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oepionie · 1 year

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— "MY JOLLY SAILOR BOLD." tweels

💭masterlist | 💬ao3 link

SYNOPSIS: You meet two mysterious yet beautiful mermen around your age and you ask them to sing for you. They agree—though there's one condition....they want a kiss in return. A fair deal and you decide that nothing could possibly go wrong....right?

⊹ [ cw ] — suggestive, making out, lovesick/slightly yan-coded behavior, both of them pin for you, drowning, the tweels deserve a warning themselves, fighting, mild blood and injuries, mentions of murder, everyone here is morally grey◞

⊹ [ tags ] — gn! reader, on my siren eel agenda, flirty pirate mc, siren-eels are not to be messed with but mc is reckless, jade and floyd having an ariel moment but they're…a fucked up version of ariel, typical siren-behavior, floyd calls you pretty◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 3.3k+◞

WHAT AN ODD LITTLE pirate you were.

Raised by your mother, horrific twisted tales of the deep were practically bedtime stories for you. She was a former ship's captain and a seasoned sailor who had spent more than half of her life at sea.

Mother weaved tales of glorious bloody battles, of thrashing waves, and, most importantly, of dangerous creatures in the sea. Hatred and fear for these grotesque marine creatures have been indoctrinated in you since you were young. It was imbued to the very core of your being, hammered and nailed into your head.

Alas, it appears that you have entirely disregarded the cautions that were issued to you. Any capable pirate knew better than to invite merfolk around.

Especially if you were all alone on a ship.

This year, spring had arrived a little earlier than usual, but you didn't mind at all.

It was at an obscene hour of the night when you were aimlessly paddling your little rowboat over the waves.

Floating a few feet away from your ship, you were gazing out over the sea where the waters were flat and serene, blue as far as your vision would allow. It was a sight you've grown all too accustomed to seeing.

You've sailed a hundred expeditions down this route and you were well aware of the carnage and bloodshed that’s been wrought here in the name of piracy.

A majority of which you've taken part in as—Captain (Y/N).

Young as you were, despite your youth, you had ambition. Already having established yourself as a living legend—or, as some have dubbed you, a living nightmare.

Sailors—young and old—have perished in your name, ships have sunk at your command, and your sword has spilt the blood of hundreds. You had amassed a great fortune from wandering merchants, and fellow pirates alike, all of which were misfortunate enough to fall upon your path.

These were tales and legends from bygone eras; the golden age of piracy had long since passed. Nowadays, you just cruise the sea anyway you pleased.

Adventure seldom found you.

In the middle of reminiscing, you abruptly became aware of a shimmering brilliance beneath the murky sea.

Oh?

'Maybe it was a trick of the waves? Or was it the moonlight's illusion?' You ponder to yourself as you stand at the stern of the boat and look out into the dreary waters.

The entire ocean sleeps when the moon is full. In the middle of the night, no fish or creature would dare remain thus near a boat...so what could possibly be out there?

Peering down, you make eye contact with a pair of glowing yellow eyes, slitted into diamonds.

Startled, the unknown creature slips back into the darkness with scarcely a ripple to disrupt the waves enveloping all about them. You're hypnotized by their shimmering skin as they moved smoothly and elegantly past the icy surfs.

In those short seconds while staring into the pitch-black sea, your mind conjures only one word.

Mermaid.

STRANGE AND STRANGELY FASCINATING, it was. "It" being the obsessive infatuation the Leech twins had for you.

Since they were little, the two brothers have been watching you grow up on that ship, peeping at you behind rocks and tall clusters of brilliant coral.

Curiosity and an interest for humans drew them to you at first, so they thought nothing of it. However, later, as they grew older, that interest developed into something more.

One that made their hearts feel like it was going to burst, a blood-curdling carnage of red and pink spills gushing out in a splatter. With the mere mention of your name, their stomachs sink and turn. The hems of love along their hearts diving into obsession—both feelings closely akin.

Jade and Floyd haven't run upon anyone who was courageous enough to meet creatures like them. Though, they shouldn’t have expected anything less from a pirate like you with an astronomical desire for adventure.

As you waved down at them from the ocean's depths, both of them swiftly swam up to the surface, eager to meet you. Their hands were clamoring and their hearts were racing to a tune that sang praises for you.

"There you are." You grinned handsomely, cocking your head to the side. The flowing fabric of your blouse blew wildly in the fresh salty wind, exposing bits and pieces of your chest and neck for them to see. "Hello~"

Big love-tinted eyes peeked up at you, drinking in every feature, blemish, and scar on your flesh. Occasionally, your gazes would meet and they would quickly avert their stare—a deep blue hue creeping up their cheeks, almost as if they felt bashful around you.

Even then, you thought it would be more appropriate if you were the one who was acting timid.

Because, by the gods, their beauty was such a sight to behold above the waters. In all your years out at sea and land, you've seen no maiden nor man with such features.

Such captivating features.

Teal-haired, with keen, slitted eyes that were veiled with thick, drooping lashes. Cheeks colored with a pale touch of death.

They were breathtakingly beautiful.

There was an urge, a pull at your heart to dive down and join them—drowning yourself in their embrace. Though, you resisted, almost immediately recognizing the sorcery that pulled on your carnal desires.

Mother and weather-beaten sailors had warned you of this. This overwhelming want. This spellbinding stare. Yet as they both drift closer, the forewarned dangers vanishes from your thoughts like mist. You're now left with little more than a hazy consciousness as you see them approach your boat.

You are in grave danger yet you are not afraid. Fear does not grip you as you raise a leg over the side of the boat, swing it over the top of the wood, and then sit over the edge, never taking your eyes off the mermen in front of you.

Their entire body, apart from their eyes, were submerged in the water which made it hard to determine what their species were. Though you could occasionally catch the flicker of their tail slapping against the surface.

Speaking of their tail, it was an utterly resplendent sight! Even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to explain its magnificience as it gleamed brighter than any of the gold or jewels your sullied hands have ever taken hold of.

Its lack of a single color and its vivid, luminous nature fascinated you. Depending on how the moonlight hit it, it radiated a wide range of shades, from the deep tint of blueish teal to a rich shade of bluish jade.

"First time away from your home?" You rasp, waving a hand in the ocean, watching as small ripples curved against the water's surface, tides of the blue abyss travelling outwards.

Minutes pass, and yet you get no response.

"Hmm…you two don't talk much, do you?"

Jade and Floyd knew all about pirates, heard every story, whisper, and tale of the bloodthirsty monsters fueled by lust for gold and glory. And yet, they somehow struggle to picture you as the avaricious captain you were labelled as.

Still, while you appeared free and jovial, both of them could sense that you yearned for the thrill of danger, for life-threatening adventure, and for the many fantastic yet perilous things the ocean has to offer.

They exchanged glances, and at that instant, their plan was set in place.

Appearing docile, Floyd shook his head no, hovering near you and spinning around playfully.

"Awe, aren't you a cute little guy?" You cooed, running a rough hand along his back. The mer shivered, preening at your compliment.

"I really shouldn't be so close to you, though. Us pirates usually avoid approaching any merfolk since…they feel your methods, your ways of living are…" You trailed off, waving a hand in the air as you searched for the right words.

"Spooky?" Jade spoke out, swimming closer to you with a sinister glitter in his eyes. Breath hitching in your throat, you leaned towards him, an amused smirk slowly stretching across your cheeks. "Oh ho? You do talk."

"I can do much more than that." Jade purred, the tone of his voice sinking into a sonorous lull.

Well, you certainly can’t deny that something draws you to these two.

The predictability of your life on these seas has gotten boring to you. Gone were the days of bloodthirsty glory instead, it was always the same routine. Poring over the same ancient yellowed maps, loitering about the deck, and secluding yourself away in the vast sea.

You know your mother would be horrified by your actions, disgusted to see you mingling and, Poseidon forbid—flirting with these…mer.

Though you couldn't bring yourself to care. Speaking with these two was the closest thing to excitement you've felt in a long time.

"That's a pretty voice, love." The grin on your face lacks any of the warmth it had in the past few moments.

You tip your head back and giggle, raspy and brittle, "I heard a mer's song was, um, what did those bards call it? Ah, yes—A voice that is so alluring that men and women jump overboard in squadrons."

"Hauntingly beautiful, that's what the poets call you mermaids…" You hum, watching them slyly from your row boat while reclining back against the wood.

Gaze drifting down their body, your arms folded around your chest and your gaze turned half-lidded, lips curled up in a sensual, cat-like smirk. "…and I can see why. Haunted, I am."

Both of them go abruptly silent and you chuckle, staring at them through the wreaths of grey smoke that curled into fanciful hazy whirls from the foggy environment.

Floyd and Jade squirmed as they both felt the strong pull of their instincts, screaming at them to just drag you into the waters already.

Your conniving praises and silver tongue was starting to get to them. One more push and—

"Say…I've been meaning to ask," You murmur, and seem to take a moment to stare into their innermost souls.

"Can you sing for me…?"

Something snaps.

Floyd makes a low sound, somewhere between a trill and a growl, while Jade's eyes darken considerably. Beneath your piercing, ice-cold gaze, the twins felt their nerves prickle up like the flickering electric stings of a jellyfish.

This is a dangerous game you're playing.

"…You're quite the flatterer," Jade—ever so composed—is quick to snap out of it and smiles simply, tapping his talons along the wooden deck. "…I suppose I could grant you your wish. Though, there is to be an exchange for it."

"Hm? What's that, mate?" You looked up at your ship from your little boat, eyes darting to the windows of your chambers. "That ol' girl isn't new to the seas so there's quite a lot of stuff there. Maybe some of my treasures will catch your fancy—"

"No." Jade interrupts you, the shadow over his eyes returns. "…I do not wish for any treasure or gold. All I want is a kiss."

"A kiss?" You parroted, an eyebrow elevated and amused laughter peaking from your lips. "I have chests of golds and heaps of ruby-eyed jewelry; yet, all you want is a kiss, is that truly what you desire?"

"Yes."

"Nothin' more?"

Jade ponders and pauses for a while, before turning to face his brother. "Floyd, perhaps you want something as well?"

"I wanna kiss from pretty shrimpy too!" Floyd cooed, pursing his lips at you and imitating kissing sounds by hollowing his cheeks. His strong arms, taut with ripping muscle, are crossed over one other as it rests upon the rims of your boat.

"So, what do you say, Captain? Is it a deal~?" Floyd stretches out a hand expectantly.

And you take it.

"Deal." You smirk. "One kiss for each of you, in exchange for a song. Pirate's honor."

Not like the honor of a pirate was worth much anyways.

The melody lifting from Jade's lips was somewhat familiar to you, yet it was of a faraway nostalgia. You couldn’t remember where you'd last heard it, but it felt…right. He had a voice that was velvety smooth; thick, and deep like a dream.

"Upon one summer's morning / I carefully did stray," Jade sang, deep voice flowing off his lips in a sweet honeyed song—its melody lathering itself on your tongue. The saccharine taste of its imbricating rhythm obliterating every bit of skepticism you held towards them. "Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay."

"My heart is pierced by Cupid / I disdain all glittering gold." Jade continued, tucking the long dark strand of his hair behind his ear—leaning his head atop the rickety rims of the boat's mossy wood. "There is nothing can console me / but my jolly sailor bold."

"Come all you pretty fair mers, whoever you may be / Who love a jolly sailor that ploughs the raging sea." Floyd hums along, lovingly tracing a hand up your arm. His voice was a lovely little thing; echoing deep throughout the air.

As expected, they sang beautifully, hauntingly; with an accent in a tongue native only to the sea. There was a mystical lull weaved into their voices—fitting to their titles as bewitching creatures of the sea.

"My heart is pierced by Cupid /I disdain all glittering gold." Jade stares straight ahead, his sapphire gaze alluringly fixed on you seated in front of him.

"There is nothing can console me…" Pushing himself up the wooden edge of your boat, the eel lures you over and you followed. "…but my jolly sailor bold."

As Jade's song came to its finality, he leaned in close and pressed a swift warm kiss atop your agape mouth, such tenderness in his affections—and that of heavily masked lust. The eel parted from you, nipping at your bottom lip and watching with unbridled delight as a flicker of pink hue glazed over your diluted eyes.

"Come in the water, shrimpy~" Floyd cooed at you, claws reaching out to trace against the curve of the ships side. "We don't bite~"

Songbound, you leaned in towards the two and plunged in.

You don’t think about holding your breath.

The water was ice-cold and it strikes at you like a venomous bite. Yet before you could sink, two strong hands grasp at your waist, keeping you afloat in spite of the rough rocks of the sea. Jade was cradling you close to his chest, his hold firm and uncompromising while his tail encircled and bound your legs together.

"Hello, shrimpy~" Crooning, Floyd moved to rest his wet cheek against your tangled hair, talons pushing past the fringes of your damp torn-up shawl to rest against your thighs.

The slippery pads of his fingers trailed up to your torso; Travelling from your hips, past your corset, all the way up to your chest. The eel toyed with the drawstrings of your poet shirt before grasping it tight and yanking you forward.

"You're so pretty~" Floyd trailed his other hand up your neck, sharp talons feathering over your pulse dangerously. The eel craned his head down to meet you eye to eye.

"I could just eat you up." The silky strands of his lashes fluttered against his lidded gaze as he leaned in close, breath fanning across your burning cheeks. Floyd pulled you into a deep kiss, loving the way you groaned against his mouth.

Chuckling against your lips, Floyd tightened his hold on your neck—his claws almost breaking skin, "You like that, shrimpy?"

You return the kiss, dazedly smiling against his lips before pulling away, lungs in desperate need of oxygen.

Floyd could see drops of water resting atop your swollen lips, and as your tongue darts out to wipe them, a fiery desire ignites in the deep curves and crooks of his heart. It didn't take long before he was diving in once more, lips pressing against the side of your neck.

While his brother was fixated on marking your skin, Jade hugged you from behind—affectionately cuddling into your hair.

The eel ran his hand up your throat and grasps your jaw with webbed hands to tilt your head backwards. He presses his lips against yours, the thick muscle of his tongue prying your mouth open before it darted in.

Floyd glides away from your form after a few minutes, leaving your neck sufficiently bitten and marked. He grinned excitedly and took your hands in his webbed ones, whisking you away from Jade.

You couldn't help but notice how he was gently dragging you away from the rowboat. "Say, shrimpy~ You ever wondered what it's like to swim under the sea?"

A flash of clarity hits you, shattering the enchanting spell that both mermen had cast upon your heart. You sensed danger as both eels started to close in, grinning ominously which revealed their fangs—long and dripping with thirst.

It seems that your fun little swim was over.

"I can't say I've ever experienced the pleasures of drowning—" you muttered. "And I don't intend to do so very soon."

The texture of their tails may appear solid and rough, but when you kick your legs at Floyd's, you immediately discover how the skin is supple when touched.

The sharp end of your worn boots cut at his silky luminescent skin, dragging along the scales of his flesh and leaving a deep cut in its wake. A small trickle of blue blood spreads into the waters and the eel hisses, darting away from you.

You try to swim away, but something—or rather, someone—gets in your way.

"My my, leaving so soon, pearl?" Jade quips, grin all-to-sharp.

In hindsight, it was foolish to interact with two mermen you hardly knew, especially ones who were taut with sharp teeth and firm muscles. Any pirate with half a mind would know to turn the other way and flee if these two approached them.

The mer both advanced to surround you, a mysterious glimmer swimming behind the haze of their duo-colored eyes.

A startling epiphany rushes over you.

As slippery as they might be, there’s no hiding the lethal sheen of pink in their eyes—especially not from you, a pirate who’s spent a fair number of their days hauling the cold dead bodies of lovesick sailors away from their watery graves.

These two weren't your run-of-the-mill mermen, no. You have heard about them before—in tales and legends.

Mermaids. Vampires of the sea. Water nymphs. Naiads. Sirens.

Many names, yet they are all the same.

A sighting like this is not unusual. This species of mer is mostly found in the deepest, darkest sections of the ocean, and they only come up to hunt at night.

It seems that you've walked right into their trap. Sailors were their easiest prey.

"Ah." You grit your teeth, a low, breathy snarl slipping past your swollen lips. "I should've known."

There’s a warm yet strong pressure against your shoulders and arms; followed by an odd feeling of heaviness as you were suddenly propelled down the water's surface. Webbed hands keep you pinned beneath the waves and you're suddenly all-too-aware of your body's exhaustion; of the salty liquid flowing past your tongue and the scorching gurgle that ignites your lungs as water fills it.

There's a ruckus around you, and you can barely hear Jade's voice, who was eerily calm in the midst of your murder. A bottle is then abruptly forced into your mouth, the potion within it spilling down your throat and leaving you disoriented.

It appears that today is the day that the monotony in your life finally ends. The pull of unconsciousness becomes too strong to resist, and the world darkens.

TO BE CONTINUED...?

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banjjakz · 5 months

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serial bereavement ; yuuta x gn/f!reader

Every first Thursday for the past six months, without fail, a single plot of ashes has been unlawfully exhumed from the cemetery behind Joenji Temple.

Or: As a rookie hire, you are partnered with Investigations Section 1 Officer Okkotsu Yuuta to investigate a law-defying, bone-chilling, uniquely disturbing case of obsessive love that threatens to shut down the entirety of Shinjuku.

part i. word count: 5.2k

warnings: rating & warnings WILL change; part i of iii; reader is referred to with she/her pronouns & has a vagina & breasts, but is never addressed with gendered titles [e.g.: "ms.," "lady," etc.]; eventual smut that is dubcon at best; horror-romance, in that order; themes of psychosexual horror; side satosugu [non-essential to plot]; i cannot overstate how abnormal this one is, even for me

the content of this fictional work is inspired by the video game "collar x malice" which belongs to the original rightful owners. i do not own or claim to own the rights to the collar x malice franchise. this written work does not represent the intentions, actions, or thoughts of any of the creators/owners of the "collar x malice" franchise.

‪♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

likes♡ / reblogs ↻ appreciated!

Every first Thursday for the past six months, without fail, a single plot of ashes has been unlawfully exhumed from the cemetery behind Joenji Temple.

The first incident was thought to be a freak accident, one of those strange, wild card crimes that confound local police and commandeer national attention. Pictures of the desecrated grave ravaged internet forums for weeks thereafter, sending chills down the backs of even the most stoutly atheist Japanese youth. An already horrific occurrence worsened all the more with the repeated presence of a seemingly random signature: there, at the bottom of the grave, in the very deepest point of the aged, black soil, laid a folded handwritten note. Upon unfurling the crisp creases, the Shinjuku Police Force Special Crimes Unit discovered that these were actually letters.

Love letters, to be exact.

Presumably penned by the perp, the characters were neat and clean – almost feminine in nature. So strong was the desire imbued into these letters that it seemed as though each individual brush stroke contained one thousand sonnets of unceasing, burning ardor. Clearly, the perpetrator yearned for the attention of their beloved.

That they would go to great lengths – immoral lengths, even – for just a three-minute story on the evening news, all so that their beloved might idly overhear the report as they prepare their dinner, idly chopping radishes to the soundtrack of a violent confession woefully fallen upon their deaf ears…

Well. It makes you squirm. You suppose that’s the point.

As a fresh-faced rookie of the Special Regions Crime Prevention Office, this is your first time on the job in the midst of such a sensational case. At first, your department was unsure how to label these crimes: neither killings nor injuries were incurred, and yet, the spiritual damage effected by the robbing of a Buddhist shrine’s graveyard was somehow worse than any brutal homicide. Eventually, the commissioner labeled these incidents as “Serial Bereavements” out of respect to the families whose deceased loved ones had been wrongfully removed from their final resting place.

After the first offense, local news stations reported the anomalous crime with a sick sort of fascination. Lovesickness was no foreigner in Japan, and although many screwed their faces up at the morbid displays of affection, so too did just as many turn up the volume on their televisions and lean just a few centimeters closer, eyes glazed with blue light, horror, mortification, and arousal.

After the second and third offenses, it was obvious that a pattern was beginning to emerge. Both incidents occurred on the first Thursday of the month, and both incidents were signed with the same achingly forlorn pages of desperation. In fear of exacerbating the perpetrator, or inspiring copycats, news stations and publications were not permitted to release the contents of the letters.

After the fourth offense, protests began to congregate outside of the Shinjuku Police Station, demanding an immediate and swift correction of the police’s incompetency in addressing the issue. When the first set of ashes had been disturbed, cherry blossoms still clung to the trees. By this time it was July, and the harsh glare of the summer sun beat unrelentingly upon the earth, as though reprimanding its inhabitants.

After the fifth offense, a special curfew was instated for all residents of the Shinjuku ward. No persons for any reason were to be out past eleven o’clock at night. This was punishable by immediate apprehension for questioning. The law was martial, but the law was necessary. Or so the commissioner claimed.

After the sixth offense, the police began looking inwardly, suspecting members of its own ranks. There was no possible way that a civilian could have been able to penetrate the immense security measures installed to secure the Joenji cemetery. Ropes and ropes of caution tape, nearly 24/7 surveillance, and daily K-9 rounds were still not enough to halt the perpetrator in their tracks. This could only mean one thing:

An inside job.

“Scary,” shivers Ieiri, mockingly, lips curled in a sardonic smirk around the length of her unlit cigarette. “You hear they think it’s one of us?”

You regularly have lunch with Ieiri Shoko, director of the Forensics department. She is as caustic as she is jaded, having served in an underrecognized role for far too long, wasting her prolific talents in an obscure government position with little excitement – save for, of course, highly-charged periods of reoccurring atrocities, such as the current case of the Serial Bereavements.

“Don’t even joke. We should be taking this seriously…”

The cooling September breeze has you huddling into your knees a little further. Enjoying lunch on the rooftop was a treat while it was still summer. But now, September has just torn a new page in your calendar and has brought with it an uncharacteristically crisp cold snap. It is Tuesday, the second.

“I’m sooooo serious,” Ieiri says after taking a rather dramatically prolonged drag from the now-lit cig. “Couldn’t be any more serious. Brr.”

Usually, Ieiri’s dry humor is an effective, if transient, salve to your ever-festering anxiety. But today is an exception.

“Please, just think about it for a second... To think that any one of the people we work with every day could be committing such heinous crimes…and for a romantic obsession, no less…it doesn’t frighten you?”

Ieiri exhales smoke, puffing lazily like a sated dragon draped over its hoard. “Nah. I seriously doubt anyone in our ward has the balls.”

Her vulgarity makes you blush. You’ve always been easy to fluster. “Ieiri-san!”

“How many times have I told you to just call me by my first name… jeez.” She ruffles your hair without even an ounce of care for how it makes you groan in consternation. “Too polite for your own good. Someone is going to take advantage of that, one day. And then where will you be? Calling for Ieiri-san to come save you?”

Somewhere, she’s strayed from the path of lighthearted teasing. You still under the weight of her calloused palm, peering curiously up at her through your lashes. “Um…well…”

And as soon as her touch had manifested upon you, just as quickly is it yanked away. “Anyways, call me whatever you like. Not like it matters, anyway.”

“I guess not…”

The rest of your lunch is finished in an unstable silence. Her final, rhetorical question rolls around in your mind, impressing itself upon your malleable brain tissue: Calling for Ieiri-san to save you?

But when would you need saving?

You’re a police officer, after all. You can take care of yourself.

If you couldn’t, why would you serve as an officer in the first place?

;

On the following Monday – the third of September – the director of the Investigations Unit summons you to the fifth floor.

After a polite (terrified) bow, you enter Investigations HQ. “Hello.” Please do not fire me. Please do not transfer me. Please do not publicly reprimand me. Please do not—

“Ah, thank you for coming. Wow, what a deep bow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a perfectly geometrical ninety degrees.”

Face burning, you avert your gaze to the marble floor. “Ummm…”

You’ve heard that the chief of Investigations, Gojo Satoru was an eccentric fellow, passing in and out as he pleased through the station, hanging off of the director like a second skin. It should come as no surprise that he is here to greet you, today. And yet, still does your thin skin prickle with humiliation, with shame.

Geto Suguru, director of Investigations, cuts in before his partner can continue. “Leave her alone, Satoru. She’s shaking. Are you doing alright today, officer?”

Embarrassed, you nod. Great. It hasn’t even been a full sixty seconds and you’re already embarrassing yourself in front of your superiors.

“Alright, alright. I’ll lay off. Only ‘cuz you asked, though! Hehe.”

“I’ve summoned you today to invite you to join a special taskforce,” Geto continues, unperturbed by Gojo’s wily eyebrow wiggles. “This taskforce will use unique means to investigate the Joenji Serial Bereavements.”

Your blood is paralyzed in your veins, cowed by the enormity of this proposal. “Sir…?”

“In the short amount of time since you’ve joined the Shinjuku Police Department, your conduct has been nothing but outstanding. You’re capable and damn impressive. And frankly speaking, officer, we need a fresh set of eyes on this case.”

There’s nothing else you could possibly say other than: “I would be humbled to join. Thank you.”

“Great, knew we could count on you. We’re keeping the taskforce small for confidentiality’s sake. You’ll be working with one other partner: Officer Okkotsu Yuuta from Investigations Section 1.”

That name… why do you know that name?

Then it hits you: Okkotsu Yuuta is the name whispered through the halls of the police department with awe, envy, admiration, and – occasionally – fear. He is a legendary detective with prowess in both tactical as well as strategical measures. His presence is felt rather than seen, as he is scarcely spotted within the physical walls of the department. However, what does not tangibly appear is nonetheless ever-present in whispered rumors and glamorized notoriety.

“O-Okkotsu-san…” you stammer, taken aback. “But…I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to question your judgement, but why have I been chosen to pair with Okkotsu-san?”

“Oh! He specifically requested—”

Gojo’s cheerful sentence is curtailed by a swift elbow to the ribs. While he recovers, Geto finishes the thought, “Okkotsu has requested to be paired with a rookie for this assignment to personally train them. Something about ‘personally ensuring the longevity of the Shinjuku police force,’ or the like. What a do-gooder, am I right?”

“Okay,” you respond, uncertain.

“Your first matter of business will be a visitation to the Joenji graveyard to look for any new leads. You leave in one hour. Okkotsu will meet you downstairs, in front of the building. Good luck!”

In a daze, you bow deeply once more. “Thank you. I will be sure to work hard.”

;

Unsure of what to expect, you linger in front of the armed entrance to the building, trying your best not to shift your weight from foot to foot in an obviously apparent display of anxiety.

It’s not that you’re the type to be starstruck! You are a sensible, no-nonsense, down-to-earth person. Celebrities have never appealed to you much, and idol culture continues to confound you.

In light of this, it’s quite difficult to explain the visceral, full-body reaction you have when you meet Officer Okkotsu Yuuta for the first time.

He is not superbly handsome. Good-looking enough to get street-casted? Sure. With some minor work, he might even be the jewel visual for an up-and-coming boy group. Young and fit, he is the picture of an officer steadily approaching the peak of their hotshot years. Plain, dark hair falls on either side of his forehead in a lopsided part, and his uniform is buttoned and put together, if only a little wrinkled. All in all, he is an average, considerably attractive young man in the Shinjuku police force.

And yet.

Eyes like pools of obsidian tether you to the spot like a spell has been cast upon your bones. Enchanted, your lips part, but no sounds slips through. The intrusive, overstimulating soundtrack of Shinjuku rush hour traffic fades to little more than background noise as your senses are held hostage by the void of quiet, negative space in the shape of a young man that stands in front of you.

His bow is deep and overly formal. He’s technically your superior… and definitely a senior-ranking officer. “A pleasure to meet you,” he announces to the concrete ground “I’m Okkotsu Yuuta, Investigations Section 1.”

“N-nice to meet you, Okkotsu-senpai. My name is—”

The cringe marring his otherwise untroubled face stops your words before his interjection is even voiced. “Ah, um. Just ‘Okkotsu’ is fine. We look to be around the same age, too, so I don’t mind. May I address you casually as well?”

Face burning, brain scrambled, you somehow remember how to speak. You give him an affirmative before pausing, perplexed. How did he know your name already?

Okkotsu specifically requested to be paired with a rookie…

Geto’s words float to the forefront of your mind, soothing your hummingbird heart. Surely, the director and chief of Investigations must have briefed Okkotsu on your file before you were cleared to accompany him on this special taskforce.

Normally, you are woefully naïve, a bumbling but well-intentioned junior officer. The unsettling nature of the Serial Bereavements have pushed you towards an edge you didn’t even know you could reach.

The thought of the assignment weighs down your fresh-faced bashfulness. Suddenly, the afternoon sun is less bright, the heat on your face concentrating into the precursor to a migraine just behind your eyes.

Okkotsu blinks once, twice. “Thank you for working with me on this case. Would you believe me if I told you that I’m a bit of a scaredy cat?”

Your eyes bug out of your head in disbelief. “Um? But you…” His reputation specifically includes the highest number of skillful takedowns, arrest totals, and successful confessions across the entire prefecture. A scaredy cat?

“I know how it looks. It would be quite embarrassing if anyone else knew… but I’m a pretty anxious person.”

With a refocused perspective, your gaze hones in on the smattering of purple bruises underneath his tired eyes which birth a cool webbing of veins sprawling down and out across his pale, gaunt face. You realize that his uniform isn’t actually wrinkled – it just hangs off of his thin frame, tucked intentionally to give off the illusion of a much bigger silhouette.

In him, you see a reflection all too similar: young, ragged, hungry, scared.

It’s not enough to set you completely at ease, but your lungs relax their hold on your bated breath, letting it go as slowly and reluctantly as a child forced to part with their favorite plush toy. “Me too,” you hum. “Um, nonetheless, I will definitely try my best to be helpful. I hope I will not slow you down Okkotsu-se—er, Okkotsu.”

“It’s not about fast or slow.” The service car pulls up and loiters at the curb where the two of you are still lingering. He opens the back door for you. This is the first time a polite young man your age has done that. You try your best to remember that you are literally at work, on the clock, about to investigate an especially morbid case.

Once ensuring you’re comfortably inside, he shuts the door and rounds the rear of the vehicle to slide into the leather seat next to you.

“What matters is that we can rely on each other. Fast or slow, we’re partners now… as long as we finish together, it doesn’t matter the pace.”

He rattles off the address to the department driver after dropping what is possibly the most insightful reassurance you have ever received in your life.

Okay. You can kind of understand why the entire department is obsessed with him.

“R-right. Thank you.”

The rest of the ride is spent in a silence two shades off from comfortable. Nothing is wrong, per se – but the both of your negative energies linger and interact with each other like animals of the same species encountering for the first time.

How odd, you think, to find someone like you, and who is unashamed – eager, even – to admit it. To embrace it.

;

The cemetery is small and would otherwise go unnoticed if not for the dramatic influx in attention following the past few months. Plain and unadorned, neatly kept, with no ostentatious monuments or memorials, as is befitting for the burial grounds behind a Buddhist temple. All in all, the scenery would be somewhat peaceful if not for the six disturbed plots of land where remains were once laid to rest.

This is your first time at the scene of the crime. Your rank is too low to justify visiting this high-profile area without clearance from a supervisor. Now that you’ve been assigned to a taskforce specifically investigating this case, it was necessary that Yuuta took you to observe the scene yourself.

Although there is a total lack of gore or rot, still does the sight of six empty graves provoke within you an acute revulsion. Perhaps it is the absence of any overt suffering, and the oppressing knowledge of the extended waves of unearthed grief spanning across multiple kin networks who must now lose their loved one a second time – this is what inspires the damp, fragile sheen pooling at your waterline.

“Hey,” calls a soft, gentle voice. Yuuta’s timid wave brings you back from your wallowing. “Before we left, I grabbed the letters from forensics. Thought it might be helpful to have while we re-assess the scene.”

Something he’d done entirely for your benefit. Conscious of your lack of experience with the case, you incline your head, grateful. It’s almost as though your gratitude makes him uncomfortable. He averts his gaze and hands over a collection of six plastic-encased papers. Despite their origins within deep, aged earth, each one is pristine.

Steeling yourself, you read February’s letter, the origin of chaos:

My Dearly Beloved,

Did you know that not even the moon and all her stars, nor the sun and all his days, burn as brightly as my heart does for you? There is a certain privilege that I have been blessed with in this lifetime: the privilege to admire you from afar while passing through your stratosphere when it is convenient.

But, unlike you, I am a flawed and impure creature. I am greedy. Each morning, I wake up with a hunger to do more than watch. I want to draw you near to my side. I want to feel your flesh. I want to know what your innards taste like. I want to bathe in your desire. I want to carve myself into your being, forever and ever and ever, so that in the next life, you will be born missing me.

Please look at me. I love you so terribly it defies the laws of life and death. You’ve awoken something within me. I hope you’ll take responsibility.

Nauseous, you shift the letter to the bottom of the pile, hands shaking, head spinning.

“How disturbing…” you can’t stop the words from leaving you, unbidden. “How can someone desire another person in such a way that it permits violence?”

Okkotsu studies you closely. “Do you really feel that way?”

Alarm coils like a snake cornered in the pit of your gut. Sharply, you snap your gaze to his still, calm face. As pallid and pockmarked with depression as the moon herself. “Excuse me?”

“Are you truly disgusted by this kind of love?”

Fighting to ignore your fight-or-flight response, you answer: “I don’t consider this to be love.”

Peculiarly, his face breaks out into a smile, clearing away the lingering cloudy expression. “And that’s why I’m glad we’re partners. I knew you’d have the right idea about this.”

“Most people condemn this crime…”

“But too many sympathize with a false motive,” he volleys back, dark eyes glinting with a strange intensity. “This isn’t a crime of ‘love.’ The perp doesn’t act out of affection. They want to own, subdue, and take what is not theirs. How is that love?”

“Exactly,” you affirm. “To be honest, those connections have always kind of unsettled me…even in shows, or books, or games, I could never look at the obsessive type.”

“Scary, aren’t they?”

This isn’t just a work case for him, you belatedly realize. His tense posture, his imploring eyes, his specification of partner – this is personal. Something about these occurrences strikes a chord deep inside of him, resonating so profoundly that it would not be enough to watch another resolve these crimes; no, Okkotsu is compelled to eradicate the danger completely, uprooting it from the source, destroying the danger with his bare hands, watching it dissipate with his own eyes.

“Mm. I’m glad we’re working on this case together, Okkotsu.”

He offers a small, benign quirk of the lips. “Me too.”

Your partnership progresses steadily from this first encounter.

Most of your daily duties are now fulfilled off-site, accompanying Okkotsu to various locations of interest, following potential leads, and occasionally conducting interviews. It’s been merely two days since the taskforce has been formed, and yet, you’ve been so preoccupied with your new assignment that it completely slips your mind to alert Shoko as to why you’ve been absent from your regular rooftop lunch dates.

You are mortified to open an aggrieved SMS from her on Wednesday morning:

Ieiri-san 08:15Oi. Are you dead

Me 08:16 Ahhhh!! I’m so sorry!!!! A new assignment is taking up a lot of my time. I apologize for not communicating. And for missing lunch. We can eat together today? I can bring you something? Whatever you like! I can make it!

Ieiri-san 08:20 Nah, none of that You’re probably overworking yourself already. No need for extra labor Just meet me on rooftop @ usual time

Me 08:21 Absolutely!!

It is surprisingly difficult to tear yourself from Yuuta’s side, as the two of you have been practically glued together from sunrise to sundown ever since embarking on the special assignment. He is reluctant to let you slip away for lunch, and as a result, you linger past a reasonable time to reassure him that you will be back on time.

When you are finally able to break away from Investigations HQ, you check the time on your phone only to realize that noon has rounded the corner with unanticipated haste. Hurriedly, you make your way to the seventh level of the police station building, embarrassingly conscious of your damp forehead and rapid breath.

“Sorry I’m late!!” Bursting through the metal door, you explode onto the rooftop, cloth-wrapped bento in one hand, and your furiously beating heart in the other.

It’s almost comical, how serene Ieiri looks, unbothered as ever as she leans against the railing with her trademark cigarette weaving in between her restless fingers. “Took you long enough. Been waiting for two days, now.”

“Ahhhh…”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You look like you’re about to piss your pants. C’mere.”

Face in flames, you stride over to pop a squat next to her. “I really do apologize, Ieiri-san. These last couple of days have been really hectic…”

“How so? You mentioned a new assignment. When did that happen?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I can talk about it…Investigations personally assigned me…um, not to be impolite or brag or anything! Just, I think it’s a little sensitive in nature, so—”

“Investigations?” She cuts you off, her dull timbre unusually sharp. “You mean those two idiots asked you to handle a highly classified criminal case? During your first quarter? By yourself?”

“Ah!! Geto-senpai and Gojo-senpai are quite eccentric, but they are very nice--!”

“No, they are not—”

“—and I’m not by myself! I’m partnered with Okkotsu Yuuta!”

If you weren’t such an anxious person who is well-practiced in the art of overanalyzing the countenance of others, you would surely have missed the way Ieiri’s eyes widen imperceptibly, the way her breath stutters on the next exhalation. She does not look at you for a beat. Two beats. She stares straight ahead at the exterior of the building when asks,

“You’re investigating the Serial Bereavement cases.”

“Ieiri-san…” you whine, head in your hands. “I’m, like, ninety percent sure no one else is supposed to know…”

“What, don’t trust me? Not like I have any friends around here to tell.”

“That’s, well. That’s not the point. Okkotsu mentioned that this was a sensitive matter, so…”

“Just ‘Okkotsu,’ huh?” She peers sideways at you. “No ‘senpai’? Wow, you two sure got comfortable fast.”

“No, please don’t misunderstand! Because honorifics make him uncomfortable, he asked that we speak casually!”

“I asked you the same.”

Her blunt response stuns you silent. It takes you several seconds to produce a response. “Well, yes. But that’s different…Ieiri-san is older…”

“Not by much.” Finally, she lights the cig in her hand. “Hey, let me ask you something.”

“Okay, please go ahead.”

“It was Investigations who put you on the case? Nobody else was involved?”

Hesitation halts your tongue. Mentally, you are transported back to that fateful day, just a little less than forty-eight hours ago, when your new assignment had been unloaded upon you.

“…I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to question your judgement, but why have I been chosen to pair with Okkotsu-san?”

“Oh! He specifically requested—”

Gojo was never able to finish his sentence, cut off by Geto’s strategically timed blow. Almost as though the chief was about to reveal something better left unsaid.

You may be a rookie, but you aren’t stupid. There’s a reason why you got this job, after all.

And if you can deduce this much, surely the next conclusion you land on isn’t so far-fetched:

Okkotsu must have personally requested you as a partner.

But the question is…why? You hadn’t been personally acquainted before you’d met outside of the station before heading to your first investigation together. He’s been nothing but kind and respectful – if a little unsettlingly intense, at times, but you think that’s just kind of how he is.

There must be an element that you’re missing from the equation, a piece of the puzzle of which you are not yet aware. It is for this uncertainty that you choose to disclose the truth to Ieiri.

“Okkotsu requested me as his partner.”

Obviously, she asked you for this information because something was dependent upon how you answered. Studying Ieiri’s reaction might be the first step towards unraveling this strange situation.

And react, indeed she does; again, it is quite muted, eroded by years of police work and other unspoken traumas you’re sure lie dormant inside of her mysterious, impenetrable depths. But perhaps it is because of your friendship that Ieiri’s micro-expressions appear to you more as the dramatic admission of feeling that they truly are.

A twitch of the brow, a purse of the lips. Her next exhalation of smoke comes fast and hard, expelled from her mouth in one decisive whoosh of toxic air. Usually, she pays special attention to the wind pattern so that she does not blow smoke in your face. It seems she’s thoroughly perturbed today; the fumes whip you across the cheek and you hack violently in surprise.

Your adverse response snaps her out of the momentary brooding. “Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, quickly removing the cig from her lips and smothering it on the ground. “You alright?”

“J-just fine,” you murmur after one final bout of ear-splitting dry heaves. “Can I ask you a question, now?”

“Shoot.”

“Is it a bad thing that Okkotsu and I are partners?”

Visibly, Ieiri must chew and swallow her initial retort. This is quite unprecedented behavior from the woman with little to no filter on any given occasion. “How are you finding it so far?”

“Well…he’s really considerate. And accommodating. Um, he even revisited the crime scene with me since I’d never been, and he let me read all the letters, too.”

“That’s funny,” says Ieiri, stone-faced. “How did he show you the letters?”

“He said he picked them up from the station before we left. I was quite surprised that he went through all the trouble of doing that, since those kinds of sensitive evidence usually aren’t allowed to leave Forensics…”

“You’re absolutely right. They aren’t.”

“Ah…Okkotsu must have special clearance…?”

“He doesn’t,” Ieiri deadpans.

“…I see…”

Her hands twitch at her sides like she’s itching for another smoke, even though the carcass of her most recent stick still smolders underneath the dagger of her high heel. “Well. You can do whatever you want with Okkotsu. Sounds like you’re in capable, dedicated hands.”

“Huh? Ieiri-san, wh—wait, where are you going--?!”

But before you can finish your panicked inquiry, Ieiri has already blown through the metal door, stomping her way back downstairs to the sixth floor where the Forensics Department awaits her gloomy presence. It’s unlike her to storm off mid-conversation. You’ve never seen her emotions rise above slight annoyance – and that level of frustration is reserved exclusively for the Investigations chief and director. What had you done to provoke even worse of an ire?

Riddled with guilt and anxiety, you wade through the rest of the workday in a foggy, unfocused haze. Okkotsu gives up trying to ask you what is wrong after his third attempt. When you eventually, mercifully fall into bed that night, unshed tears overflow past your clenched, trembling lashes, staining your pillow with sorrows you cannot speak aloud.

Upon waking up, you are granted no reprieve. It is Thursday, the sixth of September. The first Thursday of the month.

You don’t bother with something as trivial as breakfast this morning – not when the thought of what awaits you in the day ahead fills you to the brim with unbearable dread.

Arriving at the police station and getting briefed on the day’s events only confirms your worst fears: there has been another Bereavement at the Joenji graveyard.

This month’s occurrence is twistedly unique.

Accompanying the usual handwritten letter is a fresh, human heart, so red and wet, glistening with fresh gore, that it almost appears to be beating through the still stock photos taken by Field Operations upon first discovery.

Due to your increased status, you are granted clearance to read this month’s note before any other department can get to it. Ieiri is absent from the Forensics office when you rush off the elevator to the sixth floor. One of the interns retrieves the file for you, and you are equal parts eager and terrified to scan its plastic-encased contents.

My Dearly Beloved,

Aimless admiration has thus far sated my yearning soul. Seeing you eat well every day fills my spirit with a sense of completion. I am at ease to watch over you and ensure your wellbeing. But there has been a disturbance. I can feel your increased awareness, like a child opening its eyes to the world for the first time. Coupled with this awareness is a newfound distance between us. Things were going so well. Why now? Why pull away? This can’t be because of me. It must be someone else.

I think I know who.

What must I do to regain your undivided attention? How can I reclaim your primary affections? To experience even an inch of separation, a millimeter of remove, is for my body to undergo countless agonizing deaths.

Will you pay attention to me?

Will you notice me?

Will you choose me?

Look at me.

I serve my beating heart up on a platter just so that your gaze might befall it for the barest of breaths.

Recent events have shown me that I cannot stand idly by any longer while others sneakily and deliberately encroach on our relationship. I’m getting restless. I’ve been waiting quite patiently. Are you as antsy as I am? Soon, you’ll know me as all that I am.

I miss you. I see you every day and I miss you. Come back to me.

Before it’s too late.

259 notes · View notes

oneshlut · 2 months

Note

Ok, first off, love love Love your yandere Flug headcanons! I am injecting them into my veins as we speak. On that note, could you write something branching off of that base idea but with the twist that reader is 100% supportive of Flug being a yandere? Could be anything from just accepting his love to actively encouraging him to kill people for them. Thank you for your time, hope you have a great day!

A/N: ooh, of course!! i was actually planning to do this with yandere dating hcs for flug since someone had requested for a general pt2 of these hcs, so thanksies for the request!! accepting x yandere is so horrifically adorable <33 (also SO HAPPY you liked my previous hcs!!)

Two of Hearts (Yandere!Dr. Flug x Willing!Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

WARNINGS: Mentions of homocide, depictions of blood, unhealthy obsessions, yandere themes, general dead dove contents!!

Summary: General headcanons for a yandere Dr. Flug with an accepting/supporting reader for his behavior

Extra Info: This does NOT condemn yandere behaviors irl. Purely fictional scenario, do not support this toxic behavior in others. im sure you all know that though <33

Love can escalate. When it does, it escalates fast. This escalation can range from a proposal in a matter of weeks, a date in a matter of days, to murder in a matter of hours. Often times, Flug's love escalated to murder. He has before for you, and he would again.

Being a "real" villain gives Flug some sort of confidence boost. He hardly stutters, never cowers in fear, and opts to make extremely bold decisions. Decisions he wouldn't normally make. Well, the first and most obvious would be homocide--but he also gains the confidence to confess to you.

He wouldn't dare kidnap you, though! Of course, not if you took it well! Luckily, things didn't have to go that way, since you agreed to be his boyfriend.

Wait, what.

It wasn't that huge of a shock. I mean, he knew you'd either say yes or no, but he was fully prepared to receive a no. I guess that chloroform-laced cloth in his pocket wasn't necessary after all! He was ecstatic to be yours! As long as you didn't find out about anything he was doing, the two of you would hold up well!

Hah, that wouldn't last long. He was confident with himself at first, but now that you're together for real? All his confidence was immediately swept away when you kissed him for the first time--that or when you first told him "I love you". It really made him put things into perspective--he was yours. And you were his. Flug was more lovesick than ever, more than he had realized. It was adorable, watching him trip over himself anytime you walked into the room.

It was now over a month of the two of you being together, and both of you were happy with your relationship! Flug was still pretty confident you wouldn't find out about what he was doing, and you were.. Actually, you were slowly gaining suspicion.

Over time, you began to notice small flaws in his usual behavior. Very small flaws, yes, but not too small to go unseen. Some of these would be nice, such as Flug going out of his way to get you something on an outing. This would be normal, if it wasn't every outing. And on other days, he would just switch up and do the complete opposite--not noticing you when you greeted him, spacing out while just.. staring at you.. or he would respond to you in two word sentences. He was either in a whole other world, or completely caught up in yours. It was distracting how easily he could just.. switch. It put you off, but you decided to ignore it for the most part.

One day, he came home extremely silent. Actually, you hadn't even noticed he had left in the first place. You watched as he retreated to his room--seperate from his lab. Not even a hello, nor an answer to your simple questions as he walked. You began to fear that he was ignoring you. What could you have done wrong..? That, or he was just spacing out again, which felt a bit unlikely.

Slowly gaining curiosity, you decided to take a small visit to his lab. Maybe 5.0.5. knew something? In all honesty, you weren't just "curious".. you were worried. Unfortunately, taking this visit to his lab didn't help with that feeling of worry at all. Opening the door with a painfully loud creak, you were stunned to find the place in shambles. It wasn't messy in the way it looked like a break-in--no, it looked man made. Some of the lights were turned off, his materials were scattered over his multiple desks, many syringes laid out across the floor--most still had chemicals in them. Watching your step, you made your way to his main workplace, the mess being no different from the rest of the lab. Unlabeled papers of research and crumpled up papers laid sprawled out on his desk. The entire scene was extremely unusual of him--he was always so in order, so organized, sometimes he'd have panic attacks when things were out of order! And yet.. it looks like Dr. Flug made this mess of his lab himself. Sure, you hadn't been to his laboratory in a while, but how much could he have done to his space in that time? Saying the situation was confusing would be an understatement.

But out of everything in the room, one thing stood out to you the most. His closet--normally nice and organized.. it was now dirty, rustic, and one of the latches on the door was now broken. The atmosphere around it was.. intimidating, to say the least. The inside was extremely dark, with some of the darkness spilling out into the already dim laboratory. Hesitantly, you approached it, opening the unbroken door.

It looked somewhat like you suspected--heaps of clothes on the floor of the closet, instead of neatly hung up. Things were looking normal.. except for the blood on some of the clothes. Your mouth silently gaped open as to not draw much attention as you crouched down to inspect the clothes. Horrified, you found many more pieces of clothing with blood. Actually the whole pile. And it wasn't looking like it was his blood--no, it wasn't seeped into the clothes from the inside. It was splattered on, it was somebody else's.

You took a few shaky steps back. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Flug wouldn't.. kill people, right? Part of you was open to the idea--he was a villain, after all. But he never went out of his way to kill..

You looked down at your now bloody palms. He wouldn't kill anyone in this fashion, either. ..Would he? Was he really that.. gruesome of a person? And you had no idea..?

While caught up and reeling in your own thoughts, you lacked the attention to notice Dr. Flug approaching you.

The last thing you remembered was blacking out.

Dr. Flug never intended for you to find out about any of this. The mess of his mental state, the mess of his lab, and the mess he's been making of.. other people. Maybe he could develop a mind erasing serum? Or.. would that be too easy? Perhaps he could just manipulate you into believing it was all a dream.. Either way, he was glad that chloroform-laced cloth came in handy after all.

So, as far as he knew, you would definitely not be supportive of what he was doing. He was doing all this for a misunderstanding in his eyes. You're always full of surprises, though. That's what he loves about you.

When he found out that you were totally okay with his obsessive tendencies, perhaps even supportive, Flug was completely over the moon. If it was possible to fall even deeper in love than he already was, he definitely did at that moment.

Knowing this, he doesn't keep you to himself. Now that he knows how much you love him in return, he has no reason to not trust you! Things can finally start going back to normal.. if uh.. homocide and killing sprees count as "normal" to you.

He's either smothering you with attention or as shy as a mouse. There's two sides of Dr. Flug that clash with each other when it comes to you. He wants to be forward with you--confident, mainly. But when he does, he backs out, becoming immediately flustered. Honestly, when the idea of you enjoying the idea of him killing for you settled into him.. he almost passed out. You really did make him the happiest scientist in the world.

The fact that you supported his actions just made him all the more confident about himself. Sometimes a bit upstuck. You thought what he was doing was righr, why shouldn't he? Whenever he killed someone, he no longer felt remorse. Instead, he felt excited to tell you what he did when he got home. And every time, you would give him the same praise and reassurance. Believe me, Flug is a sucker for praise.

Dr. Flug likes to brag to you about the horrible, awful things he's done. Sure, he loves praise, but actually recieving it makes him extremely flustered. Any "Good job" or "I'm proud of you" made him crumble on the inside. You were gonna be the death of him one of these days.

The two of you prefer to keep your relationship a secret for now and the forseeable future. After all, if Dr. Flug had got himself caught when murdering for you, you would be in trouble for just being associated with him. He wouldn't want that! Not in a million years. But of course, he would never let that happen.

Turns out, this seemed to be the best ending. I mean, who knows what would've happened if you denied him your love? Well, Flug would probably just develop a love potion of sorts. Either way, he's absolutely ecstatic things turned out this way. Despite the obviously very unhealthy relationship, the two of you were happy.. and that's all that mattered.

..Right?

72 notes · View notes

ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

@weepingwerewolfssombretuden-blog : what about the ladies from RE8 with a SO who is as loyal as a dog, but also a women magnet

Ooh, that’s a good question! Let’s find out!

Alcina:

An accurate representation of the Alci pout. She is very dramatic, people. If she’s got to suffer, so does Y/N. She’ll say she’s not pissed, but we all know better than that. Constantly fluctuates between insecurity and full out rage. She’s not proud of it, but she has sent her daughters on a few hunts where the targets were women who had been shamelessly flirting with Y/N. Of course, now that Y/N and Alcina are in a committed relationship she is a lot less possessive. However, there are still times where her jealousy gets the best of her and she decides to have an “extra snack” every now and again.

Donna:

As precious and cute as Donna is when she’s giving Y/N the evil eye… Never mind it’s actually pretty terrifying. You best believe the doll maker would not hesitate to throw hands at anyone, however, she does tend to prefer to use her brain to outsmart an opponent. Her effortless charm, her quick wit, and a complete command of all of the dolls and hallucinogenic spores on her property, pretty much keep people from wanting to get on her bad side. She’s only once actually given a flirty woman a bad vision, but like, that’s honestly on Y/N. Donna was having a bad week and Y/N forgot to fill her Trintellix prescription. It happens, okay?

Miranda:

Listen y'all, it should come as no surprise that Miranda can be fucking scary when she wants to be. She’s also very calculated. She is not necessarily a jealous type, but if she feels, or has evidence, that something that belongs to her (Like Y/N) is trying to be taken away… Let’s just say Miranda is literally an evil genius and the sky is the limit with how horrific she could make the punishment. Just don’t come for Y/N and you won’t have your eyeballs scooped out. Seems like a reasonable request to her.

Bela:

So, Bela likes to think of herself as refined and sophisticated just like her mother. The only problem is that Bela is eternally petty. Like, to the bone. She still brings up the time when Dani borrowed her hairbrush and didn’t put it back in the right spot. (She literally said that she wanted it put back at a crisp 45 degree angle on her dresser. Like, ma'am? We doing math now??) If she thinks that a woman from the village or a maid in the castle likes Y/N, they are immediately dead to her… No joke, she’ll just off them right there.

Cassandra:

Out of all of the RE8 ladies, Cass is the most physically violent, possessive, territorial, lovesick, etc. You get the picture. Typically, all it takes for a woman who’s flirting with Y/N to back down is a demonstration of how skilled she is with bladed weapons… If that doesn’t work, she can’t be held responsible for what she does next. I could definitely see her parading Y/N around the castle and the village like they’re some sort of prize and telling everybody that Y/N belongs to HER… She warned ya. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Daniela:

Dani can’t imagine a world where her and Y/N aren’t together… In fact, she refuses to even entertain the thought. Y/N means everything to her. I think it’s safe to say that she is definitely the most romantic of the sisters, however, she can be a little over the top sometimes. Also, reading these epic romance novels where characters are so in love that it’s literally most of their personality, isn’t really helping the situation. She can go psycho-cuckoo-bananas at the drop of a hat if she sees ANYONE getting too cute and friendly with Y/N. Rest assured, she will bring the drama and intensity if she feels a need to.

Masterlist

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dilvuc · 3 months

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I saw your jamil x cannibal reader and I was wondering if you could do something similar with azul. Maybe we kidnap him and keep him as food. And if you wanna go really dark azul could develop Stockholm syndrome.

❝NOT THAT I MIND❞

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: male

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: not that i mind~

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: lovesick!azul ashengrotto x cannibal!m!reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: mentioned of dr*g, cannibalism, lovesick azul

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: i saw your jamil x cannibal reader and i was wondering if you could do something similar with azul. maybe we kidnap him and keep him as food. and if you wanna go really dark azul could develop stockholm syndrome

this is one of the most unexpected things that happened to azul. he met someone he was not expecting himself to be attracted to. not in a very good way…

he heard humor that there's a cannibal at the school. no one knows who the cannibal is, but he does. azul knew from the beginning who the cannibal was and he was somehow overjoyed by this. why must he be? he has no idea. he just felt like he should be happy.

azul confessed his feelings for you. you carelessly accept his confession which made him filled with overjoyed. it's only been like a month since you two started dating. after month, the time had come. you manage to dr*gged azul and kidnapped him.

azul has woken up to find himself in an unknown area, being tied up to a table. you arrived with some tools and find that you're hostage has woken up, “Oh. You're awake. Good. I was hoping for you to be awake so I can hear you in pain.”

“...I knew it…” azul muttered. you raised your eyebrows, “What did you say?”

“I know. I know you're the cannibal…” the light gray haired male repeated. you furrowed your eyebrows, glaring at azul, “Tch! What? You're gonna scream for help?”

“...Are you kidding me…?” azul mumbled before revealing a creepily exciting smile, “...Do you know how long I've been waiting for this moment? I know you've been wanting to eat me while making me attracted to you~”

“The hell—”

“Why do you think you've been catching your victims so easily?” azul asked. “With my help, you're able to have a great appetite.”

“...”

azul began breathing heavily with a lovesick smile on his face, “If you could use me, I would make a great appetite for you! I knew you were waiting to kidnap me! Please eat me~ Not that I mind~”

“Oi. Why the hell are you excited about this? Aren't you scared?” you asked.

“Scared…? Why should I be? I've been a fan of your horrific work and I couldn't help but imagine how much I wanted you to eat me~” azul confessed.

“...You're so weird, that's concerning…” you mumbled, but you couldn't care less. if he wants to be eaten then so be it. you will eat his ass to get him to shut the fuck up.

rules

twst masterlist

╰┈➤ author note: please note that this is a slow update. i will still accept your request, but it will take a while since i'll be working on my books on wattpad. if you wish to read those books, here's my wattpad account.

#male reader #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #dilvuc #❝dilvuc 2024❞

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moonshynecybin · 1 month

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I’m doing a press conference binge and I just watched misano 2018 and it was basically just couples counciling for rosquez with Marc looking like he’s about to cry. And during this binge I have discovered Marc has zero poker face like it was not existent even before sepang 2015 but like the micro expressions that escape him are amazing like I think it was COTA 2017 vale was talking about how zarco was aggresive and so on and so on and Marc’s just there with a raised eyebrow being like fr like he had no chill and no poker face like before sepang 2015 the poker face wasn’t needed it just meant that everyone everywhere was aware that he was just lovesick for vale but post sepang he’s just micro expressions all over the place and really fake smiles just like I’m totally fine this is my normal state of being.

a list of gifsets of marc having emotions and/or absolutely no poker face. love a man trying really hard to suppress his emotions and often failing! no notes. fellow capricorn moons rise up.

austin 2017: radical acts of malicious faggotry (eyebrow raise)

phillip island disqualification 2013. girl is hanging on to his mature-for-his-age persona with his fingernails lmaooo

sepang 2015: we've all seen them. the confused smile. the glance at jorge to see what he thinks is happening. the disbelieved blinking. the dawning realization vale isnt joking, and then his whole face just kind of. sets. freezes on a smile you can tell isnt real. lets all hold hands and take another look together. dishonorable mention to immediately post presscon where he is a hot girl in DISTRESS and it makes me feel physically ill and actually sick

vale category!!! this fucking face journey in 2017. hello. embarassing. also embarrassing. in the less fun side theres the horrific, self-aware little laugh in qatar this year when they make him choose between vale and jorge PLUS his reaction (one word little answers) when max verstappen brought up vale's move to car racing

we should also never forget! that marc is a canonical CRIER, which i LOVE. homie has cried on the podium and post race for sachsenring 2021 yes, but also in his documentary, and leaving honda (a LOT) like he WILL cry he cant keep that in at ALL

#i also love that he never seems embarrassed by his emotions. yeah man post that instagram story of yourself crying i love youuuuu #he never apologizes for loving vale either like he doesnt regret it he says those were some good years...#one of the crazier things hes ever said tbh #hes also very rarely angry. like yeah on track he can turn on killer mode but rarely is it ever angry mode. with a vale sized exception etc #motogp #callie speaks #asks #rosquez #when he is trying to go poker face its just a brittle smile. like the bezz stuff he was annoyed there lol

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weenwrites · 2 months

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love 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 LOVE your writing! You’re one of, like, three authors I can actually identify. (I don’t pay attention to who writes what nor do I remember, but you write so well that from rereads and new reads I recognize you).

When you feel up to it, can you do TFP Smokey, OP, and Ratchet with an s/o (cargo plane alt, big bot, like Stratosphere) crashing like Smokey did and the surprise reunion? Aaaand maybe other misc reactions of such a big bot?

✎ A/N: Aa thank you so much for your kind words!! :D Also I could've sworn I did a reuniting with S/O on earth thing with Optimus and Ratchet before, so I leaned more towards reactions about having a massive S/O instead.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Smokescreen

When the two of you first met, he was in complete and total awe at your sheer gargantuan size. In fact, the way he gawked at you the whole time he was passing by, may have caught your attention and saved him from bumping straight into a glass panel that two bots were moving, and if that wasn't the case, then ah well.

Anyway, back before the war grew so hectic, he was proud to have a partner as cool as you, and every time the random person he was talking with would comment about you, he'd casually just slip in a "yeah, that's my partner" with the most love-struck look on his face.

There's no place in the world where he wouldn't recognize you right off the bat. Aside from your size being your most defining trait, he'd recognize your color scheme, alt-mode, and voice anywhere, no matter what was going on. And the moment you crash-landed right in front of him, he was so confident that he knew you well enough to tell you apart from any phony.

Of course the rest of the team were immediately going at him, telling him that it's not that easy to tell their real friends apart from the spies, but when he's proven right that it is indeed you, he never lets them live it down and now all they want is for him to shut up about it.

As badly as he wants to share a habsuite with you, the chances are that you are waaay too big to fit in any rooms. The largest room that could possibly fit you is the training room, but even then you dwarf it easily (and also they need to use that...). Once you get your own room, however, he spends much more time with you in there than he does in his own habsuite.

He brags about you quite a lot to the rest of the team and says things like "did you know that my s/o—" or "oh hey! y/n used to enjoy doing that before the war—" and at this point they're all fed up with how lovesick he is. They would shove him off on patrol with you to take care of the problem. Even Arcee's started teasing you, about all these things that Smokescreen's said, and honestly it'll get so embarrassing that you'll probably ask him to stop at some point.

He's very eager to fight along side you, and keeps encouraging you to go out with him into battle. He'll paint vivid pictures of your shared glory—just imagine, the moment you step onto the field you'll completely level the cons to ashes! They won't ever know what hit them!

Optimus

If you met sometime before the war, when he was still an archivist, then he'd frequently go out to visit you since you were probably too big to be walking around the Iacon Hall of Records. Flying with you was one of his favorite past times after any long and difficult shifts. Unfortunately the two of you don't get to enjoy that once peaceful feeling of flying together when the war started. Flying lost its relaxing touch and soon became more stressful and frightening, as the fear of being shot out of the sky became more prevalent in both your lives.

Soon enough, the fear of losing one another had became something so horrifically possible, and the next second it became real, and the rest became history that passed in several long, agonizing years.

As opposed to expressing joy and relief to seeing you again—well, he partly was—he was initially skeptical that it was truly you. The team had been tricked by a decepticon spy before, who's to say it won't happen again? Yet the moment you confirm your identity, he allows his cold, distant front to drop, and he sincerely welcomes you back.

Though he didn't express any enthusiasm outright upon seeing you again, he makes his feelings clearer once the two of you are away from prying eyes. And as you catch up, it's not hard to miss how the war has made him jaded and weary, yet you don't have to look too far to see glimpses of how he was before.

He tries to situate a nice comfortable living space for you—preferably somewhere that's within the base, but since you're too big to fit in any of the current rooms they have, the best they'd have is probably someplace outside. And if this is sometime after the base was destroyed, then unfortunately the best he could do for you was get the biggest hangar they have on base to house you in your alt-mode.

But then there comes the problems with energon rations... Your massive size and your altmode automatically constitutes an equally large portion of energon is required for you to function, and with the team's unfortunate shortage and size, it's difficult to obtain enough energon to keep everyone functioning... Yet perhaps now with your assistance, it may be easier to obtain enough energon to supply the entire team.

Ratchet

Even before the war, he was no stranger to loss. There have been patients who he couldn't save and the war only increased that amount ten-fold, yet the feeling never ceased in it's capacity to tear him apart from the inside. A lot of horrible things have happened to him, but the moment he lost you took the cake for the "worst thing that's ever happened". And in that moment, it was as if things were as painful and horrible as possible, it couldn't get any worse and it would never get better again.

And yet that moment eventually passed, as all things do. Though the tears shed have long since dried, and the loud, echoing sobs have grown quiet, that absence always stuck with him. He doesn't think of it as much as he used to, he's far too occupied with his own work to mourn, but it's still there.

Beholding you was like beholding a ghost, and he couldn't really believe that you were standing right there in front of him. He's nigh speechless, but somehow he manages to get himself together to say your name at the very least. He's quick to run a general check-up, and your massive size doesn't slow his work in the slightest.

As much as he'd prefer to have you live within the base, the place is already pretty crowded as is, and with someone your size packed in with the rest of the bunch, he wouldn't be surprised if the number of accidents around the base would skyrocket tenfold. Of course he doesn't mean any offense to you, it's just that there's no space for you. Their current base is so ridiculously minuscule in comparison to the buildings back on cybertron that it feels like they're living in a cardboard box that the U.S. government kicked over to them. While it's certainly far from ideal, he still has to make do, so he'll try to help think of something to improve your living conditions.

Sure, the thought that someone could get hurt on a mission is something that weighs on his mind every single time, but for some reason whenever you're deployed, that anxiety of his worsens ten-fold. It may be because you're partners, but from a medical standpoint, if you were to get hurt, you could leave a massive crater in the team's resources. Not only could you easily wipe out what little energon they have, but the team doesn't have the proper resources to patch up any major injuries, and the last thing he wants right now is to be forced to say goodbye to you permanently.

#tfp imagines #tfp headcanons #tfp x reader #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen x reader #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfp ratchet #ratchet x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert #weenwrites

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brynnwrites · 2 years

Text

blood stains - spencer reid

spencer reid x afab!reader (or any reader who menstruates)

Nope.

This was not happening.

You were dreaming, the red stain on the crisp white sheets of your boyfriend's bed was a figment of your mind's horrific imagination.

You reached down and dabbed at the stain, red residue rubbing off onto the tips of your fingers. It was real alright.

You scrunched your face up, screaming internally while you tried to figure out what to do. First things first, you would have to run to the living room to get a pad out of your purse. Without waking Spencer up.

You had only been dating for about three months. Of course, Spencer knew you had a period, but this was territory you hoped to not have to cross until the six month mark at the earliest. Things were still new and the honeymoon phase was in full swing. It wasn't exactly "I'm ready for you to see all my bodily functions" time in the relationship yet.

You knew in the back of your mind that he would have to see it. It wasn't like you could rip the sheets off without him knowing, seeing as he was dead asleep right next to you. Whether you wanted to or not, you were going to have to face this conversation.

You slipped out of the covers, the bed mercifully not squeaking as you stood. You made it to your purse without a sound, mentally high-fiving yourself. You were in the clear, for now.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Spencer's panicked voice jerked your spine straight. "Y/N, oh my god. No, no, no-"

He slid into the room, literally slid with his socks on the hardwood, his face looking downright petrified until he saw you standing in the moonlit living room.

"Hey, Spence," you squeaked. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

He was breathing hard as he brought a large hand up to rub at his chest. "I-uh, I rolled over and you weren't there. I opened my eyes and saw blood and I—what happened? Are you hurt?"

Your eyes widened as he rushed towards you, hands on your hips as he checked you over for injuries. It hadn't occurred to you that the bed looked like a murder scene—much like the ones that you and your boyfriend encountered on a weekly basis.

"Shit, Spencer, I'm so sorry," you groaned. "I'm fine, I just got my...period."

You winced, and his face turned from one of complete alarm to one of sympathy.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you wake me?" He rubbed a hand over the small of your back soothingly, bringing the other one to smooth your hair.

"I was embarrassed," you whined. "This thing between us is new and fun and I didn't want to gross you out right out of the gate like this."

Spencer laughed and you frowned.

"No, I'm not laughing at you," he reassured you, his hands running up and down your arms. "I just think it's silly that you thought I would be grossed out by something normal and healthy when we see mutilated bodies on a near daily basis."

When you thought about it like that, you couldn't help but laugh too.

"Listen," he was suddenly serious, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "I know things are technically new between us. But remember what I told you that night I finally confessed that I'm hopelessly in love with you?"

You grinned, biting your lip. You remembered a lot of things about that night. The way you and Spencer had spent two years pining after one another until it finally came to a head in a cozy inn in Alaska on the last night of a case. How you danced in the snow and made bold confessions before warming up in the sweetest way in your room, trying not to wake Emily up next door.

"Which part are you specifically referring to?" You asked with a smirk.

He flushed pink, dropping his head for a second before bringing his eyes back to yours. "When I said I'm all in? That you're it for me? I meant it. No menstrual cycle or anything else could ever scare me away."

"Is it possible for me to love you even more?" You smiled, lovesick eyes gazing up at him before reality set in once more. "But your bed, it's covered in blood and so are my shorts and-"

"Come with me," he smiled, taking your hand and leading you back towards the bedroom.

Confused, you followed, until he stopped in front of his chest of drawers. He opened the top one on the right side and your jaw dropped. "What is this?"

"It's your drawer," he said proudly, gesturing to the contents. "I was going to show you today, actually, but we got back so late that it slipped my mind. I went and got you a toothbrush, toothpaste, pads, tampons, underwear, and some extra pajama pants and shorts. I would've gotten you shirts too but you usually steal mine anyways—"

You couldn't help but cut him off with a kiss. "Spencer. You're perfect."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, I'm not. I just wanted to make you feel at home here."

Your heart tugged in your chest. Was he real?

He picked up a pair of plain black panties and some new blue sleep shorts with little white clouds on them. He placed a pad on top and then pushed the pile into your hands, ushering you to the bathroom.

"Hand me your stained shorts and underwear when you're done. I'm going to throw the sheets in the washer," he said, moving back to the bed.

You couldn't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Once you were situated with fresh clothes and a pad secured in place, you returned to the bedroom. He already had fresh sheets on the mattress and a small heating pad plugged in on your side with a glass of water and some painkillers.

You fought the tears welling up in your eyes. You had never felt so absolutely loved and cared for in your life.

"I'll take those," he appeared next to you, gently taking the blood soaked clothes from your hands.

You felt a little awkward giving him your period blood-stained clothes like that, but he didn't even flinch. You thanked him, taking a few sips of water with the pills. You found him at the utility sink in the laundry room, rinsing your clothes in cold water to get the blood stains out before washing them.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head against the lean muscles of his back. "You're an angel, Spence."

He hummed contentedly. "Just doing my job, honey. Go lay down with the heating pad, I'll be there in a minute."

He turned to give you a sweet forehead kiss before wringing out your clothes in the sink. You reluctantly padded back to the bedroom as the cramps set in. You curled up in a ball on your side, the heating pad situated snugly against your pelvis.

Warm arms wrapped around you before you felt Spencer's entire body heat surround you, tugging the covers up over you snugly.

"Where did you learn to do all this?" You asked softly.

"I'm a doctor, remember?" He teased, tickling your side lightly.

You giggled and squirmed. "You're not a medical doctor, genius. Seriously, where did you learn all about periods?"

He exhaled slowly. "My mom's memory issues started pretty early when I was graduating high school. Whenever I would come home from college, there would be little things she'd forget. Sometimes she would forget when she had gotten her period, and I would help her clean up her bed and get her set up on the couch. Besides, it was just me and her growing up. I was a naturally curious child so she had to teach me about feminine menstruation pretty early when I found her pads in the trash can."

You snuggled deeper into his embrace. "You're such a good man, Spence. You're an amazing son, an amazing FBI agent, and an even more amazing boyfriend. I honestly don't know how I deserve you."

He kissed your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He always said he loved the coconut scent on you. "I'm the lucky one. I kind always figured I would die alone."

You snorted. "You might wish you could die alone after a few years of me. I can be a mess sometimes."

He shook his head against you. "Everyone's a mess. But you're my mess."

You smiled, reaching back to scratch at his scalp like he loved so much. He hummed, leaning into your hand.

"Want me to massage your stomach?" He murmured against your ear.

"Please," you sighed.

He wasted no time in moving his large, warm hands to your lower stomach, right above where your uterus was currently throwing a tantrum. He massaged light circles and tested different patterns, asking you every few minutes if the pressure and motion was okay.

Soothing relief gradually took over and you felt yourself on the brink of blissful sleep. "I love you, Spencer," you whispered in the dark.

"I love you too, Y/N. Get some rest." Spencer kissed the side of your head, never stopping his soothing movements against your stomach until you were fast asleep.

You woke the next morning to the loss of Spencer's body warmth and frowned until you smelled pancakes. He was soon in the doorway, carrying two plates of chocolate chip pancakes, cups of orange juice gripped precariously in the crooks of his elbows.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?" He asked, placing the plate of hot pancakes down on your lap. He set the orange juice glass down on the nightstand before circling to the other side to climb in next to you.

"Much better. What's all this?" You asked, a grin spreading over your lips.

"I read that chocolate, in small doses, can actually help ease period cramps," he said with a bashful smile, gesturing to the pancakes. "Many medical professionals believe that's why most women, even ones who don't particularly like chocolate, crave it on their period."

You took a big bite, moaning at the warm sweetness. "It's delicious. Thank you. And it's really sweet that you did all that research."

"There's no need to thank me, honey," he said, smoothing your hair. "I like to think I'm good at taking care of people."

"You are," you agree. "I hope I can take care of you the same way."

"Well," Spencer chuckled, "I don't get periods, but you take care of me all the time, even when you don't think about it. Like when you bring me food when you know I haven't eaten on cases. Or when you give me scalp massages when you can tell I've had a stressful week. Or when you take my dry cleaning with yours because you know I'll forget. You do so much for me and I don't tell you thank you often enough."

You shrugged. "That's no big deal."

"It is," he insisted. "You do it not because you have to but because you want to. That's what makes it meaningful."

"You're the first man I've ever really felt that kind of thing for. The want to care for them. You mean the world to me and I want to help make you happy," you smiled.

He took your hand, kissing your palm with chocolate pancake lips before clutching it to his chest. "You do make me happy. Always."

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #imagines #fluff imagines #x reader imagines #x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #fluff

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vrisrezis · 7 months

Note

Just going to ask for something to distract you till the next chapter. Yandere Gojo x Darling x Yandere Geto wherein the darling is trying in vain to hide from them,but they end finding her under the blankets just hoping them being crazy is just a dream

THANK U <3 reader will be gender neutral tho ^_^

Mention of noncon but nothing actually happens but yk . Fair warning since I use the word r^pe

A little nsfw but also nothing happens but it’s still very suggestive . satoru is just being a bratty sub ? Switch? Idk. . tbh

Every morning you wake up, it’s always the same.

You wake up, your boyfriends on both sides of you, squishing you in the middle of your huge ass bed that suguru insisted on getting.

They both have so much room, yet they choose to cuddle you almost to death every night. At first you didn’t mind it, and maybe a part of you doesn’t mind that even now. Maybe it’s comfortable, and warm, and safe.

If you’re lucky, you wake up before them and bask in the peace and quiet. Even if you know it cannot last. It never does.

However, today you are not lucky. You pretend not to hear suguru whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Normally this wouldn’t be so unpleasant to wake up to, if it weren’t for the fact suguru was overwhelming when it came to absolutely anything he said about you. Even when you’re sleeping in the morning you feel his stare as you try to fall back into your slumber, but it’s hard to when he keeps calling you his one and only deity. His god, his everything. Tell you in excruciating detail the awful, horrific things he’s done for your sake, and even satorus.

You pretend that you don’t hear satoru whisper at night how badly he wants you, even when you’re asleep. How he’d have you take him, if it weren’t for suguru who insists he waits at least until you’re awake. You pretend you don’t hear them literally argue about whether satoru should fucking rape you or not.

You pretend you don’t hear him whine in your ear right now, about how he needs you, how he knows he’s been bad but you can put him in his place.

You pretend you don’t feel sugurus death glare on satoru, and satorus playful chuckle.

But at some point you find yourself hiding under the covers, masking it as a tired grumble, when really all you felt was fear. Fear of what the men you loved with all of you, have become.

“See satoru,” suguru lets out a disappointed sigh, “you’re bothering them.” he says, gently pulling the covers off of you. You let him, even though you’re scared. You don’t want him to know. Either of them. God knows what would happen, you have a feeling they’d only get worse.

“It’s okay hun, go back to sleep.” he says, petting your hair with a smile that could only be described as lovesick. “I’ll deal with him.”

You nod quietly, shutting your eyes. You feel satoru kiss your nape, but you ignore him as suguru tells him lightly to knock it off.

You can only pray to god you get to sleep, just a little longer.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n

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secrets-behind-sweet-kisses · 2 years

Text

Its been a while~

Due to life’s incessant twists I did unfortunately need to take a step back from the blog but I am happy to announce a steady return! Some updates for those curious: my newest obsession is an absolute darling, we met barely a week after my birthday which I believe is the BEST gift I’ve ever received, and although he has yet to know of my yan tendencies he is such a doting and precious lover 💖 We’re actually going to move in together soon!! Which means I can spend all day admiring his every detail, every night listening in to his peaceful sleepy snores, and memorize every motion of his, and be the only one he thinks of, and be with him forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever

Ahem.

Excuse me.

Any way for those curious I do also have an art blog under the name @cindyrubycutie though I don’t ever mention yan stuff there since I know not all audiences are open to that.

I’m hoping to post my love letters from my digital diary here soon 💖

#she speaks #yandere blog #yandere #yanderecore #yancore #yangire #obsessive love #lovesick #obsessed #horrifically lovesick #love starved #possessive love #actual yandere #actually yandere #yandere girl #yandere diary #yandere thoughts #love diary

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finnzhal · 10 months

Text

You&I

@limeonthegreat asked

Hi asshole it's me again ur lover I'm here to request because I blocked u in all social media platforms

Can I request a yandere Idia headcanon but we're not his lover just bestie who he have the biggest crush on

FINN's response :

BAE NAURRRR YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO BLOCK ME !! GADAMN this request was a long time ago . . Sorry pookie i did delete my past fanfic about this since i wasn't confident about it . But here's your yandere cutie patootie

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Reader : GENDER NEUTRAL , YOU / YOUR

Character : IDIA SHROUD (TWST)

Mentions : Yandere criteria ( Delusional,Stalking,Ruining your Relationships with other people,guilt tripping)

NOTE

Forgive me for having the shittiest titles ever .

I don't condone this behavior in real life, I just find it fascinating and write about it .

If anyone's interested into requesting , I'm always open ! Check my INFOs for more !

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0 It all started when you started giving him the attention and care , having the same interest , almost so similar to each other . He's not used to being treated with so much affection . It made something click on his brain , he wants to know more of you .

0 After that , He wants to see you 24 / 7 but not going far as to getting out in public . . He's still not comfortable going out but he of course follows you to his ipad or phone or Ortho !

0 He always records everything about you whenever you guys hang out or talk or just basically every interaction you guys have, he makes it into playlists naming it as " (name)/day/date/year/hour/minute " and he always listens to them whenever you're busy or unavailable:((

0 I can see him being the delusional and Possessive type, He always thinks that you like him back despite how many times you call him your 'friend'

0 He'll say the flaws on the student you've been with. trying to make you avoid the student for him . He always happened to find dirt on every student . He says this as a "bestie" advice

0 He couldn't stop fantasizing you about being with him for the longest time. No one going in-between you both,just you and him in the dark.

0 He always mix the reality with his fantasy , he always have a realization every night and having a meltdown over it .

0 He HATES the students being so close to you and he always manages to have a dirty background check on them . Later then , you find the student on the school page online getting exposed by something horrific . Real or not . He despises them so much but he couldn't do anything about it since he's always in his room but once you come in his room , you'll know he's all over you .

0 if anyone hurts you , DAMN he'll call someone to do his dirty work for him while he pampers you with affection

0 He always compare himself to the people around you , making you feel guilty , making you want to stay with him even longer . Just like he wanted

0 He was obvious about his romantic feelings towards you but if you point out his abnormal behavior, he will deny it while his hair is complete pink

0 He will write informations about you even the ones you didn't even told him about. He'll write your name over and over, he believes in manifestations

0 Will literally melt on your hands if you compliment and praise him, he will get all giggly and his eyes turning glossy.. he couldn't believe someone like you loves him this much . He tried complimenting you and praising you but he only ends up being the one flustered and stuttering

0 He place hidden cameras on your dorm and anywhere you always come or walk to . He gets excited and watches you with a lovesick smile across his face . Of course he's saving it , don't mind the boxes full of USBs under his desk

0 I don't really see him as a yandere that wants to capture you and cage you but I do see him getting mad at you for getting close to the person he warned you about . He'll ignore you for a week or so , giving you the cold shoulder ( While every night he watches all of the videos of you that his cameras took )

0 He doesn't care if you only see him as a friend ( Well , he does and he'll ask you the exact same question " Why? " And guilt trips you and tells you how much he have done for you ) . . He just thinks that you're just into slow burns just like those animes he watched and he's willing to wait

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That's probably all for now ! Gosh 15 headcanons . . I have so much ideas for Yandere!Idia this night (8:00-9:00)

If you found some spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know !

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#୨୧FINNZ.WORKS #୨ৎSTARLING.ASK #male reader #gn reader #female reader #twst imagines #twst yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x male!reader #twst idia #idia shroud #idia headcanons #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere x you

153 notes · View notes

chosos-slut · 7 days

Text

~ | and the earth begins to rain

[ pairing ] mahito x male reader [ genres ] fluff, horror, romance in that order [ cw ] small sex jokes, pet names (bunny, bunnydrops), mahito is very clearly interested in reader, kissing, cursing, demonic possession, a horrifically descriptive depiction of a panic attack while the soul is outside the body [ author's notes ] reader is half curse and its mentioned but unimportant [ words ] 4238 [ another good read ! ] " mine. " please reblog fanfictions when you read one you like! likes do not help writers' algorithms!

you close your eyes, inhaling slowly and deeply. you hold the oxygen inside your body for seven seconds, then you open your mouth slightly and let it out slowly, being careful not to allow your breath to shake.

then comes a knock at the door.

your heart skips a little, but you recover quickly, realizing it's only your best friend- and now date- mahito. you grin, swinging your backpack over your shoulder and slipping into your beloved, beat up but reliable converse 5 star sneakers. you practically ran through your house, opening the door and jumping into mahito's open, waiting arms.

"hi, mahi!" you grin, hugging him tightly. he smiles, looking you up and down flirtatiously and whistling in a purposely cringey way. then he grins like the lovesick head-over-heels dumbass he knows and is proud to admit he is, wrapping his own arms around you and squeezing possessively.

"hello, m/n." he purrs into your ear, his voice nearly a whisper as he steps over the threshold of your house. "how're you feeling?"

you grin nervously, giggling in a comical, clearly fake tone as you rub the back of your head with the palm of your hand. mahito's face changes a little, the slightest sign of worry flicking across his face.

"m/n." he says sternly, pulling you up against him again. "tell me how you're feeling about this. i don't want you going into this blast-full of inhuman fear of the unknown shit we're most definitely gonna be throwing ourselves cock-first into."

you smile gratefully, hugging him again and allowing a small giggle at the unsolicited dick joke. "thank you…" you reply in a near whisper. you take a short, deep breath, then you continue.

"honestly… i really am kinda nervous. i mean, for one, we're breaking into a governmentally forbidden area. and two, we're gonna try to talk to ghosts. actual ghosts. and three, what if they're not ghosts? what if they're, shit, i dunno- demons? oh, god, mahito, what if we run into a demon?!"

mahito feigns incredible offense at having been called by his whole entire first name by his best friend. but he breaks the fake character and smiles, gently putting both hands on your face and pulling you close. he touches your nose and forehead to his, giving you a comforting smile while inwardly trying indescribably hard not to kiss you with all he's got.

"i won't leave your side unless you ask me to."

"promise?" you ask.

"i promise."

"down!" mahito hisses, hastily pushing down on the top of your head. you duck quickly, holding onto mahito's hand, your eyes flicking back and forth and scanning the grass for any signs of a police car or any other potential deterrent.

"we're clear." he whispers after a few seconds, yanking on your hand and pulling you along. you both crouch at first, but mahito eventually stands up and runs, pulling you along with him. you ran quickly, following him and silently wondering how he knows his way around this area so well.

maybe he's been here before?

eh, well, who cares? this is a date, you think to yourself, think about the kind, daring, pretty boy you were currently committing criminal trespassing with.

"here." he hisses after a ten-minute run through the field, pulling you through a small hole in the fence that surrounds the forest. he doesn't stop running, and the adrenaline starts to pump through your veins… this is it.

the scary part.

oh god.. what have you gotten yourself into?

even with that heart-skipping thought in mind, you smile- at this point you and mahito are in the very heart of the yawata no yabushirazu forest, a huge expanse of trees known for its subtly horrifying legends… part of the forest's name literally means "to get lost."

"m/n?" mahito asks, touching your hand. when he feels your hand trembling slightly, he smiles, taking your hand in his and squeezing it comfortingly as you look up at him.

"yeah?" you look up at him, unconsciously moving a couple small-ish steps closer to him.

"did you know that this forest is part of what inspired spirited away? the studio ghibli movie?" mahito says softly, grinning. he knows that you like the movie.

you grin, and mahito's heart soars with affection.

"mahi, you menace you!" you giggle, "how'd you know?"

mahito grins, grabbing you and pulling you into a tight, loving hug.

"m/n, you're my best friend…" he whispers into your ear, "you're my bestest friend. in, like. the whole world."

you grin and blush in response, and you squeeze him tighter, making him groan and wiggle a little. you slightly lighten your bear grip on his ribs, looking at him with a concerned look in your eyes.

"you okay?" you ask, holding his face softly with both hands, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. he nods, smiling.

"yeah, your bear hugs are jus' really really tight." he says, hugging you close. he touches his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and letting the brief moment of silence wash comfortably over you and himself.

you smile, giving the moment another few seconds before gently pulling yourself out of mahito's arms. your hand grazes his, and his heart actually, genuinely skips a beat. the simple, "accidental" action dusts his face with a light pink tint, and he has to exorcise all his mental fortitude (which isn't a lot; the thread he's hanging by is incredibly frayed) in order to keep from taking your hand and kissing your fingers or knuckles.

instead he follows you with his eyes, smiling. he watches you go to your backpack, squatting down and digging through it for a moment. then you get a furious pout on your face, and you let out a short, angry, sort of loud groan-growl mixture of a sound. you flop backward onto your butt and look over at mahito with a confused scowl decorating your (mind-numbingly handsome) face.

"how did i manage to pack everything with me except for the goddamn-" "ovilus?" mahito interrupts merrily, raising and wiggling a hand in the air- he's holding the ovilus. he grins, giggling and quickly darting off around the edge of the small clearing you and he had set up camp in, his hand holding the ovilus out of your reach. you get up quickly and lunge after him. you chase after him for only a moment or two, quickly becoming tired of his buffoonery.

you speed up and sprint past him with the air of a quick-witted cheetah, skidding to a stop and turning around to face him right as he crashes into your chest, both of you falling backward onto the grass as a result of mahito's high momentum from when he got up and started to run. you wrap your arms around him and hug him affectionately.

"enough!" you declare in a dramatic jester's voice, "no more of this absurd bout of skylarking, man!"

mahito starts laughing, the sound full of pure, untainted joy that drips from his voice like honey, making your heart swell with affection. you let him laugh for a while, giving a few small giggles yourself. you sneakily slip your hand into his, swiftly and effectively snatching the ovilus from your best friend.

"what, not gonna stop me?" you tease, sitting up with him and shoving his shoulder playfully.

"nope." he says simply, grinning, "you're much too cute for such behavior as that."

your face turns red; you squeal, dropping the ovilus into your lap and hiding your now bright red face in your hands, trying to hide the idiotic teenage grin on your face. the mahito reaches over and swiftly plucks the device from your lap, sneakily getting up and retreating silently to your backpack.

you hear a stick snap and a small, playfully insincere "oops-" from behind you and you turn around, getting up and quickly spawning next to him. mahito doesn't even jump- he's used to it… you are half curse, after all. he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you. you grin in response.

"what?" you say.

"should we get started?" he asks. your face pales a little, and his grin softens. he entwines his fingers with yours.

"i'm not gonna leave your side, bunnydrops." he says, firmly squeezing your hand. "i promised once, and i'll gladly promise you again. i won't leave your side unless you ask me to, and even then i might ignore you and stay anyway."

you smile, feeling warm inside as your heart swells with happiness in response to your friend's incredibly protective comment. your smile changes to a determined look, and you nod.

"yeah." you say quietly. "let's get this show on the road… or the grass, i guess."

mahito snorts, barely containing a giggle. you grin, gaining confidence by the second. mahito grins too, tossing the ovilus up into the air and catching it. he turns it over and turns the power switch. his happy, creepily innocent grin turns outright maniacal.

"ask a question, m/n, i got nothin'." mahito says, looking over expectantly at you.

"oh, pfff, uhmm… lemme think-"

"hurry up." the ovilus interrupts. mahito's face turns pale for a split second, and he looks up at you, both of your mouths open in shock. his eyes widen, and he snickers, chiming in.

"is there someone here?" he asks in a welcoming tone, "or did our little toy here malfunction?"

silence.

then…

"here."

"so there is someone here?" you ask, looking over at mahito. you turn a slow circle, scanning the trees around the clearing.

silence.

"yeah." the ovilus says simply.

mahito grins, not bothering to contain the excitement in his eyes.

"help!" the ovilus speaks up suddenly, "demon… trees." then it goes silent... utterly silent.

mahito's eyes widen. he looks over at you curiously.

"is there something here?" you ask, "does it want to hurt you?"

"spirit…" long pause. then, "box." the ovilus says.

mahito looks at you, confusion more than evident in his face.

"spirit box?" he mouths to you, then continuing to talk with the ovilus. "do you know about our equipment? the stuff we've brought with us?"

"spirit box." the ovilus says again.

and then you realize it.

"you want us to use the spirit box instead?"

"yeah!" the ovilus responds, seeming to use a clip with a very annoyed, almost impatient-sounding tone.

"alright, we'll be right back, then." mahito says, "i'll go get the spirit box." he shuts off the ovilus, bending over your backpack and digging out the spirit box. he sets down the ovilus inside the bag and reaches around to the bottom of the device, turning on the spirit box.

your heart and his both skip a beat when the second mahito's finger touches the power switch on the device, it speaks.

"run away." says a calm, high voice through the speaker. at the same time you spin around on your heels, having felt something.

"mahi…" you say, your voice starting to shake, "i just felt a tug on the back of my shirt."

mahito's eyes widen again; he scans the ground around you, looking for any signs of a small child or some other age of spiritual presence. he sees nothing- so he decides to ask a question.

"did you just tug on my friend's shirt?" he asks calmly, "did you pull on m/n's shirt?"

"yeah!" says the same voice, answering immediately. at first you don't notice it; mahito doesn't either.

"do you wanna come out?" you ask bravely, "maybe you wanna show us that you're hear in the clearing with us…?"

you feel another tug on your shirt, then a twig snaps loudly behind you, startling you and mahito both.

"hello."

the voice doesn't come from the spirit box. in fact, nothing comes from the spirit box. the static has gone silent, as though it has turned off… then it turns on again.

you and mahito whip around and a startled scream tears from the bottom of your throat.

there's a teenage japanese-looking girl standing behind you, about thirty feet away. she isn't physically there- is she? she's not too hard to see through… quite literally. she's transparent. she's see-through. you can see the grass below her feet and the trees behind her.

mahito recovers first, moving quickly to stand protectively next to you. he subtly takes your hand in his and laces his fingers into yours, squeezing it tightly.

"hello, miss." he says, both of you bowing respectfully as was commonplace in japan.

the girl smiles, but her left eye twitches and her head convulses slightly to the side, the movement just barely noticeable to you. mahito gives no sign that he's noticed.

"why are you here?" she asks in a toneless voice, tilting her head creepily like a curious kitten.

"we're just here… for fun? i suppose?" mahito answers for you, "we're trying to make contact with the yomi no kuni."

"well…" she says, the absence of tone still there in her voice. you make very, very momentary eye contact with the girl, and primal, animalistic fear takes hold in your heart as you see something darkly colored dripping down her face. it looks like blood… or bile? unhealthy, black bile?

"are you stuck here?" mahito asks.

she nods three times very slowly.

"i was stolen from my home by this forest, dragged away from those i loved who came here with me." she says, looking down at her feet and going silent for a few seconds before continuing. "i am bound to these trees…" she says in a near whisper.

"and now you are too." she ends simply.

the next events happen in a white-hot flash of traumatic bright light. the girl's entire demeanor becomes poltergeistic and hateful, and she seems to glitch electronically out of existence. she reappears not a full foot away from you, and when she spawns there she's screaming at the top of her lungs. the sound doesn't waver, either. it's one consistent, ear drum-breaking sound.

she touches- more like slams- her hand onto your chest right above your heart, and you instantly begin to feel your spiritual control over your body beginning to fade as the spectral bitch slips into your mind like a slimy snake, trying to take your body away from you. your eyes roll up into your skull and you start to scream, the sound exactly identical to the scream she had been producing not a whole second before.

mahito lets go of you and you scream his name in protest, wanting anything but to be left alone with the pains, visions and regrets that flashed before your eyes, the thoughts and actions of this monster of a girl- but he doesn't listen. he doesn't listen. why doesn't he listen? why won't he listen to you? did you do something wrong? did you hurt him? when did you hurt mahito? why didn't he tell you? why won't he listen to you? what did you do to deserve this suffering?

mahito immediately regrets ever getting up because it's beyond crystal clear that whatever is happening to you inside your mind is causing you physical pain throughout your whole body. he wants nothing more than to be there with you, to be by your side, to have you by his side. he wants to switch positions with you, he wants to feel the pain instead of you. why you? why not him? why you? why you?

mahito screams in pure untainted anguish, letting go of your hand and abusing himself for doing it. but he pretends to overcome it. why? because you need him. you need him to save you, you can't do it yourself. your soul isn't inside your body, he can see it writhing violently above your body, having been shoved carelessly away as that vile, transparent bitch of a teenage girl stole your body from you.

"FUCK!" mahito screams. he sprints the short few yards from you to your backpack. you're vaguely aware of the sound of all the expensive equipment in your bag falling out into a pile on the blanket you and mahito had laid out on the grass… but you can't respond.

you simply can't.

your own body refuses to follow the order. you're now levitating three or four feet above the ground, still shrieking at the bottom of your lungs in a female voice that doesn't even belong to your body. the feelings cascading violently through your body are painful, serene, terrified, and bloodstained with hate, all at the same time.

a few yards behind you, mahito finds what he's looking for and turns around, running straight at you with a fire of protective rage in his eyes. he jumps onto a tree stump and uses the leverage and momentum to crash into your chest for the second time, slamming a silver cross into the center of your chest, right over your heart. the pain of the sudden landing on the hard ground snaps you back into reality and you finally stop screaming, the wind knocked out of you as you fell on your back.

a pained, shaking gasp tears out of the bottom of your lungs, and bile rises up into your throat as your now incredibly traumatized soul regains control of your body. you roll weakly onto your front, getting up onto your hands and knees, gasping for air. mahito rushes over to you and wraps his arms around your stomach, giving you a heimlich maneuver and forcing you to throw up, releasing the bitter-tasting white liquid from your throat.

you spit out what doesn't come out quickly, greedily inhaling another pound of oxygen and sitting back onto your calves as your heart finally starts to slow down. you feel mahito's trembling arms pull at your shoulders, and you let him pull you backward until your head lands softly in his lap. his shaking hand touches your forehead and he begins to play weakly with your hair, trying his best to comfort you.

"are-are you ok-kay, m-m/n?" he asks weakly.

"n-nuh-uh…" you say quietly in a weak, high-pitched voice. you lay there for barely a minute before you feel mahito's body stiffen up, and your heart starts to race again. you force your eyes open, looking up into his to see that he's staring up at something a few feet away from you. you sit up, looking up at what he's looking at, and you scream again, backing up on your hands, moving unsteadily backwards in a frantic, ridiculous-looking crab walk.

the teenage girl- or whatever the fuck it actually is- is standing there again, exactly where she had been when she had appeared.

mahito gets up again without hesitation, not wanting her to get her disgusting, malevolent claws on you again. he pulls something out of his pocket- a small glass bottle- and yanks off the cap, throwing the little object at her face. she screeches wildly, a sound that is sure to be heard miles away, her vile clawed hands scratching violently at her eyes, then she explodes in a violent cloud of black smoke, the explosion shaking the ground.

mahito turns and all but teleports back to you, his weight shoving you back into the grass as he hugs you tighter than he's ever held you before. he whispers sweet comforts and nothings into your ear, letting you bawl violently into his neck and shoulder for half an hour before you slowly start to regain composure. only then does he speak.

"we're leaving, bunny."

bunny… that name. it makes you feel better. not much just yet, but… a little bit.

you nod furiously, letting him take you by the waist and pull you into his lap. your equilibrium nearly fails you and it's your turn to fall into his chest, your arms coming out reflexively to wrap around his shoulders for support. he puts his strong hands on your waist and helps you straighten up like the caring friend he is.

then, with absolutely no warning, his lips crash onto yours. your eyes widen in shock and your hand goes to his chest to push him away.

you kind of just let it happen- you've been madly in love with him for the past six years, after all-

and then you realize you just threw up, and your eyes go wide.

"ma-mahi, i taste gross-mph-" mahito cuts you off, pulling you flush against his chest and shoving his tongue into your mouth as he pulls you as close to him as he can possibly get you. his right hand moves from your waist up to your face and he caresses your cheek, then moves down to the back of your neck and pulls you further into the kiss.

"i love you, m/n." he says into your mouth without thinking, "i love you. you're mine, i'm never letting anyone or anything hurt you ever again. never. never-" he kisses you again- "ever," again- "ever."

he eventually lets go of your mouth, finally allowing you to breathe, and you let your head fall into his shoulder. his hand tangles gently into your hand and he pulls you closer, nuzzling his nose against the outer shell of your ear and once again whispering sweet comforts and nothings into your ear, every word caressing your cracked heart like the gentle touch of an angel.

he gently pushes you off his lap and stands up, momentarily leaving with a short comment, "stay here, bunny, i'll be right back." he crosses the clearing and bends over, picking up the glass bottle that you now recognize to be the flask-sized bottle of holy water you had stowed at the bottom of your bag. he smiles softly, returning to your side immediately.

he squats down close-legged-gojo style in front of you and touches your face, pulling you into another soft kiss. he lets his lips linger on yours for a moment before breaking the kiss, thoroughly enjoying the furious pout that adorns your face the second he pulls back.

mahito stands up, grabbing your hand and pulling you up with him. fortunately (unfortunately?) this time, your balance doesn't betray you, and you stand up alright. you're still shaking a little and your legs feel like jelly- but they specifically feel like old jelly that's been left out to harden.

mahito squeezes your hand and pulls you along, picking up your backpack and slinging it around his shoulder with his free hand. you pick up the blanket as you go, shaking the dirt and ants out of it with your free hand and tossing it over your shoulder to hang.

"mahi…" you say softly.

"yeah?" he responds, his voice almost not there.

"how'd you know…" you start, wanting to ask about the holy water. he shrugs. "i jus' did." he says simply, squeezing your hand again. you walk towards the edge of the clearing, and a few steps away, you stop, realizing something.

"the spirit box, mahi."

he turns and looks at you.

"no." he says, his voice betraying a drop of fear.

"but that shit's expensive, mahi!"

he shrugs it off. "i'll buy you another one."

"whaddo you mean, another one??"

he rolls his eyes, grinning. "y'know, one that's NOT dripping with fear and newfound trauma?" he comments, "i ain't letting that energy attach to either of us, that shit's staying here in this accursed clearing. fuck that."

you stared at him, stunned and clearly kind of confused.

he rolls his eyes again and groans. "m/n, have you seen sam and colby?? the reason they're always catching shit is because they're dragging around objects that absorbed fear and negative energy from all the fucked places they've hit up. i ain't about to let that shit happen to me, let alone you."

"oh…" you say, looking down at your shoes as you think about that, your mind finally starting to run again as the flashbacks finally go away. you look up at him and nod.

"that makes sense." you agree, walking forward and tugging mahito along with you. you take continuous deep breaths the whole way out of the forest, and when you get out, you and your new partner in crime run for it. you run across the field, hand in hand with mahito, running all the way back to your house and making a beeline for your bedroom.

back in the clearing, the spirit box continues to play, the harsh static sound of the spirits traveling the radio world filling the empty clearing with fear.

"i'll… find you… m/n." says the box in broken bits of a sentence as it hunts for the words it wishes to use. "this… isn't-"

silence.

"over."

and then the speaker shuts off and starts to tremble in the grass. the red-orange screen turns black and a crack invades its premises, spreading out off the now broken screen. the metal around the screen begins to bend, then the crack in the screen invades the black plastic containing the device's circuitry, spreading directly down the center of the device.

then the broken box turns on.

"blood." it says in a toneless female voice. the air electrifies with the promise of storm, staining the soil with the fear and pain that young boy felt in the clearing that day… a pain that not even the gods above or below will toil to forget.

the sky darkens…

and the earth begins to rain.

#~ | posting #《 heathenscratch ♤#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #mahito jjk #mahito x reader #mahito x male reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jjk men x male reader #anime x male reader #jjk horror #horror fic

33 notes · View notes

carragayer · 5 months

Text

headcanons of my ship obsessions based on my interactions with men

phoenix&miles

phoenix is the kind of guy to be so obvious about his big fat crush on (which is slowly [quickly] developing into being in love with) miles. knowing him, he would definitely try to text miles nonstop about every detail of his life, and he will think miles isn’t responding because he’s tired of his texts and hates him when really miles is just fucking busy😭 and of course miles loves him back, he just has a little (a lot of) internalized homophobia. he’ll come around eventually and kiss phoenix on the lips so hard that they both almost fall over while in his office.

outside the door, gumshoe will hand maya twenty bucks.

nick&jay

nick is the kind of guy who pretends he isn’t romantic as shit, but he is. so before he and jay even get together, he will call jordan, tell her to come over, and then rant about how beautiful jay is for around an hour. he will dwell on anything that is slightly romantic that jay does, and jordan will get so sick and fed up that she will tell jay to “get his ass over to this lovesick man’s cottage”. when jay walks in, he will hear nick say, “oh, jordan, it was just too much, he told me i was pretty.” and when jay appears in the doorway, nick will flush a horrific bright red and go dead silent. jay will kiss him, obviously.

it is so much worse for jordan when they are together.

jedediah&octavius

octavius is a complete and total idiot, and he will realize his feelings for jedediah after everyone else, including jedediah himself, does. will he do anything about it? no! but jed will do something about it, and octy will open his bedroom door in his giant ass diorama to a very distressed jed at two in the morning. and jed, being drunk, will confess his love to octy. and you know what octy will do? he will stand there very awkwardly until the dawn breaks and jed realizes where he is and starts apologizing profusely. and then octy will kiss him.

larry will tell teddy and ahk about it later, and they’ll laugh over it for a while.

#narumitsu #wrightworth #ace attorney #natsby #the great gatsby #night at the museum #natm #jedtavius #yes these are all actually based on my experiences #how upsetting.

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v4voracity · 17 days

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HALF A HEART - COD characters x Poltergeist!reader

POLTERGEIST COD AU

⥇❥"Reader" is a literal ghost, AFAB reader and referred primarily as to as "you", sometimes explicitly referred to as a woman, implied to be British and implied to have died in the 1500s/16th century, though the location isn’t relevant for much other than attempted historical accuracy with her death/why she’s in England. Reader is also not said to be of any skin tone or ethnicity, just that she was *likely* born in England. Reader is from a time when afab people weren't commonly educated and canonically has slight trouble reading and learning after her death since she can't access books or learning materials and had to self-teach herself to read and write after death where she couldn't ask for help, this will probably change though after she meets 141. Said information is slightly relevant to the plot, though I can make an alternate version if people want an amab/gender neutral reader :)

also roach is canonically part of this and has little antenna attachments to his helmet because i said so

⥇❥Word Count: 4096, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ Technically age gap? Reader was born and died long before any cod character ↪ possibly historically inaccurate as i was unfortunately not alive in the 1500s nor most of the following time periods ↪ possibly incorrect depictions of a ‘poltergeist’, as reader is an amalgamation of different types of ghosts/folklore (i mainly just didn't want to use the term ‘ghost’ because it’d be confusing with Ghost the character) ↪ possibly OOC characters ↪ american author writing europeans ↪reader is (basically) rasputin with their death ↪ slight mentions of religion or religious themes (mainly about the afterlife, existence of heaven/hell, and brief mentions of witch trials which were mostly religiously motivated.) ↪graphic description of how reader died (witch trials, so think salem witch trials kind of graphic)

let me know if i missed anything or should edit the content warnings!

Link to main masterlist - Link to HALF A HEART sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

Let’s get things straight. You are, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Deader than a doornail, in-fact, you’ve been dead for almost.. 500 years now? Well, you're rounding slightly but nobody cares for the exact amount of time.

Now, that is a long time to be dead for… Well, a long time to be dead but still conscious; a spirit, ghost, apparition, whatever you wanted to call it. If it weren’t for the fact you were more-so apparition than person, you’d almost say it’s like being alive and immortal for longer than god (or genetics, you weren’t picky) ever intended.

And being ‘alive’ for so long is very boring; especially now that the deep-seeded anger in your heart has faded, those who wronged you long gone and their kin far too distant from them for you to ever wish ill-will towards them. Especially now that the fear you felt, the horrific terror you felt being escorted to your improper grave and the existential dread that hung heavy when you revived, only to realize you hadn’t survived nor been healed for a second chance. No, you were dead; rejected by both heaven and hell, not even worthy for eternal damnation. The only upside to this was that you were still capable of interacting with the living world; more than you could say for the very, very, VERY small number of ghouls you had met in your time of unliving. Apparently you were a bit unusual, you being far more capable and capable of manipulating the living world than the 'run-of-the-mill' ghost.

That being said, your current behavior, which was following around some hunky military men like a lovesick maiden, was totally excusable…

…It wasn’t creepy, no, you weren’t being improper. You were totally just... curious. It couldn’t have been the fact that you died unwed— a pure virgin, hardly having even engaged in romantic acts, as you were devout in your chaste nature. I mean, surely your absolute devotion which led to you never even kissing a man or woman, holding hands or lying with someone earned you a little justification to do… whatever you were doing right now.

Okay, maybe it was a bit creepy. But dying a without so much as ever having ONE cute little date with heated cheeks, bashful giggles, and butterflies in your stomach as your hands brushed each others— FOLLOWED by being forced to go entirely unperceived much less feeling any sort of physical contact or verbal interaction for A COUPLE CENTURIES makes this somewhat understandable.

It’s not like you were really DOING anything, (because, again, that was a wee-bit hard in your current state) you’ve just kind of been following this guy around?

(You followed him around because you overheard people refer to him as ‘Ghost’ and as an actual ghost you found that a little funny)

Then that led to you following his team around. You had, somewhat, messed with the men— not much, mainly flickering lights, closing doors, and moving objects slightly.

There had been slight complaints, but not much indicating they knew they were facing a lonely, dead girl who died unfairly supernatural danger in the form of a poltergeist with abnormally strong powers. Just assumptions that ‘the wiring was faulty’, or that ‘someone must’ve left a window open’, sometimes they just assume someone knocked something over (despite nobody being near said knocked object). Oh, and your favorite was that ‘some stupid recruits moving shit’— speaking of which— the guys you followed were all pretty high-ranking from your understanding and occasionally trained recruits. That was cool in its own right, but it was especially great for you because you could lob stuff at them and get some poor recruit in trouble. It was fun.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t fun enough to keep you entertained. Now, given when you were born and raised it wasn’t a surprise that you weren’t particularly that literate. Your brain (long gone and returned to the ground) wasn’t even physical or attached to you anymore, so it wasn’t a surprise that learning things was often hard for you(something you hated in death, as learning things would help pass the time if it weren't frustrating and near impossible both because you couldn’t access physical hobbies or items like books AND because your brain—or lack thereof— simply didn’t take to information like it used to), but you knew enough of written English to make out most newspapers and documents. Despite that, you had very little clue of the strange ciphers and terms used by the men, even though you had remained mainly around the military base they were staying in for a few months.

…That was until recently, when you decided you were curious enough to try and actually learn about what they’re doing. You were currently following this guy— Captain Price, you think— because from what you knew (as a woman who died in the middle ages, uneducated, illiterate, dying fairly young by today's standards anyways and having lived without ever partaking in any wars or battles and not ever bothering to ask about any) he was the highest rank of the team, followed by that ‘Ghost’ guy you originally followed (he’s called a lieutenant, a word you hated writing or reading because it was so damn hard to spell or even look at), then this ‘Soap’ fella (A sergeant, another word you weren’t a fan of) and then this ‘Gaz’ bloke (Who was apparently also a sergeant, but he was the second? So he was lower? Why did they need two? And why was one rank worse than the other? You didn’t know and frankly found it stupid.) There were also these other people; Shadow Company or something, you didn’t really get it because the guy who they most frequently talked to from that company was white as a sheet, but whatever.

Anyways, recently you found out that while wandering wasn’t an issue for you (you weren’t ever bound to a particular area, probably because your body, or whatever remained of it, was far from where you died, and you couldn’t really remember where you were when you died so you weren’t particularly attached) it was very hard for you to follow after the ‘vehicles’ they used. Sometimes they used these wheeled inventions called ‘cars’ (which were kinda like the horses, carts, and carriages of your time but not shitty). They also had these things— called ‘helicopters’ or something similar with a different name (again, you didn't know why they made things so complicated but whatever) that were able to take them anywhere by air. Pretty cool if it weren’t for the fact it made following them anywhere exceptionally difficult. So you had to go about a different method if you wanted to actually follow them anywhere.

Possession.

Not necessarily like the kind you’d seen in a ghost-related movie you watched over an unwitting couple’s shoulder. It was more so just somewhat attaching yourself to someone, letting part of yourself (probably your soul, if you actually had one) attach to theirs, letting them become a tether into the physical plane. The realm of the living. If you pushed it far you could absolutely do like they do in the movies, but you found that kind of scary since you didn’t know how much of your soul was required for that or if you could be exorcized like in the movies. You really only tethered yourself to someone when you first transitioned into… whatever you were now.

A wraith, at the time, aggressive and vengeful against the man who accused you, the town that raised you then gazed at you hungrily— blaming you for their sins. Calling you a temptress for the beauty you acquired with your maturation, something you were once proud about turned into something you abhorred.

At one point you even felt festering hatred towards the family that raised you. A mother who birthed you only to denounce birthing you, claiming a devil implanted you as a demon of the night that’d ruin their village and took the milk meant for sons, your elder brothers. A father, one who doted on you before as his precious only daughter and youngest, turning his head; unable to watch as you were tied to the pyre and lit ablaze— a man who was cowardly and evasive. The siblings of yours that you grew with— were close with, were cared for by, were raised by!

All for them to pretend they had nothing to do with you. Or to join the crowd’s jeering turned cheers as you sobbed, salty tears unable to extinguish the fast-growing embers. Not one of them dared to correct the executioner’s methods. Witches, despite stigma, were usually hung or otherwise given quick deaths prior to the burning; but you…

Oh, poor, poor you. Things weren’t quite done correctly. You were still alive when they tied you to the post, surrounding you with flammables and letting the flames lick up your body. Catatonic, unable to beg for mercy, for them to kill you properly. Though, even if you were able to speak, you probably wouldn’t beg. You were desperate to survive. When they butchered you like the farm animals you’d skinned many times before with your dear-old-dad. Failed to cut the correct places and left you bleeding, conscious but paralyzed in pain and fear as they dragged your body to a make-shift wooden post in the town center. Never let you burn fully, the triumph leaving their voices when they still saw you, struggling— eyes still moving, hyperventilating as your arms thrashed trying to break the burnt ropes, paralysis spell broken by desperation— still living, still struggling, still surviving.

They didn’t have the courage to finish burning you either.

It'd be a poor choice if you were a witch, since burning was supposed to be done to stop them from cursing people…

Actually, now that you’re thinking about it, maybe you were a witch? Maybe you had somehow sold your soul, and with no soul to give you could enter the afterlife? Maybe that’s why you felt a path of fury when you died? You felt wronged and cursed people for nearly half the first century you found yourself un-living.

Regardless, the cowards backed away from you with wide eyes, and eventually you felt the ropes break, your body barely reacting to what you wanted it to do, stumbling around aimlessly despite your efforts.

All you could do was scramble out the village, betrayed and never wanting to return.

Eventually, you fell to a crawl, dragging yourself through the grass, fingernails caked with a mix of dirt and blood, as if your near-corpse was trying to create a shallow grave every time you scraped them across the ground…

Somehow, you ended up falling into a river. You don’t know if you fell during your crawls or if someone put you in there, just that it was excruciatingly cold and your lungs, shrunken and shriveled by the heat of your incomplete incineration couldn’t get any air. You tried pulling yourself out but you were too far gone. Even then, ‘til the point your eyes closed you never gave up. Maybe you were so against dying your soul remained, even when your body went.

Honestly, you weren’t ever really sure which of those injuries eventually lead to your drawn-out and overdue death, but you didn’t care. What you did care about, upon re-awakening, was revenge, hearing the blood-curdling screams of those who wronged you, those who feigned ignorance, those who lied, and those who threw you out when false accusations came. You were swift in it, tethering yourself to everyone in town, attaching small pieces of yourself meant for one purpose: tracking.

No matter where they went they were damned, your violent-haze, the cravings for others to bear a fraction of your misfortune. You were like a tsunami, quick to approach with little warning, only the quick recession of water to warn those who’d be affected. (Not that your victims knew what a train was, but it was like the equivalent of seeing a train barreling toward you and being unable to move, only able to process what's about to happen.) And you were even swifter to strike, small misfortunes not enough to quell that furious fire inside you— brighter than those that scalded you. All ended in what you thought were well-deserved deaths.

But, that wasn’t what you’d be using them for. Not today, and hopefully never again.

You decided you’d turn up the heat a bit and have these men notice that they were, in fact, haunted and not just clumsy or forgetful. You had an easier time manipulating things when no-one was around, or when someone was alone. Easy prey for the ghoulish you, even if most of these guys could probably have easily broken you in half when you were still alive. It sounded dumb to give yourself away, since they might try to send you back to the rest you used to crave upon first re-animating, but it was necessary to tether yourself.

So… here you were! Fucking around and moving things, only to be met with just minor annoyance by this guy. ‘Price’, for some unknown reason, just seemed minorly peeved by your interactions, not convinced they were supernatural.

You moved his chair and desk(which was pretty hard with how heavy it was) and this guy just groaned about how his superiors treated his office however they wanted when they needed something.

You sent his papers flying, stacks of paperwork sorted neatly into piles of done and yet-to-be looked at, all flying. You flung the pen he used too, sending a blotch of ink onto the floor with the papers, permanently soaking them. Minor annoyance, didn’t even say anything. Just… grumbled.

Hell, you toppled over a WHOLE bookshelf, loud thud echoing as it fell to the ground and all its contents scattered. And this guy? Grumbling about how the flooring was uneven!

If you had a physical body, you’d be beating your head against a wall right now. Seriously, it was frustrating!

You guessed you had done something correctly though, as he seemed annoyed enough to leave his office and go for a walk. Throughout said walk you continued throwing items and flying through his body, which usually caused people immense discomfort, sometimes to the point of causing panic attacks or full-on freak-outs. All that? Yeah, met with a “Bit chilly today.” or a “Someone outta close th’ windows.”

You were offended, to say the least.

Now, you were in a common room with several other people, including those guys, Gaz and Soap, who now talked to the Price fella. It was harder to interact with things, especially with so many people in broad daylight, in light in general. But you surprised yourself when your frustrations and slight anger led to the lightbulbs in the room flickering several times before simultaneously combusting into sparks and broken glass, all electronics—mainly the radios strapped to almost every soldier in the room— with speakers blaring loud static as you flung the nearest object, a bench that you didn't initially notice was bolted to the fucking ground out from it and towards Price, and the other two who surrounded him.

‘Oops..?’

Okay, maybe you weren’t entirely devoid of anger and wrathful vengeance, but you’d like to think your self-control was a lot better than when you first died. You did have around… well, about 400 other years to learn some self-restraint and become slightly less blood-thirsty?

ANYWAYS; Lucky for you they all managed to dodge that heavy and fast approaching bench! good thing they were all trained soldiers who were always on guard Oh, and even better everyone in the room now looked at the uprooted bench with wide eyes and terrified expressions! So… mission accomplished?

Well, sort of?

“The hell?!” Everyone in the room backed towards whatever wall was nearest to them, behind unmoved furniture, or otherwise tactically covered positions as quick as they could, many (including the poor sod you’d been following and the rest of his team) having their guns ready and aimed at the entrances or near the uprooted bench.

…Yeah, you didn’t really wanna deal with this.

So you floated off, through the walls pretending your problems didn’t exist, as you usually did.

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

You came across something pretty interesting, that Ghost guy was doing some strange hand gestures to this other masked fella (why was everyone here covered almost head to in something?). For a moment you thought they were trying to summon something before remembering that the military used hand signals and stuff.

Anyways, you now had a new guy to follow! He looked pretty cool and he had these little things hanging off his helmet that remind you of a bug. Something… was slightly off with this guy though. You could’ve SWORN he was occasionally glancing over at you, or your general area. Ghost, who you couldn’t really tell much expression-wise due to him also wearing a mask, seemed to lift an eyebrow. Or furrow them. You didn’t know, you just saw his forehead area shift a bit under the mask.

“You 'lright?” He turned and glanced over at you, where his bug-like friend kept glancing. Bug-fella looked over at you for a few more moments before shaking his head and gesturing at Ghost again. Ghost seemingly returns to his resting facial position and glances back towards your general direction, not quite as spot on as his friend was. “Y' just keep looking over there, ‘was wondering why.”

Ghost loses interest quickly, turning away from where his friend was staring, resuming his silent communication with the still-unnamed lad, hand gestures becoming far too fast for you to even comprehend what they were doing even if you did understand what the gestures meant. After a short while of just floating around and watching them, Ghost gives the shorter man a light bump to the shoulder with his fist (seemingly friendly?) and turns to leave. “See y’ round.”

It’s just you and Bug-boy now. The room empty, and his eyes (not that you can see them, he’s wearing a helmet and goggles that are practically solid with how heavy the glass is tinted) are aimed directly at you. You float over, hovering a good foot or two off the floor because the ground and gravity were for cowards, and stop a few inches away from him. He reaches a hand up towards you, only for it to quickly phase through your arm, then your torso, then back into the air. He’s startled by the feeling, you can tell, shivering as goosebumps raise on his arm and his hair stands on end, you can tell because of his sleeves being bunched up at his elbows.

“Sorry.” you say, not even sure if he’d hear you. Maybe this was some weird coincidence and he couldn’t actually see you. Though, to your utter surprise and slight delight he kind of waves it off, making gestures (full body ones this time, not the hand-signals you couldn’t quite understand) that you could interpret as meaning ‘not to worry about it’. Your eyes widened, before breaking into a big grin. “Wait, wait, wait, you can see me? You heard me— can hear me?!” He nods, looking at you, observing, then gesturing with his hands again.

You.. feel a little bad that you don’t understand whatever military signs this must be, tilting your head and frowning. “I… I don’t understand. Sorry, I don’t know much about the military signals or whatever you were using. The code signs and words you guys use weren’t around when I lived. Or died.” He seems a little confused, then brings out a rectangle from his pocket— a phone, new invention and quite useful. It lights up as he puts in the code and opens something, pressing at the glass.

After a moment he turns it towards you. It… takes you a little to adjust to the brightness (and to read the small letters, given your eyesight and low-literacy). “Give me a second, it takes me a minute to read.” In your peripheral he nods, though you don't move your gaze away from the screen.

“That’s fine, not many people know sign language. It’s not a military signal, just a way I communicate since I’m mute.” You read his words aloud, relatively slowly and he nods after you’ve read it; confirming you’ve read it correctly.

You glance back up at him. “Mute… So you… can’t speak? Right?” Another nod, then he turns the phone back to himself, rapidly pressing the screen and turning it back again. You read again, “What are you? How are you floating, and why’d my hand go through? Why were you watching us?” You hum, floating away from him slightly, sinking slightly to a sitting position, though still remaining affixed in the air and not sitting on an actual chair.

“Well, I’m dead. I guess you could call me a spirit, spectral, a ghost…” you chuckle a bit at the last one. “Well, maybe not that last one, it seems your friend already occupies it.” You lean forward again, nearly doing a backflip in the air before stopping in a lying position, holding your head in your hands. “I guess me being dead physically but alive… consciously, or spiritually I guess..? Resulted in me being incorporeal, thus not really touchable by people or gravity.” He nods at your words before motioning for you to continue when you pause.

You avert your eyes. “Well, watching people is all I usually can do. Incorporeal and all. I’m not sure how you can see me when I’m not manifested or tethered to you, but it’s nice…” Smiling sheepishly, you can only hope this guy— the only person you’ve actually talked to in a long, long, time— isn’t grimacing under his mask. You hesitate before reaching out towards him, running a finger down his throat in thought, forgetting it'd just phase through. “Maybe it's because you can't speak? It's not a sense but it's like maybe because you don't have one thing your other senses are better? But back to your prior questions. Being dead is… boring. All I can really do is fuck with people and watch stuff. You and your friend, Ghost, and his other… teammates are just what have caught my interest recently.”

He nods and trots over to a nearby bench, you grimace thinking about the mischief you caused slightly earlier by throwing a bench at the captain. Let’s hope your bug-friend doesn’t overhear that and stop talking to you. “What’s your name?” He types, and turns the phone to you, a single word there. “Roach? Like… the bug?” your mouth quirks into a crooked smile and you giggle, flicking the antenna like attachments to his helmet. “Fitting, you got the antennas and everything!”

Floating down onto the seat, you try your best to sit on it, your bum and thighs slightly phasing through the seat but it's fine. ‘Roach’ begins typing on his phone again, having it set on his thigh so you can watch while he types. It was also probably just in case someone came in or saw him and so he wouldn’t look crazy turning his phone around to nothing (from other people’s perspectives).

“People can’t usually see you?”

You sigh and lean back, accidentally reclining into the wall and to the other side before realizing he probably won’t be able to hear you if you speak. “Oops, I forgot I’d phase through. Uh, yeah they usually can’t unless I’m actively haunting them and choosing to. It takes a lot of energy to do that though, so…” He nods and hovers his fingers over the phone, thinking for a moment.

“What's your name?”

You hum, thinking for a moment. You... haven't had to introduce yourself to anyone in centuries.

"This... well, it's a little embarrassing, but I can't remember."

"Why don't I call you 'Poltergeist' for now then, since Ghost is taken?" You smile at him, your cheeks feel like they've heated up slightly, but not from the lingering burn you got after your death, no, it was the burn of happiness. Giddy from this guy giving you a name, almost like you were a stray. You shouldn't be this happy, clinging to him and internally deeming him your new best friend, but you were.

Your undeath began a new chapter today, now living as 'Poltergeist' (at least until you remembered your name) with your new ghost-inclined friend Roach.

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