#the doctor is not only just now becoming attracted to men

[single-snail]

btw my interpretation is that the doctor meant “who i am now” to mean someone who outwardly expresses when they find someone attractive and donna interpreted “who i am now” to mean gay

[reiderwriter]

Happily Ever After

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You have a big fat crush on Spencer Reid. And now you have to share his clothes, his hotel room and his bed for one special night.

Warnings: Day 31 of Kinktober - The End, vanilla sex, love confessions, p in v, pretty softcore compared to the other stuff. Fluff.

A/N: We did it! It's literally halfway to December, but I finally finished all of the kinktober fics! Thank you, everyone, for coning with me on this amazing journey. Thank you for all your support for thesr 31 fics, I literally wouldn't have done it without you 💖

It was hard being hopelessly in love with your coworker. This was a fact that you'd learnt upon entering the BAU and meeting Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You'd never believed in love at first sight  and to be truthful, you were still a sceptic, but there was something about him that had you leaning in, eyes sparkling as you hung on his every word. 

If you were asked what exactly it was about him that you liked so much, you'd probably tie your tongue up trying to answer. 

Maybe it was his intelligence. Maybe it was the complete obliviousness that went along with it. 

It could have been the way he made sure to check in on you regularly, made sure you were managing the transition to the BAU well, and let you know that he'd be there to support you. 

It was probably also because of how goddamn attractive he was. You swore that he was walking around like the female lead in a 00s rom com - he just didn't know how hot he was. In fact, he was so oblivious that he still didn't reconcile the fact that ‘Pretty Boy’ was less an insulting nickname and more the cold, hard truth. 

You'd accidentally reminded him of that fact about a month into being deliriously into him. 

“Pretty Boy…? Hey, Spencer? Doctor Reid? Nothing…” Morgan sat on the edge of your desk as he called over to the man just opposite him, sitting completely still bar his hand that was racing across a page as he read furiously. 

“He's busy, Morgan. I'm sure if you just call his name Louder, he'll answer.” You sighed. Watching the two men quibble had become an interesting pastime, to say the least. 

“Spencer, the office is on fire. Spencer, Hotchner, is naked in his office right now. Spencer, Rossi is naked in his office right now. Spencer, Y/N is-” 

“Okay, that's enough,” you said, standing up from your desk and clearing your throat. You thought you'd just stand up and get Spencer’s attention the same way Derek had, projecting your voice just a little bit more.

“Pretty Boy.” As soon as the words fell from your lips, the man in question bolted upright, hitting his knee on the desk as he rose, locking eyes with you. 

“Yes, Y/N?” Almost as soon as he was upright, Morgan was in fits on the floor, partly from the reaction, partly from Spencer's self injury. When he turned back to you and noticed your red face, the laughing fit only doubled. 

Spencer joined you in perpetual embarrassment as Morgan slipped off, still laughing  but seemingly no longer interested in whatever it was he wanted Spencer for in the first place. 

“Y/N, did you need something?” He asked, clearing his throat as he sat down once again. 

“No! No, actually, Morgan… it doesn't matter.” You smiled politely and sat back down, quickly pulling some paperwork together to make yourself look busy. 

“Usually only Morgan calls me pretty boy.” He murmured from the other side of the desk  

“That's because it's the truth.” 

“What?” His eyes locked with yours as you suddenly realised he'd been talking to himself, not engaging you in further conversation. 

“I… well, I mean, he wouldn't say it if you weren't actually pretty, Spencer.” He looked at you for a second, then relaxed, smiling softly as he continued his reading. 

You could've sworn you heard a tiny thank you under his breath  but you just continued your work and tried to calm your heart rate down. 

After that, you made it your mission to out an arm's length between yourself and Spencer Reid. You were polite about it, of course, but you felt an awful lot like a teenager with a crush. Or maybe a pre-teen with a crush. Sometimes, to be honest, you were probably acting like a complete child. 

Fate, or Aaron Hotchner, had other plans for you, though. 

“If you can't make it, that's okay, but it's regulation to send two agents because of some prior interviews that have turned particularly violent.” He explained after he called you into his office. 

“JJ has Henry to take care of, same for Kate and her niece. Morgan has a trial tomorrow, so he's unavailable as well, so I really only have you and Reid to ask. Can you do it?” 

You weren't sure if it was some need to please the man in front of you as if you were his child who had scored badly on a pop quiz, or his perpetual state of exhaustion that had you giving in and nodding to the man, agreeing to five hours in a car with Spencer. But you did. 

The ride wasn't all that bad, to be honest. In typical Spencer fashion, he'd bought along a few audiobooks to listen to, so most of the time was filled with The Faerie Queene and the sleep that you'd fallen into after listening to The Faerie Queene. 

You couldn't fully escape conversation, though, and in between changing tapes, he started asking questions. 

“How are you liking the unit?" He asked casually, his eyes on the road as you turned to stare at him. 

“It's been good. The only downside is all of those field work fitness tests, though.” 

“Be glad that you had to do those before you joined us. Morgan decided to be helpful and train me and Penelope.” 

“That doesn't sound too bad,” you laughed at him as an honest frown coated his face.

“Have you seen the guy? He's like a walking weightlifting advertisement, I think he could bench press me. And it turned out that we didn't even need the training anyway.” 

“Wow, and you fell for it? I thought you were a super genius, Doctor Reid.” 

“Hey, that's discrimination. I can be very stupid, too. I contain multitudes.” You laughed and relaxed into the seat some more, memorising each detail of his face as you looked at him. There was a small awkward pause as he waited for you to say something else. Just as he made to turn and look at you, you straightened again and looked away before he could catch you. 

“I'd love to see those multitudes some day.” 

“I'd love to show you them.” 

After that, you'd sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out of the window so he couldn't see the effect his words had on you. 

You were thankful that the actual interview finished shortly, the death row inmate becoming rather chatty in his final days and gracious in the details he was willing to give out. The prison still put you on edge, though, so you were glad to have your gun back on your hip and fresh air in your lungs as you moved towards the car. 

You were just waiting for Spencer to get off the phone so you could get back on the road and into your comfy bed. 

“That was Hotch,” Spencer said, walking over. “We've got a case. We're closer than they are, so they want us to drive there and stay in the hotel for the night, and they'll see us tomorrow.” He smiled in sympathy as he watched your face fall. 

The stuttering of your heart was so loud that you almost couldn't hear his words. Surely, that didn't mean you had to spend the night with Spencer Reid? You didn't know if you'd actually survive that. 

“I-I don't have my overnight bag.” You said. 

“Hotch said JJ is picking it up. She'll pass it to you tomorrow.” 

“But it's winter, what am I going to wear tonight?” You practically whispered the words as your brain finished functioning once again. 

“I have something you can change into. Of that's okay with you, of course!” You didn't trust yourself to talk, so you just nodded at the man and climbed into the car, ready for him to take you to your home for the night. 

Fate didn't stop there, though. 

“There's been some kind of mistake,” you heard Spencer mumble as you walked up to the front desk behind him. You'd been sat on a sofa in the foyer waiting for him to return with your key and his when you realised he'd been taking too long. 

“What's the problem?” You asked as he turned around to look at you, running his hands through his hair in frustration. 

“They only booked one room.” 

“Sir, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to take up the issue with your company. But there's only one room here in your name, and we're otherwise fully booked for the night. We had two weddings and an academic gathering this weekend. Guests are still trickling in and out.” 

“Okay, what about my name? Can you see if there's anything under Y/L/N?” 

“I already tried that. They have Hotchner down, but only from tomorrow.” His jaw tensed again as he turned to you. If you knew him better, you'd probably be able to recognise his nervousness. God, how you wished you knew him better. 

“It's one night?” You nodded and took the keys from the receptionist as you and Spencer walked towards the room you'd be sharing for the evening.

“Derek says I talk in my sleep, but that claim has never been substantiated with any real evidence. Also I prefer to sleep on the bed nearest to the window, is that okay?” Spencer rambled slightly awkwardly as you approached your new hotel room. 

You smiled at him and flexed your hand slightly, trying to reach out to comfort him but holding yourself back from the casual physical contact. 

“It's okay,” you said, grabbing the key card. “Let's go in.” 

If that day had taught you anything, it was to expect something else to go wrong. 

The room was wonderful, with a large window, a competent bathroom, surprisingly spacious for the usual FBI budget. There was, of course, only one bed.

“I'll take the sofa. It's right next to the window anyway.” 

“Spencer it's not a pull-out. You're never going to get any sleep on that thing.” You stood your ground, dumping Spencer’s bag and your own small purse on the sofa so he couldn't take up permanent residence there. 

You weren't sure why you were fighting so hard to get him in the same bed as you, knowing what effect it would have on you, but you didn't care to think about that right this second. 

“Okay, let's just get ready to sleep, and we can talk about it again.” He said, digging you out an old pair of sweatpants and a caltech jumper and gesturing for you to use the bathroom first. 

You quickly showered up and changed into the warm clothes. It was strange to be able to feel how much bigger than you he was since you'd never really considered it. 

Spencer was tall, but you weren't exactly petites, and yet here you were, getting swamped by his college sweatshirt. And you knew for a fact that he'd been practically a child still when he'd last graduated. 

“All yours, Spencer,” you said, walking from the bathroom and over to the bed where you'd left your phone on charge. 

He didn't say anything, but you noticed he'd stayed stuck to the spot and sat at the opposite end of the sofa reading a book. 

“Spencer? Did you hear me?” That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and he finally diverted his eyes away from you. 

“No pretty boy this time?” He pouted under his breath, but you laughed all the same, watching him grab similar garments from his bag again and travel to the bathroom.

You must've drifted off slightly between him going in and coming out, because when you woke, there he was again on the sofa. 

“Spencer? What are you doing? Get into bed.” You blinked your eyes a few times, rubbing away the sleep in them as you sat up. Spencer had sat up on the sofa, reading his book again, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. 

“I said I'm fine here, Y/N. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” Sighing, you pushed yourself out of bed and walked around it to where Spencer was. 

“Spencer, you're like 6’4. This sofa couldn't even sleep a five year old comfortably, let alone all of you.” You slipped the book from his hand, shutting it and placing it on the side table. 

“I'm assuming you don't need a bookmark?” When he shook his head with a resigned sigh, you grabbed his hand and pulled him up. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” 

“Spencer, you already gave up your clothes for me, I'm not letting you give up the bed, too.” 

“It's okay, I enjoyed giving up the clothes.” You couldn't really help the nervous goggle that slipped from your mouth at that statement. 

“Sorry, I just meant I'd-” 

“I know what you meant, Spencer. Let's just go to sleep now.” Grabbing his hand once again, you turned the main lights off, lamps lighting your way to the bed. 

Turning Spencer around, you gently shoved him onto the bed. Though, expecting him to let go of your hand, you'd planned that only he would land there. 

Instead, he doubled down on his grasp of your hand, and you fell with him, landing directly on top of him on the bed, mouths inches from each other. 

You paused there for a few moments, not sure what move was the right one to make. His hips shifted upward slightly, but that was all the movement you needed for you to settle over his crotch rather than his legs. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered breathlessly as you felt every inch of him harden underneath you. 

“I'm not,” he said, eyes searching your face for god knows what. 

When he found it, though, he didn't hold back. His free hand slid up to the back of your head, slamming it down so your lips could lock together, a passionate joining that rid you of all the oxygen in your body. 

“Spencer,” you gasped between kisses as he worked his hand lower, both hands free to wrap tightly around your waist as he continued kissing you with a passion. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he finally pulled away again, holding you as close as he could before capturing your lips one more time.

Your head swam through the sensations blindly, both confused and considerably fused to him at the same time.

Spencer's lips, Spencer's hands, Spencer's everything pressed up against you as you sighed contentedly at his ministrations.

“Spencer… what are we doing?” 

“I don't know. I don't want to stop, though.” His lips matched yours furiously as he pushed his sweater off your body, whining slightly when he had to break contact to get it over your head.

His hands were instantly exploring your chest, grasping your body like it was his lifeline, as your hips rocked against his own. 

You knew you needed to stop this, and soon. Your body didn't agree. If you had sex with Spencer Reid right now, you knew there was no way in hell any other man would ever match up. 

“Spencer, stop.” 

To his credit, he did, hands dropping instantly as he created space between the two of you. Or as much as you'd allow, still sitting on top of him. 

“I'm sorry, I took advantage, I shouldn't have kissed you like th-” 

“I love you.” You blurted out, so desperate for him to shut up and listen to you. Which  again, to his credit, he did. 

“What?” He whispered, stars shining in his eyes.

“I told you to stop because I love you. If you don't feel the same way, that's okay, but I don't think I can do this if you don't.”

“You love me?” 

“Yes, I just said that. Aren't you supposed to have an eidetic memory?” 

“Individuals with eidetic memories often struggle with short-term memories, hanging onto older memories more vividly and recalling them faster.”

“So you want me to say it again?” 

“Over and over, preferably.” He said with a grin, flipping you over so your back was on the bed as he hovered over you. 

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your cheek. 

“Again.”

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your neck. 

“One more time,” he whispered, stroking your hair as he finally looked into your eyes. 

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your lips once again, holding nothing back as he poured all his joy into you. 

“I love you, too.” 

Your legs tangled together in a blur after that, both hopelessly breathing each other's oxygen. You were giggles and moans, whimpers, and confessions as you found yourself pushing down the covers and your pants so you could slide into bed. 

Neither of you stopped your confessions, still professing your love in each scrape of a nail, each lick, each bite. 

When he finally entered you, your eyes rolled back in pleasure, drunk on him and every reaction he was giving you. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he moaned. “I love how you feel wrapped around me.” His hips snapped softly into you, but he went deep, pushing in the entire way before even letting himself think of drawing himself out of that beautiful heat. 

“I love how reactive you are for me. I love seeing each of your emotions cross your face. I love how you called me pretty. I love how intelligent you are. I love you.” You were overcome with emotions as you finally felt pleasure wash over you, tingling through your body in ripples as he grunted into your ear, close as well. 

Wrapping your legs around him, you nuzzled into his neck and held him tight as he finally finished inside of you. 

You fell asleep like that in each others arms, clinging to each other for dear life. 

When you woke the next morning, it was with a start as you realised the sun was already awake. 

Spencer, however, wasn't, and you jolted up in a panic as you rolled him off of you. 

“Spencer, wake up, the others are going to be here any minute, it's 8:45.” 

“No, they're not,” he said, pulling you right back into his chest. 

“You said yesterday that they're coming today ready for the new case.”

“They started driving at 7am. Driving is going to take them 5 hours 34 minutes, give or take half an hour if there's an accident on the roads. We have plenty of time.”

You relaxed slightly into his hold, then feeling his warmth against you as he stirred slightly again. 

“Of course, we could always do something else to pass the time.” You opened one eye and turned back to face him as his hand traced down to the parting of your legs.

“Nice try, lover boy. If you're awake enough for that, you're awake enough to get started on the case.” 

“I preferred pretty boy,” he groaned but rolled away from you, as you both started getting ready for the day. 

Within half an hour, the two of you were up and ready to answer an incoming video call from Penelope Garcia. 

“Hello beautiful, how is upstate treating you?” She said as you picked up and beamed at her, somehow unable to control the happiness rolling off of you.

“It's been good,” you practically giggled, wiping a hand across your face as you attempted to clear away the grin there.

Spencer approached the laptop screen, too, greeting Penelope with a small squint as he looked down. 

“Hey, Penelope. Do you have the case details for us?” 

“I sent through the files to your emails, Hotch has a paper copy for you too, Reid, when he gets there. We've got a copycat or a resurfaced killer from the 80s. Rossi says the details are familiar to him, but he was going to ask you when he found you.” You both nodded and thanked her, but still, she didn't hang up. 

“So, one hotel room, how was that?” Penelope asked from the other side of the screen, eyes dancing between the both of you. 

“How did you…?” You squinted as Spencer hurriedly closed the laptop to the sounds of her laughing victoriously. Spencer's face flushed again as he brushed his hair out of his face, trying to discuss the files with you as he changed the topic almost expertly. 

“Stop. Spencer, how did she know about the hotel room?”

“Penelope books most of our hotel rooms.”

“Spencer, what aren't you telling me?” He shifted uncomfortably and looked at you in the eyes. 

“I may have asked her to book only one room.” 

“What? But the receptionist said-” 

“I slipped her a twenty before you came up.” 

“Why?” 

“I wanted to be closer to you. When Hotch said he had this interview, and he said he was sending you too, I was so excited to spend time with you, because you've been avoiding me, and I wanted to know what I did wrong so I could make it better, but I guess I didn't do anything wrong because you love me somehow, so I must have done something very very right to deserve that.” He was rambling, but you didn't stop him, smile spreading as you listened to his accidental declarations of love. 

“And then I had to beg Hotch to take this case next, because then we'd have an excuse to be alone longer if we were so close.” 

You tried to catch his attention then by calling his name, but he didn't listen, too intent on his confession. 

“I was going to tell you later today, once we were off work, I didn't want to say something in the middle of the case because that would've been unprofessional  and honestly I didn't want the others to hear because I want you all to myself.”

“I'm rambling, aren't I?” 

“Yes, God  just shut up and kiss me.” 

“You're not mad?” 

“I might have been if I weren't so damn in love with you. But lucky for you, I'm crazy for you.” He smiled at you again, pulling you in close for one more kiss. 

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Hey guys..... it's your favorite 'Vixen' back again after a very long hiatus..... Surprise! I detransitioned! And I might have packed on a pound or two. 😅 So, for those who guessed the girl I started dating was a TERF, you get the grand prize, I guess! She was so pretty and had an affinity for school uniforms.... so I swiped right. I messaged her and she told me she thought I was beautiful, that we should meet up for drinks, and that my breasts looked absolutely mouth watering. I thanked her, thinking little of it at the time, and got super excited to meet with her.

We met up, and she was wearing one of her uniforms, straight up to our date! I complimented her, she told me her name was Miranda, and I told her mine was Virago. She smiled and said it sounds exotic. She looked so naughty, I shifted nervously in place, recrossing my legs. She eyed me up and down and asked if I was actually a boy pretending to be a girl. I denied it, but then she laughed and told me she knew I was fidgeting because I had a hard on. That she loved dressing in kinky outfits girls wear in porn and hentais because it always attracts perverted men like me. Hearing her say these things made me even harder, I couldn't contain myself, I started rubbing my crotch. She laughed again, telling the waiter to address me as he/him and sir, that I can barely control my raging hard on. I blushed, and the waiter smiled and said that I don't look much like a real girl anyway, and he was only calling me she/her to be polite.

I couldn't handle it. I jerked off under the table as my breasts bounced out of my top. Onlookers watched and pointed, snickering as I pumped and pumped until I came on the floor. Miranda was elated, cheering me on, calling me a disgusting, gooner boy addicted to porn. She told me as I tried to clean up that I don't get a reduction because my ideas about women are all fueled by porn, so I flaunt my boobs online and give into male fantasies. She told me she wanted to 'correct' me, and turn me into the man I'm supposed to be.... starting with my boobs.....

I got top surgery the very next week, although now I'm basically growing tits all over again. I edge all day but only Miranda tells me when I'm allowed to cum, which is pure agony for such a perverted gooner like me. All I do is eat and watch porn. When I went to the doctor and told him I want to go on T and detrans he just smiled and said he knew I'd come to my senses sooner or later, that most of the big-breasted, ultra oversexed, beautiful trans girls he had as patients were all detransing for one reason or another. I told him 'Good' as he filled out my new scripts..... But Miranda ensured I wouldn't be some sexy, athletic guy. No, I had to be punished. She feeds me over 12K calories a day. I'm almost 400lbs in just a couple years and Miranda is as addicted to feeding me as I am to eating and jerking off. She tells me perverted guys like me deserve to all become fat, disgusting pigs so the whole world knows how gross we really are. She loves berating me in public, calling me useless, a cow, a pig, a slob, shouting at me that all I do is watch porn and stroke my little cock. I can hardly remember being 'Virago' or having such a sexy body. I live only to be Miranda's hog boyfriend who going to get fatter and fatter, until I can't leave the house or even bathe anymore....."

[bluberryfields]

"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen

Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)

And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.

*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*

ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.

So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)

even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).

I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.

Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.

But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.

He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.

He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.

(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)

He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.

His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.

Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.

I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.

Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...

I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.

Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.

Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.

Such a pretty shade of yellow.

Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.

Delicious demon digits

Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?

He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting

Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?

Fuuuuuuuck

With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.

Proper gentleman side part? Check.

Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.

Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!

It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.

Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!

To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”

Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).

They are almost illegally cute together

We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.

Stupid sexy snek

And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.

Georgia is a very lucky woman

Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?

[makethemmilky]

Kate hadn't seen her friend Jessica since their last beach trip, at the very end of last summer. Now they were vacationing together just seven months later, a little "babymoon" with just the two of them and their husbands. Obviously she knew that her friend would definitely look different, ie a lot bigger, than the last time they'd hung out, but Kate was not prepared for the sight of the her best friend as they met at the beach.

Slowly Jessica rose from the camp chair, her legs clearly struggling under the vast weight of her 6-month body, as she turned to wave over the approaching Kate and her husband.

She'd seen a few photos of Jessica's pregnancy on social media, but Kate didn't fully grasp until now just exactly how much the other woman's body had transformed. Jessica had always been a little overweight, but now her curves had moved beyond vast to the point of ludicrous. Her stomach, which had previously been a bit pudgy, had grown both outwards and downwards into a huge bump that rested almost between her legs. Formerly a bit of an apple shape, her hips and thighs had clearly widened as a result of pregnancy, and Kate couldn't help but stare at just how much of a booty her friend now had packed into her swimsuit.

But it was up top that attracted both Kate's (and her husband's) incredulous looks. Once upon a time they two of them had occasionally been able to borrow each other's bras if needed, but now it was clear that Jessica was no longer even in the same half of the alphabet. Two enormous, tear-dropped breasts now strained tightly against the fabric of her top, and even with how firm they obviously had become such was their size that her tits still rested proudly atop the woman's gravid stomach.

The two embraced while the men shook hands, the feeling of that somehow soft but thick flesh of a baby bump pressing into Kate's own toned waist sent a bolt of sent a bolt of feelings through her that she couldn't quite place. Was it shock? Jealousy? Or even arousal? Kate had never been attracted to women in the past, but now she was being confronted with a never before seen level of femininity. Over the next few days, as they swam, sunbathed, and relaxed, Kate found herself peppering Jessica with questions about pregnancy. She was still the same old Jessica in many ways, but in others it was obvious that her outlook had changed as much as her body. Now Jessica radiated the sort of serene fulfillment only found in those rare individuals who are completely accepting of themselves.

The fact that Jessica was wearing a bikini instead of the usual flattering, modest one-piece she'd always had before made it clear to Kate just how much the other woman's self-confidence had soared. Kate herself had always been proud of how lean and fit she'd stayed, of how good she always looked in a bikini, and yet as she swam and sunbathed next to Jessica she actually began to experience how sense of inadequacy. It was impossible not to notice all the stares that Jessica received on the beach--both shock and even jealousy from the women (Kate could relate!) but also the openly lustful from men, including her own husband. How could she expect to get any male attention, even from her husband, when her own meager curves were presented in comparison next to Jessica?

At last the long weekend was ending, and Jessica waddled out to the rental car to say goodbye. While their husbands loaded up the car, Jessica opened her arms and pulled Kate into an embrace. She pulled Kate tight, burying the shorter woman's face in her vast cleavage and pressing as closely to her as her bump would allow. Jessica whispered something in her ear, and Kate nodded, her expression wide-eyed.

Three months later, the two couples gather back at the same beach. Jessica is overdue, and her doctor recommended some gentle exercise like swimming to help introduce labor. They are running late because being this big makes it impossible for Jessica to get anywhere on time. As a result, this time they are the couple slowly making their way across the sand to where their camp has already been set up. Kate and her husband stand up from their own chairs to greet them.

Almost immediately Jessica's eyes are drawn to the tiny bikini Kate is wearing. Below the black top struggling to contain some clearly oversized breasts is a small, but inescapable bump. The two women embrace, their two bodies at opposite ends of the same glorious process. Kate reaches forward and whispers, "You were right. It is worth it."

[ereardon]

At Sea [Bob Floyd x Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: I’ll be home in five weeks. That’s what naval aviator Y/N told her fiance before leaving for deployment in the Atlantic. But time ceased to stop when she met Bob Floyd, the ship surgeon. Shy and honest, Bob quietly slipped into Y/N’s life, creating a complicated dynamic on an already intense mission. Falling for Bob was not in Y/N’s plan, and as she continues to weave a web of lies, she must make a choice: return to the life she left on land, or forge ahead into the unknown with Bob. But before Y/N can decide, disaster strikes, leaving Bob to make the decision that will alter their lives forever. 

Pairing: Navy Doctor Bob Floyd x Female Aviator Reader

Warnings: Implied emotional cheating, lots of Naval inaccuracies

WC: 2.3K

Masterlist here

When you first stepped onto the ship, you didn’t notice him. You were too caught up with the running list of checklist items in your head. 

Is your bag too big? Did you bring enough pairs of underwear? Were there enough officers for a carrier of this size? What was the threat level of the mission? Were you wrong to say yes? 

You looked down. The two carat oval engagement ring glinted back. The ring you had dreamed about since you were a teen and first saw a similar one on a debutante. 

You just weren’t sure that the man who had purchased it was the man you had been dreaming of. 

Connor proposed three weeks before the carrier run. The two of you had met almost two years before, at a museum opening. He was a prince, for a while. But at some point, and it’s different for every relationship, the carriage turns back into a pumpkin. The prince becomes a pauper. The tux has to be returned to avoid a late fee. 

You had expected magic. And then you joined the Navy and reality set in. You were no longer the bright eyed Louisiana girl who believed in fairytales and princes. You were an aviator who witnessed death up close. 

When Connor placed the ring on your finger, nothing stood out. Tears didn’t choke your line of vision. Your hands didn’t shake, your stomach didn’t cramp, your pulse didn’t raise. 

The only thing that happened was you hesitated. For a split second, but a hesitation nonetheless. 

And then you smiled and nodded. 

And with that, you belonged to him. 

***

You grabbed the first bunk and tossed your bag on it. A five-week mission with barely any service, except for satellites. It feels wrong, but a part of you was relieved knowing Connor couldn’t contact you. 

At dinner, you entered the mess hall and sat at a table toward the middle when a round of laughter erupted from near the doors and you turned to look. 

There was a group of five men, all attractive in the way that large groups of men can be intimidating from afar. Four brunettes and a blond with wire glasses. Of the brunettes, three were wearing wedding rings that glinted beneath the fluorescent lights. Scoping out wedding rings had become a habit about ten years before, right before you left for college. 

And now, you were the one carting around the ring that said, Don’t talk to me. I’m taken. 

You must have been staring, because the blond turned and looked at you for a moment, the two of you locking eyes before you began to panic and ripped your gaze down to the overmixed mashed potatoes on your plate. When you looked up again, he had turned away. 

Later, once everything had been cleaned and your introductory meetings for the day had been complete, you found yourself wandering on the ship deck. The water was calm. You rested your fingertips on the rail and peered down. The blackness of the sky mixed with the blackness of the deep water, and on the horizon it isn’t clear where one ends and the other begins. You never liked water all that much. It’s why you chose to be in the skies instead. The deep ocean and how at night on a ship light this, you and the crew were the only ones for miles – the thought terrified you. 

It took a moment in the darkness to realize that the blond from the mess was standing not ten feet away, leaning on the rail and looking down at the water. It wasn’t until he sighed that you realized he was on a satellite phone. 

“Those aren’t good. Run another panel and let me know how it looks. Get back to me as soon as the blood work is done.” 

You heard the click of the phone just as you locked eyes. You gave him a quick smile before turning back to the water. He rested his head into his arms and let out a loud breath. 

After a moment, he lifted his head and said, “It’s not fair, you know.” 

You pushed yourself up off the rail and turned to him. “What?” 

“The fact that kids get sick. If an adult gets sick when they’re seventy or even forty, I feel bad, but it’s not the same. They’ve had lives. They got to grow up and find out what hobbies make them happiest. They fall in love, get married.” You noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring. Instinctively, you felt for your ring with your thumb, the diamond pressed against the fleshy part of your palm. It was too big, and you hadn’t gotten it resized. Unconsciously, you slipped your hand inside your pocket. “But kids,” he continued. “They haven’t really experienced anything yet. They have so much more to lose.” 

You gave him a quick once over. He was obviously distraught. He gave you a tight smile. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I must sound crazy to you. Just going off to a complete stranger. I promise, I’m not dangerous and I never really talk this much.” 

“I don’t mind,” you replied. “I don’t think you’re crazy. And out here, nobody can really be strangers for long.” 

He nodded and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he muled your words. After a moment, he looked over at you and you felt my heart start to race as his blue eyes smoothed over your face. The two of you were less than six feet apart now. Somewhere during the conversation one of you had moved closer, or both of you had. You weren't sure who made the move first. “Well I’m sorry, again, for interrupting you. I’ll let you be.” He made no move to leave.

You tilted your head. “Don’t worry about it. It can get pretty lonely out here. I don’t mind the conversation.” 

He was still looking at you so intensely that you had to look away. He was difficult to read. But the way his large hands were gripping the railing made you want to reach out and brush your hand over his and tell him it was going to be OK. To calm down. To relax.

He gave you a small smile. “Goodnight, then.” He had a long gait, neat. No uniform. 

You wondered what he thought of you. Sloppy, to say the least. Hair in a bun, pajama bottoms dragging down over ratty sneakers. 

Along the horizon, you spotted the light of another ship, barely visible in the thick darkness. Some reassurance that others were out there. 

***

On the second night, you were standing in nearly the same spot on the railing, hands pressed against the cold metal, peering over at the churning waves. The water was rockier, angry. It lept against the side of the ship. 

You heard his footsteps before he was within your line of sight. 

“Hello again.” 

You turned, the slight lick of wetness beneath the fabric of your sleeve. On a ship, everything is wet all the time. It’s nearly impossible to stay dry. “It’s you.” 

He took his spot next to you against the rail, closer this time. You reached up, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, silently sending up a prayer that you had put in an ounce of effort that night. It had been an educated guess he would come. 

A part of you hoped he would, however terrible that was to admit. 

“Can I ask what you’re doing here?” he asked. 

“Here, as in the deck at midnight? Or here on the ship?” 

“Both. Either.” The edges of a bright white smile shone through soft pink lips. “Neither, if you don’t want to talk to a stranger. Whatever you’d like to tell me. I’m a bit starved for conversation. It’s been a quiet day down in the sick bay.” 

So he was med corps. That tracked. 

“You seemed rich with conversation in the mess last night,” you blurted out. Regret flowed through your veins instantly and you wanted to smack yourself for letting onto the fact that you had been watching him. 

He gave a small laugh. It was rough and deep and forced a layer of goosebumps on your arms. “They’re good guys. But they can be a lot.” 

You tilted your head, waiting for him to fill the empty space. But he simply gazed out at the azure waves, letting silence envelop the two of you. 

“To answer your question of what brings me here,” you said, “why don’t you give me your best guess.” 

You could feel his stare all the way to the marrow of your bones. The way his eyes gently rolled over your hair, down your face, across your chest, over your abdomen, all the way to your feet. You felt a tingle work its way through your body. “Intelligence?” he guessed. 

You shook your head. 

“Engineering?” 

“Nope.” 

“OK I give up,” he said with a small grin. 

“I’m an aviator.” He blinked in disbelief. “You’re surprised?” 

“Honestly?” he asked. “Yes. You look really young to be on this carrier as an aviator.” 

“I’m twenty eight. Not sure that’s considered young.” 

He groaned. “Trust me, it’s young.” 

“So how old does that make you?” 

“Thirty five.” 

“God, ancient.” You watched him grimace. “Being a grandpa suits you.” 

“People are living to one hundred now, easily. I’m young by those standards.” 

My eyes scanned him top to bottom. He was taller than me, with thick blond hair combed evenly to one side, soft blue eyes behind a pair of thin wire glasses. Nerdy in an unassuming way, but there was an energy that radiated from him. 

“OK, my turn to ask questions,” you said and his lips twitched into a smile. “What brings you here?” 

“The ship or the deck?” he teased. 

“Either.” 

“If we’re talking about the ship – I’m a doctor. Peds. Someone had to drop out last minute and I got called in. That phone call you overheard last night was about one of my patients back home. I didn’t know I’d be here. Didn’t realize I’d be gone so long without seeing him.”

A doctor. You had suspected, but it fit. The sympathetic eyes, the large steady hands. The way he made you feel calm without even saying anything. 

“As for the deck,” he continued, “what if I said it was because I thought maybe I wouldn’t have to be alone tonight?” 

“Presumptuous,” you whispered. 

“A bit,” he murmured, round cheeks turning pink, “considering we’re not even on a first name basis.” 

You told him your name and he smiled. 

“I’m Bob,” he replied. “Bob Floyd.” 

“See? Now we’re not strangers.” 

He smiled, wire glasses sliding down his nose and he pressed them up with one fingertip. Behind him, a few security lights casted thin yellow halos, and you could make out the faint shape of a person on the other end of the long, flat deck. It couldn’t be more than forty degrees out, and you shivered in your thin jacket. “Are you cold?” he asked. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, and in doing so realized you left the engagement ring back in the bunk after your morning shower. It had yet to become a habit to wear it. After twenty eight years with an empty finger, it’s an adjustment to slip on a ring every day and let it be one fact that the world knows about you before you even open your mouth. 

Bob shrugged off his jacket, a black Patagonia puffer, and held it out. “Here,” he said softly, blushing again like he was embarrassed to be offering it. “Please? I’d feel really guilty for monopolizing your time and keeping you cold while doing it.” 

You smiled and he held out the jacket as you slipped your arms into the sleeves. Bob’s hands lingered on the coat for a moment before dropping as he backed away. “Thank you.” His scent surrounds you – a warm woodsy pine, mixed with the sharp mint of toothpaste. 

You tapped your fingers on the rail, desperately racking your brain for something to say to continue the conversation. 

“What brought you out here tonight?” Bob’s deep, throaty voice punctuated the silence. 

“I’m not sure, honestly,” you replied. “I think I prefer to be out here as opposed to being in there.” His eyes followed your gaze to the cabin door. 

“I get that,” he replied. “Not a fan of small spaces either.” 

“There’s something about the ship at night that I really like. It’s quiet.” 

He gave you a sideways glance. “Sorry to be interrupting your quiet time.” 

“Trust me, I’ve had enough of that already and it’s only been two days.” 

“Where are you getting off?” 

“Pensacola.” 

“Quite a trip.” 

“Always is,” you replied. “Not really what I thought I was signing up for.” 

“It never is,” Bob added. 

You turned around, pressing your arms against the railing and propping up one foot. You watched as Bob ran one hand across the corner of his mouth before shoving it in his khaki pocket. The Atlantic wind penetrated Bob’s jacket and your shift, nipping at your skin. “You said you came up here hoping you wouldn’t have to be alone. Were you looking for me?” 

Your words are tossed out into the open like a gunshot. 

Bob stilled for a moment and you half expect him to make an excuse to leave. To avoid answering. But then he opens his mouth. “Yes.” 

That’s it. One word. Simple and complex at once. He is honest and raw in a way you’ve seen with very few men up until that point. A younger man would find a way to deflect. A smarter girl would have asked in a more coy way. Understated. Neither of which you excelled at. You’ve always been too pushy, too bold, too forward. 

“Why?” you pressed, embarrassed by how badly a part of you wanted this near stranger to want you. The neediness was unbecoming. And despite the fact that he was a stranger, you wanted Bob’s approval. It felt like an Olympic medal you had been chasing your entire life. 

“You were so kind last night,” he said, voice dipping down into a whisper. “I just, I wanted to learn more about the person who was nice to a complete stranger. That felt like someone worth knowing.” 

“You’re sweet.” 

Bob blushed and it spread to the tips of his ears. You could feel Bob’s gaze linger for a beat too long before he, too, turned back out toward the open, angry sea. 

“I should probably get to bed.” You stepped away from the railing, unzipping the jacket and handing it back to him. Instead of putting it on, he folded it over one forearm. 

Bob smiled. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

Part of you wants more. Maybe it’s the chill of the wind and the sudden loss of warmth from his coat. Perhaps it’s your future, looming ahead. The unknown. Dark and uncharted, like the water the boat is struggling against. 

You wonder what Bob is thinking. His blue eyes searching yours, evaluating your next move. 

“Goodnight.” As you make your way inside, you resist the urge to turn around and see if he’s watching you walk away. 

A part of you knows that he is. 

Lying in the bunk, the cool dampness of the sheets on your skin, you curse yourself. What are you doing? You have a fiance at home. You have a life at stake. 

But who is to say that if you had met Bob before Connor that you wouldn’t fall into the same trap. Maybe every relationship is bound for it, eventually. Everyone boards a train headed in the same direction. There is no basis to say that one relationship is inherently more exciting than another. There’s every reason to believe that it’s because you grow older, more set in your ways. You get busier, drink more, have less sex, watch more TV, spend more time apart. That might just be life. And no matter how strong the butterflies are, it’ll eventually route back to that same destination. The end of the butterfly period, where everything turns into the inevitable. 

But that doesn’t explain why the last thing that crosses your mind before you fall asleep is Bob’s soft face, smiling at you from behind his wire frames. 

And how part of you can already feel him slipping away. 

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Tagging some people who I think may like this (but feel free to message me and say you're not interested and I won't tag you going forward!): @blue-aconite @bobfloydsbabe @horseshoegirl @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @spinning-away @bvbfloyd @startrekfangirl2233-writes @shanimallina87 @xoxabs88xox @xomrsalliej4787xo @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @thedroneranger @gigisimsonmars @fanficfandomlove @callsign-magnolia @sometimesanalice @stargazer-88 @tomanybandstolove @laracrofted @iangiemae @teacupsandtopgun @palepeanutponyshoe @mrsjobarnes @desert-fern

[shegatsby]

Hello there!

Saw that your requests are open, so I thought I'd leave this here. What about a Hannibal x reader who is a lot like Amy Dunne (Gone girl)? Sorta like friends to enemies to lovers vibes.

Like, she is trying to escape the life she once had under a new identity. She wants a second chance ig. However, upon meeting Hannibal, the nosy bastard just can not stop himself from looking into her and only becomes even more intrigued when he notices her lack of well... authenticity?

She feels threatened by Hannibal just as much as she is attracted to him. Does she flee once more? Do they have a confrontation? Does he try coax or manipulate her back into old habits? Do they form some sort of alliance? Ugh if only I had the creativity and the ability to make choices when it comes to these things! (Totally up to you if you want to add fluff, or smut, or angst, btw)

Anyway, thank you :)

A/N: Hi! Thnak you so much for this request, it was interesting to write. Take care. xxx

Warnings: Smut! Unprotected sex! Minors get the f out or else!

Her mind was a dark place when it comes to men, if she avoided them her entire life none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t have to run to a different state and change her entire identity.. she cursed under her breath when she sat on her new couch in her new home. Now she was in Wolf Trap Virginia, it was moderately cold in winters and it was winter, she moved here in the spring. In the spring it was beautiful, she had always loved flowers and plants, sometimes she wished to be a plant and connect to the soil, it would be a lot easier than this. She bought this house with the money she had from her husband, ex husband who supposedly went ‘’missing’’ one day and left her, she had an excuse to start a new life and that she did. She didn’t want any former friends or family members to contact her thus the change came with its glory. New hair, new style of clothing, new house, new environment.

The house she bought was old and that’s why cheaper than others so she still had some money left, the only problem was that she had to renovate it on her own, sometimes she had cable issues or pipes were making noises etc. However, this time her luck was on her side because she met someone. One night a dog came up to her door, it was a cold night and she let the dog in, it had a name tag but no address so she thought the owner would look for it soon and she was right. The owner of the dog was her neighbor Will Graham, their houses weren’t that close but she had seen him at the supermarket or driving. He offered to help her with fixing the pipes etc. and she offered nice chats and warm meals. Over time they started to share information about each other, of course everything she said was false but Will was honest, he was a university teacher in the department of criminology also he was working for the FBI. She had wondered if Will ever saw her husband’s missing case. Their friendship developed and she started to go to his house, it was Christmas when she met him,

 Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Will invited her for Christmas dinner and said his other friends and colleagues would be there, mostly FBI, at first she hesitated but wouldn’t be fun for them to be in a room with a killer, little did she know that she wasn’t the only killer in the house.

She wore a nice sweater and black pants, she was simple yet pure looking. She didn’t drive to his house but walked, it wasn’t close but it wasn’t far either. Light snow was falling from the sky, she liked snow and Christmas time, Will’s house was decorated nicely, it looked colorful and warm.

She held her breath and knocked on the door, soon Will answered, holding a mug, he looked cute in his brown sweater and his messy hair, ‘’Glad you could make it.’’ He let her in.

One by one Will introduced her to the others, it wasn’t crowded, before Will could speak the man standing before her extended his hand, ‘’Doctor Hannibal Lecter.’’ She shook his hand, ‘’Y/N,  nice to meet you.’’ She said shortly, feeling uncomfortable under his questioning gaze, Will’s boss Jack joked, ‘’Don’t worry Ms, Doctor Lecter loves to carry his psychiatric work to his social gatherings.’’

‘’A Psychiatrist? I must be careful in this room.’’ She thought to herself.

Rest of the night went smoothly, at the dinner table she had a nice chat with others especially Alana Bloom, she made her feel comfortable, however she kept feeling Dr. Lecter’s maroon gaze and every time she looked at him was watching her, he wasn’t shy of eye contact either. Y/N not saying her last name didn’t go unnoticed by him and he captured her under his observation. She looked extra careful, speaking slowly and choosing her words meticulously. Will and others were smart but they didn’t share his twisted mind and intellect.

After dinner people started to have conversations privately and she got a glass of eggnog and standing by the fire place, Will’s dogs sleeping at corners of the house, ‘’I haven’t got your full name Ms?’’ she heard his deep voice, he had a subtle accent underneath, maybe he was running just like her?

‘’Oh?’’ she asked turning to him, ‘’I apologies, its Y/N Y/L/N.’’ she smiled gently but her eyes were dead, he could see, ‘’It rhymes, your parents must have a good sense of humor.’’ He commented, she could understand that he was intrigued by her, he made a mental note to dig into her social media accounts and thanks to his work with the FBI he had access to search for people’s ID.

‘’May I ask,’’ he began wondering, ‘’what is the true nature of your relationship with Will?’’ because Will never mentioned her till tonight. Her eyes were on the flames, ‘’One night, his dog wandered to my door and he came back to take him, we have been friends since then.’’ She turned to him, there was a warmth to her eyes with the memory, Hannibal was sure now that she wasn’t a sociopath. She could feel things, it could come in handy one day.

‘’Such a sweet story. Will is very fond of his strays.’’ He threw a bait to see if she was going to get angry, because his comment had undertones. ‘’Aren’t we all?’’ she replied quickly. She was smart.

After that night she wished she never saw him again but fate had its own story. The very next day she received a note on her porch, it was printed, ‘’Save me a dance, Fondly.’’ As soon as she read it she dropped the note and called Will. Recently there was a killer on the loose, he was targeting young women who live alone. At first the women find the note and then they are kidnapped within few days, later they end up dead. It could be a stupid prank but she had to be sure, Will brought his team to investigate, the people you dined with yesterday evening now were in your living room questioning you. How odd.

‘’Can you tell us everything Ms Y/L/N?’’ Jack Crawford asked with his professional voice. She told them everything which wasn’t much, Will was sitting next to her, holding her hand in a friendly manner but it irritated Hannibal for some reason he couldn’t place and it made him more irritated. ‘’She has to leave, immediately.’’ His sudden comment made everyone look at him, ‘’Our killer is moving quickly these days. She should be in a protection program.’’ He was saying this on purpose, because he had a plan. ‘’You know what happened last time.’’ Jack replied calmly and yet she could sense that the last woman was most likely dead now. ‘’Before you can arrange accommodations she could stay with me, no one would suspect a thing.’’ Hannibal’s suggestion made her froze, she turned to Will to say something and Hannibal understood her intention and added quickly, ‘’Will lives too close to Ms Y/L/N, the killer is also a stalker. He knows your friendship with Will.’’ He was making sense which she hated. ‘’Ms Y/L/N, please pack yourself a bag.’’ Jack’s final decision was made and she had no choice. She had to survive.

The journey to Hannibal Lecter’s home was a long one, at first Hannibal explained the case to her and they talked about it for a while and then she fell asleep, in this state Hannibal could examine her face closely, she looked like an angel, so soft and innocent but he knew deep down she had deep secrets and he couldn’t wait to reveal them. He enjoyed this game and he wasn’t going to let go of her anytime soon.

His house made her feel like she shouldn’t touch anything, just sit straight and observe. He had expensive taste when it came to architecture and interior design,  paintings on the dark blue walls, every room had a marble fire place, the carpets felt soft under your feet.

‘’This is your room.’’ He walked her in the guest room, it had a queen sized bed with beige sheets, side tables, a big wardrobe which she didn’t even need because she brought a tiny bag, thankfully the room had bathroom and toilet side, in the bathroom there were various hair masks, face masks, shampoos and scrubs etc. ‘’I called a friend to bring these skincare products, I didn’t know which you usually use so my friend got various types. I hope they will be useful.’’

His gesture made her think about him again, it was nice but was he too enthusiastic?

‘’Thank you Doctor.’’ She replied shortly, ‘’Please, call me Hannibal.’’ He gave her a small smile, ‘’I’ll let you freshen up and dinner will be ready shortly.’’

‘’Its okay you don’t have to-‘’ he cut her short, ‘’Please, you are a guest under my roof, and I love to cook for my guests.’’ And he left without letting her speak, she took a long shower to relax and wore a long t-shirt and leggings, his house warm and she was getting more comfortable. She walked downstairs and Hanniabl’s high senses picked up on her fresh skin, she smelled of vanilla and he liked it very much. ‘’Dinner is ready.’’

He also freshened up, he was in more casual clothes but he still looked sophisticated, ‘’Smells delicious.’’ She commented and watched Hannibal pull up a chair for her, ‘’Tastes delicious too.’’ She could hear him close to her ear as she sat, he smelled manly and dominant. He sat to his place, and they started to eat, dinner was a warm soup ad fish with fresh bread, salad on the side and red wine. The fire place was lit in the dining room they were eating, ‘’Hmm,’’ she hummed when she tasted the fish it was so soft and tasty, ‘’You like it?’’ Hannibal shifted in his seat when he heard her, is dark mind went to imaginary intimate scenes with her… imaginary and yet for a second he craved them to be real. He had to give her credit she was a beautiful woman with a feminine aura, but he could sense that she was hiding things from her past and he had to know.

‘’Yes, Hannibal. Thank you.’’ She smiled kindly to him, ‘’How long do I have to stay here?’’ she asked curiously, ‘’As you know Jack is the head of the FBI, he has to make sure he finds a safe and secluded place for you and then I will help you move there. But these processes take time, a lot of paper work so you will be here for a while. I hope you will like it.’’ He explained, testing the waters.

‘’I like your home, especially the interior design, I love paintings, I often visit museums actually.’’ And the conversation of fine art and literature started. She was a well read woman which he admired and liked very much, they exchanged ideas about famous novels and later he played some music for her, he could play harpsichord and he played Vivaldi’s Winter. She sat near to him by the fire with a glass of red wine in her palm, it was delicious, she liked the atmosphere he provided.

The days have passed and made them grow close to each other, with time she started to cook dinner for him when he came from work, she started to clean the house, organize and help him host when he needed. She wondered why Jack still couldn’t find a safe house for her when in fact he kept sending houses to Hannibal via e-mail and Hannibal found excuses and declined on behalf of her, she had no idea about this. It had been a months since she moved in with him, in the mean time the killer didn’t kill no woman, he was silent and she prayed for him to be like that for a while.

One day Hannibal forgot to bring his laptop with him to his work, he left in a hurry because it was related to another case, he kissed her cheek, said goodbye and left, it became their custom. They were growing close but neither of them took a huge step, after he left she tidied around and was looking for a recipe and noticed that his laptop was open and he forgot so she went on Youtube, soon there was an email notification and she hesitated for a moment and then clicked on it. It was from Jack Crawford, sending him yet another safe house and she could feel her heart drop to her feet, she read all of the emails between them and Hannibal declining all of the houses Jack sent. Suddenly she felt trapped by a man.. again. That was the reason she had to killer ex husband and flee. He was an abusive man with drugs and often abused her and cheated on her, one day she had enough, she didn’t remember how she did it but when it was done her husband was on the floor with 50 stab wounds, she kept him in the freezer for a week, didn’t know what to do with him, she cleaned the entire home, burnt every piece of clothing that had blood and she melted the knife she had used, after contemplating for a week she burnt his finger tips and took off his teeth, just in case if his body parts were found she didn’t want any identification to be found.  Some of his parts were rotting under soil and some were deep in a lake or river, she survived and she was going to survive again.

She closed the email tab, and started to cook, she had a plan but so did Hannibal.

Hannibal had already learnt her past, one night after drinking few glasses of strong wine she told him where she was born and said she was divorced and that’s all he needed to know. Thanks to his connection to the FBI it wasn’t so hard to find her old ID. Yes, she was married once despite her young age, the husband was missing and she left their state and travelled all the way to start a new life. He knew that she was the one who made him go ‘’missing’’ and he found himself getting excited. Usually people get caught in their first kill because it is always a sloppy job but she managed to live and make every detail disappear from the public eye. He was just waiting for the right time to expose that he already knew. Tonight was the night.

He came back from work a bit late but as soon as he opened the door his nostrils picked up the delicious scent coming from the kitchen, since it was two of them most of the time they started to eat in the kitchen by the tall window looking outside and chatting about their day.

He walked to the kitchen and there she was, she was wearing a long black dress, covering her entire body but her curves were crystal clear, she was an astonishing woman and Hannibal was the one who could witness it. He was glad she killed her husband because he wanted her all to himself.

‘’Welcome back love.’’ She said and smiled, ‘’You go ahead and freshen up and then we can eat together.’’ He wasn’t an idiot, he picked up on her coldness, she was colder than usual. ‘’See you in a bit.’’ Hannibal replied and went upstairs, as usual he freshened up, didn’t forget to hide a small knife under his sleeve and came back to the kitchen, she smiled but it didn’t reach to her beautiful ears, he sat carefully on the kitchen stool, she brought the food, ‘’How was your day?’’ she asked casually, Hannibal’s eyes first roamed on her body, the white apron wrapped her body tight and made her body look pleasing, she looked much healthier than before, he did a great job taking care of her and so did she. Hannibal’s friends, especially Will and Jack kept mentioning how much Hannibal changed, there was a color to his face and his manners were warmer than before.

They chatted for a while, and then he watched her place her fork and knife on the empty plate, she drank her wine, ‘’I don’t want to beat around the bush anymore,’’ she began and Hannibal knew something was about to happen, ‘’you left your laptop and I saw the emails Jack kept sending you. You were declining his safe house offers for me.’’ Her bluntness made him more attracted.

‘’Give me a good reason.’’ Her voice was daring, he knew if he cannot give a good reason she is going to do something.

He could feel the cold blade in his sleeve, ‘’I simply do not see those houses fit. My house is the safest for you.’’

She stood up, ‘’You think you can put me in a cage!’’ her voice was threatening, ‘’I was trapped before and I’ll not be trapped again!’’

He knew she was traumatized by her marriage and she didn’t want to relive it, he could see it.

‘’That wasn’t my intention,’’ he stood up as well, there was space between them, she took off her apron and threw it on the floor, ‘’I’m leaving.’’ And as soon as she turned he grabbed her hand and made her clash onto his torso, ‘’You are not going anywhere darling.’’ He was so calm it made her question if he was human or not. ‘’Let go of me Hannibal!’’ she managed to get out of his grasp but this time he held her waist and pulled her again, he hugged her from behind, ‘’You cannot leave!’’ she could feel the blade and with a swift move she got the knife, it was sharp so it cut her finger, immediate blood running down her finger and coating her hand in crimson, ‘’Get back!’’ she tried to stab him but the knife was slippery in her hand, ‘’You cut yourself.’’ His voice was so soft and caring, tears running down her cheeks ‘’Please,’’ she begged, ‘’I can’t do it again..’’ she couldn’t help the tears, she couldn’t relive her past.

Hannibal was quick, he trapped her between his body and the kitchen island, he threw the knife on the floor, ‘’Listen to me Y/N.’’  their bodies were pressed, they were breathing heavily, ‘’I won’t do anything to hurt you,’’ she searched his maroon eyes, under the yellow warm lights she could see his dilated pupils, like a man who was drugged, ‘’I am not the man you think I am, I will never do anything to hurt you.’’ He was holding her firmly on both arms, ‘’I did everything for you!’’

She was trying hard to find a lie, or something suspicious in his eyes, but he was telling the truth.

She found herself hugging him, it had been so long since she hugged someone, maybe… maybe this could be it. He was startled at first but then he hugged her back, as they parted he captured her lips, he had wanted to do that for so long. The kiss was so passionate it knocked the breath out of her, his lips were plump and delicious, he was perfect.

As they were kissing their hands were exploring their bodies, his torso and arms were so firm and manly his hands went to the skirts of her dress, pulling up, she let him. Her hands went to his belt and he helped her, Hannibal had to be honest, he had been imagining this scene for weeks, he wanted to be at the comfort of his bed but both of them couldn’t wait that long for they were desperate.

He was biting her lips, moaning like a mad man, when her hand went to is boxers and she felt how hard he was and she moaned into his mouth which made him get more exited, she pumped him through his boxers, Hannibal wasn’t like this usually but something in her brought his dark animalistic side to the light and he felt like himself, without faking to fit in with the society. She was eager to pull his pants and bowers down and he quickly pulled everything down, she broke the kiss to look at his large cock, it was just as she expected, large and clean, his tip was covered in pre-cum, she looked up to meet his eyes, she could see the hunger and need, Hannibal made her sit on the kitchen island and positioned himself between her legs, he brought her black panties to the side, when he started to tease her with his tip she was a moaning mess, ‘’Hannibal..’’ she moaned in protest, it had been so long since she had slept with anyone.

He looked at her divine face, cheeks flushed, mouth parted, ‘’Do you want me?’’ he asked with a low baritone, ‘’Yes, please.’’ She replied eagerly and he slowly pushed his cock in her soaking core, Hannibal almost came with the contact because she was so tight it was unbelievable.

The blood on her hand dried but left marks on his clothes, neck, cheeks, he deeply buried himself and moaned in satisfaction, she was gripping him tight, he pulled back completely and pushed again and started a rhythm. His balls were slapping her, wet noises filling the kitchen, ‘’Kiss me.’’ She begged and he complied willingly, he was like a wild animal, she could feel his cock tearing her insides, when he grabbed her boob tightly they both felt the wetness growing inside her, even though they were fully clothed they didn’t care. He let his tip hit her insides fiercely and she had to break the kiss to moan loudly, he was hitting the spot which his ex husband could never do, this was something she was experiencing for the first time and her eyes rolled back, her head falling back and Hannibal buried his head to the crook of her neck, he kissed her neck, biting her and leaving bruises. ‘’Hannibal…’’ she moaned his name over and over again.

She was getting tense which Hannibal noticed and he soothed her, ‘’Shhh, let go, don’t be afraid..’’ he knew she was holding back and with his encouraging words she came in gush of water, it was her first time squirting and it was intense, Hannibal caressed her face, her hair and let her live it, experience it for the first time, he pulled out and didn’t mind the mess she made, matter of fact it was hot and he wanted to continue fucking her and leave her seed in her, would she allow it? He wanted to try.

When she relaxed a bit he pushed back in, he wasn’t done with her, and now she was more sensitive, the tiny voices she was making pushed him over the edge and he came inside her really hard, he was a moaning mess and she loved it, she kissed her as he came, when they were done she kissed her gently, he was still buried deep, ‘’It’s okay.’’ She said, noticing the worry in his eyes, he kissed her back, Hannibal knew that after tonight he wasn’t going to let her ago.

She was his.

Thank you for reading. :)

[highonmarvel]

Restless Heart [1] | Tricks

♩Steve Kemp

You thought you were dark, and you are, but the charming surgeon you’re becoming addicted to is testing the extents of your morality.

content warning: this is a dark fic, and this series explores taboo topics such as abuse and assault, abduction, deteriorating mental health and mental illness, graphic depictions of gore. Think of a trigger warning: it applies to my work.

addition content warnings here!

“I just don’t eat animals.”

People are generally vegetarian for two main reasons: health or ethics. Steve is a doctor, and evidently in very good shape, so maybe it was to do with that, but you guessed it was probably some moral reasoning. You nearly make a comment, want to ask, “So you don’t eat men?” but you manage to bite that back as you swallow down some chicken.

You nod, and he seems to anticipate your apology as he quickly assures you he doesn’t mind you. You had tried to be vegetarian once, when you were younger and so much more golden, and sweet, and never wanting to hurt a fly, but you abandoned that in less than two weeks, and grew out of that sunshine view. You aren’t super edgy or the “fuck everything” type, no, you just understand that a person can not be good 100 percent of the time, and you have grown to accept that. You know you aren’t holy, and that’s freeing, in a sense, makes you feel safer exploring darker thoughts, only on your own, though. It’s amazing to be at terms with oneself, it’s the ultimate peace.

“Hey, so, I was thinking…” Steve starts, setting down his fork, “If you’re up for it, we should go on, like, a trip or something.”

How long had you known him? Long enough to not think twice about hopping in his car. Or maybe it hadn’t been that long and he’s just the most addictive drug in the world. Steve is heroin personified—not even, actually, it’s so much stronger than that; the desire to be as close to him as physically possible is so overwhelming you have no idea how by any miracle you have managed to stay seated across from him at the table.

“What did you have in mind?” you try as a casual question, maybe a little playful, but even you can tell it’s not convincing. You’re not necessarily shy, maybe a little awkward, but not cowering at the thought of social interactions, but with Steve, there’s just something. Fuck, his defined jawline, smart sense of humour (despite a little awkward charm—in fact, that nerdy attractiveness may benefit him), and his high-inducing touches. He melts down your stubborn persona to a blushing schoolgirl with just a half smile. He knows, he has to, but he’s never mocked you for it. Is that something you would be into?

“A surprise, if you’re up for it.”

You’re up for anything.

The next evening, you’re at his home; it’s huge and gorgeous. You remember wondering if he had a wife and kids when you first started seeing him, but now a little more so—why would he have such a big home just for himself?

“You really don’t have a wife?” you ask, peering down one of the long corridors.

He laughs from another room, and you follow the comforting sound over to a sunken living area. He gestures to your glass on the end table of the couch opposite of him. You settle down and lift the glass to him before bringing it to your lips.

“I don’t,” he insists with a smile, taking a sip of his drink.

You don’t even remember what you asked for, but you drink it anyway, because it’s from Steve. It’s a little tangy, but not too strong, lingers on your tongue and coats your throat.

You hear your name called in a familiar voice. You lift your suddenly incredibly heavy head to look up at Steve; he has his left arm draped over the back of the couch, and his right forearm laying on his thigh, holding the glass seated on his knee.

“Why’re you sitting so far away?”

What a good question. You stand, and even though you attempt to do so slowly, you still rise way to fast, and the fancy wooden floor sways underneath you as you grip your head to stop it from falling forward. You take a step, and you’re out.

♡

You stir to consciousness but keep your eyes shut, turning over and pulling a thin blanket over your shoulder. But something doesn’t feel right. The light shining on you is too warm a colour, the sheet over you is as crisp as a hospital blanket, and it feels like you’re laying on the floor.

Your eyes rip open and you try to sit up with shaking arms providing little support. The wall opposite you is painted with blue and purple and yellow as a beach sunset despite the air of despair about the room.

Your attention is drawn at the sound of ice clinking against glass, finding Steve taking a sip of a drink, seated in a chair by a door.

“Steve?” you ask, trying to stay as calm as possible, “What’s happening?”

He lets out a breath, and says, “I’m gonna tell you but you’re gonna freak out.”

He looks down at you with a glint that could be slight boredom or amusement, and you struggle to properly read the situation.

You look down to your right, where a thick leather bracelet covers your skin, connected to a chain of silver looped through a hook in the ground.

“Take this off, please,” you ask between uneven breaths.

“I can’t do that.”

“Take. It. Off.”

“I. Can’t. Do that.”

He sets his glass down and stands up, causing you to immediately retreat into the corner.

“Don’t!” you shriek, kicking the sheets towards him in your attempt to cower, “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m standing right here,” he responds, holding his hands like he’s unarmed.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you begin hyperventilating, your body tensing and chest restricting as he crouches before you, “… Are you going to rape me?”

He tilts his head in disappointment and drops his voice, “Why would you ask me something so ugly?”

“Oh my God, oh my God…” you begin again, over and over like a prayer to heaven as he tries to speak to you.

“I like you, and I’m not going to rape you. Listen to me, very carefully,” he says, calm but authoritative, but you continue with your panicked three words over and over again before he yells your name.

“There she is,” he gives a tight-lipped half-smile, like he’s trying to be comforting but doesn’t have the patience for it, “I’m gonna sell your meat, and your hair, and get a lot of money for it. I’m not gonna kill you… right away… because the fresher the meat, the better. I’m not gonna kill you… unless you act up.”

His words are hardly registering in your mind as your eyes dart around the room, looking for any escape points.

“It’s great here, and I’ll cook for you! I’m a great cook,” he steps back and gestures around him, turning to look at the mural on the wall, giving you time to prepare to stand, “And by the way, look at the sunset—”

You yell as your charge towards him, clawing at him with your left hand and trying desperately (and in vain) to pull your right free. He easily steps back from your attack and you swipe at air, leaping further to try to get to him but being tugged back by your restraint.

He manoeuvres himself around you and sweeps you off your feet by gripping your waist, either ignoring your thrashing or used to this response, expertly managing to lay you down as if he’s done it many times before.

His breathing is slightly heavier when he steps over you and makes his way to the door, but you can’t tell if that’s because he’s angry or if your tantrum took him a little more effort (still barely anything, though).

“Behave.”

He leaves you with that. The cage-like wooden door slides shut and an electronic noise from a keypad let’s you know it’s locked.

♡

There are two other women in the basement, Penny, and someone else, resigned to their fate, and you fear you’ll soon become like her, giving up once you’ve had enough taken from you. You can’t have been in the basement for more than a few days, only managing to keep track of time by the three meals Steve delivers you a day. At first you tried to lunge at him, but he didn’t even drop the bowl of cereal he brought down, promising he’d make you a better breakfast the next morning because he had something to take care of; you soon found out that something was the nameless woman whose cell was furthest from you seeing as she was taken away screaming and never returned.

You refused to eat the next meal he delivered, and he encouraged you for a bit but didn’t press too hard before leaving. When dinner rolled around, your temper had been building all day but you had tried to bite your tongue out of fear; you had learnt Steve was a man of his word, and even if you believed he liked you, you just as well believed he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. Part of you was curious, however, as to how he had managed to keep this up for what you presumed to be years given his expertise without getting caught or even suspected, and the thought made you choke on a sob that you played off as a cough, remaining careful under his gaze. You had learnt Penny didn’t have many friends and family that she had become distant to, similar to yourself, and the thought of all the women who disappeared into thin air without so much as a news call made your stomach twist: you would be one of those women now.

When he set the tray down, you knocked the food aside and tried to scratch at his torso but his thick sweater kept you from it.

“You know,” he said as he sat crossed-legged on the floor only a little bit away from you after you had effectively tired yourself out with trying to get a single hit at him for what felt like an hour, “I knew you were batshit crazy pretty early on.” Your eyes snapped up to him as he casually admitted what you’d been trying so hard to hide for the few weeks you had been dating him. Admittedly, your erratic nature was something you’d eventually stopped trying to hide as you grew up finding the harder you tried, the more explosive you would become when the secret was inevitably revealed, but you really wanted to try keep some sanity about you, at least until you got to know him a little better and were secure in the knowledge it would be at least a little harder for him to leave you than it was in the early days.

“Like, bite-your-dick-off insane. It made me wonder how you’d react to this, if you’d be as violent as I see you are now, or maybe you’d see the appeal.”

“I’d mind it less if you were doing this to men, but you said you ‘don’t eat animals,’ so I guess that rules your kind out.”

He let out an amused exhale through his nose and bit his lip to keep himself from smiling too wide.

That had to have been a few days ago, though you can’t really be sure seeing as he had stopped bringing meals down for a bit after your tantrum, and you were left to scream out your frustrations on your own until you fell asleep. You didn’t hear him come down for Penny either and eventually the conversation between you two had fizzled out. You wanted to leave the mess to spite him but it started smelling rancid and you had to clean up the cell to stop yourself from vomiting even more than you already wanted to.

Finally, the basement door creaks open, and your heart starts beating fast, but you can’t tell if you’re excited to see him or dreading the reason he’s coming down. You’re prepared to swing at him again despite your many failed attempts, but you’re also so hungry you’re not willing to risk going without another meal.

“I need a shower,” you say the second he appears in the cell doorway.

“Hello to you too,” he responds dryly, but his demeanour is cooler than you want considering your emotions are running so high you feel you’ll die if you don’t lash out. Maybe it’s because you’ve missed a few doses of your medicine, but you swear you must have hallucinated his response as being positive when he leans down to unclasp your wrist and you flex your hand to get some feeling back into it.

You rise unsteadily to your feet, unsure if this is a dream or a test, but step out the cell when he motions you ahead of him. He closes the door and grips your bicep as he urges you forward, his hold not hard but firm enough to let you know he is still in control. You feel like a newborn deer and you walk down the corridor, seeing daylight for the first time and wobbly on your legs. Running is not an option, he’d catch you instantly and maybe kill you on the spot, but maybe you can distract him.

You turn suddenly and slash at his face with a roar, trying to claw his eye out. You manage to scratch his face and he’s startled enough to drop your arm in favour of cupping his injured cheek. Maybe the smarter thing to do would have been to run to the kitchen and grab a knife, snatch a lamp from the side table, a vase on the mantle, find a weapon of any kind, but in your fury you lunge at him, managing to jump onto his back and continue trying to rip his eyes out, screaming as your nails scrape against his forehead, but he catches your wrists to stop you. You wrap your legs around his waist repeatedly kicking your heel into his thigh as you try to land a kick at his crotch, but he suddenly falls backwards and you hit the ground with a cry as your back collides with the hard wooden floorboards. Pain shoots down your spine and you try to prop yourself up onto your forearms but are forced to fall backwards with a cry when what feels like white hot searing fire shoots across your nerves.

Steve stands with a foot on either side of your body, blocking the sunlight which you were just getting used to as he towers over you. Despite the few red marks across his face and a little blood running down some of them, he seems too calm for the situation, quickly able to regain a normal breathing pace after your attack. He leans down and grips your neck, pulling your face a little closer to his.

“Bad girl,” he whispers, the last thing you hear before your head is slammed into the floor and you blackout.

♡

Your limbs feel unnaturally heavy when you slowly stir to consciousness, struggling to open your eyes and feeling your lashes stick together every time you manage to part your lids just a little. The sound of ‘80’s pop music vaguely runs through your clouded mind, along with Steve’s humming. You recognise the song, Restless Heart, that you and Steve had danced to, and now he played the same special moment while you were… on his operating table? You groan as you finally manage to pry your eyes open, almost blinded by the bright white lights shining down on you.

“Steve…” you mumble, trying to shift a little from laying on your belly. You register a thin blanket covering only the upper half of your body and somehow manage to feel self conscious despite the horrifying implication of what he’s doing to you.

“What…” you want to ask ‘What are you doing?’ but you’re unable to get your tongue to move as it sticks to the roof of your dry mouth.

Steve seems to understand when he comes into your sightline and answers, “I’m taking your ass.”

It takes a moment for you to comprehend his words before you hear soft metal clattering, undoubtedly the sound of surgical tools as he moves around the room behind you, singing along with Peter Cetera to the song that was once a reminder of the happiest you’ve ever been, and now a macabre ballad to the worst moment of your life—at least thus far.

“No… no…” you mumble as your eyes well with tears.

“You broke my trust, honey. There’s got to be consequences. I wouldn’t quite say you did a number on me, but you certainly could have, and I can’t have that happening again, now, can I?”

“Steve, stop,” you manage to mutter, your throat dry.

“You see, I don’t mind you, I nearly admire the fight you put up when I come visit you, but it’s not so fun when you try to trick me when I’m doing something nice for you.”

Does he really think letting his captive have a shower is something nice?

“I’m not taking much,” he continues, and if you could think straight you would hate that this more talkative side of him comes out when he’s at his most evil. “You’ll be fine, and you’ll be lucky. And I’m a doctor, remember? But listen,” he sets his tools down and walks over to you, blocking the light as he lowers his voice, “If you ever try something like this again, you’ll lose a limb.”

You sobs slowly die out as you feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness again, the last words you hear being Steve yelling in time with the music, “Don’t leave me here with my restless heart!”

♡

When you wake up on the thin mattress back in hell, you sigh deeply as you consider how to even handle yourself. Now that the shock and anaesthesia has worn off, your back hurts more than ever, and not knowing the condition your ass is in, you wonder if you could use the toilet, even if you managed to pull yourself up. You feel frustrated and defeated, now knowing that when Steve comes around, you won’t even be able to try to assault him, futile as your attempt may be. Though you know your hotheaded decisions are more than unlikely to ever be successful, trying at least gave you some sort of power, or at least the illusion of it.

As you lay on your stomach, feeling your heartbeat through your ribs and against the floor, you can’t help but feel like you’ve a restless heart of your own. You want to kill Steve, you genuinely want to murder him, and painfully at that, you even want to torture him; you want to take one of his butcher knives and slash his dick off, shove it into his mouth and hack at his throat over and over again until his head lolls down the stairs. Or maybe you should repeatedly stab him, make sure he feels every tear until you land a dagger in his restless heart.

And… you almost like it. You almost like being able to get years of anger out and having a valid excuse as to why, you like the idea of being able to murder someone and it being justified. If you can survive this, you’ll have the chance to play out all your sick fantasies with the cover of self defence, you can finally unleash your darkest desires, on someone who deserves it.

♩

} next chapter: Painkiller

my beloved taglist: @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier, @cjand10

[local-philocalist]

Entry to your 20s, advice to the 20-year-old women

Four pieces of advice for the twenty-year-old women from a twenty-something year old woman.

1. Move Your Body

I cannot stress this enough, if you can, please move your body! Move your joints and build your muscles. The doctors, scientists and our parents were unfortunately right, the older one becomes, the weaker they get. If you want to still be able to run around in your fifties, sixties, etc. You need to start the habit now. Get a routine, start working out, try a sport, attempt a dance class, and get active in general.

I’ve recently gotten a gym membership and have begun pilates once or twice a week. Although at first, my muscles were burning, my body soon got used to it and I found my stamina and flexibility improving.

However, you don't need to spend money on a gym membership or Pilates to get fit. You can take a run around your local park, start a sports team with your friends, or try a YouTube workout from the comfort of your home. There are so many different ways to stay fit without emptying your pockets.

2. Eat Your Vegetables

I understand that some people are genuinely picky eaters and their parents never took the initiative to introduce different textures and flavours healthily. Thus this has followed into adulthood and are now unable to eat anything outside the same four meals.

I also understand I cannot say too much as someone who can eat almost anything but as a reformed vegetable hater I do have a little bit to offer. To live a long, healthy life vegetables are a necessity. So if you find yourself unable to eat certain vegetables, I would suggest cooking the vegetables differently, or incorporating ingredients you enjoy in your meals, think outside the box!

There are many articles about breaking picky eating, as adults we should try to expand our tastebuds, there's so much food to enjoy in this life. Nobody likes to be the person ordering chicken fingers at a Michelin restaurant.

3. Feed Your Brain

[edited: the previous paragraph has been published on my personal substack as a full piece; I've rewritten and changed this section for publication and privacy purposes].

I urge young women to nurture their brains; you are so blessed to be in a society and world where education is so accessible for women. If you live in the West, take advantage and don't feed into the propaganda of "I'm just a girl". Women are being minimised, and I don't want young ladies falling down the rabbit hole of this recent no-purpose lifestyle that's advertised.

Looks are essential, and don't get me wrong, I know attraction still plays a huge part in society, but it isn't the only important thing. It's not cute to be ignorant, lack life skills and use social media concepts like "I'm just a girl" as excuses. Stupidity isn't hot, so while it's okay to indulge in media consumption, find yourself hobbies outside of that and put in the effort to grow intellectually and further yourself.

4. High Self-esteem Will Protect You

Most of my girlfriends are in the dating field, and from the stories they tell me its clear these men are crazy. Good discernment is needed and for you to trust your discernment you need a healthy level of self-worth.

I’m not just talking about romantic interest, in general, high self-esteem will take you far in life. From romantic partners to career paths, when you know your value and do not settle, that translates to every crevice of your life. People treat you with more respect, you're likely to find yourself in fewer abusive scenarios and get better opportunities in your place of work.

Nothing good comes from beating yourself down and letting others treat you horribly. Overall your twenties can be fun but also filled with anxiety so take it step-by-step, don't beat yourself up and remember comparison is the thief.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

The male body has to make pilgrimages to sit at the feet of men, the masters and gurus. The only thing that the female has to do is to keep communication open to nature and come home to her body. --India Ame'ye, Author

This is absolutely no shade to men or male bodies. Men and male bodies are valuable, beautiful, and necessary. However, it's a reminder that what we've been taught to believe is real and true around spirituality ( and pretty much everything else) was born from the male mind and never meant for us in the first place. Please consider no longer prioritizing the advice or perspectives of men. You can consider it if you like, but do not center it until you filter what's being said or exemplified through the channels of your own female body. Even with yoga, the female body works best with more flowy practices as oppose to sharp rigidity. Come home to your body and trust your heart and soul.

Since the beginning of time, most gynecologists have been men. Men have been writing women's stories for centuries. We became less and less embodied and trapped and stagnated in our root and sacral chakras, looking for daddy doctor to save us, which did one of three things: 1. caused us to attract lovers who only want to fuck but don't want to love on or care for us 2. made us sexually confused, sexually performative, or incompetent/stuck in our heads, dissociated from our bodies and libidos, and see our bodies as tools/containers for male pleasure. 3. made it difficult for to us to relax comfortable in our grown bodies and just be without stimulants and entertainment.

Now we love the root and sacral chakras. No chakra heirarchy is allowed in this work. Just know though that when your energy is not moving, it's impossible for you to feel good in your body. That is one of the biggest issues I find. Many women just do not feel good in their bodies. When you don't feel good, you constantly reach out into the external world for its distractions, subjected to its bullshit and lies because you haven't learned to cultivate your own energy. You must begin to midwife yourself through the chronic over-stimulation and boredom and begin to script your life consciously. Such a profound version of love. Self-love.

This work is not a quick-fix. It is journey that won't happen overnight at first until suddenly, one day, there is a quantum leap, then another one. It calls for us to be more available to SIMPLE activities like "belly breathing" or "breast stroking with emotion" to begin the masterful process of raising our energy up and beyond the root and sacral, allowing it infuse into our heart. This is one of many ways we open up our hearts, Loved Ones. You no longer need to blame men or women or any relationship style for what is going on within you because you can just go inside and penetrate your breasts, eyes, etc. with more loving energy that projects out to create a higher frequency and quality of magnetism. This is what I will teach you when it's time.

It may sound too good to be true, but when women (and other womb holders) start prioritizing our health and happiness through simple acts like "feet work," it changes the world, men included. That's because the male body is primally-wired to be influenced and impacted by the happiness of the female. If women are happy, generally men (children, animals, and the natural world) get on board and become happier. Start listening to your female body more and developing a more inward focus in these times so that you can cultivate your energy and orbit this magic to recalibrate the world. The microcosmic orbit.

Care for your nervous system and cultivate greater inner peace so that you can create a more peaceful impact upon the world. What are you letting go off? What's is your heart's deepest desire when you truly get quieter and really listen? What does it look and feel like to create a life of your highest wellbeing?

One Loveliness,India

[gremlingottoosilly]

And they said I couldn't be a psychologist [COD x fem! Reader]

Tired of living with a family that genuinely thinks that being a psychologist is a wild ride to being poor and lonely? Got too many student loans to ever think that you will be able to repay them? Just join the army! Good company, great benefits and lots and lots of travel.

AO3

Characters featured in this chapter: Captain John Price This fanfic will contain incorrect use of psychology, my dead dreams of becoming a therapist instead of a journalist, basically a harem "The only girl on the team" plot and a reader who can't fight to save her life, literally. Each chapter will concentrate on one or few characters at the same time, I hope you will like it!

Google search: average school psychologist salary in my state

Allow Google to search for your location?

Fuck it, the government already know who you are, where you are exactly, and what you will do with this pretty wrecked mental state of mine, if I wouldn’t get an affirmative answer.

School Psychologists made a median salary of $62 000 in 202X.

Google search: average psychologist salary in my state without Master’s degree

National average salary for Bachelors in psychology is: $32,395 per year

Google search: master’s degree psychology how much

Average cost to earn a master’s degree in Clinical Psychology: $62,650

Average cost to earn your doctorate in psychology: $115,500

Google search: how many days can person not eat

Google search: annual striper’s salary

Google search: can I become a stripper if I’m not attractive

Google search: Army enlisting

💬💬💬

In highsight, perhaps, you should have stayed with the stripper option. Sure, it would be a lot more mentally draining, but at least you would make much more money out of the utter humiliation this work would promise to be every day. Military, on the other side of the spectrum, wasn’t really different from being a sex worker – you are still selling your body and mind, still have too much time in a dominantly male field, and will probably experience a lot more patriarchy sausage parties once you get there. The only thing that was different was the employer. 

And tax benefits. 

And health insurance. 

And a special program for those who would like to receive an education after they are done killing people, but don’t want to pay more than 100 000 dollars for a diploma that would look good on exactly one photo on the wall and then would be forgotten by pursuing the career of a sandwich artist. Ah, oh no. Negative thinking again. 

Jesus fucking – oh no, blasphemy, looking not good for your all-american goody-two-shoes portfolio – Christ, you have to get herself together – and at least somewhat presentable, even this would mean very little, considering the fact that for a woman in such masculine field, any signs of traditionally feminine things would be considered a bone thrown to a pack of wolves, but…no, no, no. You can’t have this new age psychology shit while she is on a mission…by being a new age psychologist, enlisted to the army just because you don't want to be a stripper, and too slow to become a good drug dealer. 

Cynthia Cockburn once wrote an essay about women's role in maintaining patriarchy by joining the army. How a lot of females are helping salvage the old system, that has to be put down for good for a long time already – and how this system continuously throws them out, without even acknowledging their input. 

You are wondering, if by applying your makeup right now, you are doing pretty much the same. Ah yes, a woman in a field dominated mostly by psychotic men! Let me just put on my brightest red lipstick, a short that will barely cover anything important and, of course, a pair of heels that would set anyone in the hearing range to a Vietnam flashback even if they never been in Vietnam to begin with. Oh no…is that a risky joke? PTSD is a serious matter, you know. You shouldn’t joke about flying helicopters and war flashbacks – not when the training for the military psychologist courses were so hard, that even you, with your pretty much good mental health, would have to check herself double time for any trauma that the instructor would leave with you. 

Two weeks of torture for an opportunity to apply the blandest eyeshadow known to mankind, the pinkiest lipstick that barely holds any pigments – it’s not like you have money to splurge on something better even given the permission – and a mascara as clear as the mountains fresh air. God – oh no, blasphemy again, you really don’t want to get a good grade with all of these God-fearing old-fashioned men, aren’t you? – you really hated just how bland you look. You feel like one of these girls in your college – with tightest buns, cream sweaters and perfectly high-pitched laugh that would make them desirable for even blander college boys. Ah, how much you hated this place. 

The military base, however, is far worse. 

First, there are just too many people here. Second, everyone looks at you like you are some sort of ghost. Judging by your loosely hanging white doctor’s coat, they aren’t too far from the truth, but it still was weird. And finally, third – you are still not sure that your papers have been sent correctly, and this is even the right place. 

Instructor – a terrible, horrible, horrendous woman – told you that there would be plenty of study material for you here. That with these people, writing your master’s or even doctorate would be a “ ‘king breeze, rookie, if they ain’t decide to eat ya first”. The males around you – and some women, of course, because the newest military recruitment made sure to include as many people as possible, providing everyone with the opportunity to kill people as much as they would want – doesn't sound quite as great material for your research. 

And you are not going back to the fucking college. 

She said that some Captain brought you here specifically – and that higher-ups made him do it, as he was dismissing any previous attempts of sending psychological help for any of his units. So this is going to be a classic conflict between a person and the government – and you, a useless specialist – are going to be stuck in the middle, as long as you don't get shot. Perfect, terrific, just a great fate for someone who got out of college after 4 years of destroying her own hopes and dreams in a giant cell of a US education system. 

You haven’t even met the man before, and now you are sitting here, in the middle of nowhere on this gigantic base. Fighting with the fabric of your clothing – a nice buttoned shirt, nothing that could be considered a provocation from your side, and trying to breath as the reality of the situation is slowly thinking it. 

Breathe in 

You stuck here for only god knows how long – until you either will be dismissed, or decide to go away by your own choice. With people you know nothing about, and who probably doesn’t even want you here. 

Breathe out 

This is a perfect opportunity for you to write your Thesis – just pick one of these perfectly twisted specimens, and make his mental state even worse. Or better, if you would feel nice enough for such hard work. 

Breathe in 

Perhaps, it’s not so bad – only a few years of service, and you will be back in your education. The children and their easily molded minds are waiting for you to be their perfect school psychologist. With average salary of “fuck you and your savings too”.

Breathe out 

Health insurance is nice. Would be even better with some dental insurance, but this is reserved only to soldiers. And you are…well, not a soldier, that is for sure. 

Breathe in 

– Greetings. I suggest you are the mental health expert? 

…and, all of your neatly putted breathing schedule is fucked. Stupid army people and their stupid questions with such nice and deep voices that would make you think of deeply fucked up stuff any other day and…

– Oh, um, yes. A psychologist. And you are..? 

– Captain Price. You have to work in my unit, but I figured out that just sending my men to get you would be too much on your first day. 

– Thank you, I…I would rather greet them myself, that is. I kinda have to. 

He frowned. Oh, great. A perfect example of stoic  fatherly type – the guy who is probably thinks of his soldiers as his kids, definitely don’t have a wife – alive one, at least – and slowly cooking himself alive in a pot full of misery, machism and “I don’t buy any of this mentally ill stuff”.

His mustaches are great though. And a hat. 

– Do you really? 

– Well, I don’t want to earn my paycheck for just sitting around. This would be nice though. 

– In that case, higher-ups would put us both in trouble for this. 

– Do you have anything for me to start working with? Like a personal file or…

– I’ll show you around. 

– Oh. Okay. 

He seems harmless enough. As much as one man wearing a full uniform with too many weapons and a tiny hat could be – but you still feel well protected while walking beside him. With this still hanging loose coat of yours – you’ll have to search for something more adjusted for your tiniest fucking height – you can feel everyone’s gazes on you. Jesus, you will have to work with this many people? Let’s just hope that no one here believes in magic powers of therapy, and you would be pretty much free for any of your working hours. 

— But you do have personal files of your soldiers, right? 

— I thought your people like more of a personal approach? 

— Well, it would be really great, but I need some documents to write off my work and…

— Then you are going to write those documents, kid. I don’t want to scare you, but a young miss like you really wouldn’t want to see real portfolios of my men. 

— Sir, with all honor, I am not a…

– We’re here. 

Oh. Saving you the humiliation of being able to recognise patronizing tones and understanding, that you are, in fact, a kid, a young miss, and generally a useless fucking person. Psychologists in a place, where most of the people probably believe, that getting drunk will save them from nightmares? What a joke. 

At least the office is nice. 

Tidy place, neatly furnished room with a table, a sofa – something right out of Freud’s fantasies. A small empty closet for all three of your psychology books. You can already picture whimsical and fun soldiers laying here, trying so bad not to laugh in your face as you were trying to uncover all of their mental trauma without being strangled to death. 

– Thank you, sir…captain? It’s nice. 

– Not much, but everything that we were able to put when they said that we need a mental expert here. 

– I will try my best not to disappoint you, I promise. 

– You can unpack here, someone will show you the bed later. Still don’t know whether to put you with soldiers or medics. 

– Um…I would really prefer a… A nice and roomy bedroom, preferably with no one to snore alongside you, and definitely not with soldiers who can get the wrong ideas about a nice and sweet lady psychologist sleeping right next to them on their base. Of course, you can’t say that. 

–...I need to gather as much material about them as possible, so it would be really neat to sleep closer to the soldiers. 

You are the architect of your own demise. You and your stupid Thesis that you are not even sure, whether you could write it right now or not.

– Oh. 

He scratched his chin in a manner that you have seen too many times. Do all older males with bears share the same mannerism? 

Then he smiled – a ghostly feature on his face, that almost made him look like he actually wanted you here, and not just putting up with higher-ups bullshit because every special task force needs its psychologist just so the soldiers won’t kill each other on one sunny day. 

– Okay. I’ll think about something, doc. 

– I am not…not a doctor, sir. Not yet, at least.��

– Well, it’s either a doc or a kid. What do ya prefer? 

– Doc would be better. Perhaps, I will earn my doctorate after the service. 

– That’s the spirit, kid. 

– But sir- 

Shit. He is gone already. 

You were never a fan of dad jokes. Or dad types. Or anyone, who is questioning what the fuck you are doing here, even though you spend 4 years fighting for this position in the college. Who cares, if you can’t shoot guns? Words are just as deadly! 

Well, judging by the size of the rifle on the Captain's body, maybe, your words would definitely be less threatening than his guns. But this doesn’t change the whole picture! 

Oh, well. You might as well try to get yourself as comfortable as possible – considering all of the possibilities, they might simply forget that you exist, and you would have to sleep on this tiny couch at least for today. What a great opportunity and definitely something that you spent four years waiting in awe of. Perfect, beautiful, something right from her dreams. 

“You can still get out of here, you know. Just go out of this door and we will never ever speak about joining the military ever again. Trust me, babe, I am your conscience.” 

Oh no. You hated talking with your conscience – mostly because it was an annoying prick, and also because, as studies were showing in many of the presentations you would make for your classes, this is a first sign of not just a person being self-aware, but also the step to being proclaimed a mad man. Even if you are, in fact, a very self-aware and mentally healthy person. Mostly. You liked to think of yourself as one, at least. 

“You don’t want to be here. And you shouldn’t – there is plenty of work outside.” 

Yeah, like a sex job. Or secretary. Or a waiter – what a beautiful line of work for someone already in too much debt to her government. And judging by the already dismissive faces of your parents, going home as a stay-at-home daughter is also not going to be an option. So, go far and beyond. 

You just need to find a few people who would be interested in psychotherapy – how hard is that?

[mrsvercetti]

Hello Anu ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ , yandere shredder, reaper and japanese fem reader - who is getting married

Yandere!Shredder x Japanese Fem!Reader who is getting married (PART-1)

[PART-2: Yandere!Reaper x Japanese Fem!Reader] - COMING SOON

WARNING(S): MURDER, BLOODSHED, IMPLIED RAPE, ANGST

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED!!!

A/N: If you see any inaccuracies in the storyline anywhere, please do not get mad. I have only seen season 1 and 2 of the TMNT 2k12 show because those were the only episodes that was shown here on T.V. But, I do know each of the character from the show in depth because I have done my research from wikifandom. Feel free to correct me if you find any mistakes.

You and shredder have known each other for years. You’ve known him when he was known as Oroku Saki and not Shredder.

You were working as a medic for the Hamato Clan. You usually spent time in the med-base, treating injured soldiers and spending time with the senior doctors, learning about new medicinal herbs, etc.

It was quite common for both Yoshi and Saki to come into the med-base for treatment. The senior doctors had made you their personal medic, since they were busy treating the others.

Both Yoshi and Saki quickly became fond of you and considered you as a friend.

You would purposefully talk to Saki more as you started to gain feelings for him. Hoping that if both of you get comfortable with each others company, maybe you both can call it official?

Times with them were happy and fruitful. Sure, there were times were both Yoshi and Saki would bicker back and forth. But at the end they would laugh it off.

But everything changed when Tang Shen fell for Yoshi and for some reason Saki wasn’t too fond of it. Making the relationship between the two men bitter and rocky.

You had no clue why and they both stopped coming by to see you. You wanted answers and you went out to see Saki.

When you arrived to Saki’s room door, you knocked. You heard footsteps coming closer to the door and a very irritated voice of Saki asked “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, (Y/N) . Can you open the door? I need to speak with you.” You asked.

He opened the door and let you in. You let out a big sigh and looked at him, sadly.

“Hey, why don’t you and Yoshi visit me anymore? What happened?” You asked.

“Nothing.��� he said, turning back.

“Well, I know that’s not the truth. Tell me what happened! I care about you guys so much that it hurts seeing you both bitter towards each other!”

Saki grunted in annoyance. He turned to you, having a very unpleasant look on his face which made you gulp.

“You want to know why I’m upset?!  I love Tang Shen! But that prick took her away from me!” He exclaimed. His words made a knot inside your throat and you chest started to become heavy.

He loves Tang Shen….. Not you….

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes. “I….but Saki….I… w-wanted to tell you s-s-something….”

“Pfft…I know what you are going to say. You have feelings for me, isn’t that right?”

You gasped.  He knew you liked him and what he just told you made you feel like a total idiot. You couldn’t look up to him anymore. Your eyes were now looking at the floor as your head drooped.

“Why…why didn’t you tell me you knew?” You asked.

“Why should I? I don’t find you attractive. And you are nothing compared to Tang Shen!”

He said the word ‘nothing’ in the most venomous way possible. You felt broken. You started to cry uncontrollably. You are completely defeated in front of him.

“I only talked to you because Yoshi did. I didn’t want him to think that I disliked you. He viewed you like his little sister and if I mistreated you in any way, that’s going to put a strain into our relationship! Since it happened anyways, I don’t have to worry about you anymore. And neither does he because he has Tang Shen to talk to now.” He said.

At this point, all you wanted to do was run away from this place. But your legs couldn’t move. You were stuck there, standing, crying your eyes out.

When he was about to leave, you quickly grabbed him by his arm and pleaded. “Please g-give me a c-chance. I swear, I-I’ll only be yours, forever! I will turn myself in a-a better p-person! Be-better than Tang Shen! Just for you! I promise!…. P-please?”

He grunted in anger. “You? Better than Tang Shen?! How could you even say that?! Worthless whore!” He spat. “Leave this place and never come back!

And that was the last thing he told you. You ran home after he left, packed your bags and disappeared from that place. You didn’t even tell your friends about you leaving. Or even wait for the next day to leave. This place made you feel suffocated.

It’s been 15 years since that incident and you now currently live in NYC. You have met the love of your life, Daisuke while you moved there. And you both decided to get married in Japan.

Your fiancee decided to make the wedding destination a surprise for you. Upon being asked why, he said: “It’s a beautiful traditional wedding darling! In a place full of history!”

You weren’t exactly fond of that idea, but you didn’t want to upset your fiancee by telling you hated it. So, you hoped the best.

When you arrived at your wedding day, it wasn’t as lovely as it would be.

It was a traditional wedding but the way how it was planned was absolutely beautiful. But the place where it was being held in made everything ugly. You had no heart to cancel this wedding and break your fiancee’s heart. It was near the place were you, Saki and Yoshi would spend time together.

You forced yourself to smile in front of the people and pretend to be happy.

You felt disgusting despite wearing one of the most prettiest dresses. Oroku Saki’s harsh words were being recited in your head.

Both you and Daisuke walked towards the Shinto Shrine. After the ritual of purification comes the exchange of vows, then the exchange of sake from the bride and groom.

You both have only just started exchanging vows when something exploded outside Which caught the attention of everyone.

Right as you turned around, a group of black clothed ninjas stormed in with a katana in each one of their hands and started to vandalize the entire area.

People tried to run for their lives, but most of them were slaughtered right in front of you both. Making you and him traumatized.

You cried and collapsed onto the floor and Daisuke tried to cover you from any attacks and to prevent you from seeing the scene in front of you anymore.

He was then quickly ripped away from you. When you look up, you saw a tall man covered in metal Armour, staring down at you menacingly. Holding Daisuke by his collar in a tight grip.

“LET HIM GO!” You screamed. You tried tried to get up but the man in front of you quickly knocked you back down.

“You think you can marry someone after what has happened to you in the past?” He questioned. Daisuke struggled under his grip and tried to pull himself away.

“You think you can forget about everything that has happened?” He said as he lifted Daisuke up by his neck.

Your eyes went wide when Daisuke was being choked. You felt helpless. You felt stupid.

“Then in that case….You don’t deserve him!” He spat as his blade stabbed through Daisuke, instantly killing him.

He quickly threw Daisuke’s body onto the pile of dead bodies behind him and stared down at you.

The room was filled with the noises of you crying and the man knelt down, lifting your chin up with his thumb

“You promised me you were going to be mine forever….right?”

You looked at him, not understanding what he was saying. He rubbed his thumb across you tear stained cheek.

“Dumb girl. Always getting yourself in terrible situations….” He said.

You breath hitched. “W-who are y-you?” You asked, voice weak.

He chuckled. He took off his helmet and showed you his disfigured face. “Oroku Saki”.

You gasped at his response and was mortified on how he looked now. Your lips quivered in anger and all you wanted to do is to use up all of your strength and try to kill him. If he ends up killing you, that’s fine. You wanted to be with Daisuke. But you sat there, completely weak and shaking from all that has happened now.

“Or, some call me ‘The Shredder’.” He said.

“What do you want?” you asked, coldly. He chuckled.

“You.”

His reply threw you off. Why does he want you? He told you before he hated you.

“You said---”     ,    “I hated you, yes. But now, look at you. You are everything I could ask for!” He replied. “I saw you at New York and….I felt like I was blessed by the gods despite what I had done. You were so beautiful and gracious! You… you finally made me feel how is it to love someone again. But when I saw you with him, I knew I had to take him out. You always should’ve been by my side. And you promised me before that you were mine…”

“YOU REJECTED ME AND ASKED ME TO LEAVE! BESIDES, THAT PROMISE WOULD ONLY BE A PROMISE IF YOU GAVE ME A CHANCE. BUT YOU DIDN’T!” You shouted. “AND NOW YOU BECAME SO OBLIVIOUS THAT YOU THOUGHT I ACTUALLY MEANT IT EVEN AFTER YOU REJECTED ME?! IF I DID, WHY WOULD I BE ENGAGED TO HIM?” you questioned.

“You should think before you say anything. You said you would be mine forever and I will take it into consideration even if you move past it. I don’t let go of people who have offered themselves to me who is of great value.” He said. He looked back and motioned one of his foot ninjas forward. The foot ninja knelt beside you and covered you nose with a white cloth that had chloroform on it. You passed out immediately and Shredder lifted you up carefully, as if you were made out of a delicate flower.

While he walked outside of the shrine, he whispered into your ear.

        “I have waited for someone to be the mother of my heir. I’m glad that it’s you…my little lamb”

[the-fluff-piece]

A heart for a heart

A sfw Trafalgar x fem!reader fluff story

Part 1

Part 2 out now

Part 3!

Also check my masterlist for more stories!

Part 1, where the polar tang stops at a small island for the night. Law wouldn't have expected that there, on this backwater island, he would treat a patient that would steal his heart

Note: I just wanted to write Law absolutely over the top falling in love

Ever since he had become a samurai of the seas and the world knew about his powers as a doctor, all kinds of people came before Trafalgar D. Water Law begging to heal them or prolong their life. There where kings, merchants, pirates and bandits - even a marine admiral - that sought him out and beseeched him to treat their ailments. His title "the surgeon of death" never deterred them.

He turned all of them away. He swore he would only use his power to heal for his crew - or if he felt like it, and a tyrant or a merciless merchant kneeling before him was not going to sway him. The stories of disease and pain quickly annoyed him, because all he saw was mighty men and women, uncaring for the world around them, asking him for more time to leave their heinous mark on the world. It had become such a nuisance that he didn't even answer anymore - he just flipped them his finger and let his crew dispose of them.

He didn't think it would ever be any different until they stopped at a small, uninteresting island where people were too poor to attract any sort of attention. They went to the only tavern in town for some fun and occupied the place for the evening. Law was residing in the most comfortable chair, enjoying a drink and meal with his crew - when it happened. Again. He already rolled his eyes when he heard the pleading "please...very sick...will die..." at the door. He trusted that Bepo would throw them out - it was doubtlessly some wealthy arsehole that tracked him down, begging to be saved - when the white bear stood before him, looking rather flustered.

"Captain, I think you should have a look at this" he said in a sad voice.

"Why?", Law grunted. His first mate should know better by now.

"I...this really is different, maybe we should make an exception?" the bear asked.

"We? I am the captain here and I have the power, I alone decide when I make an exception. If I just treat one, they'll all come running to me" Law said in a stern voice - and he saw his old friend bring out his biggest arguments: his sad eyes. Not many people know that the eyes of a mink bear where as strong as a 1000 puppy eyes, and even Trafalgar was not immune to them, although he wouldn't even admit that under torture.

The bear stared at him with such an incredibly adorable expression, he broke Law's will into a thousand pieces.

Dammit, if he does that it must be urgent. Law ground his teeth in frustration. "Let's have a look - and than I'll tell you why I won't do anything", Law said, not looking at the bear to conceal that he had melted.

Flashing Law a happy grin, Bepo waved a young man to them, and he was carrying something. Or rather: someone.

Law tried to give that intruder a cursory glance before denying his request to appease Bepo, but Laws demonstrably disinterested look froze when he saw the patient that was laid out before him on the table.

A young girl, about his own age, clad in a simple dress - nothing special one would say. But for him, the sight felt like he was just hit by the marines buster call. As soon as he saw her face, his heart skipped a beat, or two, he couldn't really tell anymore. The world beneath his feet dissolved until only he and that girl were left - and he fell, deeply. Something about her features, that he couldn't even explain to himself, captured him completely. He couldn't say if it was the beautiful eyes looking up at him, the noble shape of her nose or the elegant curve of her mouth, but he was already absolutely obsessed. As his greedy eyes drank her appearance in, he knew he would never be satisfied.

A powerful longing to possess her controlled his thoughts. The sudden onslaught of feeling overwhelmed him and it took all his willpower to reign himself back in and take control of his emotions again.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at her or what emotions he had shown. He closed his mouth to swallow. Everyone looked at him utterly confused. He cleared his throat and tried as best as he could to mimic the bored and relaxed posture he had had a moment before, even though he felt nothing like it through the adrenaline pumping through his body right now. What he wouldn't give to possess hormone-level control of his bodyfunctions right now to calm down.

"State your request", he prompted the man, his eyes fixed on the girl on the table. She seemed to be barely awake, looking around with hazed eyes.

The man fell to his knees and bowed down until he touched the ground with his forehead, his desperate pleading could be heard in the whole room: "Oh great Trafalgar Law, Samurei of the seas and greatest surgeon alive, this is my sister, she's very sick! The doctor said her heart was weak and she would not get old. We weren't able to find a doctor willing to treat her. She's gotten worse over the last week, you are our only hope, please save her! The me and the whole village will repay you anyway we can!"

Law only half listened to the probably worthless explanation and flattery of the brother and already began to examine her for symptoms.

Her skin looked pale and sweaty, the breath was rattling. A heart problem is plausible, although he would need to do some more tests. He took her small hand into his, the soft skin was cold and damp and her fingers seemed to be swollen. If it was only a heart defect he could easily cure her.

There was no careful weighing of options here, he knew that he would absolutely do anything to save her, no matter how much he told himself that he still had a choice. And that he would have to take her with him.

"How about we talk about the price after the surgery", Law said, his poker face back in place. The plan was formulated and he would go through with it. He picked her up easily, she felt and looked emaciated. The soft whimper that escaped from her blue lips was like a knife to his heart. He would have to begin treatment as soon as possible, luckily he had a stash of spare organs in excellent shape on the tang - for emergencies like this.

As he turned to go back to the submarine, the brother danced around him in joy, promising him everything if his sister lived. Law assured him that the village would absolutely be able to pay what he would ask.

Back on the polar tang, after a short confirming examination, he immediately began surgery with the assistance of his crewmembers. A heart transplant was easy for Law, the power of his devil fruit was designed for this purpose, the success rate at almost 100%.

She would get a strong heart that would safe her from certain death and carry through life.

Half of the village was camping in front of the polar tang in the harbour, awaiting the end of the surgery.

Of course, it was a success. He never doubted that. He would now wait at her bed until she woke up, monitoring her closely to ensure her safety.

As the anesthetic wore off, she opened her eyes and really looked at Law for the first time. Her lips had already regained a healthy colour, her skin looked rosy again and her gaze was focused - on him. He stared. He couldn't help it. She was even more irresistible now, he couldn't have anticipated how badly it would affect him.

He prided himself on being educated, eloquent and sophisticated - he wanted to tell her who he was, that she was in the best and most capable hands.

"Uhm...hey", was the only thing he could think of to say when he finally met her gaze for the first time. How embarrassing. Since he first saw her the question of who she was dominated his mind. While she slept he had built a hundred scenarios in his head how he would introduce himself to her. "Hey" was not among them.

"Hey", she answered, smiling at him. He couldn't have imagined a more perfect smile. It played around her pink lips, kind and warm. Home, he felt like he was coming home.

"You're...uhm...ok now, you know", he heard his idiot voice say. He could have impressed her by being every inch the doctor his father raised him to be, he could have told her how he saved her life. Instead, he told her "she was ok now". Well done Law, he thought.

"I feel...so much better! What happened?", her excited, melodic voice made his ears ring. It made him think of cozy winter evenings spend at a warm fire, it was the kind of voice that made him feel like being wrapped in a warm blanket. He felt a wide grin expand over his face.

"I g...gave you a new h...heart", he stuttered this most basic expression, incapable of retrieving his medical expressions from behind the blockade of hormones in his brain.

She stared at him for a moment, he stared at her. She touched her chest with her hand, just above the heart and looked as though she would cry.

"I'm cured?", she asked shakily. He nodded. "You cured me?" He nodded. "Yeah".

She fell around his neck, crying and thanking him. He wasn't prepared for this. Her soft hair was caressing his cheek, her arms tightly closed around him. Her scent and warmth washed over him, ripping down every emotion defence he had built, like an ocean surge destroying every dyke in its path. He didn't know what to do. Could he touch her? Should he? He lay one of his hands on her back to return the hug, but he just lightly padded her back. It was enough to make his whole body explode with a tingling sensation and send his heart on a wild race. Never let her go again. He would never, ever let her go again. He knew that now.

___________________

Stay tuned for part 2!

Now that you've read the whole thing, let me know what you think in the comments!

[ciaossu-imagines]

SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE

okay idk if you had this question before

But considering how Shamal is aka flirts and hits on everything that identifies as female

How would Tsuna and his guardians react to that happening to their female partner?

This actually isn't a question I've ever had before! Thank you so much for sending it in and I hope you'll enjoy the headcanons!

We actually kind of saw how this would go down with Tsuna during the Daily Life Arc, when Shamal made some comments about Kyoko, someone Tsuna had a crush on. He'd react exactly the same throughout his teenage years with anyone he dated. That is, while nervous, panicky, a little upset, not at all sure how to react, Tsuna would definitely step in front of his partner and tell Shamal to leave them alone. I think he'd still largely react the same as an adult, though he's gotten more used to the doctor, knows Shamal is just being Shamal and wouldn't genuinely carry through with any of his flirting. He's still making sure he's right beside his partner though and if they become uncomfortable in any way, he's shutting Shamal down and getting his partner out of the situation in the best way he could.

Now, when it comes to Gokudera, I really do think that Shamal has a real weak spot for Hayato. Hayato is someone precious to Shamal, even if he verbally pretends otherwise. Actions speak a lot louder than words and Shamal is very interested in Hayato's life, worries about him, and does keep tabs on Hayato's life even as the boy grows into a man. He'd never actually do anything to harm Hayato, so in a way, I do think Shamal respects any partner Hayato does actually settle down with enough for Shamal to meet. His flirting wouldn't be as overt and not as physical as it would be with some of the other Guardians partners and it's mostly done to tease his precious student, to see Hayato get worked up. Because he will get worked up, calling Shamal a dirty old man and maybe even getting a little physically violent and definitely angry. His partner is either someone who just would've shut Shamal down anyway or is laid-back enough to realize the flirting was harmless and teasing and would both laugh it off and help Shamal out by defusing Hayato's ever-present temper just a little.

Honestly, this probably wouldn't bother Yamamoto too much. Not only is he a pretty laid-back, chill kind of person but he really does accept people for who they are. And that includes Shamal and his many quirks and his habit of needing to flirt and 'pick up' those women he considers attractive. In some way, yeah, it's kind of an ego boost for Yamamoto that his partner is so hot that other men really are desperately trying to flirt with them. Overall though, Yamamoto is someone who would never be in a relationship with someone he didn't absolutely respect and trust, so he knows that his partner would never do anything with Shamal, no matter how much flirting and pick-up lines the other man tried. That being said, if Shamal does cross the line to a point where Yamamoto notices his partner getting uncomfortable (which he definitely will, as Yamamoto is a lot more observant than he lets on), Takeshi will have absolutely no problem just casually telling Shamal to knock it off, in probably the nicest and friendliest way. He's just like 'yeah dude, maybe tone it down a bit, you're making her feel uncomfortable' or Yamamoto manages to completely change the subject, because he really just that kind of person.

Okay, but we kind of get hints that teenage Lambo turns into a bit of a playboy type and I really think that's partially to blame on Shamal being around Lambo during his formative years. Lambo seems to be the one person genuinely interested in learning Shamal's pick-up tricks and he takes some of the doctor's lines and techniques and honestly, those are probably among the things that made Lambo's partner initially fall for him. So Shamal trying to flirt with Lambo's partner? Lambo is genuinely curious to see how his partner will react, what might make them blush, make them upset. He uses it as a bit of a learning experience, though if his partner doesn't seem at all interested in anything Shamal is selling, Lambo is celebrating and rubbing it in the other man's face. It's that 'I have surpassed your skills, you dirty old bastard' moment for Lambo, where Lambo genuinely thinks it's because of Lambo's superior flirting and hitting on people skills that makes his partner like him more than they like Shamal and not the obvious choice of Lambo is who they're in love with and attracted to. That will, of course, create a verbal spar between Lambo and Shamal and Lambo's partner is just going to have to step away from those two idiots for a little bit, though Lambo will want his partner's sympathy and comfort when he loses that verbal sparring match.

Ryohei's starting a fight. There is going to be actual physical blows thrown on Ryohei's side and Shamal tends to beat a hasty retreat when that happens. It only takes once and Shamal really learns not to hit on Ryohei's partner, even jokingly or out of force of habit, when Ryohei is within earshot.

Hey, sorry to break it to you, sorry to anyone who doesn't like this take, but if Shamal is flirting with Hibari's partner, it's pretty much goddamn certain it's because Hibari isn't with them. One, Hibari doesn't actually spend an abundance of time with any romantic partner he does take, just because he is busy and has very clear goals and ideals he's working towards in life and doesn't have a lot of free time. Two, not even Shamal fucks with Hibari. Three, even if Shamal did fuck with Hibari and knew that was Hibari's partner, and even if Hibari overheard anything, Hibari expects ANY partner he takes on to be able to handle their own shit. Any romantic partner of Hibari's needs to be able to stand up for themselves and handle their own problems and that includes the good doctor.

I really honestly don't see Mukuro and Shamal interacting much at all. Even if they do encounter each other, it's largely just in passing, not even conversations. They share Tsuna's family in common but Mukuro doesn't really attend Vongola events, still holds himself apart. Chrome goes in his place instead for the most part and the only time I see Shamal and Mukuro seeing each other is either if the Vongola is in the midst of battle or if Shamal is treating someone in Kokuyo at Reborn's request. So, if Mukuro's partner does get hit on by Shamal, it's when they're not with Mukuro and Mukuro mostly hears about it afterwards. Because the situation isn't a pressing matter, it mostly just amuses Mukuro when his partner tells him about it.

As much as I absolutely adore Shamal, he's definitely propositioned Chrome and her female partner for a little ménage-a-trois action because the only thing hotter than one pretty girl is two pretty girls. It did make Chrome angry, embarrassed her, but Chrome isn't great about speaking up and standing up for herself. So her reaction is probably largely to just grab her partner's hand and run away from him. She doesn't much care for Shamal and tries to avoid him to the best of her ability anyway.

[redditreceipts]

why do you think there are SO many trans-identifying males in the west? and why does the number of TiMs in the west keep growing exponentially day-by-day?

i live in the balkans and i don't think i've EVER seen a transwoman in my life. but i have seen TiFs, which makes sense — my country's culture is very misogynistic and those women probably transitioned in an attempt to escape misogyny.

but still no TiMs here, at all. i can't figure out why.

what is it that makes western men become trans-identifying at a much higher rate than men outside the anglosphere (the east, the global south & non-english-speaking europe)? and why are there very little trans-identifying males in these areas?

i feel like the answer lies at the very root of transgender ideology, but i don't know what it is just yet.

I guess that there are several reasons:

some cultures are more violent against gender non-conforming men than against gender non-conforming women. maybe many trans-identified males stay in the closet or only come out when they already "pass" because of surgery and hormones, so you don't recognize them.

the idea of a straight man identifying as a trans woman is very new, from what I know. Until very recently, the term "trans woman" was synonymous with being a gay man. Some doctors didn't even prescribe hormones if the person in question was not a gay man, but in some Western countries, the idea has shifted to also include straight men. Now the majority of trans-identified males are attracted to women (of course, because there are more straight men than gay men), and more men get access to medical treatment. Most of these men would have been excluded from transitioning two decades ago. Maybe the Balkans still operate under that idea that only a gay man can become a trans woman? If that is the case, most men who would want to transition if they lived in the West are not able to do so in the Balkans.

At least from what I know from personal experience, there are actually more TIFs than TIMs. But who do you think makes themselves more heard? Exactly, the TIMs. So looking on social media, the TIMs are talking a lot more over people, so you get the impression that there are a lot more TIMs in the West than there actually are.

Maybe it is because the Balkans have a history of women living as men? They are called the "sworn virgins":

They take an oath to never have sex, and then enjoy male privileges under the Kanun (the traditional law enacted in many Balkan states). They're actually surprisingly similar to modern trans-identified females.

(source)

Yeah, so I don't really know why, but maybe these topics have something to do with it.

[mariacallous]

NOVI SAD, Serbia (JTA) — In the heart of downtown in Serbia’s second-largest city, nestled between brick buildings on a leafy street, sits a large synagogue.

With its 130-foot-high central dome and faded yellow brick facade, along with its Jewish school and offices on either side, the synagogue’s three-building complex has become a must-see tourist attraction, with multilingual panels in its courtyard explaining the area’s Jewish history.

The synagogue was built to accommodate up to 950 worshippers in the first decade of the 20th century. But like the city and Serbia more broadly, the building has clearly seen better days. On two recent days, a family was camped outside the entrance, begging passersby for money.

Before World War II, Novi Sad had roughly 60,000 inhabitants, 4,300 of whom were Jews — about 7% of the total population. Most were affluent merchants, lawyers, doctors and professors. Their wealth was reflected in the city’s opulent synagogue, constructed between 1906 and 1909 by Hungarian Jewish architect Lipot Baumhorn, whose work incorporated elements of the Art Nouveau movement.

Today, however, the prominent building serves a dwindling community that, like others decimated by the Holocaust and further eroded by the Balkan wars of the 1990s, fears for its future as residents disperse abroad. Only about 640 Jews remain in Novi Sad; others have sought a future in Israel or countries that offer more economic opportunity.

“We use our own shul only for Yom Kippur,” said Novi Sad native Ladislav Trajer, the deputy president of the Federation of Jewish Communities of Serbia.

“We get six to 10 people for Shabbat — maybe 15 — but fewer than half are male so we can’t make a minyan,” said Trajer, referencing  a Jewish prayer quorum of 10 men. He spent eight years in Israel and also served in the Israel Defense Forces. “Even in Belgrade, which is much larger, the rabbi doesn’t always get a minyan. And nobody here keeps kosher. You can’t get kosher meat.”

Novi Sad was a thriving center of Jewish life in prewar Yugoslavia and the city — now a metropolis of 370,000 sometimes called the “Serbian Athens” — was named a European Culture Capital of 2022 for its arts, food, architecture and other cultural scenes.

But most local Jews see few prospects for themselves in a country beset by economic turmoil. Between 1990 and 2000 — following Yugoslavia’s collapse; the ethnic wars in Croatia, Bosnia and later Kosovo; and the imposition of crippling sanctions by the United States, the European Union and the United Nations — Serbia’s GDP tumbled from $24 billion to $8.7 billion. By 1993, nearly 40% of Serbia’s people were living on less than $2 a day, and at present, the average Serb earns approximately $430 to $540 a month.

Despite those difficulties, Serbia agreed in 2017 to pay just over $1 million annually over the ensuing 25 years to its remaining Jews as compensation for property nationalized by the postwar communist regime. Half of that money goes directly to Jewish community organizations, 20% to Holocaust survivors and the remaining 30% to projects that aim to preserve Jewish traditions.

Since 2012, the Novi Sad community has also earned income by renting out its huge synagogue to the municipality for classical music concerts. In return, the city maintains the complex as a historic monument, and it is now repairing the synagogue’s roof and fixing leaky water pipes.

“These buildings were close to collapse,” said Trajer. He added that the city’s neglected Jewish cemetery can look like a forest. “So we are cutting the trees and struggling to put up fences.”

Although antisemitic incidents are not too common, Serbia, like most other countries in Eastern Europe, also contends with a strong nationalist streak. Trajer, who monitors antisemitism closely, said around 1,500 Serbs belong to extremist groups, of which perhaps 120 are active. Serbian Action, a small group of neo-Nazis, occasionally holds rallies and spray-paints antisemitic, anti-immigrant and anti-gay graffiti on public buildings.

“In high school, my history professor joked that Hitler couldn’t get into an art academy, and that’s why he decided to kill the Jews,” said Teodora Paljic, a 20-year-old Jewish university student. “I don’t talk about these things with people I don’t feel safe around.”

She said that “Life in Serbia is very difficult” because “all the prices have gone up, but salaries haven’t increased since 2019.”

Novi Sad is the capital of Vojvodina, an autonomous province that covers much of northern Serbia, and at the local Jewish community’s zenith, 86 synagogues flourished in the province. Today, only 11 remain standing, and most have fallen into disuse.

Mirko Štark, president of the Jewish Community of Novi Sad, said Jews first settled in the city in the 17th century, shortly after its founding in 1694 under the Hapsburg monarchy.

“When the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where most Ashkenazim lived, introduced new laws that restricted Jews from living in cities, many people ran to the border area, where these laws were not so strictly enforced,” Štark said. Later, when the Serbs captured Vojvodina, those restrictions were rescinded, and the Jewish community blossomed.

Following World War I and the establishment of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes — later Yugoslavia — Novi Sad’s Jews enjoyed a cultural and economic renaissance that saw the formation of a Jewish community center, athletic clubs, choirs and several Jewish newspapers.

That renaissance ended abruptly in 1941, when the Hungarian army, in collaboration with Nazi Germany, occupied Novi Sad, making life for Jews intolerable. Over a three-day period in January 1942 now known as the Novi Sad Massacre, the Hungarians rounded up more than 1,400 Jews, seized their property, shot them in their backs and threw them into the freezing Danube River.

After Hungary’s capitulation to Germany, armed guards herded the city’s remaining 1,800 Jews into the synagogue and kept them there for two days in deplorable conditions without food or water. On April 27, 1944, the Nazis marched their weakened Jewish captives to the train station, then forced them on a train to Auschwitz that took two months to arrive due to Allied bombing.

Only 300 of Novi Sad’s Jews survived the Holocaust, and rebuilt the community virtually from scratch in the ensuing postwar chaos.

“There were no religious people anymore, and no rabbi,” said Štark. “Many went to Israel in the first aliyah. The small number of Jews remaining tried to keep the community alive, opening a kitchen to provide food for people who couldn’t buy for themselves. My grandmother survived Auschwitz. She worked in that kitchen.”

According to Trajer, from 1948 to 2022, no Shabbat services were held. These days, Trajer conducts all religious services because he’s the only one who knows the Hebrew prayers fluently.

With 640 members, Novi Sad has the nation’s second-largest Jewish population after Belgrade. The capital is home to more than half of the country’s 3,000 Jews, out of a total population of 7.1 million. Smaller Jewish communities can also be found in Subotica, Niš and other cities. Only the synagogues in Belgrade and Subotica — the latter located a few miles from the Hungarian border — still function.

Most members of the Novi Sad community, including Štark, have married non-Jews.

“My wife is not Jewish. Neither was my mother. Only my father was Jewish,” he said. “After World War II, the choices for finding husbands and wives within the community was limited. For this reason, we accept non-Jewish spouses as members. This is the only way to survive.”

Štark, 70, is a retired professor of media production who worked for years at Novi Sad’s main TV station. He’s also the longtime president of the synagogue’s choir, HaShira, which sings in Hebrew, Ladino and Yiddish and recently won an award for its performances in neighboring Montenegro. Only three of the choir’s 35 members are Jews.

“When I began my mandate as president a year and a half ago, we woke up many activities in the Jewish community that had existed only on a small scale before,” he said.

Besides the choir, these include the Zmaya dance troupe as well as a Jewish culture club that meets every Tuesday at 6 p.m. to discuss books and Israeli movies. There’s also a “baby club” for small children and another club for teens, whose activities are led by two adults. Hanukkah and Passover are celebrated by families together, and on Tu B’Shvat, the community plants trees.

The community is also investing in its members, and Paljic is emblematic of that hope.

Paljic, interviewed at the trendy Café Petrus, a 15-minute walk from Novi Sad’s Jewish cemetery, is the daughter of Jewish parents who met at a Purim party in Belgrade.

“My grandparents were killed in Jasenovac [a notoriously brutal concentration camp], but my best friend’s grandmother survived Auschwitz,” she said. “The problem is, people don’t talk about Judaism because they’re scared. There is still antisemitism. Last year, somebody drew a swastika at the entrance to the Jewish cemetery in Belgrade. We were all shocked.”

This summer, Paljic worked as a counselor at Hungary’s Camp Szarvas, which brings together young Jews from throughout Central and Eastern Europe. The camp welcomed 20 children from Novi Sad this year; the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee paid their tuition.

While she would like to be close to her family, Paljic said she must be practical.

“I want to go somewhere outside Serbia when I finish college,” she said. “I don’t see my career here. I love art history and photography, but there’s no money in that in Serbia.”

Despite the challenges, Štark isn’t ready to say kaddish for Novi Sad’s Jews just yet.

“We will keep the Jewish spirit alive here. We are working hard, starting with the children,” he said. “If we don’t, everything will die in five or 10 years. So it depends on us.”