into the room. Taking his peaked cap off, his eyes immediately scanned the room, looking for you.

"Y/N" he said walking towards you, giving you a small kiss to the cheek, his hand resting on your hip. Now a young woman, Tommy was taken aback by your beauty.

"Tommy" you said nervously as your breath hitched in your throat. The boy you remembered was gone, instead a grown man stood before you, a face aged by war, a presence that demanded respect, he walked into the room with authority and power, and you couldn't help but look away from his intimidating statue. Smiling to you, trying to ease the tension, Tommy gently placed his hand on your back, gesturing for you to sit down as he sat down in the empty chair beside you. With everyone now around the table you talked about your time in London, everything but the impending wedding, that was until Arthur brought it up.

" You'll be a Shelby in a few weeks" he said winking to you, as he took a sip of whiskey.

" Think you can handle our Tom, Y/N?" John interjected, chuckling.

" Yeh, I think I can handle him " you said laughing, trying to make light of the situation as you turned to see Tommy eyeing you from head to toe, his mouth slightly open as his eyes then landed on yours.

"Good luck to you Y/N, Tommy's not the easiest to get along with, are you Tom?" John chuckled as he put his elbows on the table, leaning in closer to you.

"Shut up John" Tommy said, clearly bothered by his teasing. Shifting in your seat, you looked down nervously at your hands.

"Tom's just a bit hot headed sometimes Y/N" Arthur said as he poured himself another whiskey ." Anyway, things will go just fine for you two, Tom here, used to have a little crush on..."

"Right, you all done, hm?" Tommy said interrupting, looking at each of his brothers, his brows raised in annoyance, as both of them put their hands up in defence, unable to hold back their laughs.

" Come on, let's leave them to it" Polly said as she ushered everyone out the small kitchen. With just you and Tommy now alone, a small silence filled the room as he lit a cigarette.

" What are siblings for if they don't give you a hard time" you said smiling to him, breaking the silence.

"You're not gonna give me a hard time are you?" He said turning to you, mischief playing in his eyes.

" No. No..." you said slightly flustered.

"But you think you can handle me, eh?

" I didn't mean it like that" you said turning to him, his eyes catching yours as you started to regret your choice of words.

" I know" he nodded chuckling " I'm only teasing Y/N" he said clearing his throat.

"I need to know for sure though, I need to hear you say it, do you want this?" He said shifting closer to you, his eyes never moving from yours.

" I want this Tommy" you said as confidently as you could. "Do you?"

" I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't" he said staring at you, his eyes piercing into you. "Look, i know it's not the typical start to a marriage, but we know eachother, we can trust eachother, right?" he said as he reached for your hand, his thumb caressing you in reassurance.

" We can trust eachother" you nodded, comforted by his gentle touch " You know, coming here today, i didn't think you would remember me" you said as you traced your finger around the rim of your empty glass.

" Oh I remember you. You were here all the time, running around playing hide-and-seek. And if I remember correctly, you were never very good at it" he said a smile on his lips as his eyes darted between yours and your fingers grazing along the glass.

"Well, you never did count to ten" you joked as a laugh escaped Tommy's mouth.

"I wasn't very patient" he admitted, taking a drag of his cigarette his eyes glistening, as a cocky grin formed on his face

" God, we must have annoyed Polly so much sometimes"

" We were just kids" he said shrugging his shoulders, as he poured you both another glass of whiskey.

" Not anymore" you replied, as he handed you your drink, his fingers brushing over yours.

" No, not anymore" he echoed quietly, taking a sip of his whiskey, as he looked over your body in the corner of his eye, clenching his jaw.

" I got you something" he said clearing his throat. Reaching into his suit pocket, Tommy pulled out a small box with a red ribbon neatly fastened around it. Putting it on the table he slowly pushed it towards you.

" Tommy you didn't have to do that"

" It's a wedding gift, I want you to wear it on the day" He said stubbing his cigarette out, as he watched your slender fingers gently untie the ribbon.

" Oh my god...Tommy" you said smiling as you took out a small diamond encrusted bracelet. "It's beautiful" you said as you turned the bracelet around, only to furrow your brows as you looked at his and your initials engraved with a date on the back.

"Tommy I think the Jeweler made a mistake, the date's wrong?

"It's not wrong Y/N, I'm bringing the wedding forward, to next Saturday" Tommy said as he opened his cigarette holder, pulling out another.

" What...forward?" You questioned confused by the unexpected change of plans.

" You don't have a problem with that, do you?" He questioned as he exhaled a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling, rubbing the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

" No, it's just...everything's been planned for two weeks time, why did you change the dates?"

" I don't want to wait Y/N" he said, tapping the ash from the cigarette into the glass tray as he turned to face you, his brows raised in surprise at your questions. " You sure you want to marry me, eh? He said cocking an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips.

"I do Tommy, it's just.." you said, still confused by the the sudden urgency. "..next week it is then" you replied, giving in, not knowing what else to say. Smiling to you, Tommy sat forward taking your hand as he clasped the bracelet around your small wrist.

"You like it then?" He asked his eyes looking up at you through his thick lashes.

"I love it" you said reaching your arms out, wrapping them around him. Hugging you back, Tommy's hand moved up to the back of your neck, his cheek pressing into your hair as he breathed in your perfume.

" You'll never want for anything Y/N, I'll make sure of that" he said as he let go. " And your mother, she will be looked after" he confirmed, as you looked up, meeting his eyes.

" Thank you, Tommy" you said as you placed your hand into his, his other hand reaching up, softly stroking your cheek with his thumb.

" We'll make it work, yeh?" he nodded to you.

" We will" you said shyly as you looked down at the bracelet on your wrist.

" Good. My brothers are right though, I can be a difficult man at times, stubborn set in my ways. But I'll look after you" he said as you nodded to him, his thumb still on your cheek as his fore finger grazed down cupping your chin "And in return I'll have a good, obedient wife" he added, eyes narrowing, his forehead raised, his grip subtly tightening as he waited for your reaction. Your eyes darted away nervously only to quickly come back to his intense glare.

"I'll be a good wife Tommy" you said, a small unsure laugh leaving your lips at his odd choice of words.

" Good" he said letting go of your cheek, his face finally relaxing, as he leaned back into his chair.

" You know Y/N, I think this might just work out for us"

NEXT PART

Tag list: @litteltourtius @aesthetic0cherryblossom

[bylerween2023]

Announcing the daily themes for Bylerween!

Each day has three themes: one horror theme, one in-show theme, and one fluff theme. Feel free to use inspiration from just one, two, or all three themes for each day!

Day 1, October 26:

Ghosts & Hauntings

Trapped in the Upside Down

Haunted House

Day 2, October 27:

Slashers, Gore & Body Horror

Demogorgon & Flesh Monster

Halloween Party

Day 3, October 28:

Demons, Devils & Exorcisms

Will’s S2 Possession

Pumpkin Patch & Apple Orchard

Day 4, October 29:

Psychological Horror

Attacked by Vecna

Sweater Weather

Day 5, October 30:

Came Back Wrong

Flayed!Mike/Flayed!Will

Carnival Night

Day 6, October 31:

Supernatural Creatures

Trick or Treat, Freak (2x02)

Trick or Treating

Day 7, November 1:

Witches, Wizards & Necromancers

D&D

Renaissance Festival

***

Rules and guidelines for posting can be found in our intro post here.

Extra prompts and ideas for these themes are under the Read More cut! Also, look below to see which themes are Double Date Night themes. For Double Date Nights themes, we encourage other ships to be featured along with Byler (but it's not required)!

amazing art by @light-lanterne!!

Here are some additional ideas that you can use as inspiration for each day's themes! You don't need to follow these prompts at all, but feel free to jump off of these ideas.

Day 1 - Ghosts & Hauntings, Trapped in the UD, Haunted House:

Ghosts & Hauntings - Mike and Will move into their first home together... but it's haunted. Ghost!Will haunts Mike, or Ghost!Mike haunts Will. Ghost movie AU. Young Mike and Will hide from a scary ghost in the closet or under the bed. A midnight stroll through a graveyard goes wrong.

Trapped in the UD - “It’s like home, but it’s so dark. It’s so dark and empty. And it’s cold!” Mike, Will, or both are trapped in the Upside Down this Halloween.

Haunted House - Creaking floors, spiderwebs, skeletons, and spiders! Mike and Will break into the scary, abandoned house down the street, only to run away when there's a creepy noise coming from the attic. Did Mike and Will get part time jobs as monster actors at the Hawkins Haunted House this October, or are they just going to the Haunted House as guests? Double Date Night: we encourage you to feature other ships with this theme!

Day 2 - Slashers, Gore & Body Horror, Demogorgon & the Flesh Monster, Halloween Party

Slashers, Gore & Body Horror - Slasher movie AU’s. Serial killer Byler, cannibalism Byler, or Frankenstein Byler.

Demogorgon & Flesh Monster - Looking back at our S1 and S3 monsters! The demogorgon or flesh monster are on the prowl and looking for victims this Halloween.

Halloween Party - What costumes are Mike and Will wearing to the party? Who has a few drinks, gets a little extra silly, and starts some drama? What feelings bubble up at the party? Loud music and dancing, spilled drinks, drunken confessions, and kissing in the dark corner of the room. Double Date Night: we encourage you to feature other ships with this theme!

Day 3 - Demons, Devils & Exorcisms, Will’s S2 Possession, Pumpkin Patch & Apple Orchard

Demons, Devils & Exorcism - Will and Mike make a deal with the devil. Demon x Exorcist enemies to lovers AU. Exorcism movie AU.

Will’s S2 Possession - Looking back the scenes of Will saying ominous things, not remembering the names of his loved ones, Mike sitting by Will’s bedside in the hospital, and the shed scene. What if Mike had been possessed instead of Will? What if Mike and Will were already dating in S2 when Will was possessed?

Pumpkin Patch & Apple Orchard - Picking out the biggest pumpkin at the pumpkin patch, carving pumpkins, baking pumpkin treats, and wearing ugly pumpkin sweaters. Getting lost in the apple orchard, climbing trees together, picking apples, drinking apple cider. Riding the hay bale and sneaking kisses.

Day 4 - Psychological Horror, Attacked by Vecna, Sweater Weather

Psychological Horror - Ramp up the horror, terror, paranoia, and fear! Psychological horror movie AU.

Attacked by Venca - Looking back at our S4 villain, and the horror filled visions he uses to attack his prey. Vecna returns on Halloween this year.

Sweater Weather - Everyone wants to cuddle up once the weather gets colder! Mike and Will start wearing their cozy sweaters and flannels. Falling leaves, hot cocoa, bonfire nights, smores, and camping.

Day 5 - Came Back Wrong, Flayed!Mike & Flayed!Will, Carnival Night

Came Back Wrong - Resurrecting your beloved childhood friend and sweetheart from death comes with a price... they're not the same now as they were before. A call back to good ol' Phineas Gage.

Flayed!Mike & Flayed!Will - Rethinking S3 if Mike or Will were flayed. Suspicions are raised and fear mounts: Mike or Will aren't quite acting like themselves and it's a fight to rescue them from their gruesome fate!

Carnival Night - Will and Mike play carnival games and go on rides. Bobbing for apples, getting lost in the corn maze, face painting, and feasting on carnival food. Double Date Night: we encourage you to feature other ships with this theme!

Day 6 - Supernatural Creatures, Trick or Treat, Freak (2x02), Trick or Treating

Supernatural Creatures - Vampires, and werewolves, and monsters, oh my! Mike and Will encounter a supernatural creature this Halloween, but is it friend or foe? Will as a werewolf, Mike as a vampire, Will as a goblin, Mike as a centaur? The options are endless! Monster x Monster Hunter AU.

Trick or Treat, Freak (2x02) - A look back on our beloved Halloween episode. Mike is complaining about Max, Will sees the Mind Flayer looming in the sky, and Mike takes Will home. Crazy together, right?

Trick or Treating - Mike and Will take Holly out trick or treating. Adult Mike and Will hand out candy. The early years of Mike and Will trick or treating with the party, TP-ing a bully’s house, and swapping candy afterward at home.

Day 7 - Witches, Wizards & Necromancy, D&D, Renaissance Festival

Witches, Wizards & Necromancy - Witch covens, a trickster wizard, or a necromancer raising zombies from the dead! A witch hunter falls in love with a witch, or Zombie Boy comes back to life.

D&D - Paladin Mike and Will the Wise celebrate the spooky season! Redecorate the Will the Wise costume with some Halloween vibes, or alter Will's S4 painting of the party to give it a spooky twist.

Renaissance Festival - Dressing up as knights, fairies, wizards, and more! The knights are jousting, everyone is eating a turkey leg, and Mike and Will are playing ax throwing games. Entertainers are juggling swords, fire eating, and putting on raunchy comedy skits. Are Mike and Will attending as guests, or working at the Renaissance Festival this fall? Double Date Night: we encourage you to feature other ships with this theme!

[anticipatecrime]

𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 | jake webber x ghost fem reader

summary: jake, and the rest of the boys go to the biltmore hotel for a video on sam and colbys channel, what happens when they encounter a ghost, you, and he doesn't believe in it? you get irritated and start to mess with the boy a/n: warning for description of a murder, angsty+ i love the concept of the whole platonic ghost stuff i think its really cute words: 4.2k

the boys walked down the miserable hallway of the biltmore hotel, no color or sense of life near. sam squinted, pointing to a small plaque that reads, 'presidential suite'. colby followed behind with the camera, filming as they joked and made references.

as they arrived at the white door, the blonde opening it, everyone was in awe. the modernness mixed with the older architecture caught them off guard. peering in, they became speechless at the size of the room. "oh my god." he said, turning on the slight switch.

"what the hell this looks like our house." jake comments, taking in the white marble floor, and grand doorway.

"oh my god, there's- oh my god." corey mumbled, never having seen something so special.

"there's a library!" sam gestured to it, before they discovered it was a second story hotel room. they stepped down the spiral staircase, into the darkness of the lower floor.

jakes hands slid down the railing, it ominously chilling. he quickly realized how heavy the air was. he slowly shuffled into the shadow, noticing the muted colors of the wallpaper.

in a matter of seconds, a shiver ran down his spine, and his heart began to race. he felt a strange wetness on his forehead. touching it, he realized it was a trickle of sweat.

how was he sweating in this moment? jake was freezing, goosebumps beginning to form on his arms, it didn't piece together. he didn't like whatever he was feeling, and stepped back next to corey.

colby called out from on the bottom step of the stairs, confused why everyone was just standing rather than finding a light.

he shook his head. "colby, come down here, go into that room with the light off." him and corey encouraged.

"i literally got scared when i went into it." jake admitted, usually never being effected by the paranormal this intensely.

colby sighed, before walking towards the next room. he closed his eyes for a second, immediately feeling what the other had, and he retreated back to the group, frightened. "i just got chills, man." he mumbled.

"no seriously, this downstairs is weird" sam stated, touching the walls as he tried to locate the switch, before giving up and using lanterns.

they began to explore the large area, feeling a change in the atmosphere. colby observed a door he hadn't spotted before. he called over his friends, before creaking open the door softly.

sam realized that the room was on both of the most haunted floors, making it a point to the camera.

as the boys investigated the room, either messing with the antique elevator, or opening closets and cracking jokes, you stirred.

hearing a boisterous laugh, your mind became conscious, tuning into the howls from below. feeling slightly disoriented from being forcibly awoken, you were irritated to say the least.

not only did these people intrude into your hotel room, they had the nerve to be deafening.

you closed your metaphorical eyes, you imagined yourself elsewhere, wishing out of all places your spirit was attached to it wasn't this one.

the laughs stopped, and you propped an eye open, confused. then you heard the same voices, but in a much more professional tone. they sounded like poor actors. if they were actors in your day, they would not succeed.

their serious voices sounded immature, they weren't even using the correct grammar, infact things they said didn't sound like words.

typically, when people stayed in the presidential suite, you tried to keep distance, not wanting to intimidate them, however these people had you drawn in.

soon enough, it was completely silent and you heard the door shut to the hotel. they had left, most likely to explore. as they were talking to something, it almost sounding like an audience, you overheard them and assumed they were ghost hunters of some sort.

perhaps you should follow, you thought to yourself.

over the years of being attached to the biltmore hotel, many paranormal investigators have come and gone, and most times they call out for you. feeling the need to impress and give these peoples lives meaning, you'll normally mess with their devices or move things around the room.

you've met some determined and cool individuals, and only wished you could leave like them, the thing you despised most was being stuck here.

the closest thing to leaving, was trailing behind guests and pretending you could be apart of their life. so you did was you generally do and follow along.

finally coming close to them, you saw their faces. you predicted they were all the same age, maybe a year or so apart at the most, probably in their very early twenties, and that they had been friends for some time.

you could see the faded yellow aura that hung around them, indicating they had a close friend relationship. looking even closer you saw purple floating with them too, a sign that they were fearful of what's to come.

one thing about them you couldn't understand. a blonde boy was holding onto a piece of equipment, you assumed a camera, but the odd thing about it was how they all looked into it and made conversation, as if there was a bunch of small people inside.

you weren't born dead yesterday, you understood that there was now something labeled as the internet, and that there was social media, however you couldn't acknowledge all of it, your mind not capable. so you moved on, and just tried to learn about the camera on the way.

the group had eventually gotten around, looking into tunnels and secret spaces around the area, and figured they should take a break to eat and relax.

once they all sat on the couches that were organized infront of the television, the camera was put away and they began chatting about their experiences around the hotel so far.

three of the guys were discussing how they felt a negative vibe, and that they were slightly frightened and creeped out already and the night had just begun.

you took note of how one of them was less enthusiastic, and scrolling on his smartphone. just by observing him, and watching his movements, it was clear he was a non believer, or atleast a stubborn skeptic. "i think you guys are overthinking it." he stated, putting down the phone.

"jake, are you going to tell me this place doesn't scare you?" sam questioned, pulling out the camera to record his thoughts.

"it doesn't. i mean think about it, tons of presidents and celebrities have stayed here, they think it's luxury. why would they stay here if it was haunted?" you thought about his logic and agreed with it, you would probably think the same as him.

"so you don't believe the hotel is haunted at all?" colby leaned in, eager to hear.

jake glanced around the room before answering a very simple, "i don't."

you furrowed your eyebrows, glaring at the boy infront of you. you stood, feet hovering above the carpeted ground. to say you were offended was an understatement.

it had been a long while since someone denied not just your existence, but all of the spirits that reside here, and honestly it had your old blood boiling. it felt like a competition to you, something that had to be proven.

you floated around the room, merging down to the lower floor to mess with something. eyes glancing, they finally landed onto the rustic old elevator that had previously given them chills.

focusing on the door, you used your energy to open it, and to rattle the guard on it. a misconception that has been passed around that you hated, was how ghosts physically touch and throw things.

it was a lot more difficult than that. you had to focus, and think about it occurring, which cost you a lot of your energy, energy that you only got back from resting.

"guys, guys, holy fuck." sam turns on the camera out of fear after hearing an eerie noise that broke the calm ambiance. they exchanged frightened but curious glances, wondering what the sound could have been.

"did you fucking hear that?" colby asked frantically, looking around the room. you enjoy the panic on their faces as they start going downstairs, so you move the fencing again.

the noise persisted, and crude waves of unease gradually wash over them, sam running down the stairs, his face fraught with urgency. as he got to the bottom, he froze in his tracks, eyes widening with trepidation. "oh god."

corey gasped. "the doors open!" he pointed across the hallway, directly where you stood.

you held your breath and scooted away as jake took your spot next to the elevator. it had been awhile since you were that close to someone, you never liking the feeling of them passing by or through you.

"wasn't it closed?" corey exclaimed, keeping his distance.

"we would've closed it right?" sam said, everyone mutually agreeing but still indistinct. he walked over to the spot, and started rocking the guard back and forth, making the exact unwavering sound you did.

you hovered near jake, and tried to touch into his emotions. he paused for a moment, chills running down his limbs. suddenly, a very unsettling feeling hits him, and all the hair on his body stands up.

it was a similar feeling to what he felt earlier, but more personal. the fear he felt was heavy, and the air quickly became thick like before. he coughed slightly, almost like someones hand floated around his throat.

he coughed again, this time everyone taking notice. they were very panicked by this situation, and distracted. "you okay, brother?" colby asked, putting a hand on the other's shoulder. he responded while nodding.

in reality he wasn't. he felt like someone was watching him, goosebumps began spreading around his skin and he kept shivering regardless of his sweater.

you watched as chaos ensued, the boys going through all of the rooms on the lower floor, looking for something that could tell them where the noises had come from.

they had stopped to converse, realizing how extreme they were being, and before they could even say a word, you were meddling around upstairs, touching a few keys on the grand piano.

you heard them panic once more, even jake confessing his fear. you sighed of relief, it was just what you wanted. you took a seat on the couch the boy had been laying on before this all happened, and leaned back, kicking your legs up.

watching them discuss what they thought the second noise was, the skeptical boy knew it was a piano, he felt it, and you were proud of him, clapping to yourself.

continuing to mess with them slightly, you found it entertaining for awhile, until it got sad to you. you never want people to fear you, you always identified as friendly to people who stayed in the room, and you knew you were just messing with them to prove jake wrong but they didn't know that.

so when you heard they were doing a seance, you beamed, because then you could hopefully let them know it was just for fun, and that you were harmless.

you were buzzing with excitement as you drifted down the hall, into the direction of the dining room. it had been a long time since you last had contact with people. the suite left unbooked for a few months, you wondered how expensive it was to rent now.

as the four boys set up their camera equipment and seance supplies, your translucent figure flickered with jolts of energy, and you waited in anticipation for it to begin.

you watched as they turned off the lights, and lit candles in between them. they flickered, providing mere glimpses of desolate space. shadows danced ominously along the walls, distorting objects into strange shapes that seemed to taunt their senses.

"we promised in our last video we were going to do a seance." sam spoke dully. "and.. we're going to do a seance."

"do we want to do this seance? not really." colby shrugged at the situation, looking at the lit candles.

they huddled against the table, and whispered words of encouragement to each other as sam attempted to google ways to begin such a powerful ritual.

jake glanced at them before wondering. "how do we as humans, decide how to correctly summon something?" he asked, not understanding.

"we don't." the other responded, still scrolling on his phone.

"i don't think anyone truly knows, so as long as we ya'know have the feeling of believing in something, trying to communicate with something no matter what. if something wants to talk to us they will.: he explains, making you smile.

as much as a skeptical he seems to be, everything he's telling the others is correct. as they discussed more, you listened, so curious in what people think about ghosts.

you could only briefly remember what you thought about them before passing, but as time goes on, your memories of being alive fade away, leaving you with gaps of confusion.

wanting to get a better view, you perched yourself on top of the chandelier, accidentally swaying it slightly. you cursed when corey noticed, this time not trying to mess with them.

they extended their hands. "if there's someone here, please use our energy to communicate with us." they spoke together, corey still noticing the light shaking. he pointed up at it, and called your actions out.

you started feeling anxious, and floated away from it, going to stand near jake and colby. within seconds, the latter raised his arm to show his goosebumps to the others.

both feeling the cold breeze, and the candles flickering slighty, the boys looked to eachother before brushing it off, and continuing with the seance. they all closed their eyes, squeezing them shut as they focused intently. "if you are here, use our energy to make a second or sign." they spoke together.

as the group sat at the table in a circle, hands intertwined, the air grew still. you hovered around the table, across from jake. you were watching him carefully. his eyes began to open, and they widened.

a chill rushed down his spine, struck with horror. he saw a translucent form, face contorted with a large grin. you looked at him questioningly, wondering why he was looking in your direction, before taking a peek behind you out of curiosity.

after seeing nothing, you realized he was looking directly into your eyes. "holy fuck." he muttered, gaining his friends attention. "holy-holy fuck." he stood up, his legs pushing his chair back. he pointed to you, and you felt an aching feeling.

"what, what is it jake?" sam asked, looking around. the pain overtook your body, making you scatter away out of sight. jake blinked frantically, and you were no longer there.

"did you guys not see that?" his heart was beating fast, and his body trembling, knees threatening to give out. a soft tear even left his eye.

"see what? oh my god are you okay?" colby inquired, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"i-i." the boy couldn't even speak, in terror. what was worst is that he couldn't tell if his mind had played tricks with him, or if what he saw was true. "i saw.. i saw someone, something."

"what?" corey exclaimed, backing away from where he was sitting.

"it was a weird shadow figure, she had long dark hair, i- i don't know what just happened. i swear i was looking at her, and then it was like she saw that i saw her, and she disappeared."

when he had looked into your eyes, he felt such an odd connection to you, even with his frightened appearance, inside he felt drawn.

"are you a medium or something?" sam asked, trying to joke a bit. he knew his friend was a skeptic, so him coming out and saying something like this was out of the ordinary.

whatever had happened, had corey scared, so scared that he quit the seance, and decided to sit a chair away, no longer holding hands and chanting. "should we keep going?" colby asked, jake nodding desperately.

taking a few minutes to calm down, they restarted. and since corey had finished being apart of the activity, they figured they might as well use the oujia board for content purposes.

you began to cry in the other room, curling your body into a ball. you couldn't believe what had just happened. for the first time ever, in 20 years, something impossible occurred. someone had seen you.

never wanting to be the source of fear and panic, this had broken you. they thought you were a malevolent spirit, that you were scary. suddenly, you felt yourself being pulled back to the dining room, almost like someone was dragging you.

you tried to fight it until it was physically taking you away. once you entered, it was obvious the boy could no longer see you. he looked across the room, seeing nothing.

feeling another jolt, you take notice at the oujia board and planchette, and realized why you were being attracted to it. they were calling out for you again, trying to speak with you.

"if there is a spirit here, can you please use this oujia board to communicate with us." colby spoke, looking at everyone fingers on the planchette.

you begin to push it to yes, and observe as their eyes widen. "is this who i saw a second ago?" jake wondered aloud. you sighed, pushing it to yes before spelling out 'sorry'.

they faced eachother. "what does that mean?" sam asked to them, before gazing around the area. "what are you sorry for?"

using energy to move it, you spelt out the word scared, hoping they would understand. the boys discussed this, finally agreeing that you were apologizing for scaring them. "are you sorry for scaring me? for showing yourself?"

"yes." you mumbled aloud, and he heard it. he jumped up, trying to spot where you were, giving up when he couldn't see you.

"i heard you!" jake commented. "can you show yourself to me again?" you talked to him through the board. spelling 'don't know.'

"you don't know how? is that why you were shocked when you realized he saw you?" colby questioned, earning a yes from the board.

"what's your name?" jake asked.

"y/n." you tried to say strongly, only coming out as a soft whisper.

"y/n." he repeated, nodding to his friends. "your name is y/n." he paused, taking a deep breath, before feeling you stand by him. "a-are you near me right now?"

you whispered into his ear, brushing it gently. "yes." he gasped, moving back.

"she's right beside me." he told them, before revealing his goosebumps.

"are you friendly?" corey asked, from outside the seance. the planchette moved to yes, you running out of energy.

"i mean atleast that's good." sam muttered.

jake felt an odd feeling, attracted to your spirit. he felt connected to you, to your energy. he breathed shakily, before opening his eyes again, seeing you next to him. he tried to stay calm, and smiled towards you.

you giggled, smiling back, and giving a gentle wave, making him do the same. you held your hand up, and he understood. both of you tried to touch hands, like a high five.

you both gasped, you moving back at what had just happened. his hand didn't go through yours, it touched it. you felt how human and alive his skin was, you could feel his pulse from it, and he had felt a cold, hard feeling. "oh my god." he spoke. "guys, i'm touching her.. her hand is cold."

corey took a step back holding his hands up. "what the fuck is going on?!" he shouted, making you flinch. "jake, i swear to god if you're fucking with us for a prank, i'm leaving." he threatened, seriously scared.

"i-i i'm not, i don't know how this is happening." he replied. "can you do this with them?"

you shook your head, not understanding how you made this happen. "then can you show them a sign? a sign that you're real?" you nodded hesitantly. "okay.. hmm." he looked around the hotel. "can you knock on the door right there?"

hovering, you traveled to the door, and tapped on it aggressively, earning shocked faces from the group. "i can't believe this is happening." sam stated to the camera, before seeing that it was off. "what the hell?" he took a closer look, and groaned, throwing his hand out. "the fucking camera turned off."

"how long ago?" colby wondered, earning a shrug. "fuck." he muttered, knowing that a lot of good content could've been gone.

as sam tried to fix it, everyone else was focused on the oujia board, as it took less energy. "how old are you?" corey asked. it spelled out 19.

"i didn't realize you were that young." jake spoke. "what happened to you?"

having to think about your death was the most painful thing for you. it was the only memory from when you were alive that you could remember every detail to, so prominent in your mind.

almost there decades ago, 1986, you were set to be married to an american man, and you were waiting for him to return in the presidential suite.

it was a stormy evening, the wind howling outside of the biltmore, one of the most prestigious hotels. as rain beat against the windows, the sound of the raindrops hitting the panes was almost deafening and you had been feeling anxious, almost as if there was a foreboding presence looming over you.

you shivered, feeling cold and uneasy, wrapping a blanket over your body as you sipped from your mug.

an unexpected sense of dread washed over you and before you could comprehend what was happening, a shadow like figure lunged at you from the darkness, catching you off guard.

the mug slipped out of your trembling hands, crashing onto the marble floor into pieces. fear consumed you, as you desperately fought back, adrenaline surging through your veins.

you screamed, calling out for help. your hopeless pleas for mercy echoed against the dull walls before falling on deaf ears. in the chaos of the struggle, you fell into a table, trying to escape from them.

quickly, the masked assailant unleashed a relentless barrage of fueled strikes, their anger mingling with the terror that gripped your soul.

time lost all meaning as each thrust of the blade hit your chest, crimson streaks tainted the white floor, becoming a silent witness. and in your final moments alive, choking and spitting up blood, your twitching arm reached up and swatted at the person.

you heard a deformed laugh, before your world subsided into darkness, your spirit fading into the ethereal realm, and that's all you remember before you woke up disoriented, and realized you had died.

tears welled in your eyes, as you sobbed, face red and swollen. jake saw your pained expression, and in seconds your memories entered his mind, leaving him the same irregular breathing and gasps.

he tried explaining to his friends what you had gone through, them still hesitant to believe in this crazy experience. "i'm so sorry." he cried out to you.

he couldn't believe how you died, and how he just got your memories, or how he could see and hear you. he felt insane.

"guys this is serious, i don't know what to do anymore." sam said, looking at the boy. "we should end this."

"brother do you understand how crazy this is? you need to.. you need to get help, or see a medium or something." corey shrugged, shaking his head.

"i agree with sam we should end whatever this is, it's taking a toll on you jake."

"guys i can't just leave her now, i have to keep talking to her. if you want you can go watch tv or something but this is important to me now. i promise you guys i'm fine, i just.. i have.. i have to do this." he begged.

"jake.." sam trailed off. "okay. as long as you promise you're okay, like don't get obsessed with this. don't be too much longer, it's already almost 5 in the morning."

"i promise." jake nodded, watching as they left the room, corey not understanding why he would do something like this.

you two looked at eachother, before trying to catch your breath. "what is it like being a ghost?" he asked, attempting to improve the mood.

"sad." you whispered, lips chapped. "stuck."

"you're stuck here?" he repeated, earning a nod. "how do you get out?" you shrugged at him. he sighed, apologizing.

you sat together in deep silence. many would think it was awkward or uncomfortable but it was calm and peaceful. the fact someone could see and know you for the first time since you died, made you feel happy, like you had a friend.

he continued to talk to you and keep you company for awhile, feeling guilty that he had to leave in a few hours. you understood he did, knowing it wouldn't last forever but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"i'm sorry you're stuck here. i hope you find your way out or to the real afterlife so you can leave this boring place." he comforted you.

"it's okay." you smiled. finally being able to share your story was enough. you felt your body becoming numb from being so giddy. "visit."

"i'll visit you again, don't worry." he hums. "i feel like we're connected, like you'll always be attached to me." making you nod.

the two of you shared an oddly comforting hug, before he had to leave. you followed their group to the hotel lobby, and unlike most times when you went down there, there wasn't a pull.

so when you continued to follow them and you weren't stuck in place, the happiness came back, and you started to cry once more. you watched them drive away, feeling in debt to jake for how much relief he gave you.

you've gained your freedom after 30 years of being stuck in the hotel you were brutally murdered in. "thank you jake." you murmured, before floating away, the happiest you've ever been.