#pen&dagger family

[reidmarieprentiss]

Moving Forward

Summary: Spencer's insecurities manifest themselves in a nasty way, leading to the demise of your relationship. Can he fix it?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: time jumps, flashbacks, fighting, crying, arguing, mistrust in partner, gaslighting, break up, happy ending, use of Y/N

Word count: 7.5k

a/n: spencer reid is not a bad man !! but he is still just a man

main masterlist

Present

Derek's brow furrowed as he nudged Spencer with his elbow, his eyes fixated on the scene unfolding before them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, pretty boy," Derek said, his voice laced with concern and disbelief. "Isn't that your girlfriend?"

Spencer's gaze followed Derek's, landing on you. There you were, seated at a cozy table in the dimly lit restaurant, your laughter ringing out as you leaned closer to the person across from you. The person who was most definitely not Spencer. His heart tightened in his chest as he watched you, the familiarity of your smile now directed at someone else, someone who wasn’t him.

"Not anymore," Spencer replied, his voice flat, though a subtle tremor betrayed the emotions he was fighting to keep under wraps. He forced himself to look away, focusing on a random spot on the wall instead of the painful image of you with someone new.

Derek shot him a sideways glance, his brow still creased with confusion. "What? I thought you two were solid?" His tone was cautious, as if he was treading on fragile ground.

Emily, who had been silent up until now, leaned in, her eyes filled with a mix of surprise and sympathy. "The operative word there being ‘were’?" she asked gently, seeking confirmation.

Spencer gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Things changed."

For a moment, there was a heavy silence between them, the weight of the situation sinking in. Derek and Emily exchanged a look, both of them unsure of how to respond. They had seen Spencer go through so much, and this seemed like another cruel twist of fate.

Finally, Derek let out a sigh, clapping a reassuring hand on Spencer's shoulder. "You know we're here for you, right? Whatever you need, man."

Emily nodded in agreement, her eyes soft with understanding. "You don’t have to go through this alone, Spencer. We’re your family."

Spencer offered them a small, appreciative smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Thanks," he said quietly, his gaze once again drifting to where you sat, laughing and unaware of the turmoil just a few tables away. 

The sight was like a dagger to his heart, but he forced himself to look away again, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. He had to be strong, even if it felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling away.

Spencer didn't feel like he deserved the comfort his friends were providing him currently, he was the one who ruined things between the two of you. 

—

Six months ago...

You stood in your small kitchen, the phone pressed to your ear as you listened to the familiar, upbeat tone of Penelope Garcia. "Beautiful tech genius speaking, how may I help you, gorgeous?" she answered, her voice as bright as ever. It was her way of bringing a bit of lightness into every conversation, and usually, it worked. But today, despite the warmth in her greeting, you couldn't shake the tightness in your chest.

"Hey, Pen," you responded, forcing a laugh even though your heart felt like it was being squeezed. The words tasted bitter as you prepared to ask the question you had grown to hate. "Is Spencer busy right now?"

You loathed asking that question. It had become a routine, a ritual almost, to call Penelope and ask about Spencer’s whereabouts because he hadn’t bothered to tell you himself. It was embarrassing, really, that you had to rely on his colleague to know what your own boyfriend was up to. The person he should have been sharing his life with.

There was a slight pause on the other end, and then you heard it—the pity in Penelope's voice that you dreaded so much. "Oh, honey," she said softly, her tone drenched in sympathy. "The team left a few hours ago on a case."

"Oh," you managed to say, but your voice cracked, betraying the tears that were already threatening to spill over. You sniffled, trying to keep it together, but the ache in your chest only grew sharper. "Can you tell me where they went?"

"Yeah, sweetie, they’re in Kansas," Penelope replied gently, and you could almost feel her reaching out to hug you through the phone.

"Thanks, Pen," you whispered, your throat tight as you fought to keep the tears at bay.

"Of course, take care, okay?" Penelope's concern was evident, but there was nothing she could do from where she was. She had seen too much to offer false hope, but she still cared enough to try to comfort you in any way she could.

You hung up, standing there in the silence of your kitchen, the reality of the situation washing over you like a cold wave. It had been like this for a couple of months now—Spencer leaving without a word, not feeling the need to let you know when he and the team were swept away on a case. The man who once called you just to say goodnight was now a distant figure, more involved in his work than in your relationship.

The last time you had confronted him about it, his response had cut deeper than you ever expected. “We’ve been together for over a year, Y/N. Do you not trust me? Why do you have to be on top of me constantly?” His words echoed in your mind, the memory still fresh and painful.

“Spencer… I just like to know where you are and that you’re safe," you had explained, your voice tinged with desperation as you tried to make him understand. "What if something happens to me or you, or someone we love, and I don’t know where you are or how to get a hold of you?”

But instead of understanding, Spencer had just looked at you with frustration in his eyes, as if your concerns were an inconvenience to him. “I don’t understand why you need to know where I am 24/7,” he had said, his tone dismissive.

And so it had continued—this growing distance between you, each day a little more painful than the last. Now, as you stood there with tears slipping down your cheeks, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be. If the man you loved was slipping away, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

—

Present 

To anyone watching, you and your date looked like the picture of a perfect evening. The two of you sat across from each other at a small, candlelit table in the charming bistro, the flickering glow casting warm, soft shadows over your faces. You smiled at all the right moments, nodded thoughtfully as they spoke, and even laughed at their jokes. The waiter who passed by with a tray of desserts might have thought you were a couple deeply engrossed in each other, enjoying the bliss of a night out.

But inside, you felt nothing. It was as if a thick, impenetrable wall had gone up around your heart, leaving you detached from everything that was happening. You went through the motions—smiling, nodding, making polite conversation—but it was all a performance, a carefully crafted facade that hid the emptiness gnawing at you from within.

Your date was saying something funny, and you forced another laugh, just loud enough to seem genuine. They smiled back, clearly pleased with themselves, and you returned the gesture with a bright, practiced smile. You knew how to do this—how to pretend everything was fine, how to play the role of someone who was fully engaged in the moment. But underneath that polished exterior, you were numb, a hollow shell left behind after months of emotional exhaustion.

The memory of Spencer loomed large in your mind, a constant, oppressive presence that wouldn’t leave you alone. His cold words, his dismissal, the way he had slowly pushed you out of his life until you were left with nothing but your own loneliness—it all haunted you, a shadow you couldn’t escape. And now, sitting here with someone who was kind and attentive, you realized how far away you still were from truly moving on.

Your date reached across the table, lightly touching your hand, and you didn’t flinch. Instead, you smiled softly and let your fingers curl around theirs, mimicking the gesture of affection as if it were second nature. They seemed to take comfort in it, their face lighting up with hope, and you felt a pang of guilt for leading them on, even though it wasn’t intentional.

You could feel their eyes on you, searching for that connection, that spark that should have been there. But there was nothing—no flutter of excitement, no warmth in your chest, just the cold, empty numbness that had taken up residence in your soul. 

The conversation continued, your responses automatic and well-practiced, but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in the past, replaying moments you wished you could forget. You knew you should be present, that you should give this person the chance they deserved, but the weight of your own numbness was too much to overcome.

And so the evening went on, the two of you laughing, smiling, and talking, while the truth remained hidden beneath the surface. To anyone watching, it looked like you were having a wonderful time. But only you knew the reality—that you were just faking it, lost in a world of your own, desperately trying to feel something, anything, but unable to break free from the numb shell Spencer had left behind.

—

Four months ago...

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. You stood in the middle of the living room, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if that would somehow shield you from the pain you knew was coming. Spencer was on the opposite side, his posture rigid, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion. This wasn’t the first argument you’d had recently, but it was certainly the worst.

“Spencer, I’m not trying to control you!” you pleaded, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “I just want to know what’s going on in your life! I want to be a part of it, like I used to be.”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that screamed exasperation. “You say that, but it feels like you’re suffocating me, Y/N. Every time I turn around, it’s another question about where I am, who I’m with, what I’m doing. It’s too much.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the sting of them cutting deeper than you’d expected. “I just want to feel like I matter to you,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “Like this relationship still matters to you.”

Spencer’s face softened for a moment, but the frustration was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. “Of course, you matter to me,” he said, though the words lacked the warmth and sincerity you so desperately needed to hear. “But you’re making this so hard, Y/N. Every time we talk, it turns into an argument.”

“Because you keep shutting me out!” you shot back, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “You don’t tell me anything anymore! I’m the last person to know when you’re leaving, when you’re coming back. It’s like I don’t even exist to you when you’re at work!”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer replied, his tone growing defensive. “You know how demanding my job is. I don’t have time to check in constantly.”

“I’m not asking for constant check-ins,” you retorted, the frustration bubbling over now. “I’m asking for you to care enough to let me in! To let me know when something’s wrong, or when you’re going to be gone for days on end. I’m your partner, Spencer, or at least I thought I was.”

The silence that followed your words was deafening. Spencer looked away, his jaw clenched, as if he was trying to keep himself from saying something he’d regret. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between wanting to comfort you and wanting to pull away.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. “Maybe… maybe we need some space,” he suggested, each word like a dagger to your heart.

“Space?” you echoed, the word foreign and terrifying. “You think that’s going to fix this?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “But I do know that what we’re doing right now isn’t working.”

You stared at him, the man you loved more than anything, and felt the ground shift beneath you. This wasn’t just an argument; this was the beginning of something you had feared for months. The beginning of the end.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice breaking as the tears finally spilled over, “please don’t do this. We can figure it out, we can—”

“I’m not saying we’re breaking up,” Spencer interrupted, though his tone did little to reassure you. “I just… I need to think. I need to figure out what’s going on with me, with us.”

You nodded, though the movement felt hollow. “Okay,” you whispered, even though every fiber of your being was screaming that it wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay.

Without another word, Spencer turned and left the room, leaving you standing there, alone, the silence of the apartment pressing in on you like a suffocating weight. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to breathe again.

—

Present 

Spencer sat at a table near the back of the bistro, his eyes locked onto you from across the room. The soft hum of conversation and clinking of silverware faded into the background as he watched you laugh, your head tilting slightly as you shared a light moment with your date. Your hand was resting on the table, fingers intertwined with theirs, and the sight sent a sharp, searing pain through his chest, like a hot knife twisting deeper with every second that passed.

Derek and Emily sat on either side of him, their expressions filled with concern as they noticed his focus on you. It hadn’t taken long for them to spot you when they walked in, and they had exchanged uneasy glances, silently debating whether or not they should suggest leaving. But Spencer had insisted it was fine, forcing a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He’d said it didn’t bother him, that it was no big deal, but the truth was a far cry from that casual dismissal.

“Spencer,” Emily had whispered, leaning in close so only he could hear, “we can go somewhere else. It’s not a problem.”

But Spencer had shaken his head, his gaze never leaving you. “No, really, it’s fine,” he had replied, his voice steady, though the turmoil inside him was anything but. He needed to see this, to witness how your date went, as if punishing himself by watching you with someone else would somehow make up for the mistakes he had made. Not that he’d admitted that to Derek and Emily. They would never understand the twisted logic he was following, the way he felt like he deserved every ounce of the pain that was currently eating him alive.

It was ironic, really. He had once hated the thought of you tracking his every move, of you wanting to know where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing. It had suffocated him, made him feel like he was being controlled, watched over like a child. But now, here he was, insisting on staying in this very restaurant just to watch you on a date with someone else—because he had pushed you away, because he had been the one to break up with you.

And now, as he watched you smile at someone else, someone who was clearly making you happy, Spencer felt the full weight of his regret crash down on him. He had thought he needed space, thought that pushing you away would give him the clarity he so desperately sought. But instead, all he had done was lose you, and now he was faced with the brutal reality of what that meant.

You looked so radiant as you sat there, the candlelight reflecting off your eyes, your laughter light and genuine as you leaned closer to your date. It was a sound that used to fill his own life with warmth, a sound he had taken for granted. Now, it felt like a distant memory, something he could only watch from afar as someone else got to experience it.

He didn’t realize he was gripping his fork so tightly until Derek nudged him, snapping him out of his trance. “You sure you’re okay, man?” Derek asked, his voice low and cautious, as if he were afraid to push too hard.

Spencer forced himself to nod, though the tightness in his throat made it difficult to speak. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he managed, though the words were hollow. He wasn’t fine, not even close, but admitting that would mean facing the depth of his mistake, and he wasn’t ready for that—not yet.

Emily exchanged another worried glance with Derek, but they both respected Spencer’s decision to stay, even if they didn’t understand it. They made small talk, trying to distract him, but Spencer’s attention kept drifting back to you. Every time he saw your fingers intertwined with your date’s, a fresh wave of jealousy and regret washed over him, threatening to drown him in its intensity.

He had never imagined it would feel like this, watching you move on with someone else. The emptiness, the burning jealousy, the sharp pang of regret—it was all more than he had anticipated. And the worst part was that he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

As your date reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture so intimate and tender, Spencer felt something inside him crack. He had once been the one to do that, to touch you like that, to make you laugh like that. And now, he had thrown it all away.

The irony was unbearable. He had been so desperate to keep his freedom, to avoid feeling trapped, and now he was the one imprisoned—imprisoned by the sight of you with someone else, knowing he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

—

Three months ago…

You lay in bed, the phone pressed to your ear as you listened to the familiar, comforting voice on the other end. "Supreme goddess of gadgets, how may I help you?" Penelope answered, her usual cheerfulness evident, though there was a faint hesitation in her tone, as if she already knew what was coming.

"Hey, Pen…" Your voice was weak, almost defeated. You could barely muster the energy to speak, the weight of everything crushing you from the inside out.

There was a brief pause before Penelope responded, her voice softer now. "Y/N… hi, how are you?" Her question was gentle, cautious, as if she were afraid of what your answer might be.

"Surviving," you replied, the word feeling like a lie even as it left your lips. "Um, you know what I’m going to ask."

A heavy silence followed your words, the kind that made your heart sink deeper into the pit of despair you had been living in for months. Finally, Penelope spoke, her voice filled with regret. "I do, sweetie… He asked me not to tell you anything. I’m so sorry."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of your lungs. You managed to choke out a quick "Thanks, Pen," before you hung up, not wanting her to hear the sob that was already clawing its way up your throat. 

As soon as the line went dead, you let it out—a heart-wrenching cry that seemed to come from the very depths of your soul. You curled up on your bed, clutching the pillow as if it could somehow hold you together while everything else in your life was falling apart. The tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless, as the reality of your situation washed over you in waves of pain.

Hours later, Spencer came home, his presence filling the room with an unbearable tension. "Space" had ended just last week, but things had not returned to normal—far from it. He walked in, glanced at you briefly, and his expression was cold, detached, as if he didn’t even recognize the woman lying in bed, broken and defeated.

“This can’t continue,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth or affection. It was a statement, not a question, and you knew he had already made up his mind.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The numbness had taken over, a merciful shield against the pain that had consumed you for so long. You stared at the ceiling, your eyes glassy and vacant, as if you were no longer truly present in your own life.

Spencer’s next words were like nails in the coffin of your relationship. “You and me? Done. You calling and checking in on me like I’m a fucking child? Done. I want you out. This is still my apartment.”

His words hung in the air, each one driving the knife deeper into your heart. But you just nodded, your body moving on autopilot because your mind was too shattered to do anything else. You had known this was coming, had felt it creeping up on you like a dark cloud ready to unleash a storm. But knowing hadn’t made it any easier.

Without another word, Spencer turned and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence that followed. You didn’t move. You didn’t cry. You just lay there, feeling as though a part of you had died, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.

And in that moment, you realized that the person you had once loved more than anything was truly gone, and there was no getting him back.

—

Present 

You stand from the table, your heart heavy and your mind made up. This evening was never going to be what either of you hoped for, and you knew it was time to go home, to retreat into the solitude that had become your only solace. You had no illusions about what the rest of the night would hold—probably a bottle of wine, more than you should drink alone, and a sad movie to keep you company as you cried over the pieces of your broken heart.

As you turned to push in your chair, your eyes caught sight of something—or rather, someone—that stopped you cold. There, across the room, was Spencer. His familiar form sat rigid at a table, flanked by Derek and Emily, but it was his eyes that rooted you to the spot. Those eyes that had once brought you warmth and comfort, that had been the anchor in your life, now held an emotion you’d never seen in them before. It was raw, intense, and so deeply conflicted that it sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, the world around you faded, and all you could see were those eyes—eyes that had once looked at you with such love, now filled with something else entirely. Regret? Jealousy? Pain? You couldn’t quite place it, but it was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat, your heart lurching painfully in your chest.

Before you could think too long about what you were seeing, your date's hand gently rested on your lower back, pulling you back into the present. The warmth of their touch contrasted sharply with the cold, hollow feeling that had settled in your chest. They guided you out of the bistro, their hand steady as they led you toward the door, completely unaware of the storm that had just passed through your mind.

You didn’t look back, though every part of you wanted to. The urge to turn around, to meet Spencer’s eyes one more time and maybe, just maybe, understand what was swirling in them, was overwhelming. But you kept moving forward, your body on autopilot as you stepped out into the cool night air, leaving behind the painful memories and the man who had once meant everything to you.

As you walked away, the noise of the city filled the void where your thoughts should have been, but you couldn’t shake the image of Spencer’s eyes from your mind. Even as your date tried to engage you in conversation, their words fell on deaf ears. All you could think about was the look in Spencer’s eyes and how, for the first time, you had seen something in them that you hadn’t before—something that made you wonder if he, too, was feeling the sting of the choices he had made.

—

“I’ll be back,” Spencer said abruptly, his voice tinged with urgency as he stood up from the table. He didn’t wait for a response from Derek or Emily, who exchanged worried glances, their faces mirroring a mix of empathy and concern. They both knew how deeply Spencer had been affected by the breakup, and while they wanted to support him, they weren’t sure if following you was the healthiest choice. But Spencer was already moving, weaving through the tables with a determined stride, leaving his friends to watch helplessly as he made his way toward the exit.

Outside, the cool night air hit Spencer like a splash of cold water, sharpening his senses as he scanned the street for you. His heart pounded in his chest, the knot of anxiety tightening with every passing second. Then, he spotted you a short distance away, saying goodbye to your date. The two of you stood under the soft glow of a streetlamp, exchanging polite farewells, and Spencer watched as your date smiled kindly before turning to walk away. The knot in his chest loosened just a fraction, relief mingling with the anxiety that still churned within him.

He knew this was his moment. If he didn’t speak to you now, he might never get the chance again. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Spencer took a deep breath and walked toward you, his heart racing as he rehearsed what he would say in his mind. But when he reached you, all those carefully planned words evaporated, leaving him standing there, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had.

“Y/N,” he called out, his voice softer than he intended, but it carried enough weight to make you stop in your tracks. You looked up so quickly, your eyes wide with surprise and something else—something that made Spencer’s heart skip a beat. The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded with everything unsaid.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, stunned, as if you couldn’t quite believe he was really there in front of you. The last time you had seen him, it had been under such different circumstances, and now here he was, the same man yet somehow different. The memories of your last encounter flashed through your mind, bringing with them a flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Hi,” Spencer tried again, his voice trembling slightly as he searched your face for any sign of how you were feeling. He could see the confusion, the hurt, the questions all swirling in your eyes, but you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, as if you were trying to make sense of why he was standing in front of you now, after all this time.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone pleading, as if he were afraid you might turn and walk away before he had the chance to explain himself.

—

A year ago…

“Spencer, stop moving!” you laughed, your voice bubbling with amusement as you tried to steady his hand. He squirmed slightly in his seat, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“It tickles!” he protested, his voice filled with mock indignation as he wiggled his fingers in your grasp.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I don’t think you can be tickled on your nails, Spencer. You’re being dramatic.”

He huffed teasingly, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. “I don’t see why you needed to paint my nails,” he said, though there was no real annoyance in his tone—just the warm affection that always colored your playful moments together.

“Because,” you replied, focusing on applying the nail polish with care, “I got a new color, and my nails look too pretty to take it off right now. So you’re the lucky volunteer.”

Spencer watched you as you worked, the gentle concentration on your face making his heart swell with warmth. He loved these quiet, silly moments with you, where the world seemed to fade away and all that mattered was the laughter and lightness you brought into his life.

“Well, I’m honored,” Spencer said with a mockingly serious tone, though his eyes betrayed the laughter he was holding back. “But what if they look better than yours?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Then I’ll have to break up with you,” you teased right back, trying to keep a straight face.

“Don’t even joke about that! I’d die without you!” Spencer exclaimed dramatically, his eyes widening in mock horror.

“Oh, shush,” you replied, smiling so big that you thought your heart might burst from how much you loved him.

“I’m serious,” he continued, his voice softening as he looked at you with all the love in the world. “If they look better than yours, you have to stay with me, despite the jealousy. I love you too much to let you leave.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out to gently cup his face. “I would never leave you, Spence.”

“Ditto,” he said, his voice full of warmth and sincerity.

You leaned in for a sweet, smiley kiss, sealing the promise between you both. It was a kiss filled with love, with the kind of joy that made everything else fade away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken vow that you would always be there for each other, no matter what.

—

Present

You nodded slowly, still unable to find your voice. The shock of seeing him again, the man who had left you so broken, was enough to leave you speechless. But there was something in his eyes, something raw and vulnerable, that made you pause. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you now, with an intensity you hadn’t seen in so long, that made you want to hear him out.

Without another word, Spencer gestured toward a nearby bench, and you followed him silently, your mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter. As you sat down, the distance between you feeling both too close and too far, you wondered what he could possibly say that would change anything. But you knew you had to hear it, whatever it was, because despite everything, a part of you still needed closure—or maybe, deep down, you hoped for something more.

Spencer sat beside you, the tension between the two of you almost tangible as he struggled to find the right words. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and regret, a chaotic mess that made it nearly impossible to articulate what he was feeling. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t even thought about what he would do if he ever saw you again. He had tried to put you out of his mind, to bury the pain and guilt deep inside, because it was easier than facing what he had done.

But now, sitting next to you, the reality of his actions weighed on him like a heavy stone, and he could see the hurt and anger in your eyes. You were waiting for him to speak, but the silence stretched on, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

Finally, your patience snapped. “What do you want?” you asked, your voice sharp and cutting, a clear sign of the anger brewing inside you.

Spencer flinched at your tone, the pain of your words like a physical blow. “I don’t know, honestly,” he admitted, his voice weak and uncertain.

“Bye,” you said coldly, turning to leave, the finality in your tone making it clear you were done with this conversation.

Panic surged through Spencer, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, desperate to keep you from walking away. “No, Y/N, wait,” he pleaded, his voice trembling.

But you quickly shook off his touch, anger flaring in your eyes. “You absolutely do not get to touch me,” you snapped, your voice hard as steel.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer stammered, his hand dropping to his side, feeling the sting of rejection.

“For touching me or something else?” you demanded, your voice laced with bitterness.

“Everything,” he whispered, his eyes filled with remorse.

You let out a harsh, humorless laugh, the sound bitter in the quiet night air. “Well, since you clearly don’t know what to say, let me start,” you said, finding your voice with a strength that surprised even you. Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly held up your hand, silencing him. “It’s my turn to speak, do not interrupt me.” He nodded, his heart sinking as he braced himself for the words he knew were coming.

“I cared about you, Spencer,” you began, your voice steady but filled with the weight of all the pain you had been carrying. “I thought you cared about me too. All I ever wanted was to be a first thought, but instead, I was an afterthought. Wanting to know when my partner—and my roommate—was going to be in a different state doesn’t seem like a lot to ask.”

Spencer’s throat tightened as he listened, the truth of your words cutting him to the core. But he knew better than to speak, knew that you deserved this moment to say everything he had never let you say before.

“And then,” you continued, your voice growing more intense, “to go and tell your coworker—someone I considered a friend—not to tell me anything about you anymore? God, that’s so fucking mean, Spencer. You were mean to me.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, proud that you hadn’t let the tears fall, even though they were threatening to spill over. “I never once accused you of cheating, or even thought that you were doing anything behind my back,” you said, your voice softer now, but no less filled with hurt. “I didn’t ask for constant attention or updates. I didn’t yell at you, belittle you, or blame you. All I wanted was for you to care about me. And you didn’t.”

Spencer felt the shame wash over him, the weight of your words pressing down on him until he thought he might break. But he stayed silent, letting you continue, because you deserved to have your say.

“And yet, you dragged out the end of our relationship instead of having the decency to put me out of my misery,” you said, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “I wanted to fix things—as pathetic as that feels now—I wanted to work it out with you. But it’s clear now that you always knew the end was coming.”

Spencer’s heart shattered at your words, the realization of how deeply he had hurt you hitting him like a freight train. He had been so wrapped up in his own fears and insecurities that he had never truly considered the impact his actions were having on you. And now, hearing you lay it all out so plainly, he was struck by the enormity of what he had lost.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice barely a whisper, but you shook your head, cutting him off once more.

“No, Spencer,” you said, your voice firm, the strength in it catching him off guard. “I don’t need an apology. I needed you to be there when it mattered, and you weren’t. So, tell me, why weren’t you there?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and piercing, demanding an answer that Spencer wasn’t sure he could give. He looked at you, seeing the hurt and anger in your eyes, the way you stood there waiting, needing an explanation that could somehow make sense of the pain he had caused.

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tried to find the words. But how could he explain the mess inside his head, the way his fears and insecurities had twisted everything? How could he tell you that he had been too wrapped up in his own struggles to see what he was doing to you?

“I…” he began, his voice faltering as he searched for something, anything, that would make this right. But nothing came. The excuses he had told himself for so long now felt hollow and pathetic in the face of your unwavering gaze.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the truth, the only thing he could offer. “I was… scared. Of losing myself, of losing control. I thought… I thought I needed space to figure things out, but all I did was push you away. I wasn’t there because I was too wrapped up in my own head to see what I was doing to you.”

You stared at him, the admission doing little to soften the anger that burned in your chest. “You were scared?” you repeated, incredulity lacing your tone. “And you think that’s an excuse? Spencer, I was scared too. I was terrified of losing you, of watching you slip away without understanding why. But I didn’t shut you out. I didn’t abandon you when things got tough.”

Spencer felt the weight of your words like a punch to the gut. “I know,” he said, his voice cracking with the weight of his guilt. “I know I failed you. I don’t have an excuse, Y/N. I was selfish, and I hurt you. And I’m so, so sorry.”

But even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t enough. They couldn’t undo the damage that had been done, couldn’t erase the pain he had caused. He had failed you when it mattered most, and now he was standing here, faced with the wreckage of what once was.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, to keep the tears that were threatening at bay. “Sorry isn’t enough, Spencer,” you said, your voice softer now, tinged with sadness. “It won’t change what happened, it won’t bring back the trust that was broken. I needed you, and you weren’t there. And now… now we both have to live with that.”

Spencer’s heart shattered at your words, the finality in them like a dagger to his chest. He wanted to reach out, to somehow pull you back from the edge, but he knew he had no right. He had lost that right the moment he chose to walk away instead of fighting for what you had.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But if I could go back… if I could do it all over again, I would. I would be there for you, I would fight for you. I’d give anything to make it right.”

But you shook your head, the sadness in your eyes cutting deeper than any words ever could. “You can’t go back, Spencer. Neither of us can. We can only move forward.”

“Together?” he asked, his voice filled with a desperate hope.

“Are you serious?” you replied, incredulity and hurt lacing your tone. With that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there alone with the weight of his regrets.

—

A year ago…

You walked into the apartment after an extremely grueling day at work, your body aching for the comfort of the couch and the sweet relief of doing absolutely nothing. As soon as you opened the door, however, you were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of your favorite meal wafting through the air. The familiar scent brought an instant smile to your face, and you couldn’t help but follow your nose like a cartoon character, eagerly tracing the delicious smell to the kitchen.

There, you found your adorable boyfriend, Spencer, fussing over pots and pans, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked to perfect the meal. The sight of him, so intent on making everything just right, made your heart swell with love.

“Need some help, handsome?” you asked, leaning against the doorway with a soft smile.

Spencer jumped slightly, his concentration momentarily broken. “Huh? What? No! Go sit down, relax, I got this,” he insisted, his voice filled with warmth and determination.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his insistence. “Okay, baby. Thank you,” you said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, which brought a pleased smile to his face.

With that, you made your way to the couch, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. Moments later, Spencer joined you, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. On it were two plates of your favorite food, two glasses of wine, and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. The thoughtful gesture took your breath away.

“Spence… what is all of this for?” you asked, your voice tinged with surprise and emotion.

Spencer set the tray down gently and looked at you with those kind, caring eyes that always seemed to see right through to your soul. “You seemed off when you called earlier,” he explained, his voice soft and full of concern. “I figured you were having a hard day and wanted to treat you.”

Your eyes welled up with happy tears, the overwhelming love you felt for him making your heart flutter. “I love you so much, do you know that?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Spencer’s face lit up with a playful grin as he teased, “I don’t think I do. Can you tell me a hundred more times?”

You giggled, leaning closer to him. “How about a million?” you offered, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Spencer’s smile grew even wider as he leaned in for a sweet, tender kiss. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured against your lips, and in that moment, all the stress and exhaustion of your day melted away, leaving only the warmth of his love.

—

A month later… 

You walked into the coffee shop down the street from your office, savoring the familiar comfort of your Thursday morning routine. It was your little treat to yourself, a pick-me-up to help push you through the final stretch before the weekend. As you stepped inside, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloped you, instantly soothing some of the residual stress from the workweek.

You were lost in thought, mentally debating whether to stick with your usual order or try something new, when you felt a gentle bump against your shoulder.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” a familiar voice apologized.

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat when you recognized him. “Spencer?” you said, the surprise evident in your voice.

He offered you a small, almost shy smile, as if he were seeing you for the first time. “Hello, stranger. My name is Spencer Reid,” he said, extending his hand as if introducing himself to someone he hadn’t met before. “I’m terribly sorry I bumped into you. Allow me to buy your coffee?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his playful formality. “What are you doing? Did you hit your head?” you asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of your voice.

Spencer shook his head, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “No, ma’am,” he replied, his tone light. “I’m starting fresh. Can only move forward, right?”

“Right…” you echoed, the words resonating with a meaning that made your heart flutter a bit, some of the cobwebs that had gathered around it beginning to fall away. There was something about this new approach of his that caught you off guard, but in a good way, like a breath of fresh air after a long winter.

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips as you stuck out your hand, playing along. “Y/N,” you introduced yourself, feeling a spark of warmth you hadn’t expected. “Yes, you can buy my coffee. Thank you.”

Spencer’s eyes softened with a mixture of relief and hope as he shook your hand, holding onto it just a moment longer than necessary. “It’s my pleasure,” he said, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a small glimmer of something you thought you had lost—a sense of possibility, of maybe, just maybe, starting anew.

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

[rooksamoris]

I've come to humbly request and spread propaganda for Jamil L/N.

Jamil taking his s/o's name strikes 3 birds with one stone: freedom from the Asims (you can't tell me there hasn't been a single Viper who didn't marry into another family and adopt their trade), freedom to marry the love of his life, and guaranteeing freedom for his descendants. Depending on how things go with Najma, they could erase the Viper name and, by extension, their servitude.

Also how does he react being called Mr.L/N?

💞 — in which jamil marries you and takes your last name.

💞 — jamil viper x reader

💞 — warnings: none, this is pure fluff and romance

💞 — 1.2k words. i ended up writing a mix of drabbles and headcanons <33 your propaganda turned into me making even more propaganda for this idea. honestly, seems very plausible that he would do something like this.

“I’ll take your last name. If we want to get married, I have to take your name, or else you’d be stuck serving with me,” Jamil said, breaking the silence. His eyes remained on the book in his lap, looking through the various pictures from his parents’ wedding. He would be wearing his father’s old garments. 

The man had an intricate belt with a jambiyah (dagger) tied around the waist of his thobe (long dress-like garment), and his hair was done in various braids with a shemagh (men’s headscarf) tied over it. He had a few ornate pieces of fabric draped over him like a cape and a spot of henna on the inside of his palm. The usual kohl (eyeliner) was a bit smudged from all the festivities—Jamil had never seen his father look this happy. 

His mother was dressed similarly, with old pieces of gold and silver jewelry about. Her big earrings had matched the rings his father wore, and she had kohl drawn on both her eyes and her chin, in the shape of ancient tattoos. Here hair had scented plants interwoven in the strands, and Jamil wondered if he should do the same with his hair, draping a shemagh over it. It seemed like something you would enjoy, and he would enjoy you taking them out at the end of the night. He spoke again, “What do you think of that?” he asked, concerning him taking your name.

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, flipping the page to another picture of his parents’s wedding, this one featuring his mother shyly lifting a piece of her sitara (long piece of fabric with various designs which directly translates to ‘curtain’) to hide her face from her husband, “I think it's a wonderful idea.”

🩷 — Taking your last name was probably the best decision he could have made. He indulged in the marriage festivities with you for both your sake and his parent’s sake. What he was excited about was signing the contract that officially gave him your surname—freeing him from the shackles of the Viper clan.

🩷 — He did it after the festivities when it was just the two of you guys and the imam as well as a legal advisor. You both were still in the wedding clothes, sitting on an ornate rug with a little table in front of you. 

🩷 — Jamil could feel the tremors of his heart in his hand as he lifted the pen and signed his name beside yours. This time, Viper was nowhere to be found.

🩷 — With that, Jamil shook hands with the imam and then handed the page to the legal advisor to be put in the Scalding Sands’s records. It all felt so surreal. He glanced over his shoulder to see you gleefully talking to the imam about the marriage and showing off your wedding band. 

🩷 — It was a thin gold ring that he had made with the antiquities left by his family. Nothing fancy—he wanted to give you diamonds, and yet you were so smitten with it and him.

Once nightfall came, Jamil lay beside you in your bed. A bed for the both of you. It was a bed he bought under his new name, Jamil (L/N), under the surname you gifted him. His charcoal eyes watched as you sat down at the edge of the bed, your night robe dipped down your back. It matched his nightgown, save for the patterns. He helped you fall in love with the comfortable garb of his homeland.

You turned slightly to see him, your eyes growing tender at the sight of him all disheveled. This was a sight just for you, “What are you thinking about?” you asked, reaching out to take his hand.

Jamil pulled you closer to him by your hand, forcing you to lay on top of him. He kissed your knuckles, “Thinking about you, hayati (my life),” he muttered, before letting his hand trail up your arm and to the back of your neck. His gaze had softened and his features relaxed, “Thank you,” 

You did not need to ask why he thanked you. You knew he felt indebted to you for being patient with him and becoming his spouse. You gave him the greatest gift ever, freedom. Free to be yours, free from Kalim Al-Asim. You freed his descendants… he would spend the rest of his life as your husband, repaying you with kisses across your skin and warm meals in your belly.

🩷 — It takes him a long time to get used to his new name, as well as his newfound freedom. After your wedding, he takes you out to do many of the things he could not do before, such as travel to another country, but even simple things like going out to parks.

🩷 — He did not have to worry about Kalim anymore, just your and his enjoyment.

🩷 — Jamil still has yet to get used to being called by your surname. When he notices it, he is filled with a smug and quiet pride, but most of the time he just ends up ignoring whoever is calling for him, or glancing over at you in confusion, thinking that they are speaking with you and not him.

🩷 — This was particularly apparent when it came to the reunion at Night Raven College.

🩷 — He did not want to go, but he could not reject you either. You were excited about seeing your silly friends, and who was he to stop you from going? Instead, he just sighed and went along with you, standing off to the side and watching as you ran about to gather Ace and Deuce, as well as greeting your other friends.

“If it isn’t the new Mr. (L/N),” Azul approached his former classmate with a suave grin. He had grown up, but it was clear he still kept that usual ‘evil businessman’ charm to him. His suit was freshly pressed and his hair, which had grown a bit, was brushed back neatly. Though, he was still wearing the same thin-rimmed glasses.

Jamil turned around when he heard your surname being called, and it took him a moment to realize what was happening. He was your husband. Sure, he remembered your wedding—he carried a picture from it all the time, but it was still strange hearing it affirmed by someone else. He tried to hide how happy he was to hear it behind a raised brow and his usual frown, “What do you want, Azul? My spouse isn’t going to be pulled into one of your schemes anymore,” he said, arms crossed.

Azul laughed at that, tilting his cane a bit as he leaned away from Jamil, “You wound me, Jamil. As if I would try anything like that anymore,” he replied, and the irony was not lost on him at all. Instead, he sighed and watched as Jamil’s eyes found your figure again. You were chasing Epel around, trying to get a hug from your old friend. It was just like before, except now you wore a ring from Jamil and he wore a name from you.

“You don’t seem so poor and unfortunate now,” Azul said.

Jamil could not bite back the slight twitch of his lips, “Not at all.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter two || the proxies

tw: mentions of murder, brief descriptions of gore

a/n: i’ve gotten a lot of love for this series and i just wanted to say thank you!! as a tribute of my appreciation i present a question: would you guys prefer this story on another platform ADDITIONAL to tumblr? i’ve gotten a few ask. i’m not familiar with ao3 but id like to learn if yall want it :)<3

<— chapter one

You had Toby absolutely mesmerized.

He swallowed nervously as he sat beside you in the diner’s booth. Brian had specifically requested the booth farthest away from everyone else. He sought out privacy, even when you curiously arched an eyebrow when he informed the waitress of his request.

Toby couldn’t help but admire your figure, your curves begging to be acknowledged in that slimming white dress of yours. The sight borderline made his mouth water. Toby shifted uncomfortably in his seat, refraining from anxiously chewing on the inside of his mouth. This would be the first time in years he would be eating in public. Usually he was never concerned with his appearance. That was until he met you.

Now he was slouched in a booth at a diner, a large bandage tightly secured to the decaying side of his face. You were kind enough to not stare, Toby only having noticed your eyes flickering to it once. You hadn’t question his ghoul gray skin or bandage. You didn’t stare at him like he was a freak. You just carried on the conversation like he was a normal person like Tim and Brian. He glanced over at Tim and Brian, his leg bouncing up and down under the table.

The four of you had been served glasses of water, the waitress apologizing and ushering to a different table. You began to unwrap a straw, before putting it into your glass.

“So, what do you guys do for work?”

The question almost made Brian spit out his drink. Tim elbowed his partner. “We’re private consultants,” He replied casually. You sipped your water, grabbing the lemon off of the rim. “Private consultants for what?” You asked, squeezing the juice into your water. Toby watched Brian and Tim carefully, both of them tongue tied. “K-kind of like detective-es. Just without the license,” Toby answered. He hoped you hadn’t noticed how shaky his hand was as he grabbed his glass. He didn’t bother with a straw, carelessly gulping down the water.

“Detectives? Thats nice. Hired by a private client I assume? One that’s behind the scenes,” You suggest. Toby exchanged looks with Tim, giving him a slight nod to suggest they go along with your explanation. “Yeah victims families sometimes aren’t satisfied with the police’s answer for disappearances or murders. They hire people like us to do some of our own investigating,” Tim replied. He hadn’t touched his water. The waitress returned, a small notebook in hand.

“What will you all have to drink?”

Tim gestured for you to go first.

“I’ll have a coke, thank you.”

You looked over at Toby, whose leg was bouncing under the table at a million miles per hour.

“Dr Pepper i-if you have it.”

The waitress gave a confirming nod, looking over at Brian.

“I’ll just stick with water.”

She nodded, her gaze landing on Tim.

“I’ll just have black coffee, thanks.”

Once she left, you were eager to resume the conversation. “Must be exciting work, traveling all of the time. I assume it’s all paid right? Like traveling fees and food,” You say. Toby couldn’t help but feel nervous around you, the brunette forcing himself to join the conversation. “Y-yeah it’s p-pretty nice,” He replied. He felt his neck begin to twitch, Brian’s eyes shooting daggers at him across the table. “You guys should meet my best friend Nova. She just became the lead detective around here,” You suggested. Tim exchanged glances with Brian. Toby clutched his cup, practically reading their thoughts.

They finally had justification for keeping you around.

The waitress came back, setting the drinks on the table. She clicked her pen as she brought out her notepad from the apron, the sound making Toby’s left arm twitch. “What will you have?” She asked you. You glanced at the menu, clearing your throat. Oddly enough it felt weird having all three of their eyes on you, watching you intently. “I’ll have the barbecue burger with fries, thanks,” You tell her. She took the menu from your hands, looking over at Toby. “I’ll have the same but with two burgers instead of one,” Toby said, giving her a small smile. The waitresses eyebrows raised, but she scribbled it onto her notepad without comment.

Her eyes landed on Brian, who hadn’t glanced at the menu. “I’ll take a veggie burger with no tomato, thank you,” He said simply, handing the waitress the menu. She turned to Tim, who was quick to dismiss her. “Just coffee for me,” He told her. Your eyebrows furrowed as the waitress walked away. You wanted to questions Tim’s denial of food, Toby quick to cut you off. It was far too risky to have you aware of his crippling insomnia. “So what d-do you do for wor-rk?” He asked you. You grinned shyly, hoping the heat that was dashing across your cheeks wasn’t visible. It was.

“It’s a bit silly but I want to be an actress. I’ve always dreamed of being up on the big screen,” You admitted, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Tim sipped his coffee, listening intently. “For now though I work at Olive Garden. Just until I get my big break,” You finished. Toby stared at you in awe. He thought you deserved to be in every movie ever. Including the x rated ones. “You’ll be in Hollywood in no tim-me,” Toby told you, flashing you a big smile. His words provided you relief, Brian’s judgment written across his face. You could tell he didn’t want to be there. You returned Toby’s smile before turning back to Tim.

You had said something, Toby’s sight able to see your lips moving. But his hearing went dull, the diners lights flickering. He set his cup down on the table, trying to count his breathes. One. Two. Inhale. Exhale. This wasn’t real, right? It couldn’t be real. The Operator wouldn’t sought them out here, in such a public place. Right? His gaze landed past Brian, past the heads of the few other people left in the diner. Clear as day in the window, Toby saw a face. Or better said, a mask. He blinked and his breath became shallow as he took in the observers appearance.

Mangled jet black hair, now grown out past her shoulders. A snow white mask with black eyes stared back at Toby through the window, her eyes ominously hidden. Toby would recognize the faded white walmart jacket from anywhere.

What the fuck was Kate doing here?

Toby’s attention came back to the table as the waitress arrived, setting their food in front of them. He looked back at the window, Kate now gone. “You good Tob?” You asked. The brunette turned to look at you, silently shocked you cared. He nodded, giving you a weak smile. “F-fine just thought I saw something,” He replied. Toby shot Brian and Tim a look, one both of them were oblivious to. Did they not see the flickering lights? Brian was too invested in his food, while Tim’s attention was completely focused on you. Toby quietly picked up his burger, taking a bite. Man, you had good taste.

Toby was aware he was schizophrenic. He knew that when his mind went a little too into overdrive he’d see things that weren’t there. Over the years he had grown accustomed to it, making significant progress from his first year with the Operator. Sometimes he’d see his parents or Lyra. If he was in a bad episode he’d even be able to convince himself he was touching Lyra. Like she was really there. He hadn’t seen Lyra or his parents in years. Nor had he seen Kate in at least a year.

Kate the Chaser was a fellow proxy, who spent most of her missions alone. She was quiet and mysterious, never saying too much. As you continued to talk to Tim and Brian, Toby’s mind began to wander. Why was she here? He didn’t show any other signs of being in an episode. The colors in the diner were the same, no strange voices were whispering in his ears. Toby took another bite of his burger, his mind continuing to rack itself for an answer. Kate only came around for one of two reasons. 1. She was doing a favor for one of the Operators brothers or 2. She was there to check on the status of a mission. If it was option two, the three of them were fucked.

“What do you think Toby?” You asked. Your sweet voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry what?” He asked meekly. You pointed at his burger. “About the burger? It’s my favorite. They always have apple bacon,” You say. You were so peacefully oblivious, Toby’s scrambled mind feeling like it was glitching. “Very good, love b-barbecue,” He answered. He gave you a weak smile, dipping a fry into some ketchup. “So what’s your family like? They live out here as well?” Brian asked. Toby couldn’t help but feel unsettled, like they were being watched. Out of the three of them Toby was the least prone to excessive paranoia, but right now he felt like it was all too real.

“No I moved away from home. Originally I wanted to go to New York but I ended up here along the way. It’s the closest I can afford to the big city. Besides it’s not too far away,” You say, shrugging. Considering they were in Ohio, Toby concluded this to not be true. However you seemed to be trying to play off your own insecurities and Toby was determined to play along. “Where are you guys from?” You asked, sipping your coke. The lights in the diner flickered again. Toby’s eyes narrowed. “Alabama, nothing special,” Tim answered, earning a kick from Brian under the table. You took another bit of your burger, the sound of faint static flooding your eardrums. Your new friends didn’t seem to hear it, the three of them unnerved.

You decided to try to ignore it, a slight pounding sensation ensuing in your temple. You had no idea the other three heard it as well, four hundred times worse. Toby watched Tim’s head begin to pound, his adam’s apple swallowing as he tried to endure the headache. His gaze flickered over to Brian, his head twitching to the left. “Oh shit,” Toby muttered, dropping his fry. He grabbed the nearby steak knife, watching as Masky and Hoodie nonchalantly began to front. You looked over at Toby, who was shaking as he clutched the black handle of the knife. He was ready to defend your life with his own and a shitty steak knife.

“Tob? You alright?” You asked, eyes widening at the sight of the knife. Toby watched Masky and Hoodie carefully, waiting for them to attack. It was getting late, the four of them the only ones left in the diner. It wouldn’t be hard to kill you and the only waitress left. But you were so kind. So pleasant to be around. Plus, you smelled good. Masky frowned at the sight of you. If he could’ve had it his way he would’ve followed you home, disposing your body in a rancid dumpster. But he knew his place, the Operators request of his presence coming first. Masky dug in his pocket, Toby’s gaze darkening. He placed a wad of cash on the table, sliding out of the booth. “We have something we have to take care of. Why don’t you walk her home Toby?” Masky suggested blandly. Hoodie followed suit, hands dug in his jeans as he trailed after Masky. Hoodie’s lips curled into a cocky smirk, shamelessly checking you out. The duo left the diner quickly, leaving you and Toby dumbfounded.

“Are they bipolar or something?” You asked. Toby released the knife, trying to ignore your bewildered expression. A flash of white ran across the window, Kate’s presence confirmed. “S-something like that-t. Let’s get you home,” Toby suggested nervously. He ushered you out of the diner, anxiously looking around. He couldn’t spot Masky or Hoodie anywhere, nor Kate or the Operator. He sighed in relief, the cold night wind brutal. “I live down this way,” You say, pointing to down town. You wanted to question Tim and Brian’s odd behavior, but ultimately decided against it. Toby walked beside you, the orange street lights illuminating the path. He tried to be quiet, trying to uncover what they did wrong in his mind.

The cold didn’t bother him, but his eyes flickered over to you. You were a shivering mess, goosebumps littering your smooth skin. “H-here. Might n-not smell the best,” He said quickly. He slid off his signature hoodie, handing it to you. “But you’ll be cold,” You pointed out. Toby shook his head. “I don’t get cold-d. Here,” He insisted. Hesitantly you accepted Toby’s hoodie, sliding it on. It smelled like dirt, cologne, and a metallic scent you couldn’t place. “Thank you Toby,” You say, giving him a grin. Toby thought back to the dismemberment of the body. He followed the usual routine. Depending on the victim there were two possible routines.

One being what they called mystery. Toby would extract the teeth, slicing fingerprints and toes off of the victim. Next he’d scoop out the eyes, before slicing out the tongue. After that he’d cut off the head. He’d distribute the fingertips, toes, teeth, eyes, and head to Masky and Hoodie. The three would divide them up evenly, before going their own ways for the night to discard of the evidence. Toby had an all too familiar lake he preferred to dispose his in. The alligators there were practically his friends by now.

The other method, one Toby named chop chop. Or chop for short. His axe skills were utilized, each leg and arm, and of course the head, cut apart limb from limb. This method was recommended when the victim had been attacked from the front. The more raw mushy organs on display, the more likely the wolves would get to the body before a human did. As for the body parts, the proxies had been using barrels full of acid. It was a grueling process, but they were able to bury them in the forest without a long drive to discard of them.

For detective Winston, they had opted to use route two. Chop was quicker. Of course they used chop, wanting to see you as quickly as possible. That’s when it finally hit Toby: Hoodie had slashed his throat. His chest cavity and organs were intact. He was a detective in the force for years. He had a chest tattoo. Thats why the Operator sent Kate. The body had been discovered and identified.

“I know this isn’t the best part of town but it’s all I can afford right now,” You say. Toby snapped out of his thoughts, turning his attention back to you. You had taken his silent pondering as judgment. “I’ve slept in trees before, i’m sure y-your apartment is l-lovel-ly,” Toby told you. You subtly began to walk closer to him, purple neon signs illuminating the rest of the pathway. “It’s not normal I know but i’ve always wanted a tattoo from that shop,” You told him, pointing at ‘Ray’s tattoos’. Toby examined the shop, his eyes scanning over the multiple people getting tatted. He made eye contact with what appeared to be a biker, his gaze returning to you.

“H-how about I go w-with you sometime? I d-don’t have one,” He admitted. You gave him a sheepish smile. “I have one but it’s kinda embarrassing,” You confessed. Toby chuckled, following you into your apartment building. “C-can’t be that bad,” Toby replied. He trailed behind you as you entered the elevator, clicking the button to the fourth floor. “Promise you won’t tell Tim and Brian?” You asked. Toby nodded, preparing himself to see whatever exposure of skin you were going to provide him. Instead you leaned close to him, whispering into his ear, “I have a tramp stamp.”

Toby felt a shiver of ecstasy run down his spine, soaking in the sensation of your hot breath. “O-oh wow,” He blushed. You giggled as the elevator doors opened, walking to your apartment. You stood in front of door 401, turning to Toby. “I really do like you guys you know. Despite their social awkwardness, it’s nice seeing some new faces around here,” You say. Toby could hardly get enough of your praise, his imagination now playing with the idea of your tramp stamp. “T-thank you. We like-e you too,” He said. You gave him a small smile. “I don’t think Brian likes me,” You told him honestly. Toby pretended to play dumb. “Pfft, B-Brian’s just a l-loner. He didn’t like m-me either at first,” He replied. Which, was technically true.

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes flickering to your apartment door. You grabbed your keys, unlocking it. You were about to invite Toby in, the invitation on your lips. Just as you opened your mouth, Nova appeared in front of you. You jumped in surprise. “Nova? Holy shit what are you doing here?” You questioned. You had given Nova your key ages ago for emergencies. There she stood in her pajamas, a file in hand. Toby frowned at the sight of Nova. Why was she there? He wanted time alone with you. Why couldn’t he have you to himself for the night? “I’m sorry I know you were on your date but something new just happened in my case!” She said excitedly. Date? The word date made Toby’s heart flutter. His annoyance of Nova’s presence had temporarily subsided. Her chocolate orbs flickered over to Toby.

“Who’s this?”

You awkwardly turned to Toby. “Oh shit sorry, uh, Toby this is Nova, Nova this is Toby,” You say, introducing the two. Nova stuck out her hand, an apple watch secured on her wrist. “So you’re the hitchhiker,” She mused. Toby could sense her protectiveness of you. “And you’re the detective,” He replied, shaking her hand. The two of them purposefully gave the other a tight squeeze before Nova pulled away. “Alrighty then. Well i’d like to discuss this case with you before dawn,” Nova said, gesturing to the file.

“Of course of course,” You say awkwardly. You turned to Toby. “Here let me give you back your hoodie,” You said. Your fingers began to grab at the hem, Toby’s larger hand stopping you. You hadn’t realized bandages covered a majority of his hands until then. “Keep i-it. I’ll come get it from you late-er,” He told you. You could feel heat dash across your cheeks from his touch. You stood on your tippy toes, planting a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you Toby. I’ll see you soon?”

Toby nodded affirmatively, wishing you a goodnight.

He shoved his hands in his jeans as he walked down the hallway, grinning to himself. You’d be seeing him a lot sooner than you thought.

—> next chapter

[amirasainz]

I admit I read everything with baby Sainz in it.🫢 And as I'm on a Lando bender again. (Loving all things Lando) I was wondering if you could write something with Baby Sainz and Lando about how they got into a fight and the whole grid is there for her and being mean to Lando but like the fight was something really little and silly. (Something like Lando not putting his clothes away)

I hope that makes sense.

Oooppp!!!! That make me so happy to know that people enjoy reading my writing. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as well and let me know if you have any requests. I will do my best to write them ASAP

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!

Trouble in paradise

There were two things Lando hated dearly: fish and seeing his girlfriend cry. The first one is pretty self-explanatory. For him, fish tasted horrible and looked disgusting. It had a weird consistency and smelled—oh god, don’t get him started on the smell. The second thing, seeing his girlfriend cry, was because a beautiful girl like her should never have to feel any sadness. Her pretty eyes should never fill with tears, making the window to her soul more obvious than ever. Her perfect lips should never tremble, and her voice should never crack. Amira was made for being happy and carefree.

However, this morning, Lando managed to do the worst thing ever. He made his girl cry. And why? Because he is the biggest idiot on earth. The only thing she asked him yesterday was if he could start doing the laundry. Like the lovesick fool he is, he was more enamored with her presence than actually listening to her words. When she wanted to wear her favorite shirt today, which was in the laundry, Lando had to admit that he didn’t do anything. Maybe it was the current heat, her jet lag, her hunger, or the frustration that he didn’t do the simple task she asked him to do, but all of it was too much. And Amira tried to be brave, she really did. But she couldn’t help but let her frustration and sadness out through her tears. When Lando saw his girlfriend crying in front of him, he wanted nothing more than to cry himself. What kind of monster is he, making his perfect girlfriend cry because he was a lazy idiot?

The others around them immediately realized something was wrong when the couple arrived this morning in the paddock. Usually, Lando would have his arm around her shoulders, their hands intertwined, kissing her shamelessly in front of everyone and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. But today, they arrived with only their pinkies intertwined. Despite having a huge fight about something so silly this morning, the couple couldn’t stand not touching one another. If their unusual entrance wasn’t a huge sign that something was wrong, it was Amira’s behavior. Instead of wearing bright, vibrant colors, the young woman wore a black jacket with sunglasses on. Her blue shirt was the only speck of color in her outfit. If even THAT wasn’t a sign that something was amiss between them, it was on their way to the motorhomes. Instead of leading Amira proudly into his side of the garage, he brought her to the Ferrari garage. There, one could see Lando hugging Amira, whose shoulders shook. Without another word, Amira left a heartbroken Lando inside. One might have thought that something terrible had happened to his family, instead of him forgetting to do the laundry…

The news spread like wildfire that Amira and Lando had a fight because Lando couldn’t be trusted to do a simple task. The drivers and WAGs were furious when they heard about what happened. Carlos even went as far as keeping his sister inside his driver’s room, making her sleep and eat something. While Carlos was busy taking care of his precious sister, Lando had the worst day of his life. EVER.

It all started when he ran into Carmen and George. The couple were busy staring daggers at him while he was on his way to the media pen. Lando was so distracted by their glares that he didn’t see Lewis. He bumped straight into the 8-time world champion, who wasn’t very keen on seeing the young Brit. “Oh, sorry Lewis. I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Lando apologized. Lewis looked him up and down before muttering, “Seems like you never mean to do something.” Before Lando had a chance to ask what he meant, Lewis turned around and walked away.

A confused Lando continued walking to the media pen. During the conference, he was asked about his outfit ( new Quadrant merch) when Max muttered loud enough for the microphones to pick up: “Must be nice to have clothes you can wear because you can rely on your partner.” The atmosphere in the room became strained in a matter of seconds. The reporter awkwardly tried to move on. Lando wasn’t stupid; he knew what this was. This was his punishment for upsetting the paddock princess.

After a 40-minute-long speech from Lily and Kika about how important giving and taking in a healthy relationship was, Fernando calling him “El mayor idiota que ha existido en la tierra,” Charles letting Leo bite him, Lily and Oscar giving him the biggest side-eye ever throughout the day, Yuki “accidentally” pushing him into a wall, and Pierre starting gossip about him, he finally went to Carlos’s driver’s room.

He gently knocked on the door, wishing it would be his girl opening it. Sadly, today was truly not his day, because he was met with the sight of an angry Carlos. Before Lando had the chance to say anything, Carlos brought him closer. He whispered quietly in Lando’s ear: “If Amira wasn’t so damn much in love with you, you would already be under the earth. I know where you live, I know your password, I know your deepest secrets. If you ever, and I mean ever, in your entire life make my sister cry again, it will be the last thing you’ll ever do. ¿He sido claro?” Carlos only let poor Lando go after he swore to never do something stupid like that again. “Good, now you will go inside, apologize to Amira, and buy her a new freaking Birkin bag. Did I make myself clear?” Carlos sternly asked.

Safe to say that Lando did a lot of groveling that day. It took the drivers and WAGs 5 months, 1 week, 28 days, and 17 hours to stop with the “Lando-fuck-up” jokes. And Amira? She never had to wonder about a thing again; they now had a housemaid, Aurelia, who only adored Amira and not Lando.

[michelleleewise]

Bewitched

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Warnings: somnophilia, thigh riding, masturbation, spells gone wrong, "sex-pollen" type fic, swearing, dirty talk, loki speaking Norwegian, swearing, mildly explicit smut, unprotected sex, penatration (p in v), fluffy ending.

Summary: you borrowed a book from Loki's personal library, and weren't prepared for the consequences.....

A/n-graphics by @harlequin-hangout. This story inspired by my dear @mochie85 and her amazing story "Pheromones". Thank you so much my dear for all your help and support!! This story absolutely got away from me, it's definitely longer so be prepared 💚💚

You walked into Loki's room, slowly closing the door behind you making your way to his overly large book case. He had been away on a mission for the last week, but told you to feel free to borrow whatever you wished. Carefully putting back the ones you had borrowed you browsed his large collection. Running your fingers along the spines you couldn't help smile, knowing you were one of the only ones, if not the only one allowed in his room, let alone allowed to borrow his books.

Over the last year you had grown close to the God, being born with powers you didn't understand, let alone control had made your life burdensome. You didn't have many friends, your family had basically disowned you, dropping you at an orphanage. Apparently you were too unpredictable for them to handle. But Loki had taken you under his wing, helped you understand your abilities, even training you to control them. On more then one occasion telling you how proud he was of you....calling you his "little witch" making your heart flutter.

You wandered over to his personal books, ones he had been able to save and being back with him when they had to leave Asgard and come to earth. You pulled out one of the larger volumes, Your fingers running over the golden runes inscribed on the cover. Tucking it under your arm remembering you could translate it with your phone you walked back towards the door, glancing around seeing his daggers displayed on the wall, his desk neatly organized not a thing out of place. A warm feeling running over you picturing him laying on the couch reading...sitting at the desk writing some long letter, his long slender fingers wrapped around his pen.

A shudder running through you thinking about those fingers gliding aross your skin, gently wrapping around your throat as he took what he wanted from you, claiming you for his. You shook the images out of your head remembering he was your friend, your mentor, your teacher. He would never see you as you saw him. Sighing you hugged the book to your chest, grabbing the knob turning the lights off as you closed his door, smiling as you made your way back to your room excited to see what knowledge the book contained.

"AGAIN!" Loki yelled, throwing another green blast at you, deflecting it just in time as another came out of nowhere knocking you off your feet. You laid on your back trying to catch your breath when he came over looking down at you "have you not kept up your training in my absence?" He asked crossing his arms "y...yes...i...have." You panted grabbing your chest "then you would not be so easy to defeat. On your feet, we are going again." He said sternly walking out of your vision. You sat up watching him walk to the other side of the room, he looked powerful, regal, you would give him the world if you could. "I said up...now!" He yelled making you jump.

You got to your feet, bringing your hands up holding them out emitting a purple glow, watching his glow green. "This time you shall have no warning, you must react on instinct y/n." He said as you nodded, planting your feet in a defensive stance, watching him slowly stalk around you. Your anxiety rose as your eyes followed him, traveling between his hands and his face seeing him smirk. You saw something in your peripheral, turning slightly to see what it was you were hit in the chest hard by Loki's seidr, once again landing on your back. "Y/n where are you? You are not focusing!" He yelled as you sat up rubbing your chest.

"Loki, I'm only....ow human. What do you...." you were cut off as he drug you up to your feet, gripping your shoulders "you are not merely human y/n, your are...more." He said clenching his jaw "and I expect more from you then what you are giving me." He snapped as you looked to the floor "i..I'm sorry, it's just.." you started "don't be sorry, be better. How am i to be sure you will be alright out there hmm?" He asked as you looked back up at him, the green of his eyes seeming to glow "how will I know...." he started, feeling his thumb rubbing your arm, his eyes shooting to your lips and back. "Loki..." you whispered when he dropped his hands "I expect better next session." He said storming towards the door, leaving you alone with your wounded pride.

You made it back to your room, the look of disappointment on Loki's face was burned into your mind as you walked to the bathroom. You knew when he came back from missions he was like this. Harder, firmer, more demanding, but it didn't hurt any less seeing that look. "I'll never be good enough." You sighed, turning the shower on you slipped your training clothes off, throwing them in the corner as you stepped into the shower, the hot water making you wince as it hit your sore muscles. You wanted to be better, to impress him but it seemed to be a losing battle. You sighed, wrapping a towel around you you walked into your bedroom. Putting on a tank top and some sleep shorts you walked into the living room.

Flopping down on the couch you saw Loki's book on the coffee table. You hadn't had a chance to look at it yet with everything that had been going on, but now would be as good a time as any. You got up, grabbing your phone and a piece of paper and pen you sat back down, opening the book to a random page seeing the runes running along one side, a picture of a heart engulphed in flames on the other. You slid to the floor, opening your phone you went down the page finding the word for each rune writing down the translation, smiling as you reached the end. "Ok, now let's see what your saying." You said to yourself leaning back.

Hearts Desire

Suns shine, and moons shimmer,

Love and passion meet in shadow,

The fire burns, the flames grow higher,

The body yearns, the hunger grows,

Only sated by your hearts desire...

As you recited the last line you saw the book begin to glow on the table, the runes shimmering with a gold light on the page before suddenly stopping. "What the..." you said to yourself, running your fingers across the page feeling a shock in your fingers making you pull your hand back. "Ooook, I think that's enough reading for tonight." You said, carefully closing the book you put you phone down as you stood up feeling light headed. "Time for bed." You said Turning the lights off you climbed under the covers. Knowing you had another training session with Loki tomorrow you closed your eyes, willing sleep to take you.

You rolled over, groaning as the blankets stuck to your damp skin. Looking at the clock seeing it was just past midnight you sighed. You put your hand on your forehead wiping the sweat away "why is it so hot in here?" You breathed, throwing the covers off you went to stand feeling your knees try to buckle. "I better not be getting sick" you said to yourself slowly making your way to the thermostat seeing it was still set at a cool sixty degrees. "What the hell." You turned on the ac, going back to bed you layed down, the cool sheets making you sigh as you closed your eyes trying to go back to sleep.

Images flashed in your mind. Long dark hair...deep green eyes that seemed to penatrate your soul...long fingers running up your thighs, moving up to slowly caress your clit..."Come to me darling...I need you." You heard furrowing your eyebrows feeling the fingers slide down towards your entrance. "Come....now!" The voice growled as the fingers pushed inside you waking you with a gasp. You shot up, looking around into the dark room seeing you were alone "Holy hell." You panted rubbing your eyes. You scooted forward feeling the wetness between your legs, your body covered in a sheen of sweat "maybe a shower will help." You sighed, scooting off the bed, the friction of your shorts against your core making moan as you braced the wall. "That must have been some dream." You thought making your way to the bathroom.

You turned on the cold water, stepping inside you let out a deep breath. You felt like your were burning from the inside out. You closed your eyes standing under the spray when the images returned. You hand slowly sliding down between your thighs, opening yourself up as you saw Loki...standing before you In nothing but his leather pants, slowly stalking towards you with a hunger in his eyes "come to me pet...I must have you." He purred, reaching out his large hand he wrapped it around your throat, his eyes boring into you. You worked your fingers through your folds, circling your clit feeling a shiver run through you as he leaned down, feeling his breath on your neck "I will give you pleasure as you have never known...all you must do is...come." He said sternly.

"L..loki..." you moaned, feeling your orgasm wash over you, pressing your thighs together at the feeling. You opened your eyes seeing the white tile wall "god...if only." You panted. You finished washing up, wrapping a towel around you you grabbed another tank top and clean shorts you sat on the bed, the pressure on your core making you moan. "What is happening?" You said to yourself shaking your head. You had dreamt of Loki before...numerous times but usually a little self care would sate your lust until the next dream, but now it only seemed to make things worse. You slipped your clothes on, feeling your body begin to heat up again, worse then before. "A...am I dying?" You said to yourself, gripping the side of the bed goaning as another wave of pleasure rolled over you.

Your eyes shot open remembering the book, the letters glowing as you read from it. "Oh shit...I cursed myself." You said rubbing your temples feeling sweat beading on your skin. "L...loki! I need to talk to loki, he'll...ahhh...know what to do." You moaned, slowly standing up feeling another wave push through you. Looking over seeing it was past two in the morning. "Well, I hope he's awake." You sighed, making your way to the door, nails digging into the handle as a another wave washed over you, your core feeling like it's om fire "I....ahh....better hurry." You moaned, quickly making your way to the elevator you pressed the button hard as the next wave hit you making you knees buckle. "Aahh fuck.." you moaned gripping the wall.

You made it to his floor, slowly walking out of the elevator you braced yourself on the wall, another hit you hard bringing you to your knees. "Holy shit..." you panted, standing up you felt the wetness between your thighs soaking your shorts. "L..loki..." you moaned making it to his door. You pressed your forehead to it, sighing as the cold wood met your hot skin. "Loki..." you breathed, knocking to be met with silence. Your thighs clenched together as you tried to knock again, still not getting a response you gripped the handle, turning it finding it unlocked. "Oh thank God." You sighed slowly pushing the door open.

You stepped inside, quietly closing the door looking around the dark room. Your body shivered as the scent of pine and sandalwood washed over you. You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts "Lo..." you started, wincing feeling the skin under your ear burn, putting your hand over it feeling your skin hot to the touch. "Fuck.." you whispered looking back across the room, seeing the bedroom door slightly ajar. You walked towards it, you mind getting hazier the closer you got. "L..loki..." you whispered, slowly pushing the door open, the moonlight streaming through the window giving the room a soft glow when your eyes met his sleeping form, biting your lip seeing the sheet pooled around his hips, revealing his bare chest.

You opened your mouth trying to say his name, a moan coming out in its place as you gripped the door knob, leaning over as your head swam. Squeezing your thighs together you stood up, your vision hazy as you walked towards the bed, slowly making your way across the bed, running your fingers along the soft sheets looking down at him. You stood at the side of the large bed, his long hair splayed across the pillow making your hand twitch, you needed to touch it...now. You leaned down, slowly sliding back the sheets hearing him groan lightly as you climbed in next to him, carefully scooting towards him pressing your front to his side hearing him sigh.

You leaned up on your elbow, reaching your hand up you gently moved his hair exposing his long neck, smiling seeing a small freckle under his ear. You leaned down pressing a gentle kiss to it, his skin warm on your lips hearing him groan. You continued peppering small kisses to his neck as your hand slowly slid across his stomach, moaning as your fingers found the light patch of hair that traveled down. flattening your palm your hand slid down, feeling his muscles tense as your fingers grazed his adonis belt. "Loki.." you whispered against his skin as you went lower, your fingers running through the tuft of hair just above what you wanted most. "Y/n.." he moaned softly, freezing hearing him say your name, looking up seeing his eyes still closed.

Was he dreaming about you..you thought as your lips pressed back to his skin feeling his head turn slightly. Your pressed your thigh over his as your hand found what it was searching for, smiling feeling him hard as you slowly wrapped your fingers around him, groaning as you realized you couldn't get them all the way around him. "Mmm..god..." you moaned into his neck as you slowly moved your hand up and down, stoking him as you teeth grazed his skin. You groaned feeling him twitch in your hand as his hips rocked upwards meeting your strokes. "Mmm... I need you so bad." You whispered into his ear hearing his breath hitch.

You slowly rocked your hips against his thigh in rhythm with your hand. Tightening your grip you stoked him harder, your lips traveling to his collar bone as you squeezed your thigh against him, the friction on your clit sending electricity through you. "Y...y/n..." he groaned as your teeth grazed his collar bone. "Loki..." you breathed into his skin feeling him stiffen "w...what are you...ahhh...." he hissed grabbing your wrist stopping your movements. You looked up at him, his eyes wide as he stared at you "i...I need to feel you." You panted, releasing your grip on him you threw your leg over him, straddling his hips.

"Wait...y/n..." he trailed off trying to grab your hands as you tried to shift the sheet off of him. "P..please loki i...i need you." You panted, lifting your hips trying to get the sheet out from under you. "Y/n...stop this at once." He demanded as you looked into his eyes, a shudder running through you "i..I cant.." you whispered, leaning back you reached for the sheets again "Y/n...wait..." he said as you felt another wave slam into you, bracing yourself on his chest you rocked your hips against his erection, moaning at the friction when he suddenly bucked his hips, flipping you onto your back as he settled over you, pinning your wrists above your head in one large hand. He took in your appearance, seeing the sweat beading on your skin, your skin like fire under his hands. "What are you doing y/n?" He asked sternly as you dug your nails into your palm "i..need you." You whispered.

"You are not yourself, What did you do?" Loki asked sternly eyeing you. "Nothing! I just....please...." you pleaded, bringing your hips up as he pushed them back down with his other hand. "Y/n, I will not ask again, what..." he started as his eyes went to your neck, reaching up he grabbed your chin turning your head "all I did was borrow a few books while you were gone." You said shakely, feeling sweat pooling on your skin as his eyes met yours again "which books?" He asked still gripping your chin. "I..I don't know i..." you started "Dammit woman, which ones did you take?" He yelled making you shiver "i..I don't know the title...I just t..translated a page." You said shakely feeling your eyes burn. "P..please loki...I feel like I'm dying." You said feeling a tear escape your eye, traveling to your hair as he turned your head back.

He released your chin, his fingers ghosted over the skin of your neck, moaning when he touched where it burned the most, your thighs gripping his sides feeling another wave of arousal wash over you, your walls clenching around nothing. "Hearts desire..." he whispered splaying his large hand against your neck. "It appears you borrowed one of my spell books and...enchanted yourself." He said as his eyes met yours again. "A..m i...am I dying?" You whimpered feeling another tear fall as he wiped it away with his thumb "no my dear, you are not dying, not yet anyway" He said "but, your condition will worsen until you body becomes too hot and starts to shut down." He said feeling your forehead "how long ago did this happen?" He asked "a..a few hours or so." You said as he nodded. "H..how do I make it s..stop?" You asked shakely as he looked down "the only way to cure Hearts Desire is to become one with the one you...love." he whispered as your eyes widened.

A sob escaped you as he released your hands, leaning back slightly watching you "i...im s...sorry loki, I...I didn't want you to find out like this, or ever. i..." you cried, covering your face with your hands "I'm s...sorry." you said again as you shifted, trying to get out from under him when he grabbed your hips. "Where are you going?" He asked making you look at him "i...I've ruined everything with my stupidity and...." you rambled, feeling his finger prsss to your lips, it taking all your will power not to wrap your lips around it. "You need to calm down darling, your getting warmer." He said shifting closer to you "did you not hear me, your condition will worsen." He said sternly "i am going to help you." He said cupping your cheek "n..no! You don't have to do that, i..I'll just..." you trailed off "pleasure yourself? It will only make it worse." He said, gripping the sheets as you felt another roll through you, your nerve endings igniting making you whimper.

"Those sounds...you have no idea what you do to me my little witch." He groaned, pressing his hips to yours, feeling his erection rub against your clit "g..god....loki...." you moaned wrapping your arms around his back. "Let me take care of you." He whispered, leaning down pressing a kiss to your neck making your hips jerk. "I can smell you..." he groaned, rocking his hips into you as he leaned back, hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts, slowly sliding them down your legs "no panties hmm?" He purred, tossing them across the room. "I...they were dirty." You stuttered as he lowered himself back between your spread legs. "Oh, im sure they were my little vixen." He smiled, leaning down pressing a kiss to your collar bone.

You moaned feeling his hand slide up your thigh, slipping between you as his teeth grazed the top of your breast "mmm....you are soaking darling." He said, his long fingers gliding through your folds making you arch up into him. "P...please Loki...." you panted, screwing your eyes shut. You felt him shift, pulling the sheet from between you as his cock pressing into your thigh, precum smearing across your skin as he lined himself at your entrance "open those eyes for me, I want to see you as I take you." He growled. You opened your eyes, looking down seeing his cock begin to push into you. "Look at me." He said, as your eyes shot up to his "så vakker.." he whispered, pressing his hips forward, your nails digging into his back as he inched inside you, stretching you to your limit.

"Norns! Your so...warm, so...aahhh tight." He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as he jerked his hips forward, knocking the wind out of you as he bottomed out. "Holy...fuck..." you panted, spreading your legs further apart as he pulled out to his tip, thrusting back in. You felt your body tingle as he slowly rocked in and out, keeping his pace slow. "L..loki....harder....fuck me....harder." you growled, sliding your hands down to his ass pulling him into you. "A...as you...mmm...wish." He growled, pulling out as he slammed into you, jolting you up the bed "oh fuck...yes..." you yelled, burying your face in his neck biting the skin under his ear hearing him growl.

"F...fuck....I can feel you...ahh squeezing me darling." He panted, snapping his hips hard, his pelvic bone hitting your clit with each thrust making your cry out. "I..I'm gonna..." you breathed, digging your nails into his cheeks as he pushed you up the bed. "Mm...min lille heks...ahhh...hvor jeg har lengtet etter deg." He said, slipping into his native tongue making you shudder. "kom for meg ... melk kuken min." He growled, slamming into you hard, your head hitting the headboard as your orgasm flooded over you, your walls clenching hard around him "c..come with me loki...fuck...let me feel you." You panted, feeling him twitch inside you as his hips met yours, holding himself in you as he spilled deep inside you. "Fuck...y/n J...Jeg elsker deg." He panted, dropping his head to your shoulder, his warm breath fanning against your skin.

He slowly pulled out, shifting to lay next to you as you stared at the ceiling. You pulled the sheet up covering yourself feeling your skin start to cool off, your mind clearing as you glanced over, seeing his eyes closed. You looked back to the ceiling, a knot forming in your stomach as you thought about what just happened. "Your thinking too loudly." He said making you look over at him, your eyes meeting his. "Im...I'm sorry Loki, about all of this." You said, pulling the sheet back starting to get up when you felt his hand on your shoulder pushing you back down as he leaned up on his elbow looking down at you

He reached up feeling your forehead smiling "how are you feeling my dear?" He asked tucking your hair behind your ear "b..better." you said looking down. "Is it true?" He asked, his eyes staring into you "umm..i...well you see..." you tried, looking back to the ceiling, feeling his fingers genlty grab your chin making you look at him. "Yes loki, it's true." You said gripping the sheet. He leaned down gently pressing his lips to yours, his tongue slowly sliding across your bottom lip. A warmth filled you, your toes curling feeling his tongue gently pass your lips, cupping your cheek as his tongue tangled with yours, his lips impossibly soft against your own as he claimed your mouth, biting your lip as he pulled back looking at. "Be mine y/n." He breathed, pressing his forehead to yours "i..what?" You asked tilting your head up "I have wanted you for so long, i would like to court you." He said smiling "y..yes Loki, I would like that very much." You smiled back as he pulled you towards him, laying on his back guiding your head to his shoulder "get some rest my dear, we can talk more tomorrow." He said running his fingers through your hair as you wrapped your arm around his middle "and y/n...no more books." He said making you laugh "ok, no more books." You agreed, closing your eyes slipping off to sleep listening to the steady beat of his heart....

Translations-

hvor jeg har lengtet etter deg-how i have longed for you

min lille heks-my little witch

Jeg elsker deg-i love you

kom for meg ... melk kuken min-come for me...milk my cock

så vakker-so beautiful

@vbecker10 @lokisgoodgirl @springdandelixn @kinky-faerie @xorpsbane @midnights-ramblings @simping-for-marvel @holdmytesseract @kkdvkyya @slpnbty2001 @lokixryss @vane28282 @violethaze @coldnique @aniar4wniak @nate-ate-hate @buttercupcookies-blog @brattymum96 @dukes2581 @your-taste-on-my-lips @mybaby @blog-the-lilly @irishhappiness @sinsandguilt @filthyhiddles @lovebyloki @kikster606 @javagirl328 @misunderstoodself @highkeysimpingforloki @eleniblue @commanding-officer @athalialaufeyson @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokiandbuckysdoll @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @high-functioning-lokipath @kittiowolf210 @slytherclaw1227 @joyfullymassivewhispers @wolfsmom1 @libbybeaz @lokikissesmyforehead @goblingirlsarah @thomase1

[asmilinghopelessromantic]

Kate: go on now

Anthony, whining: why me?? 😫😩

Literally every single Bridgerton in unison: because you literally made every wrong decision last season by some grace Kate still married you so this is the *least* you can do

Anthony: fine 😐😒 *mumbles* i hate this family

Later--

Anthony: hey, Colin, little brother, I have some advice

Colin, staring daggers and cracking knuckles at seeing Lord Debling with Penelope: what

Anthony: hey, um, maybe don't do what you are doing right now

Colin, still glaring: why not? You did the same thing when Kate was on that boat ride with Mr. Dorset

Anthony, sputtering: what do you mean- not the point. Alternatively you could just tell Penelope how you feel.

Colin, still in Full Denial™️ Mode: what no, I'm just helping Pen with finding a husband

Anthony, sighing: it's your funeral

Anthony, mumbling: did you learn anything from me last season. No one can say I didn't try

Later--

Anthony, thinking out loud: was I really that blind to how in denial I was??

Literally every single Bridgerton in unison: YES

Daphne from Hastings House: YES, YOU WERE. I TRIED TELLING YOU

[z3nitsusgf]

I, The Sun

Ch. 1 - In My Mind

ford pines/reader: NSFW, murder, violence against women, possession, manipulation, occult themes, dark fic.

first chapter of something I’ve been working on, it’s more of a introduction/exposition rn but I promise it gets better.

1976 - Gravity Falls, Oregon

Ford has been having these dreams lately. Unpleasant ones. Ones that leave him feeling sick, where he wakes up with his tongue stuck to his gums, and his body is in a cold sweat.

Where they feel so real that when he wakes he checks himself for injuries to see if it was a memory or not. He can't grasp the material reality with full intensity, a part of him seems to reside far away and beyond what's tangible.

His mind playing tricks on him, a cruel joke. Because the next flash of dreams is him on top of a woman, his hands strangling her until she gives way to the darkness and he’s plunging a knife into her abdomen over and over until she’s nothing more than minced meat. He realizes too late it’s you.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” A voice purrs in his ear, Ford is feral and bloodthirsty, ripping apart human flesh as if it were animal. A laughing soprano rings through his head and it hurts.

Ford wakes with a gasp, clutching his chest. He’s in his room, in his home, safe and sound. He attempts to slow his breathing, the dreams reeling through his head like a spool of film. The moonlight shines through his stained glass window, filtering in through shades of light pink and blue.

He sighs in relief, “just another nightmare.”

Something wet drips on his forehead and he wipes it away, when he looks at his fingertips it’s not water. Something thick and dark is smeared across the pads of his fingers. And Ford looks up slowly, he almost screams. Almost, another splat of blood falls into his parted mouth and Ford scrambles.

There, mounted on the ceiling of his bedroom, a doe head has been nailed to the wood. Mutilated and dripping its fresh wounds onto the scientist, its heart stabbed with a dagger and left to rot.

A painted message of red is smeared next to the head, it reads; ‘can’t run’.

Ford’s vision goes black.

-

You chewed on your pen cap, the smooth plastic sliding against your molars.

You sit at your cubicle, which was for a lack of a better word - missable; covered in pages from your previous articles and various bands. Rings of coffe stains and energy drinks line your desk, pens and notebooks scattered like autumn leaves. You stared at your computer screen, your new story a sort of meloncholic evil.

A man in your city had gone mad with schizophrenia and slaughtered his entire family. When the police entered the scene, there were decorations of blood and entrails around the apartment, the suspect rocking himself in a corner and wailing. You can imagine him, 45 year old Richard James. Skin and bones, reeking of innards and cigarettes.

Wondering how he got to this point of his life. When just a couple years earlier he was a school teacher and going to dinners with his wife and kids.

It’s a half-written entry, a simple narrative of the events. There was nothing special about it. You look up only when your editor called you into her office.

Miranda Perkins, a fat older woman who wore Hawaiian shirts and smelled of cat litter. Her office is straight out of a 60s JC Penny catalogue. Her window overviewed the parking lot, a shitty sight. But for the daily post in Sacramento, it was as good as it was going to get.

You sit in her uncomfortable chair, moving side to side until you feel any semblance of relief.

“How’s your story coming along, hun?”

She tapped her French tip nails along her desk, looking at your through big rounded coke-bottle glasses. A string of pastel crystal beads hanging from the sides.

“I’m almost done.” You were nowhere near that.

“Good, good. Abandon it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Abandon it!” She singsongs, waving a gaudy looking pen in her hand, “leave it for someone else.”

She was soft with you, probably because you reminded her of a daughter, or because you were soft. You sat in an uncomfortable silence, listening to the ticking of her wall clock and the hum of the FCU.

“How do you feel about Gravity Falls?” She asks suddenly, holding her pen to her temple. A small dot of ink left behind.

“It’s a small town, smack dab in the center of Oregon,” Miranda loved the facts, she got her socks off when writers knew the basic demographics of small unnoticeable towns. You preferred not to discuss your hometown however.

“It was founded by Nathaniel Northwest in the 1800s, it’s got a big touristy lake and the biggest business is logging. It’s full of old money, trash, and tourist traps.”

She hums, “So what’s going on down there?”

You sat in silence, thinking of anything important that you might of missed. Gravity Falls was a town that was not noticed, tucked away beneath Evergreens and trailer parks. The most that befell it was the occasional flood or simple robbery. You had hoped that when Miranda called you in, it would be to compliment your work, or even give you a raise.

“Your family still there?”

“Mom. Estranged dad.” And your half siblings that were born after you had left. You always forget their names though.

“You ever talk to them?” Not since Christmas when your mother sent a gimicky card of St. Nick that read, ‘Have a Joyous Holiday!’ It was polite, you figured after downing four whiskey sours that you could give her a call.

“Not recently.”

“Jesus, read the news once in a while. There’s been a murder. A woman slaughtered in the woods.”

You nodded like you knew, your mother was the only one you had little conversation with and she had said nothing. Curious.

“There’s been three in the past four months, police are saying it’s a cult. Sounds like a serial to me.”

You fiddle with your sweater, a gnawing feeling in your stomach.

“Go drive up there, get the full story.”

No fucking way.

“We’ve got freaky stories here, Miranda.”

“Yeah. And we have half the staff as we used to and half the cash.” She adjusted her glasses, the beads making a small clinking sound.

“This is our chance at a big story.”

You still didn’t want to go, hands gripping the arms of the chair as if she’d force you out. Miranda sighed, “Look hun, if you can’t do it… you can’t do it. But think about it, it’d be good for you.”

Miranda was a surrogate mother in a way you never expected. She always backed you, even when you fell short of expectations. You had the strange feeling of not wanting to disappoint her. You gnawed on your lip.

“I’ll go pack my stuff.”

-

You packed enough for seven days, confident that you’ll be back by next week. Also taking with you the notes and articles about the case and your notebook. You threw in a pack of Marlboro green and some shooters. As you glance around your apartment you realize how messy it is. Scattered articles, news clippings, take out containers, dead plants.

As you take a final look at your place, you look at a framed picture by the door. A young twenty-something year old you in 1972, hand in hand with your best friend and first ever boyfriend from college - Stanford Pines. You’re in front of BU Univeristy, freshly graduated with your degree in journalism and Ford in his anomalies.

You’re laughing, about what you can’t recall, but you haven’t ever had a smile that big in years. You hold his palm, lovingly. You wonder what he’s up to now, it’s become a mystery. You knew he had grant money for his research, you never followed up to where he went. You fell apart after college, the tether straining when Ford started to dive head first into his career, he became distant.

You like not knowing. In reality, you don’t know why you still have it. Especially displayed in your home as if you were still together. Perhaps that romantic side of you enjoys the nostalgia of it all.

You’d rather not divulge that can of worms.

The drive to Gravity Falls would take eight hours, by the time you make it to the shoddy motel on the outskirts you’re no more than ten miles outside of your hometown. It makes a thick seedy feeling creep up your spine. To be so close had vomit pooling in your stomach.

You down a couple shooters in your motel room, the sheets are dusty and leave you itching. You should probably think of questions to ask the detectives, you decide to down more shots of fireball and vodka. You pass out dreaming strange things; you dream of your childhood, the occult nature of the case, the eerie events that happened so long ago you weren’t sure they were real - you dream of Ford.

-

When you wake, you snatch a stale bagel from the open kitchen downstairs, heading to your beat down Buick and driving into town.

Gravity Falls couldn’t be spotted from a distance, the tallest building was the water tower near the center of town. The drive is nostalgic in a sickening way, the scenery is visceral. The majestic trees are broken up by the strip of road in the center. You pass the welcome sign, big wooden letters before you’re driving by the gas station.

You know this place like the back of your hand. On the Main Street, you find remnants of the charming town. A beauty parlor, a clothing store that sold exclusively knitted sweaters and skirts, the up-in-coming VHS store that sold second hand movies. There’s only one real place to eat here, and it’s a greasy spoon called ‘The Greasy Spoon’.

The people in this town were what you called - complacent. They grew up here, lived till they got old, and died here. People out here, it’s like they don’t even know the outside world exists.

You see familiar faces as you drive. Susan Wentworth, the diner woman who always called you honey and wore too much blue eyeshadow. Dan Corduroy, the large ginger lumberjack who inherited his family’s pass-me-down flannel and could eat 20 hot cakes without puking. The Valentino’s, who were funeral directors and were some of the nicest people you’ve ever met, fucking strange though.

You decided to drive to the police station first. When you approached the receptionist desk, she regarded you with chilled contempt. Filling at her red acrylic nails and motioning you to sit and wait.

“Deputy Blubs with be with you shortly.” She smacked her gum at you. You sat like a patient dog, the shitty AC churning in the afternoon heat. You read the outdated magazines splayed on the small table, the scent of old paper and dust filling your nose. The magazines were from the 60s, full of outdated trends and styles.

When Blubs walked in he was already sweating through his uniform. Blubs was the upcoming deputy of the town who had a handlebar mustache and never took off his aviators. The receptionist motioned to you with her pen, mouthing the word “journalist” with disgust.

“Deputy Blubs, I’m with the Daily post in Sacramento.” You shake his hand, giving him your name as you follow him to his office.

He raises a brow, “Why are you all the way up here?”

He plops in his chair, “I want to talk about the recent events happening here, the women in the woods.”

“Good lord, how the hell did you hear about that all the way in Sacramento? Jesus.”

You shrug, “it’s a big deal, women going missing and showing up dead.”

“Listen,” he sighs, heavy and tired, “I don’t want this to get out.”

You gesture with your hands, “not really up to you Deptuty, the public deserves to know the danger going on.”

Blubs scoffs, looking out his window, “why’da you care now? You people never cared before about Gravity Falls.”

“You’re right. But this isn’t gonna be some exposé. This is important. And besides, I’m from Gravity Falls.” You let your voice die off at the end, like admitting it was some awful curse. He stares hard.

“What’s your name again?” You tell him, he rubs his stubble.

“My mother married out of her maiden name. It’s Evans now.”

“Ah, I know ‘em.” Everyone knew everyone here.

“Listen I can’t tell you much,”

“I don’t need much.”

Blubs sighed, contemplating.

You left the police station with a location of where the most recent woman was found. The old church back up in the woods.

Mallory Windsor, 22, found in the ruins of the old church. Couple of raw-boned, edgy teens found her when they were vandalizing the decrepit building. She’d been strangled, bound, stabbed 25 times, and her teeth were missing. Safe to say her funeral was a closed casket.

You trek through the woods to the taped off crime scene. The cawing of ravens bounced off the trees and your boots crunched the pine needles on the ground. You notice traces of dried blood on the cracked floorboards, claw marks from where she was dragged, and a tuft of blonde hair that’s stuck in between a broken branch.

You noticed in the plank on the wall, carved into the wood, was a triangle with an eye in the center a circular ring around it with markings unknown to you. You drew it in your notebook, you’d have to look that up later. As you walked around, you collected as much as you could with what Blubs told you.

Mallory worked at the boutique in the town square, she was considered playful and gentle by her family. They said she recently started going to church, that she had found God. Others say she was a no-good sneaky whore, running off in the night to hang with married men. Her mother was devastated to learn of her daughters death, saying her sweet little girl was taken too soon. The people of Gravity Falls were gossipy, they loved having “friends” over to discuss their neighbors or coworkers or what have you.

You, despite being a journalist, hated picking apart peoples lives like they were nothing more than a dead frog on a table. Perhaps that’s why you’re not a top story writer.

Your mind wandered, thinking about pre-teen you, running through these woods and scraping your knees and getting bug bites the size of pennies. Those strange little creatures that would run past you, growling when you got too close. You stopped and touched the crumbly dirt, picking at stones and watching little ants march their way through the muck.

You shivered at the feeling and felt as through you were being watched. But when you whipped around to stare, all the stared back was the towering evergreens and the sunlight filtering through.

This place always did leave a bad taste in your mouth.

-

You decide to end your night at the Greasy Spoon.

Walking in the log shaped diner, the scent of butter and too much maple wafted through the air. The tables were 50’s linoleum, the booths sticky with syrup. When you entered you noticed Susan still serving, some things never change.

“Just take a seat hun, I’ll be with you in a moment.” She swivels on her kitten heel, her big up-do bobbing. You always wondered how she could handle the weight of that on her head.

You pick a booth close to the back, the only other patron a man with his head glued to the local newspaper. You didn’t need a menu, and you’re sure as shit it hasn’t changed. Simple as a rock and cheap as dirt.

When Susan approaches, she holds her notepad and pen. She looks up with a smile that turns into a gasp.

“Oh! Oh my goodness gracious, why sweetheart I haven’t seen you in ages!” She leans over the table to give you a side hug. It’s awkward and leaves you drifting on one side as you pat her back. Cheeks hot with the attention.

“Hello Susan, nice to see you again.” You give her a half smile, nails digging into your jean-clad thigh.

“My, you’ve grown! Gosh you look like your mother. Anyways, same as before right? Steak and eggs?” You nod, a little awed she still remembers, and you don’t have the heart to tell her you’re not in the mood for meat right now.

“I’ll whip that up in a jiffy.” She singsongs, happily trotting back to the kitchen, shooing at a raccoon that had crawled into the window sill. You glance around the diner, looking over the jukebox and the stool-top. It’s all the same picture perfect small town diner like when you left.

You glance up, happening to look at the booth across from you. In it, you see a ghost. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. Your breath hitches, you’re starting to pick at the skin at your fingertips, feeling the raw bite of plucked flesh.

Stanford fucking Pines. In the flesh.

He’s staring, looking at you with wide owlish eyes, the brown gleaming under his lenses. He’s grown older, the lines of his face getting deeper, more textured. The crows feet between his brows is more prominent now.

“Ford-“ Susan plops your plate down in front of you, a heaping steak with eggs over-medium and potatoes. She puts a bottle of hot sauce on the table and winks,

“What brings you back here, hun? Seen your momma yet?”

You nod, a lie. “Just up here for work, Susan. Writing about the Windsor girl.”

Her smile drops, a flush of red creeping up her puffy cheeks. “Oh, that was a horrible thing. Poor girl, I can’t believe it.”

You nod, poking your egg yolk till it pops and spills golden liquid all over your potatoes. There’s a beat of intense silence, it’s uncomfortable.

“Well, I best let you enjoy your dinner, hun.” She waves her red acrylics and smiles, turning around to busy herself with the register.

When you look back at Ford he’s still star-struck, almost as if he’s looking at someone’s faded memory of you. He stands quickly from his booth, collecting his newspaper and book. He dresses almost the exact same as he did in college; dawning a soft red turtleneck, slate colored khaki’s, and a beige trenchcoat. His hair is still long, the ends fluffed up and starting to grey. Streaks of white striping like paint. His eyes were tired, heavy bags that were almost purple. He looked exhausted.

For a moment, you think he’ll walk past you without saying anything. Thinking that after all this time, he’d not want to speak to you. You’d rather that than make painful small talk about your life.

But he stays, sliding into your booth with nothing more than a shy, “Hello, it’s been a while.”

You nod, sipping your tap water. The tension is unbearable, you have no idea where to start or end or if you should even be talking to him in the first place. Things didn’t end so sweetly.

“Listen-“

“I-“

You both speak at the same time, blinking hard and looking down. You breath in, almost choking on the smell of a burning skillet and the insufferable feelings molded on your stomach.

“How have you been, Stanford?”

You offer this, a small olive branch.

He gives this grin that’s more of a grimace. Smoothing his hands over his journal, he can’t see the way you grip the booth cushion. He nods, “I’ve uh, I’m good. Research is going good.”

Always awkward, even in college. He was a nerdy little thing, more boy than man. So wrapped up in his books and notes and anomalies. You liked it, you were obsessed with the way he was so passionate. No one back home did anything with their lives except smoke, drink, and gossip.

At first, you hated him. Hated his ego and how he thought everyone around him was a sorry excuse and a waste of space. Something changed, things happened, you hate-fucked and bit one another, then you thought about how secretly sweet he was. You remember your first kiss with him, how he held your face and you panted into each others mouths.

“How did you end up here?” You ask, stabbing a potato with your fork. How long has he been here? Becoming infected with your town; grocery shopping where you first worked, strolling through the park you beat up a bully on, passing by your elementary school. How long has he lived in the place you wanted to forget existed?

“I, um, I moved here right after we graduated. Built a cabin, started my research, even had Fiddleford come help me a bit.”

Fiddleford, your cookie-cutter southern country boy. He was interesting, thick accent and smarter than most. You hung around him when you were seeing Stanford. They were buddies, college roommates, and now you learned - research partners.

Your food was growing cold, you could not stomach any of it. A rotting feeling of apathy was gnawing at your stomach. Ford waved his hands in the air, “Enough about me, how are you? Why are you here?”

It makes a fish-hook bite of anger pierce through you.

“I’m from here.” You mumble, shoving a forkful of runny eggs and potato in your mouth. Ford’s eyes widen, like a slap of realization.

“Right. Right you are, I had-“ forgotten. He had forgotten almost everything about you. You expected as much.

“You haven’t been up here in a long time.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating the obvious. You knew that if he was here since college and you weren’t such a coward, you’d have seen him sooner. Perhaps, you would have come up to reconcile had you known. A falseness you tell yourself.

“You mentioned you’re writing about the Windsor girl, how’s that going?”

You flick your eyes to his neck, trying to look anywhere but his eyes, it’s mostly shielded by his red turtleneck. But you see the creeping of an ugly hickey, dark maroon splotches sucked like leeches onto his skin. You clench your jaw.

“Fine, all’s fine. Gotta interview a couple people. Why? You knew her?”

Ford sips at some coffee leftover, eyeing you over the rim. You’re different now. So… sullen. He still remembers the softness of your voice, even now with the rasp of time and cigarettes. You’ve still got that snappy little bite, the one that had him wrapped around your finger.

“No. Never met her.”

There’s a trickle of something faintly sulphuric in the air, you think you’re hallucinating or Susan has burnt yet another hot cake. Probably just tired from today. Ford gives you a small smile the lifts the corner of his lips.

You and Ford make more pitiful conversation on the way to your car. It slowly dissolves into something that could be considered good-natured. A distant association, something platonic.

“Where you staying?”

Where indeed. You could go back to the motel but you haven’t got much money. Or you could stay with your mother. You grimaced at the thought and Ford notices your contemplation. You might just sleep in your car.

“Could stay the night with me.” He shrugs, hands deep in his pockets as the nighttime breeze drifts through the air. You look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Not like that!-“ he holds his hands up, “I have a spare bedroom.”

You nod, toeing the dirt path with the toe of your boot. It’s like being in college all over again.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles, gesturing to your car.

“I’ll give you directions.”

You take your keys out and unlock your driver door, “You didn’t drive here?”

He shakes his head, “No, I was out collecting specimens for my research.”

His research, he never did tell you what exactly he was studying. You shrug, “Okay then, hop in.”

-

Stanford’s cabin is out of the way of town. Far out into the woods, surrounded in towering trees and foliage, you pull of the main road and onto a dirt one. A clearing in view, there sits his home.

It’s nothing special, simple construction with a lopsided roof and creaky splintering wood. It looks haunted, you don’t say that out loud though. That would be rude and you don’t want to be rude to the man about to share his home with you, no matter how dark and creepy it looks from the outside.

Inside isn’t much better, it’s hardly decorated. You almost chuckle in a way, it’s so similar to your own apartment. Papers and notes are tacked into the walls, jars and bottles of strange things are lining tables and shelves. He has warm citrus colored lightbulbs, it illuminates around the cabin and makes it glow with an orangey hue.

“I apologize for the mess, I don’t have many visitors.”

He scrambles to collect notes and papers strewn like confetti, huffing at the state of his home. You wave him off, “Nah, don’t worry about it.”

You’re getting eye level with his shelf; there’s jars of eyeballs, mysterious goo that shimmers iridescent, and other weird stuff.

“What is all this?” Ford straightens his back, adjusting his glasses.

“My research. I’m here investigating the anomalies of Gravity Falls.”

You purse your lips, a strange feeling creeps into your body.

“What do you mean?”

Ford gives you a stifled look that screams ‘really? Gonna play that game?’ And you shrink away.

“Are you saying you never experienced weirdness here? Strange things in the woods?”

The woods. Blonde hair, hanging entrails, missing teeth. Your breath quickens, you feel yourself sinking. Everything is fuzzy and you can’t breathe, he shouldn’t be poking around a place like this. He touches your shoulder and you flinch harder than you should.

“No! No, the only thing weird around here is how the people are so fucking happy to die in this shithole.” You swipe his hand away from you, flashes of childhood summers spent exploring those woods.

When you would wade in the creek with your head poking out to watch the gargantuan wooden monsters slowly drag themselves through the forest. Creatures that would follow just two steps behind you, cracking joints each time they moved. Monsters that would take shape of familiar animas, then skitter away when you got close. Screams would echo throughout the evergreens, things unseen. How can anyone witness a tree falling if they didn’t hear it?

Ford retracts his hand, looking at you with worry. Eyes softened, lips slightly parted, brows furrowed. You hate it. You hate when people look at you with pity and anguish, like you’re a soft underbelly of a doe waiting to be sliced open.

You shudder, “I’m sorry, sorry. I just, I’m tired. This case got me all worked up.”

You rub your own arms in comfort, avoiding to look at Ford in his big watery browns. He nods, “of course, I’ll show you to the room.”

He leads you gently to the spare, bag in hand and other on the small of your back. The room is clean, neat, and painfully sterile. Devoid of any personality or substance. It’ll do just fine.

“Not many people use this, sheets are clean and there’s a bathroom down the hall to the left. I’m only the next door down.”

You nod slowly, the wearing exhaustion is making your head throb and your bones ache from sitting for so long. Ford pats your shoulder, “don’t be afraid to knock on my door if things go bump in the night.”

You want to hit him. He chuckles at your sour frown, turning to leave you when you call out to him.

“Thank you, Stanford. I really do appreciate it.”

He gives a half-pained, half-sincere smile and walks into his room. You hear the clicking of his lock, you do the same.

There is an ominous silence that makes the cabin, so deathly quiet that you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You scramble to turn on the lamp, exhaling in relief at the warm glow on your face.

Ford is next door, you are not with your mother, things are fine. You are fine. You will not acknowledge the scratching at the walls, nor the tapping at the window. You will pretend everything is normal, that this town is normal, that you are normal.

You fall into a restless sleep, tossing and turning until you succumb. Ford is prowling, just beyond your bedroom, he has slipped outside into the cool night and has disappeared into the woods.

You won’t even know he’s gone by the time you wake up in the morning.

[princessbrunette]

would you please write more for modern ani I love him sm

poorly edited ani with ugly tattoos and piercings but you get the gist ….. have some headcanons

minors + ageless blogs dni im so serious

♡ he’s always in your reach. whether he’s your best friends brother, the guy that works at the garage or tattoo shop, the guy in your lectures that shows up every few classes to sit at the back and chew on his pen whilst somehow knowing the answer to every question. he’s mysterious, but everywhere.

♡ you see more of his tongue that you thought you might. always peaking out to fiddle with the snakebite piercings below his rosy bottom lip when he’s concentrated, or bulging into his cheek when he lets out a sarcastic or pissed off chuckle when someone’s running their mouth. you overhear him speaking with a friend, instructing “just make your tongue flat if it’s too sensitive and more pointed if they need more pressure. i don’t fucking know, it’s not hard.” and you wonder if he’s talking about what you think he’s talking about.

♡ he takes interest in you because of your soft edges and kind eyes and well, the fact you’re his total opposite. he thinks it’s funny to sit on a plush pink duvet surrounded by ‘pointless’ throw cushions and decorative plushies and blankets whilst he’s dressed in all black with his chronic resting bitch face. okay, funny isn’t the word. he thinks it’s sexy.

♡ he’s a little mean but never cruel. grumpy would describe him more accurately. not a morning person, and shoots daggers at anyone who makes loud noises before 10AM. he’s teasing you and poking fun at you before he starts flirting with you properly because he just can’t help himself, bullying is how he flirts. but don’t get it twisted, once he’s in a relationship with you he is uncharacteristically the worlds biggest simp known to man.

♡ obsessive and possessive. you’re both aware it’s not his best trait, but you secretly like it and he knows that. his love language is essentially threatening to kill anyone who looks at you let alone lays eyes on you. if you’re ranting about your day and happened to tell him about someone giving you attitude, it would become very “you’re lucky i wasn’t there, would have beat the fuck out of him.” fast. will also shamelessly pull you closer to him when another guy looks at you, and side eye you with the worst attitude if you dare laugh a little harder than usual at a man’s jokes.

♡ always stuffing his dirty blonde curls under backwards caps, but let’s you take it off him so you can run your fingers through them at the end of the day. he’s a sucker for a head massage. will repay you by making you cum on his fingers.

♡ he’s the cool boyfriend. determined to win over your family even if his tattooed / pierced appearance is a concern. compliments your mothers cooking, talks about sports with your dad, bonds over video games with your little brother or buys your sister that thing she was talking about last time he saw her. even let’s your grandma pinch his cheeks and call him handsome (but if grandmas coming round, he wears long sleeves and takes out his piercings. anything for grandma.) if you don’t get on with your family, he becomes your family and practically kidnaps you into his own.

♡ wont let you pay for anything. respectfully, he does not care if paying is your love language— he was raised to pay for his girl and that’s what he’ll do, arguments be damned. he’ll take extra shifts to be able to spoil you, coming home with grease smeared on him from the garage, kissing your cheek before heading off to shower, transferring “a little something” to your bank account after you were rambling about that skims dress you wanted or whatever it was.

♡ constantly wearing sweatpants and looks damn good wearing them too. black sweatpants mostly, but he pulls out the grey ones when he’s trying extra hard to get laid that night. same goes for basketball shorts, walking around your apartment wearing them with no shirt on, no underwear beneath the shorts, thick and long length practically swinging around. he chuckles when you gasp and call him a slut.

♡ he plays basketball and soccer, always has. but his favourite pastime has got to be pool. he’s become a champion at his best friends pool table— bringing you round to showcase his effortless skill and teach you (mainly because he won’t pass up the opportunity to see you bent over a table and feel you up.)

♡ always needs your full attention when he speaks, so if your eyes drift off from him when he’s talking to you he won’t hesitate to gently grip your jaw and pull your face back to look at him. he’ll do it infront if anyone he doesn’t care, minus your parents of course.

♡ puts in the WORK during sex. he is competitive with himself, and a perfectionist — so he won’t be satisfied until he’s knows you inside out. this means he’s incredibly vocal, if he’s not asking you if you like what he’s doing (“that feel good, pretty? talk t’me i wanna hear you.”) he’s praising you for being responsive (“good girl, good fucking girl. i know baby, you like that shit huh.”)

♡ pussy eating king. will even wear the white tshirt with pink font spelling “PROUD MUNCH” across the chest when he goes out with you that you got him. thinks it’s funny yeah, but likes everyone to know you’re taken care of.

♡ listens to fuckboy music around the clock. when he picks you up in his car, best believe you can hear that brent faiyaz coming from a mile away. his taste is pretty broad though, he just loves the sexy r&b to be blasting when you’re being his pretty little passenger princess.

[snazzynacho]

Dad!Diego Hargreeves headcanons

Pt1/?

I might write a full length fic of this, I’ll see how I feel. I’m still new to writing for Diego/tua btw.

Warnings: mention of adoption/fostering. SFW obviously 🤷🏻‍♀️

Masterlist.

Read on ao3

LOOK AT HOW CUTE THIS IS^

So it’s already established that he is a Girl Dad™ which is the most canon thing they ever did for season 4 LMAO

If you already have a kid from a previous relationship, he’d love them just as equally

Def insisted on growing a moustache as soon as you found out you were pregnant so he’d be dad ready™

This man constantly wanted a decent father figure, as all the other siblings wanted

But especially Diego, considering his stutter and all :(

So he’d love them so much and would do anything for them

This is his life motto fr:

I also think he’d be willing to go to therapy before you have kids so he can be the best father he can be

Would 100% insist on attending every single baby/pregnancy class

I also see him willing to be open for adoption/foster care <3 He’d love to be a good father figure to children who need one 🥺

Also if he met you after he had kids he’d be so cautious to introduce his kids to you

He’d want to make sure you’d be a good and willing parent

If his child ever had a stutter or anything similar (including neurodivergence) he’d want nothing but the best for them and would constantly tell them how much he loves them <3

He’s just so supportive <3

Like if they want to draw? he’s there to help them colour in (and would try to buy the best type of crayons/pens)

If they want a bedtime story read? He’d do it in a heartbeat 🥺

He just would be so happy to do anything with them

Def would step up and change nappies/diapers

He’d be complaining about it the whole time but deep down he’d want to help

He’s INSANELY protective

Like he just worries all the time

This can lead to him being overbearing

But it’s never because he’s strict. He just wants to protect them and if he sees he’s actually doing the opposite of making them feel protected and supported, he’d tone it down (after a word from you of course)

Road trip dad™ (baby shark trauma)

Finds fun ways to get the kids to eat their veggies

He prides himself on being able to “fight” the imaginary monster under the kid’s beds

He’s like *superman pose* “don’t worry kids, dad is on the rescue!”

The kids would ask how he’s so good at fighting the monster and he’d be so careful not to tell them anything about his vigilante days😭

Like the kids do not need to be traumatised or scared of their own dad💀

When the kid(s) are slightly older (like almost 1) and they start to move around more he insists on baby proofing EVERYTHING

He’s buying all these over-priced equipment which you two really do not need and makes your credit card be in minus

He lets them wear his mask but he’s so protective of it

Like he only lets them wear it once in a while and if he’s watching them the whole time to make sure they don’t damage it

I’d say he’s quite iffy about letting them play with his knives and daggers

He definitely would wait until they’re older to teach them how to use them

I see him being a stay at home dad

Maybe you both try to make it work (like in the show) but ultimately your family works best if he’s a stay at home dad

He’d learn to be so patient with them when helping with homework <3

Especially considering he knows what struggling with something is like (his stutter) <3

Omg he loves sports days so much

He’d be cheering so loud

“THAT’S MY BOY/GIRL!”

And when it’s the parents turn to join in, NO ONE is more determined to win than he is

He’d secretly enjoy when his kid puts makeup on him

In fact I think he’d grow to love it so much to the point he’d be excited when your kid asks to put makeup on him

He even asks first sometimes

He’d put on high heels and the whole look too (💅💁🏻‍♀️this pose and everything)

When they start school, he’d be taking SO MANY PICTURES

Sentimental king

He just wants to have pictures of so many happy memories of his family

Instead of the few ones he grew up with (those pics of the umbrella academy in the newspapers don’t count bc let’s face it, those aren’t proper family photos bc they were just for press) </3

You both definitely have a big photo album

Maybe he even makes it into a scrapbook (that is so cute)

And makes it a family bonding moment where everyone gets to design their own page

He’d love cooking/baking with his kids and you

(Why is me writing all this making me emotional omg)

Maybe I’ll make a part 2 if I think of anymore ideas.

If u enjoyed this check out my tua blog @nacho-hargreeves and maybe I’ll post more Diego content here (we are starving).

Reblogs are appreciated 🫶

[spaceorphan18]

Because I have more feelings I need to express...

One of the aspects I love LOVE about Penelope and Colin is not only that they have a shared love of writing, but writing is an integral part of their romance. It's another way they connect, and it's, arguably, one of the reasons they fell in love with each other.

I have to wonder - who wrote who first? What prompted Colin to start writing Penelope along with his family while he was in Greece? Clearly, she was already like a part of the family -- I'm sure she and Eloise were inseparable from the time they were children. She was always there - always around - always seeing him. So did he write her as he did the rest of his family?

Or did Penelope start writing him? She would be bold enough and already in love enough to do it. Especially after Eloise (and the rest of the Bridgertons) grew bored of his letters.

Think of the correspondence they had over that summer and how intimately you can be with letters - because they're a private thing, between you and one other person. Think of the fact that it's a way they could both be themselves in a world where neither of them really feel like they're being seen, or taken seriously. Think of all the in jokes and adventures they share and how they both look forward to receiving a letter from the other. The spring in their step after they see the letter has arrived.

Think about how they connect with each other through the medium they're most passionate about!

It's no wonder Penelope didn't bonk him on the nose after he got back and claims the person he discovered was himself over her...

I'm sure if an outsider read those letters, they may not contain flowery language, but the love they have for one another would already be there.

But then think about the next year... When Colin is traveling Europe, and despite all of the new experiences he's having, it's still important that he tells her all about it. And how lonely it is when he doesn't hear back from her. Meanwhile, every time Penelope receives one of those letters it's like a little dagger in her heart. I wonder if she even read them, or if she put them all in a chest and lock it up tight so she wouldn't face it.

And I love that when Colin goes back to reread all of her letters again, not only is he discovering how Lady Whistledown is a part of her, but he's falling in love with her all over again. Eloise was right when she said that until he understands that she is LW, he can't possibly fully love her. But maybe more so, can't fully understand that he was already fully in love with her.

God, and there's so much more to the writing aspect -- how each of them uses writing as expression. How Pen sharing LW is ultimately as intimate as Colin sharing his journal. The fact that who they are is tied up in writing, and how there is somewhat of a jealousy and insecurity coming from Colin when it comes to the LW reveal, because she is already successful at the one thing he feels good at. The fact that, though, after they work through that they'll indulge in supporting each other's writing.

The writing aspect is just... so romantic to me (says the writer herself). And I love the idea that - not only will they continue to support each other's individual writing pursuits but I can only imagine the kind of correspondence they'll have when they're apart. Their letters will continue to be a way for them to not only express how they feel about each other, but will be a comfort to them when there is distance between them.

I probably could write a novel (ha!) on this subject, but time eludes me. Ug, though - just... love expressed in writing and used as connection. It gets me.

[lady-buggerinton]

absolutely don't think about the fact that Pen didn't write to Colin likely not just because she was very mad at what he said, but also because now that she had heard him laugh at the idea of courting her so openly, she was probably petrified at the thought that he had been responding to her letters out of politeness!! and not out of a real desire to write and communicate with her, and we know one thing Penelope hates is to be pitied!!!!

There's also set up for this idea with Prudence and Portia expressing disbelief at her writing him in ep 1 of s2, "He wouldn't waste his ink on you", Prudence says, and Pen can only respond with "He's my friend!" The fact that that is her only defense against the idea of his indifference to her, her belief in his respect and care for her. Without that reassurance that he does want to write her after the Featherington ball, she probably remembers what her family said about their correspondence and likely thinks that they were right, that he pities her.

She cares so much about manners AND connections between people, she of course didn't want to be that tackless girl who puts a man in an uncomfortable position because she can't take a hint, so she just stopped!She probably didn't even think he would notice oh my god!!!!

There are hints that there are beginnings of hope in her during s2, at the races they seem so familiar and close, referencing their letters and how they are up to date on each other's lives, her about his more than anyone else. Knowing that later, Pen thinks this perceived closeness is simply politeness, indulgence, and nothing else. During the confrontation at the four seasons ball she states resolutely to him that she knows she embarrasses him.

This is not true at all, but she had fully created a version of him in her head that didn' want to be associated with her, and how could you write to someone you know is capable at laughing at your expense? About courting nonetheless!! what were their letters other than a form of courting!! and hearing him rebuke that must be like a dagger to the heart for her.

She cares so much about manners AND connections between people, she of course didn't want to be that tackless girl who puts a man in an uncomfortable position because she can't take a hint, so she just stopped!She probably didn't even think he would notice oh my god!!!! anyway LETTERS PLOT REIGN SUPREME

[cemeteryspider]

Strings of Fate: The Puppet-Master

Luke Castellan x Child of Poseidon!/Blood-Bender! Reader

Summary: The reader finds themself in the throws of a God's war, learning about themself and the world around them. They decide the confide in Luke Castellan about their unique ability to manipulate the water in blood.

~Sorry if Luke is a little OOC I tried my best~

Trigger Warnings: Self-harm *one instance and is healed quickly*, Canon Typical Violence, Blood, Loss of a Loved One *Sally Jackson*, and Emotional Distress

As Sally Jackson’s oldest child, I've always been a little overprotective of my little brother Percy Jackson. This included taking the fall for him at school so his transcript stayed as clean as possible. I became a force to be reckoned with because people beat up on Percy, and after a while, no one wanted to mess with Percy’s psycho older sibling. Or at our latest school when Percy stabbed through his pre-algebra teacher with a gleaming golden sword that was a ballpoint pen the moment before, and I tried my best to mitigate the situation.

After that, life was a blur. Going to the cabin and learning about our dad was a crazy moment because Mom rarely spoke about him. Yet, we were utterly unprepared for the loss of our mother.   

“You are my children, brave the storm. I love you.”

Then we were running away from our mom and away from the minotaur. We saw Sally Jackson turn to dust in the minotaur’s grasp, and in a second, Percy was running back and fighting the minotaur. Grover grabbed my arm and shook his head at me, but I ripped away and ran towards the only family I know I have left.

On his back, holding one of the minotaur’s horns in his hands and groaning, I shouted at the thing towering over him ready to strike in a moments notice.

“Hey! Get away from him!”

It turned toward me and huffed at me. For a moment I was scared, then I started throwing rocks. I was angry and used as much force possible. Then it grasped me in its fist like mom and started to squeeze. I began to give up, but then something spoke to me.

“Reach out, Y/n, take control.”

Following the advice literally, I extended my hand toward the minotaur. Closing my eyes, I waited, striving for control. Its hold around me loosened, and I found myself taking a look at what’s happening around me. I got a glimpse of the minotaur’s blood flowing from its nose into the air. Percy jumped into the air and stabbed the back of the minotaur’s skull with its own horn.

~~~

Luke put his arm around my shoulders when I stopped reciting the story and gave me a little squeeze.

“Hey, it's gonna be okay. We’re going to figure this out together.”

I tucked my face in the crook of his neck and kept crying. The night was cool around us in the woods near the cabins.

“I’m so scared, and I just don’t know what’s happening to me. I mean, what am I supposed to do? I’m just trying to keep it together for Percy because he’s already scared and upset, but I’m scared and upset too, Luke.”

He put his hand on my head and threaded his fingers through my hair. Luke let me cry until I calmed down, and I decided I wanted to show him.

“Give me your dagger…”

“What?”

“Please, I need to prove it to myself… I’m not crazy.”

He slid the dagger from his sheath and flipped it to hand me the hilt. I quickly and carefully split the inside of my palm open. Luke took a sharp intake of breath as I squeezed my hand into a fist.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

I unclenched my fist and focused on the cut. I closed my eyes and let myself be in control.

“How the Hades are you doing that?”

Again, I allowed my eyes to open, and my blood was flowing around my hand and into the air. After a deep breath, my blood hit the floor of the forest.

“Come here.”

He held out his hand, and I took it in my not bloody one as he led me to a small creek not too far away. He submerged my hand into the creek, and it started to heal immediately.

“Thanks, Luke. I just… I’m not crazy.”

“I believed you before, you know.”

“Maybe I didn’t,” I said quietly.

He enveloped me in his arms, and I allowed myself to fall apart completely. After all this time of keeping Percy out of trouble and protecting him, it felt nice to be held and taken care of.

“Come on, let's get you to bed, and we’ll talk in the morning. Okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

After a minute, he pulled away and led me by the hand to Cabin 3 carefully, avoiding the harpies looking for campers out of bed.

“Could you stay?”

“I can do that, as long as you don’t mind getting up a little early and waking up Hermes Cabin.”

“Yeah, I can do that with you.”

“I’m going to sleep in Percy’s bed so I don’t crowd you, you know.”

“Yeah, just with Percy gone, it’s lonely… I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t sharing a room with someone.”

“I’ll be here. Get to sleep, I’m sure you’re tired.”

I tiredly climbed into my bed as Luke climbed into the bed that Percy slept in not a day ago. As I went to sleep, I heard Luke’s soft breaths fill the cabin.

~~~

I woke up with a start, and Luke had his hand on my arm.

“Hey, Hey, you’re okay. You just had a bad dream Darling. You’re okay. Take some deep breaths.”

I quickly blinked, vaguely remembering the nightmare I had. I saw Mom disintegrating into nothing, and then Percy in the minotaur’s fist, life draining from his eyes and disintegrating into nothing. Particles of ash mingling with Mom’s.

“Breathe with me, Y/n. In and out. In and out.”

I slowly matched my erratic breathing with his, and as the minutes went by, I started to calm down.

“See, you’re okay. I promise everything is okay. You’re safe.”

“T-thank you, Luke… Sorry for waking you up.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I just want to help you, Darling.”

“Still…”

A couple more deep breaths.

“Are you okay now, darling?”

“I’m okay now, thank you.”

“I’m gonna go back to sleep so I can get up in a few hours, okay?”

He took one step, and I reached for his hand.

“Could you… hold me, please?”

He just smiled at me and lifted the covers to get underneath.

[linddzz]

Here an assortment of Facts About Morpheus in the Red Flags AU. Where I'm starting to lean more towards the version where they meet and are already into each other before the ""Fake Date"" Incident:

-Jessamy is the raven he took care of when he found her injured outside of his townhome. He now has a room with a window he often keeps open for her to fly into whenever she feels like it. I don't know how legal any of this is in London but tbh it doesn't matter because he also does not know what the laws are and doesn't care.

- His townhome is very dark maximalist in decor, which tends to surprise people at first. There are houseplants and little statues all over, and the walls are hidden behind millions of bookshelves. There is an art studio room and books scattered everywhere. Very recently, hypothetical visitors would notice a lot of child locks and child proofed areas that have a bit of a panicked "I bought every safety thing in the store bc I have no idea wtf I'm doing" energy to them.

- He has a therapist. Yes, the Morpheus that Hob meets is the upgraded version who is actually working on himself already. This is what the improved personal growth version of Morpheus is like.

Anyway, said therapist is Gilbert F. Greene. Because Morpheus going head to head with an unstoppable force of old timey adorable optimism who will also not take his shit is delightful. Dr. Greene insists on going by first names and Morpheus always makes "Gilbert" sound like a slur in retaliation. Some conversations I imagine include:

"Good morning Gilbert, you will never guess who had what you might call a """relapse into self destructive behaviors"""" last night."

"I am very sorry to hear that my dear boy. Let me say though, that I am so very proud of you for calling me! That is a phenomenal step for you and it's wonderful that you are being proactive in your recovery."

"Don't patronize me Gilbert. I will hang up."

(this ended up being super long so I'm just gonna spare y'all's dash. Warning for some lightly touched on mentions of drug use and self destructive behavior.)

- Him getting a therapist was part of the requirements for gaining visitation rights and then weekend custody once a month with Orpheus. The therapy is actually helping, and he's bitter about that.

- His given name is actually Dream, he goes by his middle name. All the Endless siblings have awful names. Desire goes by Adonai because who calls a fucking child Desire???

When Hob meets the rest of the family, Destiny goes "it's good to see you again, Dream" and Hob begins turning to Morpheus like "lmao who tf is named Dream" only to find Morpheus glaring daggers at his brother.

- The Endless parents are rarely around. Some of the siblings still live in the manor and they all use it for family dinners, but it's common for their parents to be off travelling for years at a time.

- Morpheus is an author and a painter who has a bajillion pen names to go with each genre he writes in, so it's hard to figure out exactly how much he's written. Even before becoming a father though, his face and full name is mostly associated with children's fantasy stories that he illustrates himself, and his Art vs Artist vibe is very Miyazaki.

Him and Calliope collaborated on a series of illustrated poetic translations of ancient epics. Their divorce was exactly as messy as one might imagine the divorce between two passionate artist types might be.

- His downward spiral of self destruction started before the divorce but oh boy did it nosedive during and after.

- When she got pregnant after divorce proceedings had started, there was a moment where they were both meeting with lawyers and one asked something along the lines of if this meant they would try for reconciliation and staying together. Calliope said "no" immediately.

It's not like Morpheus exactly thought they would get back together, but the speed and firmness of that hard "no" had his head screaming with white noise and some badly thought out self medication for months, which ended up being why Calliope got full custody and he is just now able to get more involved with the now two year old Orpheus.

- His rebound with Thessaly was also messy. She was just in it for a fun fling and he was... Morpheus. He found out he got dumped when she informed him she was already in the process of moving back to Greece, and Johanna said he needed to be banned from any more beautiful Greek expats from that day forth.

- No one can figure out what the deal is with him and Lucienne. The simple explanation is they're queerplatonic soul mates. Lucienne's wife Gault thinks they're a bit codependent (not an inaccurate assessment), but is more civil with him since the day she yelled at him to go get an actual therapist instead of constantly putting his shit on Lucienne, and he actually did. (It is unclear if this or Calliope demanding therapy for him to get visitation with Orpheus was his wake up call catalyst, but probably a bit of both.)

- Lucienne was originally a personal assistant. She now works as his editor since she seems to be the only person who can keep track of all the shit he's written. She is also the only person who can get away with critiquing his works in progress without sending him into a fit where he might burn all his manuscripts.

- When Morpheus started mentioning this Gadling guy a lot, Lucienne paid a visit to the pub. Not to do anything so crude as to threaten a man's life if he breaks her sensitive friend's heart. What could she do anyway? No no. She's just here to smile with zero trace of humor and ask some questions while looking him up and down through her spectacles. Hob will later describe this as one of the most pants shitting moments of his life, and he felt like he got transformed back into a primary school kid who talked slightly too loudly in the library.

- Morpheus went through a slutty phase during and shortly after University that was less of a healthy and fun exploration of his sexuality and libido, and a bit more "I will take anyone who will have me in any way they will want me and I know that if nothing else, I'm pretty."

- Him and Johanna used to have a game seeing who could get more free drinks in one night. This had to be put to an end when it turned into the catalyst for at least three screaming fights between them.

Fight subjects were

Quality vs Quantity. Morpheus insists his ability to get people to buy him a single glass of wine that costs £50 beats Johanna's cheap beers. Johanna disagreed. loudly.

Is it cheating when Morpheus ran to the bathroom to smudge on some eyeliner and then stole Johanna's lip gloss? Is it further cheating when Johanna realized that his main method of getting drinks was "act like Adonai"? Accusations that he would ever act like his horrid annoying younger sibling sent Morpheus into an absolute tantrum.

Competitiveness DID overcome sibling rivalry enough for Morpheus to go to Adonai for makeover assistance. This backfired because it made Morpheus hot to the point of intimidating, and Johanna won that night.

- After Hob starts flirting with him, Morpheus goes suspiciously into a Romantic, Pre-Raphaelite inspired art era featuring lots of noble knights with dark sunlit hair. A lot of them seem to be lured in by dark haired fae entities all La Belle Sans Merci style. It's disgustingly obvious.

-Therapy has made him juuuuust self aware enough to know that he MAYBE tends to go a bit hard and fast with romance. This makes him a little more cautious with Hob than he usually would be, and he's doing a bit of "Hob is so nice and sweet and interested but I'm gonna mess it up :(((" pining. Everyone around him is fucking sick of it. He is not self aware enough to realize he's still going super hard and fast, but this time he's doing it while sighing sadly and drawing Hob in his sketchbook all the fucking time.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hello! I recently read your Rites of Cybertron post about the major thirteen holidays for the original Thirteen Primes, but there were only twelve holidays in the post. Is there a holiday for Solus? What would it be like?

WHOOPS totally forgot Solus in my tired writing haze. Here the link to the previous post.

The Rite of Embers

Solus Prime is a legendary figure in Cybertronian mythology. She represents life, creativity, femininity, fertility, and so much more. Her core symbolism shifts entirely depending on city and world (in the case of Caminus particularity). However, there has been one great holiday reserved for her and her great deeds.

The cycle is dedicated to connection and healing. It is a holiday for those with bonds, lovers, friends, family, anyone who has worldly connection. It begins days before the actual holiday as every bot prepares a gift to give to someone special. It is traditional to make a gift personally, but that doesn't stop mecha from hawking their wares deca-cycles in advance. Despite that, most do craft their own gifts and prepare to offer them at first light on the cycle of the rite. Most of the time, the young prepare simple things such as armor attachments and small tools with symbols carved into them. Mentors will offer their wards things that are useful, a way to show their young one that they care while also preparing them for the world ahead of them. Meanwhile friends and lovers will exchange items of personal significance, usually objects that mean nothing to others.

It is a special thing to take a gift. Usually it is something that can be worn or otherwise carried without issue, and so mecha make a point of showing off their gifts. Once gifts have been received, mecha take time to dedicate to working on something together. Solus was a Prime of the forge. It is only right that her holiday allow bonded bots to work to create something together. Families will often prepare meals, especially if they are poorer. Younger companions will usually create jewelry or be "rebellious" by painting each other as a way to show that they helped "forge" the other. Lovers and friends will generally use their respective skillsets to produce items that showcase their unity. Ratchet, Jazz, and Orion Pax made quite a few elegant dagger pens that also doubled as scalpels.

The Rite of Embers ends with every bot, young and old, building a fire, large or small. They then pray beside it, not moving until the fire has burned down to embers in remembrance of Solus Prime's mighty life and unfortunate fall. Those who adhere to the old faith will skip the gift giving entirely and instead use their great bonfires to forge weapons and tools, each made unique. They do this to remember Solus's purpose and kindness in arming her brethren. They take her example very seriously.

[robbinghisdick]

Slade descending off his dragon to present Dick with an engagement present a dragon egg(Nightwing)

(I got carried away)

The dragon can be spotted in the distance long before it arrives. Even without the distinctive black and gold scales, there was only one uninvited dragon rider bold enough to even try.

"We can react defensively," Bruce offers, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "We are well within our rights to shoot down a potential threat."

Dick was half tempted to agree but sighs and shakes his head. "Let him come."

For nearly a year now, Slade Wilson had made his interest in the crown Prince of Gotham well known. On paper alone it was a scandalous proposal. Slade was a disgraced noble from another kingdom, old enough to haved fathered Dick himself. Already married once with children and divorced after the reveal of a bastard child. His status was only upheld by his many connections and vicious warrior spirit.

It wasn't very long ago when Dick was a victim of Slade's ferocity. Dick wasn't an idle prince and was often out and about in his own country. There were a few run ins with Slade that had been particularly nasty. Swords clashed, and after a few times, Slade had almost seemed to enjoy himself.

Since then a truce had been made and they hadn't seen each other until a ball held by a mutual ally.

Dick had been certain Slade asked him to dance just to make him squirm, and he had only accepted out of courtesy. It was a whispered, catty exchange, leaning in perhaps a bit too close to avoid the ears of nosey gossips.

When they parted, Slade had kissed Dick's hand and met his eyes with the slightest smile and a purred, "I'll be seeing you soon."

Dick took it as a threat.

When an offer for marriage arrived just days later, the whole family seemed to share a similar disbelief.

"He's absolutely still trying to kill you," Damian said. "Or trying to humiliate you."

"Definitely a powerplay," Jason agreed.

The offer was neither rejected nor accepted.

It wasn't expected to answer a marriage offer immediately in any case. There was supposed to be time to allow for consideration and negotiation. Time to court.

The last thing Dick had been expecting for Slade to actually court him. He'd intended to ignore the marriage offer altogether. An offer made in contempt did not deserve the respect of an official rejection.

Then the gifts came. They started out small and reasonable like rings and fancy pen sets, but escalated into carefully crafted daggers and a frustratingly beautiful sword. Dick never carried any of them on his person, knowing that doing so would be an unofficial acceptance.

The one that felt the most like an engagement ring was the dragon scale necklace, a gorgeous piece Dick had been tempted to wear on more than one occasion, proposal be damned.

Between these gifts, they saw each other a handful of times. Slade left very little unclear about his intentions during those brief meetings. He had Dick dance with him if appropriate at social gatherings and challenged him to a sparring session if away from whispering courts. Either way, he could feel the stares from others. Dick was already a hot topic, and not rejecting Slade's public advances certainly wasn't helping.

Slade had only come to the kingdom once before and that had been to speak with the King. That time he had sent a note in advance and arrived by horse. As the marriage offer hadn't been answered, it was due for an in-person meeting.

It wasn't "proper" for Dick to be involved in his own marriage negotiation, sent off by his father as he spoke with Slade.

In the ene, Bruce hadn't accepted or denied anything on Dick's behalf. There was quiet judgement and an unasked question of why Dick hadn't told Bruce to reject the offer.

As Slade flew in closer to the castle, Dick knew that Slade wanted an answer. He was done waiting.

When he landed, Dick firmly told the guards to stand back and approached Slade alone. He knew somewhere his siblings and father were doubtlessly watching him through a window. There was no privacy with Slade making such a grand entrance.

There was a heavy thud! of Slade's boots hitting the ground as he dismounted the dragon. It took a good bit of self-control to not marvel at the beast and keep his gaze steady on the man in front of him.

"Hello, little bird," Slade greets, the nickname sounding more endearing than mocking as of late.

"If you wanted attention, you've certainly gotten it," Dick says instead of greeting Slade properly. "This is bold, even for you."

Slade let out a snort, eyebrow raising at the informal behavior. "Maybe I'm tired of waiting."

"Maybe you should've given up."

The man took a few steps closer, towering over Dick, "I'm a very persistent man," he says, voice low and a grin on his face. "And you haven't told me no."

Dick's gaze didn't waver as his head titled up to hold his stare.

Slade looks away only to reach for something at his waist, a satchel that hadn't gone unnoticed by Dick when the man first approached. It likely held another courting gift, Dick assumed.

Out of all the things Dick had been anticipating, a dragon egg was not one of them. The surprise could not be kept from his expression as he stared at the dark egg, the crystalline black shell glittering spectacularly in the late afternoon light.

"Dragons lay an egg once a decade," Dick says faintly, stopping his hands from instinctively reaching for it as Slade holds it towards him. They were valuable beyond belief.

"It is custom for a spouse to ride beside me rather than with me."

Dick glances up to meet Slade's eye, part of him still not really believing that the man was truly serious in all of this. There wasn't a teasing smile on his face anymore, fully serious and awaiting Dick's next move.

Dick reached out and accepted the egg.

[trancylovecraft]

(AOEX) The Blood Of An Unwilling Covenant

PART 2 OF 8: Amaimon

(Yandere Platonic Demon Kings (Ba'al) x Reader)

SERIES SUMMARY:

BARISTA'S NOTE: heres amaimons part!! :D GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Blue Exorcist

☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★

LAST PART ,AO3 LINK, SERIES MASTERLIST, NEXT PART

"[F/N], If you could just think about it for a second.." The counsellor said, Resetting the devil-horn glasses upon her face.

The hum of the fluorescent lights above her droned into [F/N]'s ear like a cicada, The equally annoying rotations of the fan not doing much to soothe her headache either. It wasn't just the noise too but also the uncomfortably designed office chair that she lazed on, Digging into her back.

She was sat within the office of the youth centre's counsellor's office. A room with cool grey walls decorated with motivational posters with smiling faces and overly-positive quotes, Sunlight shining through the shutters onto the polished wooden floorings being the only lighting in here.

The counsellor herself was a rather dim looking woman with dark hair tied into a tidy bun, One that was as clean cut as the tailored grey suit she wore. Her posture straightened and perfect, Green eyes staring at her from behind the red rims of her pointed glasses.

A caring woman, One that meant the best at heart. Not in it for the money but certainly from a place of love and meaning. Though that didn't much to lighten [F/N]'s mood.

She sat lying upon the uncomfortable build of the chair, Much older than she was back then with her legs spread out and her arms folded in. She was sunken into her chair, Like she had just woken up from a nap upon it. Yet her eyes were wide open and rolled at the woman's words.

"I don't want to, No way." [F/N] huffed as she kicked her feet lightly at the desk of the counsellor. Whose red lipstick turned down into a frown as she sat in her office chair, Clicking her pen.

"There are families out there who want to adopt you, [F/N]. This couple seems to be a really good pick, High income and already have children of their own. They're interested in taking you in, Dear." The counsellor said, Sliding over a pamphlet towards [F/N].

[F/N] picked it up but she barely looked at it, Running her eyes over the information put down before huffing and pushing it back down.

"Yeah they seem lovely. But I don't care, I don't want to be adopted. I've got stuff to do here and it said there that they live all the way in Nagano." [F/N] explained, Almost exasperated as if it was the thousandth time she'd explained it. Tossing her head to the side and folding her arms once more.

The counsellor sighed, Looking down towards the top of her desk.

"[F/N].. I understand how you feel. Tetsuya's death was hard on all of us, But you need to understand that it was a wil-"

"IT WASN'T A WILD ANIMAL!" [F/N] slammed her fists down onto the table, Finally leaning up from her chair and staring daggers into the startled counsellor.

It stood for what seemed like minutes, Eyes connected to each other. The fire burning in [F/N]'s eyes however shook when she suddenly sighed, Then slumped over back into her chair.

The counsellor gulped, Making sure her glasses were in place before speaking once more.

"..I apologise, I shouldn't of brought it up.." She started, Shaking her head. "But I worry about you, [F/N]. You keep going out into those woods and barely spend any time here anymore, Not to mention your ramblings to your peers.."

[F/N] tossed her head to the side in a rather juvenile display, Her nose scrunched up in disgust at what she said.

"No one ever believes me.. It wasn't a wild animal.. It just wasn't. You seen the autopsy, You can't say that it was some starving bear!" [F/N] exclaimed, Raising her arms into the air before flopping them back down to emphasise her point.

"There isn't any other explanation for it. Those woods do tend to be bursting with all sorts of animals and besides, What else could it be?" The counsellor said, Brushing off the shoulder-pads.

[F/N]'s face hardened, A solemn look washing across her face as she leaned over on her chair. Eyes dead-set on the eyes of the woman opposite of her as she spoke.

"A demon. A demon killed Tetsuya." She whispered as quiet as the morning wind. Her eyes furious and determined, A kind of fire burning through them as her stone-cold face mumbled those words.

The counsellor sighed, Nodding as if she had heard those words a thousand times before. She shuffled as few papers on her desk, Aligning them well before setting them beside her in finality.

"..There is no such thing as demons, [F/N]." She spoke quietly. "What you saw out there was traumatising, Yes.. But blaming it on some imaginary creatures won't do you any good." The counsellor said, Seeming to put a firmer foot down as she leaned over to meet [F/N] face to face.

[F/N]'s jaw clenched shut, Leaning back over into her chair with a rigid back. Her clenched fists shook, Trying her best not to act on what she was so tempted to do.

She mumbled something under her breath. The counsellor blinked, Leaning forward.

"What was that?" She asked, Tilting her head.

"DEMONS EXIST AND THEY KILLED TETSUYA! WHY WON'T ANYONE BELIEVE ME?!" [F/N] screamed suddenly, Jerking up from her seat and snapping at the woman's face. The counsellor yelped, Jolting back into her office chair.

[F/N] got up from her chair, Not even bothering to look at the startled woman as she slung her bag over her shoulder and started to storm out of the room. An angry march as the counsellor recomposed herself.

"[F/N]! Where are you going..?!" She called out, Watching as the girl didn't even falter as she walked off towards the door. [F/N] didn't turn back to face her, Only gripped the fake gold of the door handle.

"I'm getting out of here, Can't breathe clear in this stupid place.." She hissed lowly before yanking the door open and marching out of the counsellors office. Door slamming shut with a thump.

And then, She was alone.

[F/N] stood dead within the empty hall, After storming out and slamming the door she didn't really have a destination to go to. So she stayed put, Looking at the sunlight pouring in through the windows lining the long hall, Almost appreciating it.

She couldn't go back to her room, That was a pigsty. It was always infested with insects crawling about and no matter how much bug spray she used, They never seemed to leave her in peace. So that was a no go.

The playrooms, The little library, The kitchens or the TV room where she spent countless days in front of the screens. None of them seemed appealing anymore. What use to be the apple in Eden was nothing but a rotting core now, So disgusting and unappetizing.

It was suppose to be a leisure, A relaxation.

But it never was anymore, It just couldn't be.

Not without Tetsuya.

[F/N] clicked her tongue, Sighing a short breath. The air here was too stuffy, Too suffocating to be called oxygen. She needed to go somewhere that's fresher, Somewhere she could properly think.

So her legs drove her forward. Through the long winding corridors, Past all the colourful fliers pinned up on the corkboard, All the doors with pleasantries and laughing hiding behind them were discarded in favour of the reception.

The dreary old woman sitting at the desk didn't even look up from her trashy magazine as [F/N] stormed by, Not even bothering to take a glance at who was leaving through the double glass doors. The little bell chiming above not helping her case.

As soon as she was out, [F/N] was hit with the brisk brush of the air against her skin. Her hair lifting lightly at the sensation as she was met with the mid-day sun, The celestial body shining down at her so happily from it's cobalt throne.

[F/N] couldn't feel the same as her shoes tapped against the stone tiles leading up to the youth centre doors. There wasn't anyone else about apart from the insects crawling about in the bushes or the tiles lining the centre's perimeter.

She reached the point where the stone tiles met the bare pavement, Splitting off into three streams. Though instead of travelling down one she made her way to the rickety old bench lining one of the pavements, Plopping down with the wood creaking at her weight.

"Finally.." [F/N] mumbled to herself as she was finally blessed with the fresh atmosphere. A relief as she took in the invigorating air, A moment of solitude rarely found in her everyday life and one she wanted to take in for a moment.

It was quiet too, This street wasn't as busy since it wasn't as close to the city centre. Few cars passed by to cause any noise, The only sound coming from the fenced off park parallel from the youth centre, The sound of children laughing playing basketball her only white noise.

That was good, There wasn't anyone about to see her next act.

[F/N] hummed as she shoved her hand in her side bag, Fishing around the abundance of objects stored inside before she felt the soft touch of a pretty pink pouch grace her fingers. [F/N] smiled, Pulling it out.

"Better have some left.." [F/N] muttered, And she thought she did. As she unlaced the string that opened the pouch she was met with the face of several cigarettes, A stolen item she had snuck from one of the staff's lockers.

All of them were coloured differently, Rolled in vivid paper.

Watermelon, Grape, Candy Floss and Bubble-gum were only a few of their flavours. They were cool, That's what she thought anyways. Even though she didn't watch TV that much anymore, All the super-cool adults on there always had one of these hanging from their mouth.

Well, Not the flavoured ones like she had. But she didn't like the taste of tobacco, So the taste of sugar and sweetness would have to do.

"Three.. Two.. One.." [F/N] counted down, The cold lighter on her other hand sparking up with a rasping ember. The cigarette in her other, A favoured watermelon flavour, Blitzed up at the end.

With two fingers she placed it in her mouth, Careful to make sure she got the right end this time. Sweet smell of smoke drifting up in the air, She watched it rise from the burning end and as she breathed it back in.

Tetsuya. No one would ever believe her about what happened to him, No one. From the police officers and paramedic's that were present that day, They had all written it off as just some little kids ramblings.

The counsellors, The psychiatrists and the priests. All of them, Every single one had done the same. But [F/N] knew better, [F/N] knew what she had saw that day, She knew that it wasn't something of her world that done it to him.

But it was only her. [F/N]'s lips parted from the cigarette for only a second, Blowing out the sugared smoke from her throat. She'd never be able to convince anyone of the existence of demons, Not without evidence, That is.

She tossed the cigarette onto the pavement. Her sneakers raising then stomping down on the sugar-stick, Mushing out the flame on the stone to nothing but dying smoke.

[F/N] would find evidence, She'd make sure of it. She'd find who killed Tetsuya even if it meant she had to follow him to the next life, She would know the culprit.

Her hand absentmindedly wandered down to the open pouch, The candy coloured silk splayed open on the bench as she searched for the candy scented cigars.

But her hand didn't connect with the bristle of cigarette paper or the shroves of tobacco that should've been there. Her eyes widened for a second, Her head jerking round to meet the open pouch.

It was empty, Completely and utterly empty.

"What the.." [F/N]'s jaw dropped. There had been at least a dozen cigarettes laying atop the paper, All of them had been there since she sat down. She had made sure of it, So why were they missing?

Could she have knocked them over on accident? [F/N] leaned back to look at the muddy grass below the timbered bench, She came up with nothing but worms and weeds growing underneath.

Her hands slapped the pockets of her sweater, Feeling around to see if she misplaced them yet she came up empty. Where could they have gone? To the sides of the bench, On the pavement or perhaps she was sitting on them?

No, Even as she felt underneath her she felt no trace of those sweet little cigarettes.

It was only once she was shifting through the contents of her bag did she find a clue, One that seemed just under her nose.

Or above it in this case. [F/N] suddenly felt the bursting itch of the tiniest particles hitting the bridge of her nose. [F/N] jolted, The sensation amplified by the fact she didn't expect it in the slightest.

She stopped searching through her bag for just a moment, Hand jerking to her nose and rubbing at the irritating itch. But when she brought her hand back, Her eyes narrowed in on the small speck of her hand.

It was a shrove of tobacco.

[F/N] stared at it for a solid moment, Eyes locked in on the target. It seemed like it had came down from the heavens themselves, Like it had just floated down like snowfall on a December morning.

Then another, [F/N]'s eyes darted up to another shrove of tobacco floating down right in front of her vision. Another and another, It seemed to grow in numbers as every second passed by.

"What the hell is this.." [F/N] drawled out, Her hand extended to catch the snowflakes of cigar ash drifting down onto her palm. They were growing into a small bush, A small puddle of candy-smelling shroves coupled within her hands.

But where could they be coming from?

[F/N]'s head turned upwards, Neck craning to get a good look up at the sapphire sky above her. Blinking once she was only met with the wisping clouds floating about the atmosphere, Sun shining down at her.

But her eyes caught onto something else, Something metallic.

It was the streetlamp, One of the dozens lining the concrete pavement for miles but the only one that was standing above her. Still daytime it was off, But the streetlamp wasn't what she was focusing on.

Instead it was the boy hanging from it.

[F/N] jolted at the sight of him, Near falling off the bench as she realised his presence.

The boy was older than her, In his teen years and not in his tween's like [F/N] was. He was hunched over with horrid posture, Panda pouches under his golden eyes to match hers. He was strangely dressed too, A torn-at-the-tail overcoat drooping down from where he hung.

He was hanging like a bat from a cave spike, Legs locked around the branch of the streetlamp so loosely that he could fall at any moment. It was a wonder how he was still hanging on, But [F/N] was more interested in what he was doing.

His mouth was stuffed to the brim like a hamster, His hands grabbing clutches of tobacco and mashing it into his mouth. [F/N] stood there befuddled as she finally saw the clump of coloured cigar paper stuffed in his jacket pocket.

[F/N] gawked, Absolutely stunned.

"This candy sure is weird." The boy said to himself with a blank face, Seemingly not noticing [F/N] standing beneath him in shock. He shovelled another bush into his mouth, Watermelon flavoured to match the swamp green of his hair.

[F/N] gulped.

"How the.. W-Who the hell are you?! Why're you taking my bloody cigarettes?!" [F/N] exclaimed. It was the only thing she could think to say at the moment, Words flowing out of her mouth without a single thought behind them.

But it was the only thing she could say as the boy's sickly yellow eyes darted over to her, Seeming to finally notice her presence.

[F/N] couldn't help but shiver, For some reason feeling disturbed. Like a lion eyeing the lamb grazing in the field.

"Oh. They're mine now, They were laying out so I took them." He stated through a mouthful of her tobacco. An empty expression as he stared down at her, No regard for the fact that he had stolen her cigarettes.

Well they were stolen by her in the first place, But the sheer disregard of guilt for what he had did just made [F/N] all the more angry. Who did this guy think he is? Whoever he was he was weird as hell.

Hanging from the streetlamp? Chewing her tobacco? Not to mention that weird spike sitting atop his head, That to his toes he was dressed so strangely as if he had tossed on anything given to him without regard to colour or weather.

[F/N] gritted her teeth, What a nutjob.

"What kind of philosophy gets you to think that?! Give them back, You bastard!" [F/N] snapped at him with the best face pre-teen her could pull. Teeth wide and bared, Arms crossed in frustration.

The boy just hung there, Not reacting to what she said though he did stop chewing momentarily. Then he shrugged, The cigarettes he was clutching in his hand let go, Making them fall down onto the pavement which [F/N] scrambled to pick up.

"Whatever. They taste disgusting so you can have them." The boy said, Watching her as she fell to her knees collecting her fallen cigarettes with apathy. [F/N] grabbed the last of them, Shoving them into her bag with a furious scowl as she looked back at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! I barely have any tobacco left cause you chewed it all! What are you even doing up there, You prick!" [F/N] bit as she held the leftovers of whatever little snuff she had left in her palms.

The boy rolled his eyes. And in a move [F/N] didn't expect she watched him pull back, All before the legs locked around the streetlamp branch let go making him fall towards the ground.

[F/N] yelped, Stumbling back. The boy's feet slammed against the concrete pavement, His elvish shoes clacking against the side as he stood up to his full height with no apparent damage at all.

She stumbled back, Blinking as if to see if it was a hallucination or not with an open maw.

How the hell could he have dropped from the streetlamp to the pavement without any damage? The boy stood there, He was older than her and in his teen years so whatever kind of parkour training he must've had was very impressive for his age.

But [F/N] bit back a shiver, Could a boy in his teens really pull that off?

"You humans are really weird, Your candy is nasty and you don't even know who you're talking to. Though I suppose you don't know any better." The boy shrugged as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his tattered coat.

[F/N] gawked. First he had hell of some acrobatic skills, The next he had some real annoying superiority complex. Who even gave him it in the first place? Didn't matter, Didn't stop [F/N] from balling up her fists either.

"First of all, This isn't candy. These are cigarettes you dum-"

"-If they aren't candy, Then why do they smell like candy?" The boy butted in rather rudely, Sleep deprived eyes burning into her own without any sense of remorse.

[F/N] groaned.

"Because these are flavoured, Idiot. You don't chew the tobacco, You roll it up and you smoke it for the flavour. Ever heard what a cigarette is?" [F/N] chided as she reached into her bag to present a cigarette to him sarcastically.

The boy blinked.

"No." He replied.

His response caught [F/N] off guard. It was so honestly spoken and genuine that she couldn't help but drop her shoulders and guard along with them. Did he seriously not know what a cigarette was..?

"Well.. Ehm.. It's kind of this thing that you roll up with the.. The tobacco-" [F/N] stumbled over her words, Not sure how to explain to someone older than her what a cigarette was "You know what? Let me show you."

The boy didn't have any time to react as the end of a cigarette was shoved into his mouth.

His eyes widened, Not registering how [F/N] had marched up to him and done it so bluntly to him. Him of all people! Were all humans really as rude as this one was? She was starting to get on his nerves.

"Okay, Now that you have it in your mouth you just light it up at the end. You good with smoking?" [F/N] prompted, Not knowing why she was doing this but asking anyways. The boy looked back at her, Before rolling his eyes and letting out an okay with the cigarette in his mouth.

"Good" [F/N] said, Pulling out the lighter from her sweater and holding it up to the end of the cigarette, One rolled in cherry pink paper and tasting like it looked. "Okay.. Three, Two, One.."

The lighter sparked up, A few faulty clicks before the burst of an ember lit up at the tip. It caught onto the cigarette rather quickly, The burn of the snuff starting to flicker and burst out into a flame of its own.

[F/N] moved the lighter away, Lowering it down to her side.

"Alright, Now purse your lips like you're whistling but suck it in instead. Make sure to support it!" [F/N] said, Her hand snapping up to hold the cigarette with two fingers as it near fell out of his mouth.

The boy huffed but ultimately did what she had said, Watching as his lips pursed like he was whistling then his lungs inflate. [F/N] let a small grin slip as she watched his face light up slightly, The light in her fingers lowering from his mouth.

"Good, Huh?" [F/N] asked as she watched his lungs shrink in his puffed out chest, The vaguely pink smoke erupting from his lips and drifting off into the midday air. Sizzling out in the brisk of the day.

He looked down at her, Apathy more of an aftertaste now as the light finally returned to his eyes in an interested glimmer.

"I want more, Give me more, Now." The boy demanded, Taking a determined step closer to her with a hand already stretched out. [F/N] huffed, Dropping the cigarette astringent with cherry into his open palm.

"Tasty, Right?" [F/N] commented as she walked back towards the bench, Plopping back onto the rickety wood and lazily crossing her legs. The boy raised the cigarette back up to his lips, Repeating her instructions to the t.

The boy blew out another burst of cherry scented smoke, Tongue licking his lips as it went.

"It tastes like cherries, I want more of it. Where can I get it?" The boy asked, Turning to her as she lazed around on the bench, Relaxing against the back. [F/N] shrugged, Shuffling a single hand around in her bag before fishing out another cancerette.

"I dunno, I didn't really buy these myself and I don't know where the adults get 'em. So.. You'll need to ask someone else" [F/N] replied as she pulled out the lighter and struck up another flame on her green apple cigar.

The boy only hummed, The spark on the cancerette burning out in finality. No more smoke being produced, Leaving it to only be tossed away on the concrete pavement beside him as he sauntered over to the bench's direction.

"What's your name anyways? Seems awkward not to know it." [F/N] asked, The words leaving her lips with the scented smoke following only moments after.

"I'm Amaimon, It's nice to meet you." He said with a shrug. Though his words were polite his visage still showed that same resting face, Deep eyebags and all as he crouched down beside the old bench. She huffed, What a strange name.

"Mine's [F/N], It's cool to meet you too." She replied as tossed him another cigarette from her bag, Amaimon catching it mid-air. Another flavour, Another one to light as he held it up his snuff to her lighter.

It flicked on and just like that it was back to silence once more. The rustle of the leaves in the tree's was all that could be heard, Along with the faraway laughter of the kids in the park and the occasional car that passed by.

[F/N]'s eyes couldn't help but wander over to the boy crouched down beside the bench. It was a weird position, Only held up by his tippy-toes as he smoked out the saccharine cigar. His own golden eyes targeting nowhere.

[F/N] looked away, The wind still dancing through her hair as they sat in a somewhat comfortable silence. He was odd, Odder than the other teenagers she had met. She wasn't even thirteen yet she wondered if he was as strange to her as others his age.

He seemed so. With such fashion and behaviour she'd certainly think as such.

"So, Why were you hanging from a streetlamp? How'd you even get up there anyways" [F/N] asked, Blowing out a puff of smoke as her lips finally spoke of the elephant in the room.

Amaimon looked up at her, Licking his lips as if to taste the smoke.

"It's fun, I like the wind. The air here in Assiah is much fresher than the air in Gehenna, I climbed up there with my claws." Amaimon said as if it made any sense at all. [F/N] raised a brow.

"Assiah? Gehenna? Claws..?" She queried.

"Yeah. I'm a demon." Amaimon replied as he crushed the finished cancerette within his fist, Tossing it away on the ground as he was unaware of the expression on the girl's face.

[F/N]'s cheeks were puffed up, Lips squeezed together and her nails digging into the edge of the bench. She snorted, A noise that made Amaimon's head jerk over to her, Watching as she tried to supress a laugh.

"Why are you making that face? What wa-"

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-" [F/N] let out a howl of laughter, One so loud that she near keeled over on the bench. Amaimon watched as her free hand clutched her chest, The biggest grin showing as tears started to water at her eyes.

Amaimon's dotted brows knitted together, The razors of his teeth starting to bare from his maw.

"You're laughing at me, Why.. Are you making fun of me?!" Amaimon snapped as his back arched up, Unseen clawed hands starting to dig into the concrete of the pavement as he watched her hysterical laughing fit.

[F/N]'s laughter died down into a giggle, Wiping away the tears from her eyes.

"No-! No.. I'm not making fun of you, It's just I understand now, You know-" [F/N] chortled as she pointed to all of him, Smiling as she watched him look at the rest of himself for whatever she could be pointing at.

"You must be one of those gothic people I use to see on the TV, The one's that call themselves demons." [F/N] said, Relaxing back into the bench as she tossed her used cigarette away.

Amaimon tilted a head.

"..What?" Amaimon asked.

"I don't wanna be offensive! You do you, Just.. They actually exist, You know?" [F/N] explained to him. Amaimon just looked back at her with a blank expression, Seemingly confused.

"..Yes, I am a demon. See? Look at my teeth, They're not like yours" Amaimon said as he raised a finger to pull back his lips, Baring his teeth to [F/N] as his face grew closer to hers.

[F/N] blinked. Apart from the obvious fact that he needed a tic-tac and a good floss, His teeth really weren't different from hers at all. The canines he was pointing to were just like hers, No deviation.

"Yeah, Right. I have those kinds of teeth too, Dude. Demons aren't even humanoid, They have claws and horns and are beast-like. You don't have those." [F/N] said, Looking at his overgrown and dirtied nails along with his swampish hair. No demonic traits to be found.

Amaimon closed his mouth, Eyes drooping back down to their original shape.

"Oh.. You can't see it, You don't have a temptaint." Amaimon said, Turning away back towards the road. Dropped shoulders and all as he went back to staring into nowhere whatsoever.

[F/N] shook her head.

"Whatever you say dude, Whatever makes you happy." [F/N] shrugged as she closed her eyes, Taking the sunlight into her skin. Feeling the air on the back of the neck, Her hoodie really didn't do it justice.

Back to uncomfortable silence it was, He had no response after hers as he went back to staring off into space. [F/N] breathed out with no cancerette in her mouth this time, Only the slight wisps of cold vapour leaving her mouth.

"Why are you still here anyways? Don't you have teens your own age to hang out with and not some random child you met in the street?" [F/N] asked to him.

Amaimon's eyes darted back up to hers, Seemingly now only noticing the age difference between each other. Especially the height.

"Other humans my vessel's age are all too weak to play with.. They're boring after only a minute." Amaimon answered, Though now turning fully over to [F/N] "But you're not currently boring, Even though I haven't played with you yet.."

[F/N] snorted slightly as she watched his expression trail off into something more interested, One of his overgrown fingernails entering his mouth to be chewed on.

"You're not too bad yourself, Amaimon. You're weird, I like that." [F/N] giggled as her hand managed to wander itself over to the top of his head, Her fingers weaving their way into the swamp green of his hair as she ruffled it mockingly.

Though he froze, Just as her fingertips touched his locks.

"Huh..?" Amaimon muttered as he finished chewing on his fingernail, Body rigid as if he didn't know what was happening. [F/N]'s grin shortened, Fingers leaving the strands of his hair.

"Oh.. Sorry, Should've asked.." [F/N] mumbled as her arm retracted to her side, Though it didn't stop the petrified stance Amaimon sat in. Still staring off into space with his eyes widening further and further every second.

THUMP!

There it was again.

THUMP!

And again, Some strange thumping inside of his chest.

His ribcage rattled in its place, Almost like it would burst out from his vessels flesh. His hand grasped at the right of it's chest, Teeth gritting at the strange sensation. One he had never felt in his entire existance.

"Amaimon..? You good..?"

He jolted up, Eyes snapping back into focus at her words.

"Do it again!" Amaimon ordered. Hand still grasping a cluster of his striped shirt, The thumping continued on. Cheeks heating up into a warm pink.

[F/N]'s lips turned into a frown. Her guard that was down before started to raise, Rebuilding itself into what it was before. This was still a stranger, She hadn't even known him an hour. What was she doing?

"Eh.. I think I should get going now.. I need to do-"

"Again! Now!" Amaimon cut in. Voice raising in a crescendo as he grew closer and closer to her on the bench, One she slid further back on to try get away. But his hands lunged out to her wrist, Entrapping her in place.

[F/N] yelped as his palms tugged her towards him.

"A-Are you insane?! I- Fine, Okay! Just let go!" [F/N] cried as she was near pulled off of the bench, Soles of her shoes digging into the pavement in an attempt to keep her stable.

Though his grip was let go. Amaimon pushed himself up on the bench, So close to her now that his burning breath was felt in the pores of her skin. She could see his too now as her hand went to massage her aching wrist.

"Do it!" Amaimon urged, An unspoken threat.

[F/N] gulped, Not hesitating to do as he said as she slipped her fingers in-between the folds of his hair. He was taller, Older than her. Athletic by how he hung from the streetlamp and the chill she got when looking into his eyes was all the convincing she needed to comply.

Amaimon shuddered, Face lowering down from hers as he felt the unsure ruffles of his hair. His head rested against the bench beside her, Feeling the frigid fir against his cheek. So cold but strangely warm and comforting.

[F/N] swallowed down what little saliva was in her dry mouth, Sweat starting to grow and infest her palms as she played with his hair.

She was terrified, Shaking as she did so. [F/N] needed to get out of here, This wasn't right. She had thought of herself so mature before, So adult and cool with the cigarettes she smoked on the daily.

But as she raked her fingers through his hair, She knew very well that she was still the little kid who cried not to follow her friend into the depths of the woods.

"How are you doing this..? Are you a demon? A witch..?" Amaimon mumbled, Near melting into the lumber of the bench. What he had figured out was his heart started to beat faster and faster, A machine churning out some.. Human feeling inside of him.

[F/N] sniffled slightly, She wished she never took those cigarettes in the first place.

"It doesn't matter.. This must be it, This must be what you humans talk about when you say you love your family. I've never understood it.. You humans are just animals. Not like us demon's but.." Amaimon trailed off, Turning his head to face hers.

"You're not like the other humans, You're different.." Amaimon muttered. Hand lunging out to grasp her wrist once more as her movements slowed down, Both in fear and terror as she yelped out. Staring into his eyes.

"You're fun." He whispered.

[F/N] felt the tears prickling in her eyes start to drip, Start to fall down her cheeks. He wasn't acting like this before, He wasn't so.. So terrifying. He was just a strange boy she smoked with!

But she needed to get away, She needed to tell someone-

But her train of thought was cut off by the biggest of grins spreading across his face, One that seemed so unnatural upon the apathetic usual of his face. It was contorted, So visceral that she could never look away.

[F/N] stared at it and the tears streaming down her face only grew.

"Let's go have fun! I wanna go play! Big brother told me to learn more about Japan and it's becoming boring, But having you around will be fun! Come on!" Amaimon urged, Starting to tug on her even harder. Pulling her off the bench as her behind hit the hard concrete pavement.

"L-LET ME GO!" [F/N] cried out.

"I'll introduce you to my Behemoth, He's my pet! Big brother also said that I couldn't bring him out with us on his business meeting, So you'll need to come with me now so I can show you to him." Amaimon tugged even harder, His strength herculean and pulling her along easily as he started to lug her upwards.

[F/N] wailed. Her free arms raising and flailing against Amaimon in a desperate attempt to escape, Feet kicking at his shins and her shrill voice calling out for anyone that could hear her.

But there was no one around, No one except her smiling assailant dragging her along with him.

Though his grin dropped slightly as he looked at her face.

"Why are you leaking from your eyes? You should be smiling right now." He asked, His noise pushing into her face to examine the foreign substance coming from her ducts. He blinked, Tilting his head to the side.

[F/N] cried out, Sniffling hard.

"I'M NOT SMILING CAUSE YOU'RE KIDNAPPING M-"

HONK!

The distinct sound of a car horn came barrelling down the street. The grip on her wrist was freed, Amaimon's hand letting it slip from his grasp.

[F/N] stumbled back, Near tripping over the bench before she fell back onto it. She whined out, Examining the redness of her wrist and the pain on her skin. No injury luckily, But was still stinging.

"Y-You bastard.. How can you.." [F/N] sniffled, Looking up at him. But he wasn't looking at her, Instead he was looking far off down the road with a surprised expression plastered on his face.

HONK!

[F/N]'s eyes expanded, Matching Amaimon's as her head snapped over to the roadside. The car horn was louder now and the tune of which it hummed was unmistakable. Her mouth went dry, There was no way.

But as the hot pink limo sped down the suburban streets, The sound of the chipper horn playing out once more, [F/N] realised she was in hot shit. That horn was famous across Japan, That car was famous.

It was Johann Faust V's car, The wealthy foreign socialite and the headmaster of True Cross Academy. He was renowned for both the school's rich reputation and the flair for his projects, Namely the biggest theme park in the country!

But how could he be here?! This was some middle-class part of town, He was known to reside in True Cross Town. The chances of him being here right now were slim to none, But not if..

"No way.. This is your brother?!" [F/N] gawked, Jumping up from the rigid bench to an even more rigid stance. Eyes glued to the limo slowing a few feet down from the pavement, Watching it like a hawk.

Amaimon only bit the fingernail in his mouth a little harder.

"I wasn't suppose to be out this long.. I was suppose to return but I got side-tracked.." Amaimon muttered to himself as the limo finally parked a bit away from where they stood, He turned to look at her.

"But Big Brother will understand when he sees you. He'll like you just like I do, I know he will. Then I can keep you. This fraternal feeling is nice, Isn't it nice for you too?" Amaimon asked, Ignoring the shaking of her body and the redness in her eyes.

[F/N] shook her head, Backing away.

"I.. I, Uhm.. I don't.." [F/N] trailed off, At a complete loss for words. "It is nice isn't it, Little sister? I'll go talk to Big brother and see if I can keep you, Stay put and I'll be back." Amaimon said, Turning and running towards the limo down the street. The window already rolled down as he skittered to a halt in front of it.

[F/N] gulped, Still shaking as she wiped away her tears.

Whatever the hell that was, [F/N] wasn't ready to stay around and find out as her hand pounced at the straps of her bag. She lugged it over her shoulder, Eyes never leaving Amaimon's turned back as she started to sprint away.

If he was associated with Johann Faust then she didn't want to be apart of it. She didn't want to deal with whatever lawsuit that could be put against her, Especially if Amaimon told him that they were smoking, She was lucky she shoved all the other cigarettes away in her bag.

But she ran past the youth centre doors, Passing without batting a single eye.

She didn't want them to find out she was living there, That would be easy for them to torch her out. So as she ran, Rubber burning off her soles she knew she had to hide out for a little while.

Somewhere in the plaza or the shopping streets, Somewhere with a lot of people. Just for a few hours while this all cools down, So the staff don't find out she stole any cigs or was communicating with Johann Faust's bizarre younger brother.

So she ran and she ran, Sprinting further down the streets. The youth centre got smaller and smaller behind her, The arguing speck of Amaimon and the limo became only more miniscule as she ran.

All of this just for a few hours, Just so this crazy dream would all be over.