#cw: murder

[aka-indulgence]

So... me and @llamagoddessofficial have been cooking up an au for a while... let me show you our hmf!Sans :> (Horror Mafiafell Sans)

You're a waitress working at a bar/restaurant, and a certain skeleton has been coming back again and again. You can't help but wonder... why?

---

“He’s all yours, babe.”

You look up from notes on the wall. You’d like to ask ‘who?’ but both you and Lisa know there was no use. You already knew who it was. You didn’t even have to look out the circular window to check. You just stare at Lisa helplessly.

“Really?” You try, “can’t you just… a bit longer?”

Your words come out a perfect mess. Lisa understands anyway.

“Look… I don’t know how to tell you this (Y/n),” She puts a hand on her hip, “you know I can’t go back out there to him.”

“But…!”

You bite your lip. You know she’s telling the truth. You wish you could tell her to suck it up and go back there, no matter how scared she was but… you’re not taking chances with the current patron sitting in the corner of the bar. No one would.

For Lisa’s… and everyone’s sake, you’re not going to see what he might do if you sent her out to tell him that you won’t be serving him tonight.

You sigh, and take a peek through the window. Though elusive nowadays, it was unmistakable who the man- the skeleton in question was.

Sans was built like a tank, his form hunched over the table. Even sitting on the wide, plush red sofa, he looked like a giant, dwarfing the table and chairs like they were playsets. Monsters were already bigger than humans in general but him… he grew bigger than he used to- at least from what you’ve heard. Not like you knew the mob boss years and years ago before he got his infamous skull injury, and the blown eye in his left socket that was soaked in the blood of those who had crossed him. His mouth was set in a frown, filled with razor sharp teeth- one of which was golden.

The same scary face you saw shrouded in shadows in the alleyway, a sharp bone gripped in his large hand, dripping red.

You fled that night, not quite believing what you’d saw. That you’d just saw a skeleton kill a guy in the back of the restaurant? That it was the mob boss Sans?! He didn’t chase you then, and you hoped that’d be the end of it but then… he showed up to the bar as a patron one night.

You were almost certain then, that he had come to kill you. Especially when your dear friend Lisa had so helpfully told you that he’d asked for you in particular.

“her…” his bony finger had pointed at you. She DID tried to save you, to err on mistake- which one did you mean sir?

But every time you moved, his phalange followed. There was no mistaking who he was asking for.

You remember her panicked voice.

“He asked for you! Specifically!”

“W… huh? Why’d he ask for me? Can… are you sure-”

“YES! And I don’t know WHY!”

As reluctant as you were, you still went to serve him. You asked for his order while your grip on your pencil and notepad got slippery as your palms got sweaty. He took his time ordering, perusing through the menu with great attention, while you were praying that your legs didn’t looks as shaky as they felt. You’d never rush him, of course, even if you hadn’t seen him towering over a dead body.

You took his order, served it (stuttering), and… then he left.

… And came back. Again, and again. Every time, he’d ask for you to serve him. He always stares when you weren’t at his table (and actually, when you were at his table too). You could feel that red eye staring a hole into your back from behind. It was unnerving.

It’s a wonder why a man of his infamy would choose a bar like this. You’ve seen your fair share of criminals in this job- it was an alright-sized bar, and not exactly in the best place in town. You’ve learnt to turn the other cheek whenever they were around (and you were sure you didn’t realize just how many of the patrons were gangsters), pretend you were blind to their… occupation.

None of them had been as scary as Sans, though. In fact, his presence alone was enough to drive away most petty criminals.

This place was nothing special. It’s a wonder why he’d choose this place out of all places, especially for a guy who doesn’t like being seen much.

… Ok, that was a lie. Everyone working knew that he was here for you. But that didn’t explain the why.

It was clear to you now that he wasn’t coming here to kill you for witnessing… what you witnessed (Why was a man like Sans doing in that nothing alleyway anyway?). But if not for that then… why did he keep coming, to keep asking for you? Maybe he had… business around here and he liked the place enough to keep coming?

Whatever it was, he was here for a reason and you just… don’t get it.

You don’t get why he wants you to be the one serving him every time he was around, but you did anyway. It’s been a couple of nights now, but you can’t say you’ve become less nervous over time.

After a small inner pep talk to yourself and wringing your hands, you push open the door, walking into the dining area. There isn’t a lot of people inside, a common occurrence whenever Sans visited. Even if it had been busy before, some people would hurriedly finish up whatever they were doing, paying all at once and leaving. You’ve even seen someone stop before finishing their meal. The rest that stayed sat uncomfortably, trying their best to ignore the menacing air that the skeleton brought with him everywhere he’d go.

It didn’t work, of course. A presence like that wasn’t you could easily ignore.

(You wish you could ignore him.)

You smile awkwardly as you walk to his table, setting his drink down. At least you had a little bit of your work cut out for you, with Lisa taking his drink order. His eye zeroed in on you as soon as he noticed you, and though you’ve been taught it’s rude to not make eye contact, with him it felt like looking him in the eye would be the wrong thing to do.

“Is there anything else you’d like?” you ask, your voice sweet and soft as ever, hiding the sound of your beating heart.

He stares.

He always stares.

You see his pupil dilate a little, then he opens his mouth.

“want…”

Sans was a man of few words. He only said his order, and nothing else. It kept your meetings with him brief- even when it looked like he wanted to say something else, he wouldn’t.

This time, he spaces off for a moment, eye looking away from you. You watch his brows draw together, pinched as he concentrates on a thought. You wish you knew what he was thinking of, especially when his frown starts to peel back into a snarl, like he was angry.

You definitely weren’t expecting a hand around your waist, snatching you a second later.

You squeaked, notepad and pencil clattering to the floor, bumping against his sturdy chest. Everyone heard and turned to look, and as soon as they saw tiny you, sitting on the giant’s lap, practically all of them pointedly turned away. You wish they were still looking now- you were pleading with your eyes, help me I don’t think I’m supposed to be here!

He pushes you here and there, so that you’re sat more comfortably on his lap. Your mind goes blank, your body freezes. You could feel his chest expanding and contracting as he breathes. He sounds much calmer now that you were on his lap. Your breaths are shallow, and stop completely when you feel one arm wrap around your middle, like a restraint. His free hand raises, calling for Lisa, who you’ve just noticed is watching from the corner, clutching her apron, as clueless as you are. She approaches, trying to keep her eyes on the skeleton instead of you.

“... burgers.” he says, simply. She nods, and gives you a glance.

You furrow your brows, and you want to hiss Lisa help me! But as soon as she sees your expression she turns around, avoiding eye contact. You could almost hear her say sorry babe, can’t help you there!

You almost call out to her when a hand lands on your head. You go stiff, and after you take a quick peek at him, you look straight ahead. The monster’s phalanges start petting you, slowly, sinking into your hair, scratching your scalp. Sans let’s out a long breath, brushing your hair. A shiver runs down your neck.

… Well. I think I’ll be here for a while…

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

Sitting on the lap of a giant skeleton was certainly an experience. You tried distracting yourself, but it was impossible when you could feel every time Sans breathed. There was nothing you could do but sit there, playing with your apron until it was a crumpled mess, sweating a puddle onto your uniform… and maybe onto Sans’ expensive suit. You couldn’t relax, even though taking away big scary skeleton aside, he was comfortable to sit on, and he was warm… and smelled of rain and embers of a dying cigar.

He ate carefully, always leaning forward (squishing you against his chest) when he took a bite of his burger, making sure the crumbs wouldn’t fall on the top of your head, wiping his hands and his mouth before he leaned back. You could feel him sighing, and since he was the only thing you could notice, it felt like this was the most relaxed he’s ever been while in the bar, his breathing slow. Apparently he really liked your hair, with how his claws kept carding through it, even while he was eating. When his hands were clean, he’d let his hands wander all over you- but nothing untoward. You could feel him tilting his skull forward to look at you, while he thumbed your cheek, and his other hand roamed around your waist and belly. Though you were nervous, you could feel when he rubbed your thigh that it didn’t feel particularly… heated.

He sighs, and you feel the pressure of his skull on the top of your head. It took everything in you not to hunch over and avoid it. You screw your eyes shut when you feel him turn his skull, and it felt like he was… rubbing his cheek on you? Like he was snuggling you? Is… is that what he’s doing?

You’re not sure and your nerves are too frayed to call it that.

He didn’t stop after he finished either, his plate clean. He was still there- and subsequently, you stayed sitting on his lap- even after they closed the bar. It was just him now. Your coworkers kept the lights on just for him, and even most of them have gone.

He’s leaning back on the cushions, and he brought both his arms around you to pull you plush against his chest, almost tucked into his neck. You wondered if this was what a teddy bear would feel like, being hugged.

The bartender was cleaning up in the kitchen. It was just you and him in the dining area.

You swallowed… wondering what he wants to do. It’s past closing, late at night, just the two of you, and his hands were still (gently) rubbing you. They haven’t gone anywhere private but- what if he wanted to? … What if he wasn’t here to kill you but.. wanted you to… you don’t know, service him or something? Did he have unsavory requests for you?

You think that thought might’ve scared you even more than the thought of him killing you.

You startle when he grunts eventually, like he’s addressing you. A giant hand cups your cheeks and against your will they turn pink. Even though you were frightened, even if his touches were unsexual they still felt… intimate.

You squeak for the second time that night when both his hands pick you up, and sets you down on the sofa. You feel a ball form in your throat when he stands up and turns to you, thoughts running with all sorts of ‘what-ifs’. He takes your hand, opening it up, and then…

And then he places a thick wad of cash in it.

“... thank you.” He says, quiet.

You stare at the stack of paper on top of your hand, blinking once, before turning to the skeleton, jumping in your seat.

He was gone, just like that.

He was always quiet, wasn’t he?

You sit there dumbfounded, for what felt like minutes, your lips parted, money still sitting innocently in your hand. You think no one can blame you when the only thing you said after you sat there in silence was a very emphatic “... Huh?”

#cw: blood #cw: murder #only mentioned though #the rest is... kinda soft hjsdf #hes just spooky #sans x reader #aka writing #hmf!sans #i know theres probably a lot of horror+mafia+fell out there jus #this is my (and llama's) rendition #heehe

[smalllonelyegg]

me: I wonder what the fallout fandom is up to :)

the fallout fandom: FREESIDE IS FULL OF WORTHLESS BUMS WHO DESERVE TO GET SHOT IF THEY TRY TO LEAVE! IF THEY WANT A BETTER LIFE THEY SHOULD JUST GET A JOB

me: that’s enough of the fallout fandom :)

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #freeside #cw: murder #poverty #decided to try to argue that house was in fact not the best choice for vegas #and. well #cw: caps #in the context of fallout that becomes a kinda funny tag ngl

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Maybe We'll Take Some Time | Spencer Reid

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and Reader broke up five weeks ago. When he comes knocking on her door, crying about a friend's death, their love is resparked.

Warnings: Emily's death, canon murder, SMUT, MDNI 18+!!

Author's note: Reader going from ME to nurse doesn't make sense, but let's ignore that and pretend it's possible, all right? Thanks.

Words: 5.4K

It had been five weeks. 

Five weeks since Spencer and y/n had broken up. It had been a mutual decision to call it quits. Neither one of their jobs allowed them to maintain a healthy relationship. For either one of them to be happy, they had no other choice but to let each other go. 

The two had met on the job. While Spencer was a prolific profiler with the FBI, y/n was a medical examiner. During a local case in Virginia, y/n was examining the corpse of a young woman who had fallen victim to a guy the FBI was trying to catch. 

Spencer was gobsmacked at how y/n sounded almost excited about the things she found on the body. She found fascinating things, which ultimately led to the perfect victim profile. It had been the way y/n was so confident about what she had established, the way her eyes lit up with every aspect of the exam. 

However, he never asked her out. He figured they were on the job and needed to be professional. Besides, the chances of them seeing each other again were so slim, he thought. 

But he was proven wrong when the two of them kept bumping into one another. At the coffee shop, at the library, during another case. It was only when y/n moved from being a Medical Examiner to working at the hospital and she was his doctor when he got shot in the knee, that he finally decided to test his luck. 

“Well, once you’re back on your feet…” she handed him a card, “Call me.” 

It wasn’t until a few weeks later when she finally got the call. The two went out for coffee together and had the best time ever. They would talk about whatever came up and y/n allowed Spencer to ramble on about his favorite subjects. After three dates, y/n finally decided she’d had enough of waiting for him to make the first move and kissed him first instead. 

Their relationship was loving and fun until all they were doing was fight about how little they saw each other. Near the end, their fights became petty and about the lousiest of things. After nearly a year of dating, they finally decided to call it quits. 

Y/N often found herself thinking about him, but never did she allow herself to call him. Even if she had to fight the urge to do so. It was better for the both of them if they weren’t in each other’s lives for a while. 

One night, y/n was rereading “Something Wicked This Way Comes” by Ray Bradbry, a book she had read multiple times with Spencer. One that reminded her of him. She was missing him a little more than usual this time, especially with how the rain was pelting against the windows. It was a very typical autumn night, one they would usually spend together, curled up on the couch with books in their laps. 

She was nearly halfway through the book when her doorbell rang. Her brows furrowed as she got up, confused about who could be at her door. It wasn’t like she was expecting someone. After patting her cat’s head, she moved over towards the intercom. 

Pushing the button, she said, “Hello-o?” with that little lilt in her voice he loved so much. 

“Y/N… It’s me…” 

Her world started spinning. It almost felt like she was dreaming. How could it be possible that on the night she missed him the most, he somehow ended up ringing her doorbell? Of course he did. It wasn’t a surprise that even after five weeks apart, they still had the connection. 

“Spencer –” she puffed out some air. “Come on up.” 

She pressed the buzzer to let him up. A tingle frazzled her stomach as she awaited his arrival. Suddenly, her mind started racing. She didn’t know why he was there, all she did know was that her apartment was a mess and now he was going to come up and see how much of a mess her life is now that he wasn’t in it anymore. 

As quickly as she could, she rummaged through her stuff, trying to put as much away as she could before the soft knock on her door stopped her. With trembling hands, she turned the doorknob. Before her appeared the one man she had come to love a little over a year ago. His hair was much shorter than it was the last time she’d seen him. 

“Hi–” she wanted to greet, but stopped when she saw the look on his face. 

His eyes were glazed with tears, his bottom lip quivering. “She–” he tried his voice, but as soon as it betrayed him with a crack, he stopped himself, coughed and tried again. “She’s dead…” As soon as the words left his mouth, he broke down. 

Unsure of what to do, y/n allowed Spencer to fall into her arms where he sobbed violently. Her heart broke at the feeling of this ball of mess breaking against her chest. With one hand, she shut her front door before guiding Spencer towards the couch. 

For a while, she let Spencer cry. His head laid on her chest while his body was wedged between her legs. Her hands were tangled up in his shorter locks, scratching his scalp soothingly. The exact same way they often cuddled after a particularly bad case that had Spencer shaking. She knew this would calm him down quicker than anything else. 

“What happened, angel?” she asked in a whisper, her lips pressed against his head in a kiss. 

Spencer wasn’t ready to talk yet and she didn’t press him to do so. Instead, she kept holding him and kissing his head and soothing his sobs until he was finally ready to do so. 

Wiping his tears, Spencer sat up straight again and y/n followed his example. She tucked her legs underneath her bum, giving him a little more space though he scooted closer as soon as he felt the lack of her presence. His fingers nervously plucked at a loose thread on her sweatpants. 

“It’s Emily,” he whispered, then sniffled. “She, uhm… She… She died.” His brows furrowed as though he was still confused about the facts. His eyes landed on her face, noticing how her eyes had filled with tears at the news. 

“What?” The word came out in a whisper, her voice not able to handle anything louder. 

She reached for his hand on her knee and squeezed. He recounted the events, not leaving anything out. After a good year with him and working the job she did, y/n wasn’t shy of any gory details. By the time he was at the end of the story, the two of them had been reduced to tears. The two of them just sat on the couch, holding hands and crying. 

“I came straight here after the hospital,” he admitted. “I-I didn’t really wanna go home and I–you–” He wasn’t sure how to end that sentence, but y/n understood him. Y/N always understood him. 

She entwined their fingers and squeezed reassuringly. “It’s okay, Spence. Do you want anything? Tea? Some food?” she asked and brushed a strand of his hair out of his face. When they were dating, she was always able to tuck a strand behind his ear, but with his shorter hair, that wasn’t possible anymore. “I bet you’re hungry.” 

“Uh, yeah… Actually,” he offered her a tender smile. 

Disentangling their hands, she patted his before getting up and walking to the kitchen. She heated up some leftover mac-and-cheese and filled up two cups with water. Once the pasta was warm, she took everything with her to the living room where Spencer was cuddling Mr. Gilbert, her cat.  

The two of them shared the bowl of pasta while chatting about how life had been treating them in the time they had separated. It was an amicable conversation that easily lapsed into stories about Emily. Y/N had spent some time with the team, too, so she knew Emily. The few times they had seen each other, they did get along very well. 

It got late. The two of them got too wrapped up in pleasant conversation that neither realized how late it was until Spencer fell asleep with his head in her lap. Soon enough, y/n herself fell prey to sleep. 

“Y/N.” At first, she thought she was dreaming, Spencer voice interlacing with her subconscious because she missed him. “Y/N.” The soft touch on her shoulder caused her mind to wake up before her eyes fluttered open as well. 

“Spence–” 

Everything that had happened last night filtered back into her brain. Spencer knocking on her door, crying, Emily dead, … All of it came back in flashes, reminding her of what he was doing in her place. 

“I-I’m gonna go home. I fell asleep, I’m so sorry,” Spencer muttered and as she watched him gather his discarded Converse, the pelting rain outside registered in her mind. 

“No,” she muttered and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes while getting up from the couch. “No, you’re not gonna go home through weather like this, Spence.”

A sigh heaved his chest. “Y/N–”

“Spencer, please, just stay. I really don’t mind…” She looked into his eyes, trying to figure out what that genius brain of his was thinking. “You can sleep on the couch, if you’re not comfortable sharing a bed anymore. Or you can quit being stubborn and come to bed with me.” 

A flash of recognition appeared in his eyes before he simply dropped his shoes again. With a smile, y/n reached out her hand for him to take, which he did, gladly so. Y/N handed him one of the many college shirts she had stolen and kept from him, earning a knowing glare from the boy. He stripped down to his underwear and chucked the shirt on before crawling into bed with her. 

As if on automatic pilot, the two of them drifted towards each other, limbs tangling together and her head finding its rightful spot on his chest. While the fingers of her right hand toyed with his short curls – she still couldn’t get over the fact he had cut his hair –, his hands found their spot on her lower back and her right upper arm. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, exhaling contently. 

Ten weeks. 

For ten weeks, Spencer came up to her apartment, crying on her shoulder every night because he missed Emily so much. She let him. She let him cry and sometimes, she cried with him. Every night, she’d make them dinner and they’d cry and fall asleep watching a movie together once they were all cried out. 

When he didn’t show up to her place one night around week ten, she’d grown worried. 

There was no way he would just skip out on dinner, suddenly feeling up for taking care of himself. Not without calling or texting first, at least. 

So, with worry pooling in her stomach, she picked up her phone and called him. When that went straight to voicemail, she tried again. And again. And again. After ten failed tries, she grabbed her keys and drove off to his place. 

She was lucky that one of his neighbors just left, so she could sneak in and rush up the stairs to apartment #23. Her heart was beating in her throat, worried about how she would find him. She knew about his struggles and his trauma. She knew about the addiction to dilaudid. And worst of all, she knew him. Whenever he’d pull away from his friends, from her, especially when something like this had happened, he would find his way back to the drug a little too easily. 

“Spence?!” she called out whilst knocking on his door. “Spencer, come on, baby, please!” She could hear the rustling behind the door. She knew he was in. “Let me in…” 

For five seconds, she fell silent, trying to weigh her options. She could wait here until he finally opened the door, or she could just kick it down. She’d seen Derek do it, surely she could attempt it too. Images of her trying to kick down the door flashed before her eyes. None of them ended very well. So, instead, she resorted to pounding the door instead. Surely, that would get his attention. 

“Spencer Reid! Open this door right now!” she yelled, a little too obnoxiously. 

Suddenly, the door opened just a smidge and Spencer’s head popped out. “Y/N,” he stated, matter-of-factly. “Stop making so much noise. Go home. I’m not up for any company tonight.” 

His eyes were blood-shot, the same way they always were when he had been crying. His usually softly curled hair was an absolute mess, sticking out on the sides. To y/n, that just meant that he’d been tugging at it in frustration. Aside from the physical signs, there was also the pushing away. A sure sign that he was, in fact, struggling, and that he needed someone. 

That he needed her. 

Spencer went to close the door, but before it could fall shut, y/n stopped it, placing her flat hand on the wood with all her might. “You are not getting rid of me that easily, Reid,” she grumbled before pushing herself through into his apartment, much to Spencer’s dismay. 

Protests flew off his lips as soon as she started looking around for any evidence that he had, in fact, taken the dilaudid. At first, she thought he was clear, but then her eyes fell on Spencer himself, who had one hand in his pocket, his fingers twirling around something in it. 

Red hot flashes of anger coursed through y/n as she surged forward and grabbed his wrist. Spencer yelled at her, telling her to let go, trying to push her off. But y/n was stronger than he was, or more stubborn. She didn’t let go until she had pried the small vials of dilaudid out of his hand.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Spencer?!” she yelled at him, waving the evidence around in her fury as she distanced herself from him. 

His jaw clenched as he looked at her before matching the volume of her voice. “I was thinking that I’m missing my friend and the woman I love will never love me again the way she did and that everything is hurting so bad that the only thing I’m craving right now is a bit of sweet relief from all of it!” 

She faltered at this. With her heart plummeting to her stomach and the stinging sensation of tears pricking her eyes, she looked at the broken man before her. The man she loved. The man she still loved. 

“Spencer, I get that you’re missing Emily. I miss her, too. But I’m right here. I’m. Right. Here.” With every word of that last sentence she took a step closer towards him until she was in front of him. “Please, baby, you know you can talk to me. I can offer you a shoulder to cry on and all the comfort food you need and I can…” She hesitated for a moment before leaning up and kissing the corner of his mouth. 

As she pulled back to gauge his reaction, she saw something familiar flash across his face. Without needing to ask what either of them was thinking, the two dove right in, locking lips in a passionate, heated kiss. His hands moved to cup her face whilst hers landed on his hips, pulling him impossibly closer by his sweater. 

They stumbled their way into Spencer’s bedroom without once breaking the kiss, even if that meant bumping into tables, cupboards and walls. They were used to gathering bruises from their walks into the bedroom. 

Clothes began flying about the room, the two of them desperately wanting to feel one another’s heated skin flush against their own. It didn’t take them too long before being half-naked and Spencer being on top of her on the bed. His hips grinded against her core, her desire pooling in her underwear. 

It had been a while since they had been in this position, but it all felt natural to them.    

Everything felt natural from the way his lips felt on the expanse of her neck to the way her name sounded through his labored breaths. It was as though they had never stopped being this close. 

Spencer worked his way down from her neck, between her breasts, across her stomach, all the way to her navel. Once he reached her silky underwear, he stopped and used his long, slender fingers to hook around the waistband and slowly pull it down. All she had to do was raise her hips whilst he kissed his way down her hips and inner thigh. 

The item of clothing was quickly strewn about the room whilst Spencer dipped down again, this time using a finger to stroke between her folds. He used his thumb to rub circles on her clit before he gently pushed his index finger inside, eliciting a delicious gasp from the girl underneath him. 

Encouraged by the sounds she was making, Spencer added a second finger. One hand of hers grabbed a hold of his curls whilst the others held a tight grip on the sheets. 

“Spencer,” she moaned and by the lilt in her voice, he already knew what she needed him to do. 

He retracted his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. Licking up her slick folds the way only he could, quickly sent her over the edge. Moans of his name bounced off the walls until that lilt in her voice was back. 

“Spencer, I need you–” she didn’t even need to finish her sentence for him to crawl back up. He kissed her lips sweetly whilst her hand moved from his hair down his chest and to his excited member. She used the precum that had gathered on his tip to smoothen her pumps. 

“Please,” Spencer moaned into her mouth. “I need to feel you…” 

She retracted her hand and wrapped one leg around his waist whilst he maneuvered towards her entrance. Sealed with another passionate kiss, Spencer took that as a reassurance to enter. As his hips grinded against hers, sticky skin slapping together at the movement, y/n kissed his jaw. When she pulled back and laid her head on the pillow again, she looked into his hazel eyes. 

There was that familiar shimmer again. The one she loved. The one she would kill for just to get a glimpse of. In the past ten weeks, it had been nearly impossible to catch even a sliver of it, so she made sure to enjoy it while it lasted. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

Spencer dipped down to press a kiss underneath her ear. “I love you too,” he whispered back. 

Soft moans and gasps flew about the room, their love for each other conveyed by their actions. It didn’t take too long for the both of them to reach their high and for Spencer to collapse next to her. As if on automatic pilot, y/n moved so her head was lying on his chest, his arms caging her in. 

“Well…” she whispered, still buzzing. 

“Well…” he repeated in that same tone. 

It had surprised them to find themselves in this position again. They had broken up after all, but with all the emotions of the past ten weeks, they had seemingly found their way back to one another and back in each other’s bed. 

“This might be a better stress-relief than the drugs,” he muttered jokingly and kissed her head. 

Frowning, y/n turned her head to look at him. “Might be?!” 

That beautiful laugh of his rolled off his lips. “I’m kidding,” he said and kissed her forehead this time. “Thank you… For being here for me.” 

“You’re welcome.” She tilted her head a little more before planting her lips on his in another searing, spine-tingling kiss. 

The next morning, y/n offered to drive Spencer to work, and though he protested it, she left him no other choice. She wanted to see his colleagues again, too. It had been over four months since she had last seen them. 

And the reunion with one of his colleagues in particular was one he wouldn’t want to miss for the world. 

As soon as the two of them stepped out of the elevator, a loud gasp startled them. “Y/N Y/L/N! I MUST BE DREAMING!” the screeching voice of one Penelope Garcia sounded before she came barrelling down the hallway and scooped the thirty-year-old into her arms. 

“Hi, Penelope,” y/n giggled, hugging the blonde right back. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked and immediately gasped, looking between the two of them. “Are you two…?” She didn’t finish her sentence, but the two knew what she was asking them. 

The thing was that neither of them knew. They hadn’t talked about what had happened last night. It was something they needed to figure out on their own. So, for now, they both shook their heads. 

“No,” Spencer started. “She’s just been helping me get through everything, you know?” 

Penelope nodded her head, though she couldn’t miss the look Spencer gave the smaller woman. It was a look that told a thousand words. There was hope for the couple after all. 

Not catching either of the FBI employees’ looks, y/n was distracted by the other blonde in the building. The one she and Spencer had spent the most time with when they were still a couple. Spencer’s best friend, and inevitably, y/n’s best friend. 

“I’ll be right back. Gonna say hi to JJ,” she excused herself and walked up the small set of stairs towards the communication liaison’s office. Rapping on the door frame twice, she announced her arrival, capturing the woman’s attention. 

JJ’s blue eyes widened before she got up and met y/n halfway to embrace her. “Oh, it’s been so long! What are you doing here?”

“Dropped Spencer off and I wanted to come and say hi to my favorite blondes,” she told her, grinning. Upon noticing the shimmer in her bright blue orbs, y/n sighed and shook her head. That was enough for JJ to offer the woman a seat and take the one next to it herself. 

“What’s going on?” she asked. 

Y/N sighed. “Spencer came to me after – after Emily died…” she trailed off, trying to keep the tears at bay. “It’s been ten weeks of constant crying and taking care of him. And I…” The tears finally escaped, rolling down her cheeks in streams. The grief was finally catching up to her. “I wanna be there for him, but it’s hurting me too, you know? Emily was my friend, too, and I just haven’t really been able to grieve.” 

A soothing hand came up to her shoulder, rubbing soft circles across the fabric of her shirt. “I’m sorry, y/n. That must be difficult for you. Especially since you’re technically still broken up…” 

“That’s the thing,” y/n almost wailed. “I’m not sure we are…” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean coital events have taken place in his bedroom last night,” she told her in a whisper and upon seeing the wide-eyed, jaw-slacked expression on JJ’s face, she couldn’t help but chuckle through the tears. “What do I do, Jayj?” 

JJ inhaled with teeth clenched, making it sound more like a hiss. “All you can do is talk this out with him, see what he wants. The loss of Emily has been hard on all of us, but especially Spencer. He’s gonna need your support to get through this.” 

With a nod and a new-found confidence, y/n went back home. She was determined to talk to Spencer about what had transpired between them. What she didn’t take into account was that that conversation was going to have to wait. Spencer was called on cases every single day, sometimes for days on end. And even when he returned, there was no time for them to talk about it. 

And five months later, Emily suddenly came back from the dead. 

The team was being questioned by the Senate Committee for their retaliatory actions in the wake of Emily’s loss. In their search for Declan Doyle, they found out that Emily’s death had been staged and that she was very well alive. Only y/n didn’t find out about it until Spencer returned from the case and the hearing, knocking on y/n’s door. 

“Hi,” she greeted with a smile when she opened the door for him. 

Instead of coming inside, Spencer stayed put on the threshold, confusing y/n to the fullest. Her heart beat faster at his actions – or lack thereof. 

“Spence?” 

“She’s back,” he whispered, his eyes rather absent. 

“What?” Her tone of voice matched his.

His eyes flicked up to hers and that was when she saw it. The uncertainty, the confusion. For a genius with an IQ of 187, this was something he just couldn’t wrap his head around. It was clear from the way he was looking at the woman he trusted with his entire heart, the one he loved more than anything, that he suddenly wasn’t sure of anything at all. 

“Emily’s back… She-she’s alive…” 

Y/N cautiously reached for his hand and pulled him inside. Shutting the door  behind them, she guided the dazed genius towards the couch where they sat down. Y/N encouraged him to tell everything, to not leave any detail out. And he did. 

Every word that came out of his mouth confused y/n, though from what she knew about the Ian Doyle case, she figured it would have been the best plan to keep her safe. 

“JJ knew,” Spencer muttered. 

Y/N’s eyes widened. She had cried in JJ’s office about grieving for Emily, about Spencer crying on her shoulder for ten weeks straight and she didn’t so much as budge. JJ was one of her best friends. 

Not wanting to bother Spencer with her thoughts, she allowed him to unload all of his on her. The two of them talked about everything concerning the case, ending up falling asleep on the couch when they decided to watch a movie together. 

Y/N sat with the feeling of anger and disappointment for a couple of days while Spencer was in Oklahoma with the team, working on a case together. She took the time to think about what to say to JJ, but all she could come up with were accusations and words laced with poison. 

When Spencer called her that they had landed and that he was going to finish up his report before coming over, y/n decided to pay a visit to the BAU. There was one particular blonde she needed to give a piece of mind to. 

“You knew?!” y/n nearly yelled at the top of her lungs as she burst into JJ’s office. 

None of the team members had even seen her walk in until they heard her voice. She hadn’t even bothered saying hi to any of them. She had one goal in mind and she wasn’t going to take any distractions to keep her from achieving that goal. 

“Y/N…” JJ mumbled, hoping to calm her down. 

But y/n cut her off quickly. “No, don’t you “y/n” me! You knew all this time and when I came crying to you, you didn’t even have the decency to tell me!” 

“Y/N, I couldn’t tell anyone.” 

Y/N’s eyebrow rose. “You couldn’t, or you wouldn’t?” 

“I couldn’t.” 

The answer she was given didn’t satisfy her and it didn’t calm her down, either. “Probably because Spencer didn’t come crying to you for ten weeks straight! Probably because you didn’t have to pry the vials of dilaudid out of his hands!” 

“Y/N!” Spencer’s voice came in between. She looked up to see him standing at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s okay.” He tried to reassure her, but failed completely. 

“No, Spence, it’s not okay.” 

“I’m sorry, y/n. I really am.” 

The woman glanced from Spencer to JJ and back before turning to JJ and scoffing. “Yeah, sure.” There was a bite to her words that shred JJ’s heart into pieces. She hated having two of her best friends mad at her. 

Y/N turned on her heel and left the blonde’s office, finding her way back to Spencer. Grabbing her hand in his, he led her towards the hallway where they could talk in silence without any prying ears or eyes. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, entwining her fingers with his. 

Spencer let out a chuckle. “I should be asking you.” 

“I’m fine,” she rolled her eyes with a bemused smile on her face. “Just needed to get that off my chest… I really hate how she just listened to me cry about you and about Emily, all while knowing what really happened.” 

Shrugging, Spencer shook his head. “They didn’t have a choice. It was for Emily’s safety…” 

“You’re okay with the fact she lied?” She asked, stepping a little closer towards him, the tips of their toes touching. 

“No, but I get why they did it. And besides… Shouldn’t I be glad Emily is still alive?” he asked, looking down at their feet. “And that her death brought us back together?” 

His eyes met hers again with that wonderful glint he usually had when he looked at her. It sent a blissful spark through her chest. One she had missed. Paired with the most gentle, most beautiful smile, it made y/n weak in the knees. 

“Mmh,” y/n hummed, her lips curving upwards. “I guess I should be happy about that.” 

Spencer let go of her hands and instead brought his up to her cheeks, cupping them gently as he tilted her face to properly look her in the eyes. “I love you. I have and always will.” 

Before y/n could even reciprocate the feeling, he had already pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss. Flutters went through y/n’s entire body at the sensation of his kiss. She was still in love with this man, she didn’t think she ever stopped. 

“I love you, too. – I am still mad at JJ though.” 

Spencer chuckled. “You ripping JJ a new one will forever be one of the sexiest things I have ever witnessed,” he nearly grumbled. Something flashed in his eyes, too. Something she had seen before. Multiple times. “As for your anger and frustration, I might know a good solution.” 

It was safe to say the couple arrived at Rossi’s for dinner very late. Spencer hadn’t even mentioned it until they were cuddled up in bed, sticky and sweaty from previous activities. After a quick shower, the couple headed down to Rossi’s where the rest of the team was watching him cook. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Spencer apologized when they walked into the kitchen with Morgan, who had come to open the door for them. 

“Yeah. And that’s why I cook alone,” Rossi bit back before turning back to his dish. 

“So, when do we get to drink the wine?” Emily asked the important question. 

“Almost there,” said Rossi as he put his utensils down. “We start at the beginning. You eat what you cook, I’ll supervise, but we’re gonna do this all together, just like a family.” 

Spencer looked down at y/n at the word ‘family’ with that proud, careful smile on his face. He was glad that she was a part of that family again. 

“Now?” JJ then questioned, lifting up her wineglass. 

Winking at her, Rossi nodded his head. “Now.” 

The eight of them raised their wineglasses, clinking them together while a chorus of ‘salud’ rang through the air. After a sip of wine, Penelope turned to the late-comers with a sparkle in her eyes. 

“Soooo…” she started, dragging down the ‘o’. “Are you two…” She repeated her question from a couple months back when y/n visited the BAU post-coitus. 

This time around, Spencer and y/n glanced at each other, the both of them certain of their answer this time. Y/N nodded her head in answer. “Yeah, we are.” 

“We just needed to take some time,” Spencer declared before leaning down and chastly kissing her amidst a rumble of cheers from his coworkers. 

Through all the terrible and the hopeless, Spencer and y/n had found each other again. They had been given a second chance to get it right. 

This time around, he’ll never give her away again. 

He had already made that mistake once. 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty @n0wornever @wanniiieeee @unnowhatthisistbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: 

@boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks @tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess  @sylvcaplath @tillypettitt @mordechaisworld @ssameadows

If your @ is crossed out, please, check your settings!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #cw: smut #cw: canon death #cw: death #cw: murder

[melgillman]

The Next Body

Here’s this year’s 24 hour comic -- a 37 page adult horror comic, with CWs for murder, body horror, violence, gore, animal death, and nudity.  Click below to read the whole thing.

#horror comics #comics #24 hour comic day #cw: murder #cw: body horror #cw: violence #cw: gore #cw: animal death

[cobwebs-in-autumn]

Hush

Based on an ask I sent to @ceilidho

A bang. The smash of skin on glass as the grease ridden boy he grasped squealing like some dying pig, begging for his life, for help, pounding on your door pleadingly. Calling out “Please! Help me! PLEASE!” like any person in the world could save him from Ghost’s clutches. And even if they could, he was already a goner. The knife in his back coming out all the way only to slam back into the hilt just a few centimeters away. Then again, and again, and again. Ghost’s eyes on you the entire time, obliviously cleaning up your kitchen.

A sweet bunny, nibbling at the petals of some flower and never seeing the wolf creeping up behind you, jaw open and teeth bared. Ready to snatch up an easy kill.

Simon’s breathing picked up, blunt nails digging into the pale hip of the boy in front of him, carving deep crescent marks into his flesh and making it bleed, cock twitching to fullness against the admittedly plump ass of the other man.

He wondered if your ass felt as soft, as plush. How it would feel to slide his cock between your cheeks before prying them apart with blood covered hands and spitting on your winking hole. Would you beg for more? Or beg for him to stop?

Would you squeal and whine when he fucked that tight little hole the same way he was using his knife on this whimpering boy? His pace changed suddenly, harder thrusts being traded for something a bit slower, almost teasing. Imagining you sweaty and pliant beneath him, mouth wide open and practically begging for him to spit in it.

Good girl. Obedient girl. You’d be so good for him, wouldn’t you? Suck his blood stained fingers clean after a long day at work then spread your legs for him to fit himself between? You’d probably even enjoy being walked around on a leash like a dog, crawling after him with your tongue out and hips wiggling.

Good. Girl.

His fly dampened with his spend as he creamed his pants to the mental image, ducking his head and panting into the chestnut locks of the now cold body in front of him, eyes focused only on you.

#call of duty #cod #cobweb writes #cw: murder #cw: stalking #Dead dove #dead dove do not eat #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #Hush!Au

[craetor]

Mello opening Another Note

#GODi haven't done proper animation in years #this took so much out of me #and yet i plan to do more #great me. thanks #my art #death note #mello #beyond birthday #naomi misora #labb murder cases #death note another note #animation #animatic #cw: murder #mello death note #mihael keehl

[yandereunsolved]

Fool Me Once - ,, you being James successor

cw(s): murder, drugging, obsessiveness, asphyxiation, thoughts/acts of sh

☾ James March who saw your aura in the color of gray and was immediately fascinated by your presence in his hotel. He's seen a handful of colors, even black— but this gray was something new. You are like a lost lamb that just needs his guidance. He only wishes to bring out your full potential. His hand aches to hold your own, just so he has a chance to feel your living pulse.

☾ Who watches you around the hotel. He purposely allows the ghosts to terrorize you to see how well you hold up. He won't allow them to kill you but you may leave with a few scars if you aren't skilled enough.

☾ Who invited you to a private dinner before you leave. He may or may not have definitely drugged so the food so you are a little loopy. What? He just needs to make sure that you listen to his message. He talks with you for hours and 'convinces' you to stay, or at least come back if you have other challenges responsibilities.

☾ Who demands that you eat every meal with him. He needs to make sure that you are eating correctly to ensure top performance. He really just wants to spend more time with you. He needs you to begin craving his attention and affection. It makes the entire process so much easier.

☾ Who guides you into picking out victims. He shows you the ropes, both figuratively and literally. Sometimes he tells you that he needs you to act with him. You'll both 'act' as if you are married to seduce couples and lost lambs into death. No one is allowed to touch you except him. If they try their death will come much quicker.

☾ Who asks you to pick out your favorite weapon. He goes into great detail about each one. He watches your face contort into furrowed contemplation. He feels himself growing fonder of your company. He can't wait to allow you a private torture chamber of your own, one day. Your willingness to please him only being another thing that intrigues him.

☾ Who asks the most intimate questions about you. He only wants to learn more about his protégé, and who he has to kill to make you his. Are you a virgin? How many exes do you have? What are your favorite positions? How much do you fancy killing people? What are your special interests? Are you attracted to men? What kind of men are you attracted to?

☾ Who nearly dies a second death when he sees your Devils Night costume. You dressed up as him! You even used make-up to recreate his neck slit. He wants to kill you right there. You would look so perfect to eternally mimic him.

☾ Who makes you watch his killings and take notes. It doesn't matter how he is killing them. He'll make you watch. If you close your eyes, he'll make you open them. He'll grab your chin and tilt it to look straight into your eyes. He'll make you drink the blood of his victims— bathe in it. It's like an aphrodisiac for him.

☾ Who wants you to own his hotel as the living owner. He doesn't want his hotel in danger of being destroyed or changed in a drastic way. He wants you owning his hotel as a symbolic gesture. A sign of his trust for you.

☾ Who chokes you and sloppily makes out with you after you kill your first person. He traps you against the wall and nearly makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He promises you more for each person you kill.

☾ Who makes you sleep in room sixty-four. You aren't allowed any other room. That is the only room you are allowed to stay in. So what if he is watching you sleep? So what if he is watching you during your 'alone' time? So what? You are his protégé after all."

☾ Who makes that maid of his— Miss Evers is it? make sure all of your linens are extra clean. You have nothing that is ever dirty. All of your messes are cleaned up, even before his own. Miss Evers is immensely, violently, extraordinarily jealous of you. She does her best to sabotage you behind her masters back. James has more than just a few words to her about that.

☾ Who insists you have a title of your own. He is The 10 Comandment killer. What is your trauma? How are you going to fuel it into your gruesome killings?

☾ Who fuels your worst thoughts. No, not the self depreciating ones or the ones that make you harm yourself... yet. Never bad to keep those thoughts in his back pocket for if you disobey him, or he needs to manipulate you. He fuels those thoughts that you immediately push away. He fuels your anger, your anguish, your pain towards people.

☾ Who will make you hurt yourself and watch if you ever try to leave him/disobey/displease him. He can do it himself, but your punishment will end a lot sooner if you just do it yourself... and sob so loud that he can't hear his own thoughts.

☾ Who gets you to shed all of your electronics when you are with him. He supposes you can have those horrid things, but not when he is around. His handsomely talented protégé cannot be distracted by some electronic drivel! He will not allow it. You cannot get off that phone? He'll make you. Break it. Kiss you until you can only focus on him.

☾ Who carves his initials into you so that people know you are his. He really, really wants to carve them into your neck... but he realizes that would probably, most definitely, kill you. He settles between two different places. You can either have him carve them into your inner arm or your thigh. Tattooing is boring. Scarring is fun.

☾ Who treats you both as his equal and below him simultaneously. He respects you but you are like a baby bird just learning to fly. His hummingbird. Just don't leave the nest too soon. You could fail flying and break your neck. That would be a pity.

☾ Who is adamant that you are very careful when it comes to killing. He cares in his own twisted way. He was caught, his failed successors were caught. He does not want you caught. He wants you to infinitely succeed. He wants you to have a moderately normal life.

☾ Who will hold you too hard or choke you for so long so that he leaves bruises. He tells you that he is teaching you how to resist these things. He would never fully poison you though. Drug, yes. Poison, no. Why no poison? He sees poison as very un-gentleman-like. Poison is reserved for your worst enemies, not your successor.

☾ Who will randomly trauma dump the worst things that happened to him. Those moments are fleeting and scarce. However, they do happen. That is his sign of an ultimate reverence to you. He bares the scars in his soul to you. If you press him on it or even joke about it his walls will be back up. He'll kill twice as many people as he usually does just to exterminate that pesky emotion of hurt from his heart.

☾ James Patrick March who will always be there when you fall. Who will slaughter those in the village so only he can give you warmth.

#american horror story #james patrick march #jpm #imagine #jpm x reader #james patrick march x reader #ahs hotel #reader insert #x reader #possibly yandere #cw: murder #ahs fanfiction #headcanon #headcanons and stuff #ahs headcanons

[ladytohruu]

Monster

❒ PAIRINGS: Killer!KyojuroRengokuXReader

❒ CW: Mentions of Murder

❒ BACK STORY: it’s a Friday night and after months of hiding due to seeing a terrible event unfold, you’re waiting in front of the movie theatre for your group of friends to show up, not knowing that they brought a familiar face.

It’s like you’ve seen a ghost.

Something, or to be more precise, someone you have tried many times to get it out of your head yet comes back with a vengeance once you think you have finally done. You must be going mad because as you’re standing there waiting for your group to approach you, they appeared in the crowd and with your peers no less.

Why are they here? Who invited them here?

The golden question appears bright in your mind. Like a moth to a flame, you start searching for answers inside your own mind but soon realize that you know only they can answer but knew you couldn’t, no you mustn’t ask them. Your mind starts to slowly go into a frenzy asking the same thing over and over. Why why why why why?

This cannot be happening.

But it is. And the worst part of it all is that while you’re frozen in place with a look of terror on your face, your friends, accompanied by the monster, are starting to approach you. Some with looks of worry and others with looks of happiness on their faces. They are saying things, nothing their hands in the air trying to snap you out of your frozen state but to no avail. You were too busy trying to find a way out of there. Trying to find a way to escape.

There’s still time to run.

There is but not much. Since they have spotted you, they are more that ready to run after you if needed and you don’t know if you will be fast enough to get away but you must. You MUST for it’s the only way that you’ll be able to survive. They don’t know what you know about the ghost. They don’t know that they are murderers. That you saw with your own two eyes what they have done, what they are capable of and you’re hoping they never do. But one question is remaining, why haven’t you started to run yet?

Before you realized, you were surrounded by your peers. Laughter and questions could be heard all around you but all you could do was silent stare in terror as the person, the ghost who has haunted your nightmares and was the original reason for you shutting yourself in your apartment for months standing a couple feet away.

You can still make a run for it.

But you wouldn’t because even though your mind was made up and ready to sprint, your body became unresponsive, cemented to the ground you stood on. A smile slowly forming on his face. His eyes met yours with such intensity that it made your body shake. As your friend proceeded to pull him towards where you were standing to introduce him to you, nails dig into your arm accompanied by a forced panicked smile. You’re doomed.

You can’t run now.

Shivers coursed down your spine as you friend happily introduced you to her new friend. You attempt to crack a smile but felt too uncomfortable to do so. Standing not feet but inches away from you was the person, no the monster that you have been trying to avoid for fear that he might have figured out that you were a witness to his heinous act was now in front of you.

“You friend must be shy. That’s okay!” He says while smiling at your friend. “My names Kyojuro! May I know your name?”

Eyes wide and beaming down at you like the white hot scorching sun, his smile widens and you can see the tips of his canines peak, burning you down to the bone. A husky, deep tone vibrates from him, forcing your eyes make contact. You can feel the energy coursing through him and can tell that the energy was not that of a good person but of a trained killer. Your throat goes dry from the awkward silence making speaking impossible. Before you could, someone from the crowd yelled that it was time to go in, making everyone hurriedly rush inside the building.

“Maybe next time” he says while still maintaining eye contact, scanning your face and body to see how you would react but was met with only a nod. It’s suffocating and almost makes you want to vomit but you hold out until you no longer can see him in the crowd. As soon as you’re certain, you make a run for it, not thinking twice about looking back. There’s no way you’re staying there and you make sure that there’s never a next time.

God you wish there’s never a next time. But wishing and luck can only get you so far.

#Killer! Kyojuro Rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kny kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #KyojuroRengokuXReader #kyojuro x reader #demon slayer kyojuro #yandere #Yandere! Kyojuro #male reader #female reader #kny x reader #kny x y/n #kny x male reader #kny x female reader #cw: murder #kny imagines #LadyTsDrabbles #anime horror #anime and manga #an

[badaziraphaletakes]

Nina

Here's why I think Nina isn't a good metaphor for Aziraphale and his situation re: heaven. (There are some similar elements, but their overall arcs are by necessity going to be very different.)

NINA'S PARTNER LEFT HER. There is at least a chance that Lindsey has actually let her go.

That is a crucial distinction.

You see, it is INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS for victims to leave an ab*sive partner. That is when the ab*ser is by far most likely to try to murder them. (This is why so many victims of ab*se don't try to leave until an incident happens where they know their partner is literally minute away from killing them. It's not because they're "spellbound" by the ab*ser or happy with them or any of that crap that people assume. It's because they know their partner will do everything in their power to hunt them down and kill them if they leave. So they don't leave until they literally know death is inevitable if they don't. Side note, if you're going to leave an ab*sive relationship, even one that's only "mildly" ab*sive, please please please have a safety plan in place first if at all possible). Ab*sers do not let their victims just walk away.

The ab*ser being the one who leaves is in so many ways a more desirable outcome, for that reason. I hate to use this word, but Nina was "lucky" (and I'm speaking relative ONLY to Aziraphale here, to be very clear - she certainly isn't lucky relative to all the people who don't have to deal with ab*sive relationships) that Lindsey left her - because she doesn't have to worry about what Lindsey would do to her if she left them. (Side note, though: I wouldn't be at all surprised if she is not, in fact, rid of Lindsey for good, and we see them pop up again in S3. That would be an accurate depiction of how these relationships often work.)

Whereas heaven has not left Aziraphale and is never going to. They are never going to let him be safe with Crowley. AND AZIRAPHALE KNOWS THAT, Y'ALL.

Idk where I was going with this, but I think y'all get the idea.

#cw: abuse #cw: murder #good omens #goodomens #badaziraphaletakes #good omens nina

[crownsandbishops]

Have you ever wanted to draw something but you fought due to your skill level at the time you decide not to do it

(I haven't much but I do have a few examples I can think of! This panel of the original Cab I wanted to have Leshy be on a string, but I couldn't get it to look right so I just had Nari hold him

In Moonbow's lore post I wanted to have him stabbing himself represented like this

but it didnt look right so I changed it to this

and similarly with Shamura murdering Narinder's parents I originally had it looking like this

But I changed it instead to look like this

This panel of Narinder rolling out of the grass was also giving me some trouble, I went through a few different tries

I ultimately went with the second one!

I don't think I have much more than that! :3 I thankfully tend to get what I'm going for eventually! )

#mod post #cult of the lamb #cotl #crowns and bishops au #shamura #cult of the lamb shamura #narinder #cult of the lamb narinder #cult of the lamb leshy #leshy #cult of the lamb heket #cult of the lamb kallamar #heket #kallamar #cw: murder #tw suicide #tw violence #tw blood #tw self harm #cw death #cw blood

[blogforwritinggenshin]

Let Me Help You

CW: murder, self harm (reader breaks their finger)

You are barely more than nothing.

Next to her, you are a speck of dust on the floor.

She insists you are her little snowflake. That it’s you that makes her whole. You that rules her kingdom. You that is most important and above all.

You wonder if she avoids holding your hand because she’s afraid you’ll melt.

Instead you hold onto the fabric of her dress as she glides down the halls of her winter palace. She must feel like she’s going at a snail's pace, with you by her side. Your mind sinks lower and lower with every step.

She pets your hair with the back of her hand as though she’s stroking a cat. You crane your head up and see her expressionless face.

“Would you like to play with someone?” Her deep, satin voice vibrates your whole body.

You nod and the corners of her lips tilt up for a moment. You muster up your best smile. The corners tip downward.

You stare at the floor for the rest of the trip down the hall, vaguely distracted by the feeling of fabric between your fingers.

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

Columbina traces the palm of your hand while humming softly. You can feel her drawing your powers out. It looks like your hands are covered in flour. She always seems so oddly happy to be in your presence. The only other time you see her smile is when she sees the Tsaritsa. 

She intertwines her fingers with yours and leans her head on your shoulder. You don't move. You just stare at the one sided hand hold.  

A soft gasp leaves her lips as she watches ice start climbing up the sides of her palm and snaking over to the back. Her hand is stuck to yours. You hear a giggle and she clings to you tighter. 

How can she enjoy this? 

Her free hand comes up and holds your bicep as she nuzzles your shoulder. Your heart starts to beat fast. 

This feels nice. 

The ice shatters as you rip your hand out of her grasp. You abruptly stand up and Columbina has to catch herself as your support disappears. 

You run out of the room. 

No. 

This isn't right. 

You shouldn't do this.

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

“I don’t understand what you mean comrade.” 

You aren’t sure if you expected him to. 

You ask him to pass you the wooden mallet.

You hammer your finger on purpose. 

The chisel breaks the skin and bone. 

Good. 

You feel a dull throb. 

Disappointing. 

Childe rushes over and takes the tools from you and cradles your hand. 

You consider healing yourself. 

You decide against it. 

It’s too late. A layer of ice has already encased the fragments and secured them back into place. Your finger will heal perfectly. 

You look up at Childe and tug at his sleeve. 

He helps you roll it up, revealing bloody bandages. You peel them off and place your lifeless hand on the giant gash. Your comrade hisses as your power bites at his wound. When he looks down, there's only a thin, white line remaining. 

You take away your hand. 

"It'll fade," you mumble before turning back toward your art project. 

You push the half done sculpture off the pedestal. 

You smile at the shattered pieces. 

You briskly walk out of the room and don't look back. You hope you were fast enough to make sure it didn't get repaired. 

"Amazing," Childe breathes out. He crouches down next to the broken figure and tries to pry a piece up from the ground. It doesn't budge. As though it's been welded, the ice has frozen to the crystal floor. 

Why would you ever think something is wrong with you?

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

You ask Dottore why you don’t feel cold or get frostbite. There’s always caveats to having powers. Something given and something taken. Why aren’t you punished for the things you do? 

He looks at you with his insane eyes, they never stop twitching or shaking. 

“It’s because there’s nothing wrong with you. When someone receives newfound power, they must lose a piece of themselves to make room. But you are already perfect,” he reaches his hands towards you, letting them hover by your cheeks as though he wants to cup your face. 

“You have had these abilities from the very beginning. It’s only been recently that you’re seeing the effects of them.”

You share none of his joy about your condition. 

So you’ve always been like this? 

You want to puke. 

You want to die. 

You feel your eyes grow heavy, and Dottore finally places his hands on your cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, snowflake. One day you will be able to see everything you are and everything you’re capable of doing.”

You feel a wet line on your face. 

Please… 

No.

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

The three surround you with such hopeful and happy gazes. Arlecchino says she’s proud of you, and Pantalone gives you his signature laugh and smile of approval. Even Capitano seems to radiate a new aura of positivity that permeates beyond the mask that hides his expressions.

You feel awful that all you can do in return is look at them despondently. So you look away from their faces, and instead you look at the body on the floor. As you stare, a thin layer of frost starts to bloom on it. Slowly taking it over like a pack of starving rats climbing all over their only source of food.

Why are you doing this to him? What did he do to deserve it?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

You don’t know who this man is. This was the first time you had ever encountered him. At least, you think it is. And...

And you killed him. Stared him down and let– no... made the ice climb all over him. Cooled the blood inside of him till it turned to slush, and then even more until it had frozen in place.

Why did you do it?

Is this really you?

You froze his head first to immortalize his expression. You hate the idea that his last thoughts were probably about you. You prefer to think that he was afraid, and was questioning why he was blinded by white, only for everything to go dark. 

The heart can live on without the head. It will keep beating. You put your hand flat over his chest, right where his heart would be, hidden inside his ribcage. You let yourself stop feeling the ice inside of him and only focused on the beating. 

You smiled when you felt it finally stop. 

By then the others had caught up to you. You stepped away from the frozen corpse. The three did the opposite and stepped towards it, circling and inspecting it like critics at an art show. Arlecchino and Pantalone spoke at the same time, praising you, then glaring at each other for stealing each other’s thunder. Capitano gave a strong and firm nod. 

Their feelings never reach you. 

You think your heart is more frozen than the man you just murdered. You have to focus to feel it beating in your chest. 

The heart can keep beating even without the head. It’s an entity all its own.

“How about we go celebrate your accomplishment? We could go out and find something you want.”

“Tch. What a waste. I thought your only goal was to hoard all that mora? Come now, we should go find you a new person to hunt.”

You’re already walking away. Capitano makes sure to follow close behind. Your gloomy demeanor pulsing like waves around you, pushing them all away. 

Luckily, they stopped feeling fear a long time ago. 

They all fall into step beside you. 

You want to go back to sleep.

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

You stand on the arm rest and look down at the people who are normally taller than you. She slowly turns her head towards you, utterly uninterested in the new reports. 

“I heard what you did the other day.”

You turn your head slightly to show that you’re listening, but you continue to stare down at the agent that looks like he’s going to collapse any second now. You want to make sure you see that. 

“Would you be willing to do it again? I’d love to see you use your powers.” 

You look at her. Concern written on your face. She’s giving you the rare, full smile. She hides her sharp teeth behind painted lips, but she still looks beautiful. She turns back to the speaking agent. “You’re dismissed. Guards, bring the prisoner.”

Lucky bastard. You wanted to watch him fall over. Instead you watch him quickly turn heel and walk out on quivering legs as a new stranger is brought to the center of the room. Hauled with both arms around each guards’ neck, unable to stand on his own. 

He’s dropped onto the floor and he sobs, clearly in agonizing pain. 

“Go on then,” she whispers. 

You stare down at him without any emotion. You can hear his blood rushing in your ears, but you don’t think about stopping it. Instead you let it wash over you, like a rolling wave. Letting it take you wherever it needs to go in the body. You follow veins and arteries up and down his body. From his heart to his toes, and from his lungs to his head. Most of the pain is going to his legs. He’s going to die. 

“Come now. I’ll help you.” You watch as her gloved hand comes up and she gently holds your arm between her fingers. You start to feel jittery as a fraction of her power stimulates your own. You position your hand into a pointer finger as she aims you at the crippled prisoner. You stare at him and watch as his sobs become quieter. Relief has finally come for him. You froze his legs. His nerve endings. 

You can barely hear the garbled thank you come from him, you’re too far away and already too occupied with crushing his heart. 

He cries out again and sounds like he’s choking. He gasps for breath and punches against his chest, trying to make it keep beating. 

He screams. The icicle that’s forming inside of him, presses against his insides and pushes out. And it keeps pushing. Slowly piercing through his cells one by one in a line, until the tip finally protrudes out of his chest and back. It’s diagonal, so when he looks, he can see the expanding icicle on both sides. He screams again and passes out. 

“Well done,” she says as she claps. 

“I knew you could do it, my snowflake.” She looks at you with sparkling eyes. 

Hope sprinkles over you and lands on your eyelashes. You close your eyes and more tears fall. Soft, gentle lips come up and kiss them away.

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

It's not a matter of whether or not you're a bad person. You've always been a monster. It's only a matter of whether or not you can accept who you are. 

You hesitate.

Then nod to yourself. 

You can. 

You can keep going. 

Continue to project your suffering onto others. 

Realize how strong you are and watch as others collapse, fall over in a line like dominoes. 

Is this what healing looks like? 

Is this really who you are?

The harbingers will all say yes. 

You can’t say you share the same happiness about that. 

But you no longer feel uncomfortable with the path you’re walking. 

After all,

You’re the rule maker now. 

There is no more right and wrong. 

Not for you, anyway.  

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #the tsaritsa #tsaritsa x reader #childe x reader #dottore x reader #arlecchino x reader #columbina x reader #capitano x reader #pantalone x reader #cw: murder

[jacob-the-human]

Ares as an autistic Bi disaster with a special interest in murder

#ares #greek mythology #greek myth #greek gods #autism #bisexual #tw murder #tw: murder #cw murder #cw: murder #dark humor #queer #ares greek mythology

[yosb]

here's some of my courtroom sketch art in justin lum's fox 10 special documentary "no remorse: the trial of lori vallow"

#cw: murder #cw: death #true crime #courtroom sketch art #documentary #lori vallow

[ladyveronikawrites]

LOST IN THE CONCRETE JUNGLE CHAPTER SIX Bad Omens x Star Wars Pairing: Zebastian (Noah Sebastian) x F!Reader

CW: ⚠️‼️THIS CHAPTER TURNS DARK- PLEASE USE YOUR DESCRECTION WHEN READING‼️⚠️ drugging, graphic descripions of murder, post murder fuck, anal sex (male receiving), blood, blood kink

Summary: You are the perfect senator's daughter- next in line to become his aide to learn everything about the Galactic Senate. But on your 21st birthday, your perfect life changes forever when the mysterious masked man you met at the nightclub was not who you thought he was. A/N: POV switching from second to first occurs often in the story. Shout out to my amazing beta team @mysticdoodlez, @roley-poley-foley, and @nerdraging4point0 your insight and cheerleading has been invaluable. Word Count:2k Crossposted: Wattpad & A03 Cast list

Master list

May the Force be with you✨

“Leave me alone!” 

You sprint out of the warehouse. It’s all too much. You gasp for air as your legs give out. You cry out at the pain searing through your legs. Your head slumps into your hands as uncontrollable heartbreak consumes you. Your chest heaves against the tops of your knees. 

A warm hand on your back startles you. “Go away!” You try to push the body away but they step back from your grasp. When your blurry vision clears, a large figure crouches beside you. 

Zebastian.

You scramble to your feet and stumble aimlessly into the dark alley. You can’t see what’s in front of you but it doesn’t bother you. You just need to get away. You stagger further into the alley until your body crashes into something cold and hard. A concrete wall halts your path of despair. You slump back into the wall for stability as its rough texture somehow grounds you.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Zebastian’s voice is low as if he is trying to soothe a scared animal that escaped the Coruscant Zoo. Footsteps crunch against gravel. 

“Liar,” you bite out. His footsteps stop. 

“I mean you no harm. Not anymore.” Zebastian puts his hands up in defense. “I needed answers.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I needed to know why my father was murdered…” He trails off.  He clears his throat. “I’m sure you need answers to…” His voice is soft and sincere.

“I don’t need answers, I need a distraction.” You cut Zebastian off. “I don't want to think right now. I don’t want to think about my father and especially you.” 

You bite out the last word and it strikes Zebastian just as you intended. You don’t know what Zebastian wants. One minute he’s trying to hurt you then he’s trying to help you. It’s all too much.

“I can help you with your distraction.” Zebastian makes one step closer to you. Even in the dim light, you can see his jaw clench. His face still surprises you every time you see him without his mask on. He’s strikingly handsome.

“You swaying in tempo with the music.” Your body freezes as he takes another step. 

“Bodies pressed against without a care in the world.” You suck in a breath as he closes the distance between you. He slams both of his hands on the wall; caging you in. 

“The dancefloor beckons,” Zebstian’s hot breath against your ear sends a shiver down your spine. 

You should push him away. 

Should decline his invitation.

But you don’t.

The beat consumes you and takes your racing thoughts with it. Despite the dense air and body heat, you can finally breathe. You sink deeper into the bliss as the tempo picks up. Closing your eyes and raising your arms into the air you release all abandon into the void. You are safe. The bodies pressing against you on the dancefloor don’t care who you are. They don’t ask questions. They just want to feel the freedom of music just like you. 

A warm arm wraps around your waist followed by a cool metal one. Nash. The memories of him in the alley flood your mind. His metal hand holding you still so Revan can violate you. You should run, but his earthy scent and body heat flood your system making your head spin. 

His cybernetic arm pulls you closer to his chest holding you to him as his other hand roams the side of your body. Through the soft fabric of your dress, you can feel the heat emanating from his fingertips. You roll your head back against his firm chest, your body swaying to the beat. 

You could get lost here in the Concrete Jungle.

Without warning, Nash grips your wrist with his metal hand and pulls you off the dancefloor. You try to protest but he can’t hear you against the loud music. His hand grips you tighter as you stumble through the crowd. Nash leads you through a dark hallway and up a flight of stairs. 

“Where are you taking me?” You ask between pants. He doesn’t answer you, instead abruptly opens a door and pushes you inside. “What the-” you stagger into the room as Nash slams the door shut leaving you in the room. 

When you turn from the door you lock eyes with Zebastian. Your breath leaves your lungs as your mouth drops open. He is lounging in a leather chair behind his desk. His feet are propped up on the desk and crossed at the ankles. The top few buttons of his black shirt are popped up and the sleeves are rolled up exposing his tattooed arms, chest, and neck. His hair is slicked back into a small bun with no mask in sight. He looks so different; comfortable, and confident. 

“What’s going on? Why am I here?” Your voice comes out more breathy than you would like. 

“So many questions,” Zebastian says lowly. “Please sit down.” He gestures to the leather couch. You don’t know why you comply, but you go to the couch.

“It seems like your father has sent his pet to come get you.” Zebastian takes a sip of what looks like wine. Your brows knit together in confusion. 

“Pet?” You echo.

Zebastian just chuckles. “Come over here.” Zebastian gestures to the window behind him but you hesitate. He lets out a breath. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

This time you believe him. You make your way to the window behind his desk, tugging at the hem of your dress subconsciously. His intense gaze makes your stomach tie up in knots. Your eyes go wide when you see Mikkah. 

“W-what’s he doing here?” You stammer. 

Zebastian takes a sip of his wine. “Your father’s dirty work.” Zebastian’s says nonchalantly. “He’s here to come get you.” Your mouth falls open again as your thoughts spiral out of control. 

“Do you want to go home?” Zebastian’s unusual question rips you from your thoughts. 

“I can’t go home, not after what my father did to me…what Mikkah did to me.” You watch as Mikkah is being dragged down by a group of men. 

“Mikkah? What did Mikkah do to you?” Zebastian asks in a low husky tone.

“I-I- can’t say.” That’s all you can muster as you pull yourself away from the chaos.

“Did Mikkah hurt you?” Zebastian says through clenched teeth. 

You don’t have the words or the courage to admit what happened to you. You try to turn away from Zebastian, from the embarrassment and shame about to bubble and overflow; but a hand grabs your wrist, freezing you in place. His hold on you is surprisingly gentle but a spark manages to cut through you when you look up at him.

“Stay,” Zebastian says softly. “I will not hurt you and neither will he.”

Lost in your spiraling thoughts you did not hear the door open. When you follow Zebastian’s gaze you find Revan in the doorway. You pull out of Zebastian’s grasp and take a few steps back until you hit the wall. The memories of that night in the alley flash into your mind. Your heartbeat quickens and your shoulders tense. 

“You,” You breathe out staring at Revan. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears now.

“He will not hurt you, not ever again.” Zebastian turns to you. “He only did that to you because I asked him to. It was the only way.”

 Zebastian buttons up his shirt and grabs his coat and mask from his desk. He makes his way to Revan as he puts on the mask, but stops and turns to you again. 

“Go with him, now.” Zebastian’s eyes turn dark and menacing. 

You will never understand how quickly he can change from quiet and comforting to stern and dangerous. Before you can probe more, Zebastian storms out the door. 

“Would you like a drink before we go?” Revan smiles softly. 

When you hesitate he adds, “It’s not tampered with. It’s from Zebastian’s personal stash.” Revan gestures to the bar in the corner of the room.

“I’ll even let you have the expensive wine if you’d like.” 

You watch as Revan pours himself a glass of whiskey. It couldn’t hurt to calm the nerves. Could it? You nod your head and Revan pours you a drink. You close your eyes and knock it back quickly. The warm liquid burns the back of your throat making your eyes water but it settles your nerves almost instantly. Revan reaches out his hand for you to take. Reluctantly, you take it.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, gripping your hand tighter. Your brows knit together in confusion, then all at once your vision blurs, and your legs give out. 

I slowly descend the dimly lit concrete spiral staircase leading to the basement of the nightclub.  Lights flicker on with each step I make. I revel in the sound of slapped skin and grunts of pain. Mikkah should have never stepped his polished boots in my territory. 

Mikkah’s screams get louder as I near the bottom of the steps. The Senator is going to pay for meddling in a place he doesn’t belong. 

Mikkah is in the center of the room tied to a chair as Nash and Jax flank him. Jax pours water over the hood on Mikkah’s head while Nash lands punishing blows to his bare chest and side with his metal arm. When they hear my approach, Nash goes to perch on an Imperial crate against the wall while Jax brings over the cart of knives.

This is going to be fun. My heartbeat pounds in my chest as I rip off the hood. Mikkah’s eyes go wide and he tugs against his restraints, spurting out muffled pleas through his cloth gag. 

I glance over Mikkah’s surprisingly toned chest now marred with red and purpling splotches. He is bigger than I imagined. I watch as his shoulders tense to my gaze. He could have easily held her down with his weight alone. 

Anger flashes through me and I can’t stop myself from smashing my fist into his ribs. His ribs crunch against the impact; sending Mikkah screaming and gasping for air. 

I turn and snatch a knife from the cart. The blade glints in the low light as I tower over him. I cut the gag and yank it from his mouth. Before Mikkah can spout a syllable I knick his collarbone with the blade. He winces as blood starts to bead at the incision. 

“What are you doing here?” I stalk around him watching his shallow breathing. His jaw clenches shut and he glares at me. 

“Loth-cat got your tongue?” I chuckle to myself. 

I get right up in Mikkah’s face and press the tip of the blade onto the delicate skin of his neck. Mikkah leans his head back as I press the blade harder. Mikkah spits in my face. It takes every ounce of willpower not to slit his throat right then and there. 

In one swift motion, I slice off his nipple. Mikkah howls in pain and I dig the tip of the knife in the other nipple. 

“Don’t make me ask again.”

“T-the senator sent me-.” Mikkah sputters out between shallow breaths. I press deeper. “To get his daughter.” 

Mikkah sighs when I remove the knife. Blood is starting to drip down his torso. Mikkah’s eyes gloss over as adrenaline sets in. 

“Was she everything you hoped for?” I drag the blade up his torso collecting his blood. 

“W-what?” Mikkah stammers.

I plunge the blade into the wound. “The senator’s daughter.” I clamp down on his shoulder with my free hand and twist the blade inside the wound. Mikkah shrieks in agony. “Was her pussy that good?” I step back, examining my handiwork leaving the blade in his body as he processes the pain and the question. 

“Y-yes,” Mikkah chokes out. 

Before he can finish the word, I yank the blade from his chest and slice his throat.

Blood gushes everywhere, spattering my clothes. This only makes my cock strain harder against my pants. 

Fuck. 

The light drains from Mikkah’s eyes as his head slumps over. Adrenaline and arousal course through my veins. 

The bloody knife slips from my hand as my head begins to clear. I hear footsteps nearby. Jax is getting to work cleaning up the body. 

A body shuffles in the corner of my vision. Nash. His eyes are full of primal lust. He loves blood as much as I do. He takes a swig from the flask he keeps in his jacket pocket before loosening his belt. 

Our post-murder fuck.

Nash has his boxers and pants around his ankles in an instant. He leans over an Imperial crate for leverage. Fuck the Empire. I unzip my pants and free my hard cock from its confines. Spitting on my hand to add more lubrication to the blood already there, my core ignites with every stroke from my hand.

Without warning, I plunge my throbbing cock into his ass. Nash grunts at the invasion. I grip his hips and drill into him further.

“Fuuuuuck, Zeb,” Nash groans as his walls adjust. 

I slowly withdraw from him until it's just the tip. He whimpers with anticipation and it makes my heart skip a beat. I dig my nails deep into his hips, scratching his skin. He pushes against me practically begging for more. I thrust into him without mercy. Clenching my teeth, I fuck him through my orgasm until cum has nowhere else to go but down his thigh. When I pull away from him Nash dutifully drops to his knees to lick and clean my softening cock. 

Jax’s monotone voice cuts through the haze of my mind. “It’s finished.” After I’ve adjusted my clothes, I turn to find the basement completely free of any evidence a murder occurred. 

“I need a drink,” I say dryly.

tysm for reading❤️🗡️

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#bad omens fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #bad omens au #bad omens galactic au #bad omens mafia au #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #Bad Omens x Star Wars #bad omens x female reader #noah sebastian x female reader #fic: lost in the concrete jungle #ladyveronikawrites #thescarletdaggerforever #cw: minor character death #cw: murder #cw: blood #cw: body horror #cw: blood kink

[demonsummoning]

quick, sketchy fanart of a quote from @storyweaverofgondor! tried to make it silly c:

#cats the musical #incorrect quotes #munkustrap #Macavity #my art #//this is NOT my return to the fandom! #//i dont have the energy tbh. but one sketch is fine c: #//giggles at my own dot-eyes munku #also i guess: #cw: murder

[keybladeciel]

CONTENT WARNING: Discussions of substance abuse, sexual assault, disturbing crimes targeted towards children, attempted murder

Yeah... that Twomad pack is about to hit hard given that the Overwatch community blacklisted a potential predator. Man tried to whack multiple people to cover his tracks of being a sexual predator. Despite Jameskii's best efforts, Twomad ultimately did all of this to himself when he took some illegal substances and died in the middle of a fucking Overwatch session.

(Never thought I use more than three Content Warning Tags for this.)

#cw: substance abuse #cw: murder #twomad #packwatch #rip bozo #never thought i'd use this many content warning tags #rest in piss #cw: disturbing crimes