#i just have basically every detail memorized

[denaliwrites]

Dance on a Tightrope of Weird

Crowley x GN!Reader

Summary: Crowley was not expecting you to lose your shit when he asked what you were reading.

Soundtrack: Crazy = Genius by Panic! at the Disco

Requests: Open!

Warnings: The ravings of a madwoman. (It's me, I'm the madwoman.)

It wasn't unusual for Crowley to find you tucked away somewhere in the bookshop reading one of the countless old books Aziraphale kept around. You liked classic literature, and history, and philosophy, and who knew whatever other subjects you happened to find lying around the place.

What was unusual, however, was finding you sat in his usual armchair, reading what was decidedly not a two-hundred-year-old first-edition copy of the random novel you'd decided to bury yourself in that day.

He paused in front of you, carefully tilting the book you held up so that he could look at the cover.

"Dead Mountain?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked so high you could see it over the rim of his sunglasses.

"No, no," you said, a fire immediately lighting in your eyes. "No. Don't even get me started. This is fucking insane."

Crowley never was one to listen to your advice. "Oh?" he prompted casually, and suddenly a chair appeared behind him that he, without looking, flopped down into and sprawled across.

"No, because--"

He loved watching you read. The quiet intent, the way your face moved in tandem with whatever emotions the text wanted you to feel. He'd once walked in on you sobbing along with some tearjerking novel (as a side note, that was the first time Crowley had found himself wanting to kill a book?), and another time he'd walked in on you cheering over something... triumphant, he assumed, or at least something like that.

This was different. New.

He loved it too. The fevered look in your eyes, the frustrated set of your jaw. The way your hand, shaped like a predator's claws, gripped his knee tightly in excitement.

"This is--" you were saying, and Crowley startled back into the moment, eyes on you, attention now unwaveringly on your blazing gaze. "This is so fucking insane. I can't get over this."

"Over what, darling?" he asked, and your gaze sharpened on him, as if only just realizing he was there.

"Do you know about the Dyatlov Pass Incident?"

It sounded familiar. "Tell me all about it, darling."

"Oh, you're gonna regret that."

He wouldn't. Not ever.

"Okay, so -- Soviet Russia. 1959. Middle of winter. These nine hikers -- actually, it was originally ten. These ten experienced hikers go into the Ural Mountains to, like. Upgrade themselves? 'Cause I guess there are levels to being a hiker, and you have to go on increasingly more difficult hikes to level up. So all ten were level two or whatever, and they were going on a level three hike to upgrade to level three."

He nodded, even though all the information was secondary in his attention. He just liked listening to you.

"Okay. So they get to this little town, and while they're there, all the locals are telling them shit like, 'Don't go up that mountain,' or 'you'll die up there!' Like, horror movie type shit. The kind of stuff that makes you yell at the TV."

He was familiar with that. You did that a lot -- but so did he.

"Oh, and the mountain they were hiking on? In the local language it's called Kholat Syakhl. Do you know what that means?"

He... he did. He knew what everything in every language meant. But he let you have this, because you were clearly excited. Seeing the way you motioned with the book, he waved toward it and asked, "Dead mountain?"

"Fucking -- dead mountain!"

He chuckled, but otherwise stayed silent.

"So they're getting all these crazy warnings and the mountain is literally called Dead Mountain in the local language, but they decide to go anyway! So they go off, but before they get very far, one of them is like, 'I'm so sick, I can't go on!' and so he tells them he's gonna go back to the town, and they leave without him."

"I take it he's the only survivor?"

You nodded. "Yeah. The other nine kept going. Oh, and another crazy thing -- one of the girls on the trip was keeping a journal? That's how we know about, like... 90% of the things that happened after they left the town."

He nodded. "Makes sense."

"So, because of this girl's journal, right? We know that one of the hikers just, like, fully went off his fucking rocker about a day into the trip."

"What?" Crowley asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Yeah! He started getting really antsy, and he kept shouting stuff at seemingly nothing? He yelled, like, 'Stop following us!' and stuff like that. At nothing!"

Crowley, for effect, took his sunglasses off so that you could see his surprised look.

"Anyway. So they keep going, even though literally everything that could ever say 'turn back' is saying 'turn the fuck back!' They got off course --"

"As you do."

"As you fucking do. They got off course and decided to hunker down for the night and retrace their steps in the morning. They set up camp, went to bed, and then they all fucking died."

"Oh, I imagine there's more to it than that," Crowley said.

The grin on your face was bordering on manic. "Oh, of course. First of all, according to the girl's journal, two of the hikers went batshit, started laughing hysterically for no reason, and then took off into the night, never to be seen again -- well, not alive, anyway."

"Ominous," Crowley observed thoughtfully.

"Right? And the other weird thing about that -- well, pre them all dying. There was, according to the girl, a big, glowing orange ball of light in the sky that night. They have a picture of it," you said, turning the book so that he could see. "Of course, it's in black and white, but still. And -- the craziest part of that, is that there were hikers on the other side of the mountain on the same night who confirmed the big glowing orange ball of light!"

Crowley's mouth dropped open.

"I KNOW! And then -- their deaths are even more bizarre! First of all, they cut their way out of their tent? Like, they didn't just -- open it and leave. They cut. Their way out. And then they ran down the side of the mountain into the trees. No one's really sure how anything else happened, but what we know for sure is that three of them were found a little up the mountain, like they'd been trying to make their way back up."

"Mhm."

"And two were found naked -- right at the edge of the trees, under one of the bigger ones. Some branches in the tree were broken in a way that seems to indicate that they were trying to climb up and get a view of the camp. There were also remains of a fire beside the bodies. We don't know for sure why they were naked, but the theory is paradoxical stripping."

"And what's that?" Crowley asked, even though he knew.

"It's when you're so cold that you start to feel hot, and so you take off all your clothes."

Demonic work, he was sure.

"So that's five of them. They were found shortly after they died. The other four weren't found until a few months later, after the spring thawed a lot of the snow."

"Why weren't they found right away?"

"Because they were found in a ravine about a mile past the treeline! Three of them were found in a stream in this ravine. One of them had a piece of her skull missing? And all of them had major trauma to their chests -- like, high-speed impact by a delivery truck kind of major impact. To this day, no one's sure what the fuck caused that kind of damage."

Crowley clicked his tongue in thought.

"And the last one -- she was found sitting up against a big boulder? The official report describes her like that. Sitting up against a boulder. She had, like, chunks of her face missing? And her tongue was missing. Like, the whole thing."

"You specified the official report," Crowley observed. "Is that important?"

"Oh! Yes! Because the pictures of the area? They show her as laying face down in the stream with the others!"

"That's suspicious."

"Right? On top of all that, their bodies had traces of radiation! Not their clothes, though, or their belongings. Just the bodies."

Crowley hummed.

"Oh! And their tent -- when authorities found the tent, it looked like it had been put up by amateurs. Like, level zero hikers. But these were level two hikers doing their level three hike. There's no reason their tent would've been put up like that. Even if they were in a rush or scared or whatever, it would've been put up at least sort of better."

He nodded in understanding.

"It's just -- it's all so crazy!"

"I can tell," he mused aloud, lips quirking into a smirk at your perplexed and frustrated expression.

"The thing with the girl's face is really weird," you said after a moment of thought. "The theory is scavengers, but reports of the incident specify there were no animals in the area. Like, I feel like if there were scavengers, you'd write down 'no predators,' or even 'no wolves or bears.' But no, they wrote, very specifically, 'no animals.' Like, I dunno, it just feels like that's a weird distinction to make. But then, if there weren't any animals, how did her face end up with bits missing?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"And why lie about her, too? Why move her and put her in the stream when the report literally says she was up against the boulder?"

He shrugged, before shifting forward to grip your knee.

"I just -- it's all so crazy, and weird, and -- and --"

"Oh," Crowley interjected, looking thoughtful. "Now I know why that all sounds familiar."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, that was demonic work," he continued, blissfully unaware of your increasingly maddening expression. "I'm pretty sure that was my side."

"So you -- you know what happened?"

He finally caught your expression, the set of your jaw and slight twitch in your eye. "Oh -- yeah. Of course," he said, sounding rather unsure, actually. If anything, that just seemed to aggravate you more. "Space yetis."

"... SPACE YETIS!?"

#crowley x reader #crowley x you #good omens x reader #good omens fic #good omens fan fiction #david tennant #this fic is purely self indulgent nonsense #reader is me #literally #the dyatlov pass incident haunts me to this day #fun fact I did not use google wikipedia or any other source for this fic #i just have basically every detail memorized #like a crazy person

[maybankswhore]

Can u maybe do something we're the reader says something like "I feel so safe w u" to bf jj and it kind of js makes him super happy because he knows she has trust issues

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader , pronouns used are she/her

summary: jj likes knowing he’s your safe place. basically really , really lovey-dovey couple.

warnings: mentions of anxiety , drug use ( smoking a joint with jj on the beach )

The air felt like a blanket as you laid underneath the sky decorations. Staring at the stars that twinkled in the dark , lighting up the high points of your face. Your head rested in JJ’s lap , inhaling the joint that he had rolled for the two of you earlier in the Twinkie , your body feeling at peace.

It was hard for you to relax most of the time. With everything happening , with everything that had happened already , you were constantly on edge. Looking over your shoulder , wondering when the next big wave of disaster would come and wipe you away. You lived in your anxiety , feeling swallowed.

Moments like these were rare. The moments where nothing else mattered. Where you didn’t think of the things that made you sad. Or the things the choices you’d have to make. Your brain felt empty of all things , and it felt so good.

The weed settling in your bloodstream , warming up all those aches and pains that bothered you. Settling the nausea in your stomach and helping you release all those negative energies.

JJ’s presence enveloped you , shielded you from all the bad things the world could create and throw your way. He anchored you to real life , to bring you back to reality when things got too hard. With him , no matter where you were , but especially there— on the beach , in the designated spot the two of you had claimed , was easily your safest and comfiest place.

You were snapped out of your trance , humming when you felt JJ’s calloused fingertips trace over the skin of your face gently. Your eyes fluttered open , looking up at him as he stared at you. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was messy— and looking at him caused your heart to lurch , to feel all the good things being in love could make you feel.

“What’re you thinking about?” JJ questioned , pinching at the scrunched part of your nose.

“You.” You answered softly , reaching up to mirror his actions. Your hands felt every detail of his face , memorizing the way they felt so you’d never forget him , never forget how soft and beautiful he looked even if you’d go blind and never see it again— you’d remember him in the purest part of your soul.

Your answer made him blush , a sheepish smile on his face as he captured your hand and kissed the palm to hide his embarrassment. “Me?!”

“You.”

“About how sexy and hot I am?” JJ joked , making you giggle.

“No.” You shook your head. Sitting up , you crossed your legs and turned to face him , lazily draping your arms around his shoulders. You leaned into him , kissing at his lips softly. He tasted of weed and stale beer , a hint of caramel from the sundae the two of you shared earlier. JJ kissed you back , falling into the way your lips molded with his in it’s own perfect way. Feeling like finding the missing piece to a puzzle you had been working on for years.

“I was just thinking about how I feel.” You said once you pulled away , cupping his cheeks. “How I always feel so safe , so comfortable.” You felt as though your heart was singing. Every book you read , every movie you watched that you used to complain about how cliche they were , how a love like that was only ever in fiction. But it was real , and it was now and you felt JJ heal every part of you that you didn’t know needed healing. He took the bad parts of you and loved them anyway.

Your words had caused a dull ache in JJ’s chest. Not the ache that hurt , but the kind that settled there. The kind he’d only ever feel for you , about you. He always felt like you deserved more because he only had so much to give— but he had never felt more right for you right now. Because to know that you had been able to find safety within in was worth way more than anything money could buy. Hearts swirled in his eyes as he stared at you , taking a mental screenshot of you with your beauty raw— eyes hooded and red , face bare with soft imperfections littered around the skin.

“I feel the same about you.” JJ told you softly , a sweet grin on his face. “I can be whoever I am , in the deepest parts of me that I’m too scared for anyone else to see. You make me feel seen.”

It was just you and JJ there on that beach , under the stars that watched two lovers fall in love over and over again , for as long as they could. For as long as the world allowed.

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks imagines #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank blurb #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank outer banks #obx fanfiction #jj obx #obx imagine #outer banks requests #jj outer banks #jj headcanons #jj x reader

[spencereidluver]

H is for Hold My Hand

summary:  You take a cocky, halloween loving Spencer to a haunted house for his first time. He underestimates how scary it actually is going to be, and ends up being taught a very valuable lesson.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: details of a haunted house. nothing  bad though

Spencer Reid was a big Halloween fan. He loved dressing up and going to haunted houses and eating candy. He was a kid at heart, maybe because he never truly had a childhood. 

This year, you decided to take him to a haunted house on the outside of town. It was an old abandoned house that had been boarded up and condemned for years. A few years back, a family bought it and renovated it, turning it into a movie style horror building. It was one of the top spots in the entirety of Quantico during the month of October.

You decided to take your horror-loving boyfriend there as not only a late birthday gift, but also as a way to celebrate halloween. Because let's be honest, two mid-twenty year olds trick or treating isn’t exactly socially acceptable. After going out for a semi-nice dinner, you and Spencer drove 17 miles east to visit the haunted house.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to a haunted house,” Spencer said to you. His eyes were focused on the road as he made gentle movements of the steering wheel with his left hand. His right hand rested on the midsection of your thigh, gripping ever so slightly.

“Really?” You said. You ran your fingers over his, following the bumps of his knuckles.

“Nope. I’ve always wanted to go but never had anyone to go with.”

“Well, now you do.” He smiled, turning his head and giving you a quick peck on the lips. It took Spencer a few weeks to get used to kissing you. For a while, he would ask every time. Last week, the two of you went to the theater on a date. As this was a silent audience, he didn’t want to interrupt. About half way through the show, you felt the buzz of your phone. “Can I kiss you?” a text from Spencer read. You couldn’t help but giggle out loud, which got you a few shushes. You didn’t mind too much, leaning over and giving him a big kiss. 

Kissing Spencer was something straight out of a romance novel. He had this certain way about him, he was always so passionate. The way his lips moved perfectly in sync with yours was something unpredictable. You always imagined him being a good kisser, with practice of course, but he’d clearly done research.

Spencer pulled into the parking lot of the destination. The owners of the house tore down the shed in the back to pave an area. It’s almost as if they know they’d be a city-wide success. 

It was still slightly light outside, the sun having yet to set. You wanted to wait until dark to go inside. You wanted Spencer’s first haunted house experience to be memorable. Of course, anything with him was memorable, however, you wanted to make this extra special for him. After all, Halloween was sort of his thing, and you were sort of his girl-thing. 

You grab Spencer’s hand and turn to look at him. “Hey,” you say, ensuring to keep your voice calm and steady, “I’m not saying you will, but if you do happen to get too scared, we can leave.”

“Y/n, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he says. “I work for the damn FBI.”

“I know Spence, but this is different.” “Yeah. It’s fake.”

He really didn’t know what he was getting into.

“Yeah, it’s fake, but it almost makes it more scary. The people here can touch you, and it’s loud, and basically it’s all the stuff you hate grouped into one thing that you somehow love.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you if I’m scared. But I’ll be fine, y/n.”

He was completely clueless. For one, you were going to prove him wrong. You just knew it. The two of you exit the car, meeting in the front and interlocking hands. Spencer rubs his thumb on the back of your palm and swings your arm back and forward with your steps. 

As you approached the steps to the house, Spencer’s hand began sweating. Yeah, he was nervous, but he’d never ever admit it. He liked to seem strong in front of you, though he’d be the first one to cry if he stepped on a bug. There was something so innocent about him. He just, he was different. 

_____

The line to get in was long, but it moved fast. The entryway to the house was filled with those fake spiderwebs. Those always made Spencer sneeze. The majority of your time in there was spent with Spencer’s arm over his mouth and you trying to convince the people ahead of you he wasn’t sick. 

As you approached the entrance to the basement- where the haunted house started- Spencer began to get giddy. He was so excited, like a kid in a candy store. Except he was a Spencer in a scary house that he was allergic to.

You enter the doorway to the steps that lead to the basement. Spencer trails behind you, walking a little slowly and paying careful attention to each spooky detail on the wall. He held a loose grip on your hand and let you lead him down the stairs. 

As you enter the actual attraction his grip tightens significantly. There was a coffin slightly ajar that had fake blood dripping out from the bottom. A plastic severed hand lay at the gape of the door. Spencer inched closer to you and hid his face in your hair. You silently laughed to yourself and continued walking forward.

As you continued through the basement, there was lots of fake blood and red stained sheets covering walls and pieces of furniture. They did a good job of creepifying this place. There was a fog machine plugged in somewhere, and from out of the fog popped a man draped head to toe in blood stained clothing. He jumped out in front of you and Spencer, screaming into your faces. He then ran back into the fog, knocking over a stack of ceramic plates causing a loud crash. Spencer jumped. Literally, jumped. He pressed his body into yours, attempting to hide behind you. You turn around to look at him.

“You sure you can handle this, Spence?” You ask him. “We can leave if you want to.”

“No, I’m fine. Can you just hold my hand?” He answers, looking into your eyes, almost as if he was too scared to grab your hand himself. You smile at him, taking his hand and dragging him to the next room and through the rest of the basement.

next chapter: I is for "I Knew It!"

a/n: hey guyyys sorry it's been a bit since the last chapter, i've been working a lot and had finals. i really hope i'm able to get back on the grind, but no promises. i hope you all are having a good holiday season! also, i would just like to say that chapter M is a christmas themed story, however it is non secular and celebrated for gifts with the team, not the birth of the christian god. i want to try to make all my stories inclusive to whomever and be able to read across all races and religions. have a wonderful night :)

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @lotus-ignis @sammy-4103 @ktssstuff

@ada--44 @moongirl27 @monfleurr @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @ariianelle @iiheartbowie

@spencerreidismybitch @traderjoesmints @ivyflowers13 @hades-disappointment-child @aceofspades190 @taygrls @hookergutss

@random-3455 @nmw-am @bookworm124 @hizzielover @jem08 @cherrybowbabby @theofficialfunk

@hookergutss  @skylions-den @smalltownbeautyqueen @spencereidapologist @lunajay33 @novaeatsworld @pleasantwitchgarden

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

[nyonyen]

NSFW ALPHABET - randal

AO3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

inseparable, attached to you like a damn lamprey (mouth included)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

randal loves his tongue and how uncomfortable it makes you when he tries to lick your eyeballs he loves your stomach, he never fails to make you painfully aware that there’s only so much separating your insides from the outside

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

as for any hentai obsessed scum, he wants it all over you, no place uncovered. he’ll milk himself dry to make his own bukkake hentai, you know?

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

is there anything dirty about him that he keeps secret? well, maybe that he tends to prefer bottoming, or at least being forced into submission

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

hell naw. he-hell naw. randal’s nge doujinshis do not have any anatomical knowledge that could help!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

spooning 100%, especially when you’re still asleep. just slip it to the side… it’s very convenient, and lets him easily breathe down your neck

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s neither serious nor unserious, he just is

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

plucks each hair out with a pair of tweezers because it’s funny

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

full blown obsession. randal likes to call himself a yandere type when it comes to you, and is he wrong?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

whenever the time arises, which is often, he plants himself face first, ass up, and jerks it crazy style

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

literally anything humiliating he is game for, receiving & giving. he also has a thing for making other people watch… forced voyeurism? he’s quite thankful for the hierarchy poster

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

in the woods, and in his coffin

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

nosebleeds, upskirt shots in anime (ecchi ecchi!), online arguments… what doesn’t get randal going?

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

uh…

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

in a perfect world, every time would be a 69, that’s his attitude towards it. addicted to fucking your face, and having you suffocate him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

incredibly rough, no matter the speed

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

since his opinion on cum is quite… extreme, it is a bit hard to do quickies. however, when has that ever stopped randal?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

duh. if there’s something erotic randal doesn’t know about, he’d be surprised

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

as long as it takes, that’s his prerogative!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

addicted to toys. if there’s anything that can make you and him squirm beyond belief, he needs to have it. he’s partial to bunny vibes

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

teasing is randal’s middle name (probably). will deny you orgasms constantly, but rarely follows through. you just look so cute when you cum!

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

the loudest ever. luther scolds him day in and day out, but he physically can’t hold back. maybe gags are something you should explore?

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

draws doujins of you and him. it's incredibly cringy, but man... he definitely memorized your body. look at the detail!

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

5-inch, curved to the side (we know why)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

insatiable. utterly insatiable, so please watch out for internal bruising, okay?

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

relishes in watching you sleep, so it depends on whether or not he wants to continue the pleasure in a shared dream :)

#randal ivory x reader #ranfren x reader #✎

[damp-gravelove]

I like to think that Julia in the Toxicule would also be weirdly obsessive but not in any outwardly aggressive way, just kinda like “Hey Ashley! Are you sure you wanna try that flavor of ice cream? On Thursday the seventh of last month at 7:46 pm while you were sitting on the couch you talked about how you find pistachio flavored stuff gross and I looked into this place’s flavors and that one has a pistachio ice cream base!”

Ashley and Andrew are like “… Our Love what are you talking about?” And she’ll do the same with Andrew too, just somehow having every word said ever memorized. At first it weirds the two out before they go “Okay she agreed to join an incest polycule I guess there had to be something going on.”

They end up kinda finding it hot, Ashley especially is like “ohhhh she remembered such a small but meaningful detail I can’t not let her fuck me”. Julia is completely normal aside from this.

Basically this image:

#apologies I’m still not really writing #writers block is kicking my ass #grub speaks #the Toxicule #the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #ashley graves #andrew graves #tcoaal julia #andrew x ashley #ashley x andrew #shipcest #gravecest #coffincest #proshipper safe #proshippers please interact #andrew x julia #julia x andrew #julia x ashley #ashley x julia #Andrew x Julia x Ashley #Toxicule

[topguncortez]

Opposites Attract 2- J. Seresin

pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x shy female!reader word count: 5.6k (Issa long one) warnings: top gun shit, mentions of death, mentions of sexual themes, angsty synopsis: The day of the faithful uranium plant mission is upon us, who will return home to their loved ones, and who will not. part 1

a/n: I will probably be making Opposites Attract into a mini series! let me know what you would like to see in it! also request are still open!!

Hangman had never liked deployment day, and he grew to hate it even more when he met his wife. He hated having to leave his friends and belongings behind to spend months on end on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean. When he was young and single, he loved it. He would almost volunteer for any chance to go out to sea, but that all changed when he met Y/N. The first time he ever left her was the hardest. Being in the middle of the ocean, no way to contact her, no way to hear her voice or see her. The only thing he had from her was a letter she had stuffed into his duffle bag when he wasn’t looking. He would read that letter every night to the point he had basically memorized it. The second his boots hit the ground in Coronado Island, he was running to go find her. 

The goodbyes never got easier, but the welcome homes did. Hangman could hardly keep himself contained as he would stand on near the edge of the aircraft carrier, as they would salute as they came into dock. He’d have to constantly remind himself not to run in his dress uniform, that the admirals and captains were watching him, but he would fail himself and take off running towards her. And She was always there, waiting for him. From just standing by herself, to supporting a growing baby bump, to holding a small child on her hip, Y/N never missed when Jake would come home off the ship. 

Now, Jake prayed he’d be able to have that moment again. 

Jake knew Phoenix had probably told Y/N a little more detail than what Jake was willing to give to her. But that night after putting Alex to bed, Jake walked into their shared bedroom and found her crying on the bed. His heart broke at the sight, and he moved to her quickly, wrapping her in his strong arms as she cried. 

“Please,” She hiccuped, “Please come home.” 

“I will do everything I possibly can to come home,” Jake said to her, and kissed her temple. 

That night Jake helped her unwind, knowing her mind was running a mile a minute. He drew her a bath, filled it with the lavender scented bubble soap she loved so much. He helped her undress and made sure to tell her how beautiful she was. He lit some candles he found lying around the house, and helped her get into the bath. Jake sat on the ground by the tub, holding her hand and answering any questions she may have about the mission to the best of his ability. 

“So you’ll still be gone for three days?” Y/N asked. 

“Yes, a day to get out there, the mission day, and a day to come home,” Jake answered. He knew he should’ve just told her about it to begin with instead of dancing around the details. 

“So this. . .mission, plan thing, you don’t know who’s actually going on it? Captain Mitchell hasn’t told anyone yet?” 

“No,” Jake sighed, “Kind of annoying too that we don’t know who’s flying with who yet. But there will be six of us, two foxtrot teams, two solo pilots.” 

“And the goal is to just fly in and blow up this plant thing and then fight these missile things and come home.” 

Jake smiled, he loved hearing her try to explain his job. Y/N had grown up around the Navy, her dad being a WSO prior. She knew a little bit more than the average person, but at the same time she didn’t want to know. She would rather live in a world where she didn’t need to know her husband was flying at supersonic speeds to destroy the enemy a hundred some feet above the pacific ocean in his own flying death trap. But, whenever she did talk about it, her face would light up with this sort of childlike innocence, that reminded him of Alex, and it would bring a smile to his perfectly chiseled face. 

“That’s the goal,” Jake nodded, “If everything goes well-” 

“You survive,” Y/N said, “But if it doesn’t. . . someone comes home with a flag draped over their body.” 

Jake looked down at their hands. It was times like these where Jake wished he could’ve found an easier calling in life, like a doctor or math teacher. Y/N had heard the screams of wives and mothers as they opened the door to see two naval officers in uniform. Or watched as an officer stepped off the ship first, carrying a perfect folded flag and walked over to one of the family members waiting. Y/N could remember her stomach dropping as she watched an officer walk directly towards her, folded flag in his white gloved hands. She felt like she was going to be sick as he handed the flag to the woman next to her. Y/N had to act quickly and hold her up as her knees gave out and she screamed so loudly, the sound would stay with Y/N forever. 

“Hey,” Jake said, and moved to wipe a tear falling from her eye, “Don’t think like that, okay. I know it’s scary, but I am flying with the best of the best. We will all do what we can to come home, that’s our main goal, is to come home.” Y/N sniffled and nodded, nuzzling into the warmth of Jake’s hand, “Now come on, before the water gets cold.” 

“No,” Y/N pouted, “I wanna stay here forever!” 

“You’re like Alex,” Jake laughed, “Come on, sweetheart, can’t have you turning all wrinkly on me.” 

“Would you still love me if I was?” 

“Sweetheart, I will always love you, even when we are both old and wrinkly,” Jake smiled and leaned in to kiss her soft pink lips. 

That night Jake held her close, neither one bothered to wear anything to bed, sleeping completely naked. Y/N used to shy away whenever Jake would look at her body. She would cover herself up, or make him close his eyes and turn around. The first time Jake had ever seen her completely naked, he just wanted to stare at her for hours. She was perfect, every single thing about her. Jake took his time memorizing her curves and lines, telling her how perfect she was. She slowly got more comfortable with being nude around him and letting him see her. Jake about creamed his pants the first time she ever walked over in lingerie. He had no idea she could be such a minx. But now, it was almost second nature for them to sleep somewhat, if not completely nude, wrapped in each other's arms, feeling each other in their most vulnerable state. 

When the sun came up the next day, the two of them fell in sync getting each other ready for a busy day. Y/N and Jake both made breakfast, as Y/N prepared lunch for him to take. Jake also got Alex up too, the little boy only seemed to be happy waking up when it was Jake who got him out of bed. Y/N smiled at her two boys as Jake walked in carrying him on his hip. 

“Morning, love,” Y/N said and kissed his cheek, “We got a fun day planned. Penny is going to take us sailing!” 

“Penny?” Jake asked, looking at her, “Since when do you talk to Penny?” 

“Since she told me about the farmers market when I was at the grocery store the other day,” Y/N shrugged and went back to making Jake’s lunch. 

Jake nodded and kissed Alex’s temple before setting him down, only for him to run straight to Y/N. Jake was happy that Y/N was slowly breaking out of her shell. He worried about her when he was gone on missions or detachments like this one. She was shy, and tends to stick to herself. He remembered some of the hard phone calls when Alex was a newborn. Y/N would break down and beg for Jake to come home, or even threaten to leave and move back to San Diego to be closer to her family. She felt alone, she had no one there in Lemoore. But overtime, she had taught herself how to ask for help when she needed it and found solace in some of the older navy wives in their neighborhood. Now, being down in San Diego for the time being, she had found a friendship in the local bar owner. 

It made Jake happy, knowing that if something were to happen while he was gone, Y/N wouldn’t be alone while planning his funeral. The last thing he ever wanted to do was leave her alone to have to plan his funeral on her own. He had taken the precaution, and written down most of what he wanted. All the details, including his will and letters to his family were tucked away in a manila envelope that usually sat in the bottom of his desk at home. But for this mission, he had taken it with him, and it sat in the bottom of her suitcase. 

The days went and faded into the next. Jake spent as much time as he could with Y/N and Alex. And the rest of the squadron seemed to want to spend time with the two of them as well. They had become a small family in the matter of two weeks, all of them knowing the weight of the situation at hand. Y/N had even opened her home to them the night of Admiral Kazansky’s funeral, letting them drink and eat their sorrows away. She had only met the Admiral once, when she was young and her dad was still in the service. 

Alex had made new friends, calling them Uncle Bob, Uncle Rooster (much to Hangman’s dismay), and Aunt Phoenix. Jake had even gotten both Alex and Y/N on base one day so Alex could see some real planes take off and land. The little boy would not stop talking about how cool it was to see Maverick fly over them upside down. Y/N almost had a heart attack when Jake came home telling her that Bob and Phoenix had to make an emergency ejection. She insisted on inviting them over for a meal and sending them home with plenty of leftovers and homemade cookies. 

The dread morning of the mission, Jake didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to pack his duffle bag, or zip up his flight suit, or put his boots on, or shave his face. He wanted to lay in bed and hold his wife close to his chest. But, he woke up to a cold bed, and his wife was not by his side. Jake pushed himself out of bed, scanning the dark room. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, so he was very confused where his wife was. She was not a morning person, no matter how many early mornings she had with Jake, going to drop him off or pick him up, she hated mornings. 

Jake shuffled down the dark hallway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he made his way to the room his son was in. His heart broke at the sight in front of him. Y/N holding Alex in her arms, rocking him as he sniffled against her chest. The soft glow of the lamp showed the little boy’s red nose and eyes, and his blonde hair sticking to his forehead. He looked like he was sweating but he was shaking as Y/N pulled him in closer and adjusted the blanket on him. 

“Hey, I didn’t think-” 

“Is he sick?” Jake asked, walking over to them. 

Y/N sighed, “Running a little bit of a fever. He came in and woke me up, he wet the bed.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Jake asked, kneeling down in front of the two. He ran his hand softly over the sleeping boy’s cheek. 

“You need your sleep. It’s a very important day.” 

“Screw sleep. Screw the mission. He’s sick.” 

“You can’t go AWOL.” 

“I can try and pull some strings. I’ll call your dad and-” 

“You can’t,” Y/N whispered, and leaned forward to place her hand on Jake’s cheek to stop his rambling, “You can’t. As much as I would love for you to stay here with us, you can’t. We will be okay.” 

“But what if you have to take him-” Jake knew she hated going to the doctor’s. She felt as though they never really listened to her, and would talk over her head using medical jargon that was hard for really anyone to understand. Jake would go with her, to help her ease her nerves and hold her hand. 

“I will be fine. We will be fine,” She tried to assure him, but Jake could see through it. He could see through it anytime he left, but all he could do was nod. There was no arguing when it came to her, or the contract he signed to protect and serve. So, he pushed himself up from the ground, kissed her softly and began to get ready to ship out. 

Y/N sat in Alex’s room, still holding him as he slept, and looked up at the ceiling, trying to push back tears from falling. She leaned her head down, and placed her lips to the top of Alex’s soft blonde hair, and sniffled back tears. She could hear Jake shuffling about their room, packing things away and putting his flight suit on. Jake paused and looked at the purple suitcase that she had open on her side of the bed. He was yet to tell her about the envelope at the bottom of her suitcase. He felt his throat tighten up as he walked over, kneeling down and dug to the bottom, pulling it out. He felt his hands shake as he placed it on top of their freshly made bed.  He placed his elbows on the bed, and folded his hands in prayer as he closed his eyes. 

“Please God, let me come home to them,” Jake whispered. He opened his eyes to see the first rays of the morning sun start to peek over the horizon. He knew it was time to go. 

Y/N had gotten up from Alex’s room, but still held him in her arms. He was somewhat awake now, as she had him on her hip and was making Jake something to eat that he could take with him. Jake placed his duffle bag by the front door before making his way into the kitchen. He wanted to freeze the moment forever, watching his wife and son in the kitchen. If the last thing he ever saw was those two, he would have no complaints. Jake made his way over to the two of them, and Y/N gave him a sad smile. He kissed her forehead and took Alex from her arms. He was still sleepy, so he cuddled right into his father, burying his face into his neck. 

“Are you feeling okay buddy?” Jake asked him, running a hand over his blonde locks. 

“My tummy angry,” Alex pouted. 

“I know,” Jake frowned. 

“You gotta leave now, or you’ll be late,” Y/N said, softly and Jake nodded. Jake took her hand as they walked to the front door. He handed Alex back to her as he picked up his duffle bag. 

Rooster was waiting for him in the driveway, his head down and full of thoughts as well. Y/N felt her heart break for him, he didn’t have anyone waiting at home for him. Jake threw his duffle bag in the bed of his bronco, making Rooster lift his head up. It was like deja vu, watching the way Jake held his wife and kissed his son goodbye. Rooster looked at his dashboard, of the picture of his parents and then back at Y/N and Jake. His heart felt heavy as he watched Jake hand Alex back to Y/N, the little boy crying and reaching out for his father. Y/N put a hand on his head, trying to console him, but it was useless. Jake yelled another ‘I Love You’ before turning fast on his heel to get towards Rooster’s bronco. Jake knew it was easier for all three of them to leave fast, than to dwell and spend more time breaking each other’s hearts. 

“Is he okay?” Rooster asked. 

“Yeah,” Jake’s voice cracked. He shook his head and wiped a tear, “Just go.” 

Jake could see in the rearview mirror, his wife standing on the doorstep, holding their crying son, tears falling down her own cheeks as she watched the bronco disappear down the street. She placed her free hand on her belly, rubbing the area softly and saying a prayer in her head. 

— —  — 

The next day was hell. She sat on the beach at the Hard Deck, watching as Amelia and Alex played in the waves together. He was starting to feel somewhat better, and Y/N thought sunshine and giggles would help him feel better. The sun made her feel better than sitting in the house and staring at the clock, waiting for the hours to pass by agonizingly slow. 

Penny frowned at the sight of the young woman, sitting in the sand alone watching the two kids. That had been her once, waiting for any sort of notice that Maverick was alive and not lying dead somewhere. She was more than happy to keep Y/N distracted, knowing it wasn’t easy being the one left behind. Penny walked down from the deck and sat in the beach chair next to her, handing her a glass of lemonade. 

“How are you feeling?” Penny asked her. 

“Want me to lie?” Y/N asked, not turning her head from the little boy who was giggling as Amelia splashed him, 

“That wouldn’t do us any good.” 

“Well, if my timing is correct, he’s either flying towards the uranium plant or he’s sitting on the aircraft carrier,” Y/N said looking down at her watch, “I wish it was none of those.” 

“How far along are you?” Y/N snapped her head towards her. She opened her mouth to protest but Penny held her up, “When I ran into you at the store you had saltines and ginger ale in your cart, I’m guessing to help with morning sickness. And that first night at the Hard Deck, you had nothing but water and lemonade the whole night. You also have this glow about you.” 

“Eight weeks,” Y/N said, her voice tight, “I haven’t told him. I was going to before we came down here but. . .there was never a good time. And now he might die and never-” 

“Oh honey,” Penny said and pulled the girl in for a hug, “What can I help you with while you’re here?” 

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, pulling back from her. She wiped her eyes and looked at her wedding ring, “I guess all I can do is wait. He. . . Jake has this envelope, he’s had it since we first got together. It has everything in it, everything I could possibly need if he,” Y/N’s lip trembled and she choked back a sob, “Darn hormones, I’m not usually this weepy when he leaves.” 

“It’s okay,” Penny smiled and grabbed her hand. 

“It has all his wishes and stuff written down in it. I guess. . . If he doesn’t make it back, can, can you-” 

“Yes,” Penny said, not making her fight to say anything more. Y/N nodded and Penny squeezed her hand as Alex came running up to them, with a seashell in his hand. Y/N wiped her tears and put a smile on her face the best she could as Alex showed her the shell in his hand. Penny admired the girl’s strength as Alex grabbed his mother’s hand and pulled her towards the water. 

Penny had made dinner for all four of them that night. Y/N tried to help her, but Penny shooed her away, telling her she needed to rest, that she was working hard enough creating another Seresin child. Amelia helped Alex set up a fort in the living room, which Y/N made him promise Penny that he would help clean it up. Y/N and Penny spent the night laughing and bonding over the joys of motherhood and telling stories of growing up as military kids. Y/N shared her dreams of hopefully one day going back and visiting Italy, or taking Alex to Hawai’i to see the Pearl Harbor museum. 

When it was time for them to leave, Y/N was dreading going back to the quiet house. Alex was practically spent, and could hardly keep his eyes open as Y/N put him in his carseat. Penny invited her to go sailing with them tomorrow, but she declined. Y/N wanted to stay near home, knowing that tomorrow Jake and the squadron would be returning home. Tomorrow Y/N would know if he was dead or alive. Penny understood and hugged the girl goodnight. 

Y/N let Alex sleep in her bed that night, snuggling him close to her. That manila envelope sat on top of the bed side table, and seemed to be mocking her. She laid awake almost the whole night, the only thing bringing her some comfort was the gentle sound of her son’s breathing. Eventually, out of pure exhaustion, she fell into a dreamless sleep. 

The second the sun hit her face the next morning she was awake. Alex was still fast asleep, and she tucked pillows around him so he wouldn’t roll out of the large bed and onto the floor. Y/N threw on a pair of shorts and one of Jake’s sweatshirts, and began on her cleaning list. The house wasn’t really even that dirty, they had hardly brought anything with them, but it still brought her a sense of relief being able to do something rather than just sit and worry. When Alex finally woke up, she made him breakfast and then they both got dressed and went to the local grocery store to get things to make for Jake’s favorite welcome home meal. 

“Guess what today is, baby?” Y/N said, as she brushed Alex’s blonde hair. 

“Dada come home!” Alex smiled, showing his teeth. 

“Yeah! Dada comes home!” Y/N smiled brightly and kissed his cheek. 

The day ticked on, and morning faded into day, and Y/N watched the clock, feeling her nerves grow as the day progressed. Usually they were home by morning when it came to deployments and detachments but Y/N knew that this was a special assignment. She tried to not let her anxiety get the best of her, but when it was nearing early evening and she still hadn’t heard anything from him, or had seen him, she felt her heart drop. She bit back tears as she watched Alex color a picture for Jake at the kitchen table. 

“Momma, will dada like it!?” Alex asked with excitement, holding up the scribbled drawing. 

“Yeah,” Y/N bit back tears, “I’ll be right back, don’t move.” Y/N said, and felt her heartbreak as she looked at the door waiting for the moment that Jake came back through it. She looked down at her phone, no missed calls or texts, but time was ticking on, “How about you help me with dinner?” 

Y/N and Alex ate Jake’s favorite meal on the back patio. She tried to put on the best act that she could, smiling and telling Alex that Jake would be home soon. But as the sun set behind the clouds it was clear to Y/N, Jake was not coming home. Y/N gave Alex a bath and dressed him in his favorite pajamas and tucked him into bed. She held him extra tight, and read two books instead of the usual just one. 

“Momma,” Alex asked her, “Dada come home?” 

“No,” Y/N said, tears escaping her eyes, “Dada isn’t coming home.” 

“He still on ship?” Alex asked, his blue eyes filled with confusion. 

“I don’t know, baby,” Y/N said. How does a parent have this conversation with their four year old? How do you explain to him that his father is never coming home?, “Go to bed, sweetheart, I love you.” 

“Love you, momma,” Alex said, and Y/N kissed his forehead. She turned his bedroom light on, making sure the night light was on before going down to her room. 

Y/N let out a shaky breath as she sat down on Jake’s side of the bed and looked at the manila envelope with her name scrawled across it. She let out a sob as she picked it up, her vision becoming blurry with tears. She held it to her chest as she sobbed out his name. Never in her years did she think she would have to open it. She never thought that she would be living in a world where Jake wasn’t by her side. He was her everything; her protector, her equal, her other half, the love of her life. She knew she would never find a love like him again. There was no way she could allow herself to kiss another man, let another man touch her, lie down next to another man, let another man raise her kids. Jake was it for her. Jake was all she would ever need. 

She placed the envelope in her lap, running her fingers over his handwriting. Her fingers found the opening flap, and pulled it open. She closed her eyes as she grabbed the stack of papers on the inside, and set them on top of the folder. Opening her eyes, she noticed the handwritten note on the top of the stack. Her tears hit the paper as she held it up to read. 

‘To the love of my life, this is all you will need. I promised to always take care of you, and I will keep that promise. Even in death. I love you- your Jake.’ 

“No,” Y/N sobbed again, holding a shaky hand to her mouth, as she flipped through the documents. Jake had prepared everything, it was all written out in her hands. Her heart hurt too much to even read, as she set the stack back on the bedside table, and laid down on the bed, grabbing a pillow and burying her face into it. She let out screams that were muffled by the pillow she held to her face. She knew that she needed to calm herself down, that it wasn’t good to be this worked up for the baby growing inside her. 

The baby Jake will never meet. 

Y/N placed her hand on her stomach, and cried even more. All Jake ever wanted in life was to be a father, and the moment she had told him that he would be one, his eyes became so bright with love. Jake spent every moment of Y/N’s first pregnancy fighting with his inner demons on if he was going to be a good father or not, and he had told her about his fears of becoming a father and not getting to see his children grow up. The story of Goose Bradshaw was one that was somewhat known in their world, and Jake hated it. He hated the idea so much that at the drop of the word, Jake would leave his whole navy career behind to be a dad. 

At some point in time, Y/N must’ve cried herself to sleep, because she didn’t hear the opening of the front door, or the drop of a duffle bag, or the steps of boots down the hallway, or the soft call of her name. She woke up at the feeling of someone’s hands shaking her gently. She turned quickly, and gasped at the sight of her husband sitting in front of her. She let out a sob as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She hugged him with so much force it caught him off guard, having to steady both of them before they went crashing to the ground. 

All Jake could do was hold her as her body racked with sobs once again. He buried his face in her hair, taking a dip sniff of her shampoo. He felt safe being back in her arms. Y/N held onto him with all her strength, scared that this was just a dream and the second she opened her eyes, he would be gone. But once she somewhat gathered herself, she pulled back and hit his chest with her fists. 

“Where the hell were you!” Y/N cursed. 

Jake was surprised, she never cursed, “I was-” 

“I thought you died!” She hit his chest again, and continued to hit his toned chest as she spoke, “ You didn’t come home! I put your son to bed and then came in here and opened that blasted damn envelope and read the letter and-” 

Jake cut her off by pulling her into his arms again. He couldn’t believe the words that escaped her mouth. She thought he died. She opened the envelope and thought he was dead. A couple tears escaped Jake’s eyes as he pulled back and held her face in his hands. He smashed his lips to hers. She relaxed a bit in his touch. 

“I will never, ever leave you, ever,” He said, looking into her eyes, “I’m so sorry. Things hit the fan yesterday. We almost lost Maverick and Rooster-” 

“Are they okay?” 

“They’re fine, a little banged up, but they’re okay,” Jake said, “I’m so sorry baby I made you think that I. . . I’m sorry.” He hugged her again, “Is the little man still awake?” 

“No,” She shook her head and pulled back from the hug, “He’s long since been to bed.” Jake wiped a tear away with his thumb. Y/N looked up at him, and connected their lips. Jake kissed her back, as one of her hands went to pull on the hair at the back of his neck. His hands went to her waist, roaming her back, before going to her ass and pulling her into his lap. She gasped at the feeling, as his lips went from her mouth to her jawline, kissing up and down her jawline to her collarbones. 

“I missed you,” Jake said against her skin. 

“Show me,” She said breathlessly, “Show me how much you missed me.” 

Jake nodded, and rolled them so she was on her back and he was hovering above her. Jake took his time loving her. Every kiss had passion behind it. Every touch was like being touched for the first time again. Every thrust was slow and deep, making her feel him deep within her. Her back arched and Jake assured her over and over that he was there, and that he loved her and that he’d never leave her. When her orgasm hit her in waves, Jake held her tightly, and emptied himself deep within her. When they both came down, they laid next to each other bare, talking about random things and Jake would share bits and pieces of the mission. That was how the rest of the night would play out, making love to each other and letting each other know that they weren’t ever going to leave. 

— — — 

Jake sat on the back patio the next morning, watching the sunrise as the waves crashed, a cup of coffee in his hand. He wore nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and enjoyed the quiet morning. He knew after the activities of last night, that Y/N was probably going to sleep until late morning. He smirked at the memories of her clawing at his back or pulling on his hair, her soft moans in his ear. But then he frowned, remembering her tear stained face when he walked into the bedroom, and how she had thought he had died. He turned his head at the sound of the back door sliding open and smiled at his wife. She walked towards him and put her hands on his shoulders. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. 

“I thought you would still be sleeping,” Jake said looking up at her. 

“The bed was cold,” Y/N smiled, “And then Alex woke up not long after.” 

“Where is he?” Jake asked, just as Alex came running out of the house. 

“Daddy!” He smiled and Jake stood up from his chair to catch him in his arms. 

“My baby!” Jake smiled and picked him up in his strong arms, kissing all over his face. Alex giggled and tried to push his father away. And that’s when Hangman noticed Alex’s shirt. Y/N watched as his face contorted in confusion and then surprise as he looked at her, “Are you. . . Really?” 

“Yeah,” She smiled, biting her lip. 

“I knew it. . . I knew it!” Jake exclaimed and wrapped her in hug, “The night of the grill out, I noticed the way you placed a hand on your belly, you did that all the time with Alex and the-the you haven’t been cooking eggs in the morning and-” 

“Dada, I be a big brother!” Alex smiled, looking at his shirt. 

“Yeah, yeah you are!” Jake smiled, “I’m going to be a dad again.” 

“Yeah, you are,” Y/N smiled. 

And nine months later, Olivia Monica Seresin was born.

-- -- --

taglist: @positivelyholland @nessamc @n3ssm0nique

taglist form:)

#top gun #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #top gun angst #top gun fluff #Jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin fic #Jake seresin angst #Jake seresin fluff #hangman seresin x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fic #hangman seresin fanfic #hangman seresin imagine #Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #bob floyd #penny benjamin #top gun maverick #pete mitchell

[i984]

Your Love, My Religion

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, childhood best friend! Wednesday Addams, canon-divergence because there's no Tyler, it's Parent's Weekend but this detail is useless, Pugsley LOVES you, kissing but weird 'cuz you'll see, author is in their experimental phase.

|Summary|: It only takes half a semester away and a stupid (yet surprising) school event to get Wednesday quit being a coward.

|A/n|: This was requested by my wife @wol-fica and reposted because yesterday the tags hate me.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Bewitching.

You were that in so many ways.

And now, as Wednesday locks eyes with you from across the quad—past all the bustling crowd of students and parents of Nevermore Academy—she realizes the fact hasn't changed, not one bit.

Her foot took a step forward for her. Then another. And another. Before she knew it, she was already heading toward you—bumping and trampling past the people she couldn't care less for—her heart hammering wildly against her chest.

You've always had that effect on her.

When your parents brought you for a playdate years ago, Wednesday had locked you in one of the rooms of the Addams family mansion. But instead of crying or screaming for help, all she heard you do was mutter a small okay and bye-bye. 

And she was content to let you rot and die a slow death, but when she pressed her ear to the wood and heard your faint giggles, she had to open the door to see what had brought you glee amidst her kidnapping.

She found you—sitting with your legs crossed on the floor—petting Nero, her pet scorpion on your lap, with a fascinated look on your face.

Ever since that day, 5-year-old Wednesday Addams would invite you to playdates every week without fail with excuses like, "Nero loves your pets more than mine," or, "Nero wants you to come over."

Even after the scorpion's tragic death a year later, she allowed you to continue visiting her weekly. Your title had changed from 'playdate partner' to 'study partner' as soon as both of you went to the same elementary school, and you've been joined by the hips with the Addams girl ever since. 

The weekly visits grew into daily ones, and soon, Wednesday would spend nearly every waking hour of the day with you, filling her childhood with memories of endless thrilling adventures.

She'd never admit this to anyone, but she respects you for not judging her for who she is. Other people had called her a freak, a menace to society, and Wednesday couldn't care less about them, especially when you look at her with so much kindness and passion every time she talks about torture methods or unsolved murder cases. 

You were there when Pugsley was born, and Wednesday blames you for the tender personality his brother would later develop. In a way, you raised Pugsley just as much as she did, and it proved to earn you an unbreakable bond with the boy. 

And that's why as she gets close enough to you, she can see Pugsley standing on your side, holding your hand—a perfect mirror of the picture she had seen a thousand times growing up.

Her breathing quickens, and so do her steps; Wednesday was basically sprinting at you with butterflies in her stomach. But she didn't care because you met her halfway and embraced her with a ferocity that nearly matched hers. 

"I missed you so much," You whisper, and Wednesday swears to memorize the sweet sound. She hadn't realized how much she had missed hearing your voice until now.

"You came."

"Pugsley invited me for this Parent's Weekend thing," You mumbled into her shoulder before pulling back to look at her face properly, "I know it hasn't even been a semester since you moved, but I have to see you again."

Wednesday almost melts then and there at the intensity of your words and how you look at her with so much compassion and trust—like you knew she'd never hurt you or betray your devotion. 

And she wouldn't. Not when her lips are so close to yours, with your breath fanning her face, nose scrunched adorably. 

You look perfect, like the last time Wednesday was in the same position with you, the night before she had to leave for Jericho and this damned school that has cursed her entire being. 

Last time, she acted like the coward she was, turning her face away from your longing gaze, heart too weak to leave you if she'd kissed you goodbye. 

But now, as Fate has presented her a second chance, Wednesday grabbed your jaw and pressed her lips to yours. Unlike last time, her move was sure as she felt your soft silken lips on her chapped ones. And when you kissed her back—with the same tenderness that she finds in your eyes, words, and touch—warmth fills her pitch-black heart, luring her deeper into your spell.

She kisses you like a prayer—your lips the altar, your love her false God—and Wednesday now understands how man can sink so deep into their religions; to die for their Gods. 

Because she would die for you, kill for you, live for you, and unlike last time, she'd gladly sin over and over again, redeeming herself on the lips that perfectly match hers.

The bewitching you; her life was a living testament to that. And she'd never let you go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list is in the comments or else this post breaks.

|A/n2|: I am never posting this day of the week ever again. Also I forgot to say thank you to 700 of you! 🥲💖

Edit: NOW I FORGOT TO ADD TAGS TO MY POST HELP WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME-

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday series #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #spotify #wednesday fanfic #fanfic #fluff #my story

[mikavlcs]

Purity Weeps

Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You don’t talk about home very often and Tara finds out why.

Warnings: violence, gore, murder, domestic abuse, manipulation, tara is a terrible person, bad parents, repeated words and phrases

Word count: 7.7k (god...)

Notes: this is a request, i changed it up a bit so it could fit with the first part but the general gist is there. i also wrote like half of this with food poisoning so sorry in advance...

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3 

One thing Tara noticed about you was that you never talked about home.

You had no problem talking about yourself—your various likes and dislikes were something Tara had memorized within weeks of your arrival to Woodsboro—but you never talked about your family.

She only knew the most basic details. You lived with your parents. You had no siblings despite your longing for one. Your house was exactly six and a half blocks away from hers. And recently, you told her that your parents were getting divorced, something you seemed almost relieved about.

That was it. Even her knowledge about your parents was equivocal.

Your mother she’d met a handful of times when she picked you up from school before Tara designated herself your personal chauffeur. A polite woman, if a bit aloof. Never quite meeting Tara’s eyes when she talked, but she liked her well enough.

Your father, on the other hand, remained an enigma to her.

The only time she’d ever seen him was on your first day off school when he dropped you off. In the time since, he hadn’t been present for any school events with you and your mother. Not even a picture. He remained but a silhouette in her memory, and that made the situation all the eerier to her.

And you barely spoke a word about him either, only bringing him up when it was getting late, and you wanted Tara to take you home.

“My dad wants me home by eight,” you’d say and when Tara hesitated, wanting more time alone with you, you would follow it up with a quiet, “Please, Tara, I can’t be late.”

No matter how Tara felt about you having to leave, the tremble in your voice would have her grabbing her keys within seconds.

She always saw the way you shuffled in your seat when you were cutting it just a bit too close, sending anxious glances toward the clock.

There were even times, back when Tara wasn’t taking the situation quite as seriously as she should have been, when you would get out of the car without a goodbye, practically running into your house.

It angered Tara initially, that you had such strict rules being placed on you that were visibly afraid to break them, but with time that anger gave way to concern.

Your overly timid mannerisms when she brought up your family, the tight leash your father had on you, the anxiousness on display when you tugged a little too hard on that leash—it all painted a rather grim picture.

Her concern hit its peak when, after being together for a few months and friends for even longer, Tara realized that she had never been inside your house. She had seen the outside of it countless times when she picked you up and dropped you off throughout the week, but she had never seen the interior.

Why that specific revelation unsettled her so much, she wasn’t sure but it stuck with her.

 Tara was used to being able to see her enemies. Amber, Daniel, Rowan, and Jason were all people she knew, people she saw eyeing you in a way they shouldn’t have been, touching you when you weren’t theirs.

Your father was something different. A man she had never once met or seen. Someone she was almost sure was hurting you in some way but without proof, she wasn’t able to confidently act.

This wasn’t a problem she could just stab to death. At least, not without having potentially catastrophic effects on you and your mental health.

So she was going to try something different. She began making plans but every idea she came up with ended up being scrapped. Nothing she came up with felt right.

Tara did not at all care for rules and boundaries. Made up guidelines that served no purpose other than to irritate her. Imaginary lines in the sand that were made to be crossed. She permanently left those behind the moment she donned the Ghostface mase. But when it came to you, she took them very seriously.

The thought of breaking your heart and trust is what made her once again adhere to the made-up rules, what kept her feet firmly planted on the right side of the line in the sand.

It’s what kept her from breaking into your house and surveilling you and your family. What held her back from slitting the elusive man’s throat with no remorse. She couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you or driving you away from her.

But the idea of doing nothing didn’t sit well with her either.

Other, non-violent plans took form. She tried to be more direct, asking you about your father, what he was like, how close the two of you were.

You didn’t shy away from her questions but the answers you gave were always vague. Just enough to qualify as an answer, but not enough to give Tara any real information to work with.

When she realized she wasn’t getting results, she pivoted and decided to put more emphasis on being supportive. Reiterating how she would always be there for you and that if needed, you could tell her anything.

But no matter what she did, the curfew never budged and your avoidant attitude about your home life never changed. It was starting to get to Tara.

She wanted to believe that you trusted her enough to tell her if something was going on at home. But at the same time, if her suspicions were correct, there was much more to it than simply trust.

Sam would likely tell her to call the police, and that might be an option Tara considered if she had a modicum of trust in the Woodsboro police force to handle the situation correctly. But she didn’t. Law enforcement in Woodsboro had become a joke ever since Dewey stepped down as sheriff.

And she knew that if this situation didn’t get handled correctly, then whatever possible abuse you were enduring would get worse in the aftermath.

For the first time in her life, Tara was stuck. She had no idea what to do.

She was frozen in place, stuck in an endless loop of watching and waiting. Watching and waiting. Watching and waiting.

It was maddening.

Part of her, Ghostface she supposed, wanted to just gut him and get it over with. Like she’d done to everyone else that had been in this position. But if she was wrong,

So she was stuck. Suspended in time and space, unable to do anything but her set routine.

Watch and wait.

Watch and wait.

Watch and wait.

Until something, or someone, broke the cycle.

-

Today wasn’t a great day for Tara.

It started it off well enough. You stayed glued to her side all day, your attention completely on her just as she liked it. She didn’t catch anyone staring at you or trying to talk to you.

Hell, not even Wes tried to bug you throughout the day like he usually did.

It really was going so well.

But then at the last second, you canceled your usual Friday movie date with Tara, citing an urgent family issue. She had driven you home after school without complaint because she knew it wasn’t your fault, and you looked just as upset about it as she did, but she was still bitter.

She needed her time alone with you. You were an addiction that she could hardly keep at bay. Withdrawal symptoms began to set in before you were even gone.

Those symptoms were raging within her now, hours later. It was somewhere around midnight. Sam left only a few hours prior because she liked working night shifts for some reason, so Tara took the opportunity to have another Stab marathon.

She was about halfway through Stab 2 and debating whether or not to just call it a night. It wasn’t like she wasn’t enjoying it—Stab movies never got old to Tara, but the fact that you were supposed to be there with her taunted her, sucking the excitement out of her.

At some point near the third act, she allowed her thoughts to stay on you, disregarding the film entirely.

Lately, she hadn’t been able to spend too much time alone with you after school. The newly finalized divorce was your ongoing reasoning. Your father was moving out and you were helping him pack his things.

You seemed both relieved and conflicted but Tara, of course, was overjoyed about this development. The cycle she was in was being broken without her needing to intervene. Soon, both you and her would be free of this.

And once he was gone, you could spend as much time with Tara as you wanted. That was something she needed to constantly remind herself of when you canceled plans because she missed you.

Hopefully whatever issues you were dealing with (having something to do with your father, no doubt) didn’t take all weekend.

If it did, this would be one of the first weekends you spent without her since Amber’s untimely death. And if she missed you now, she couldn’t imagine how much worse it would get over the coming days.

Her rambling thoughts were interrupted by your familiar ringtone.

She hurried to pick up her phone. Maybe she had caught a break. Maybe your family issue wasn’t urgent after all.

She brought the phone up to her ear and answered with her usual, “Hey, baby.”

But instead of being greeted by your sweet “hellos” or melodic laughter, she was met with what sounded like frantic sobbing.

Immediately, Tara was on her feet, searching for her keys while she tried to figure out what was happening.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?!”

You tried to blubber out an answer, but it wasn’t anything she could remotely begin to decipher. Snatching her keys off the kitchen counter, she tried to ask again. “Take a deep breath. Can you repeat that for me?”

She heard you take in and release a shaky breath. “T-Tara, I…i-it’s my dad, he’s…” More cries echoed from the phone speakers, urging Tara to move faster. “Please, I don’t-I didn’t mean to.”

That set off alarm bells in Tara’s head. What did you mean?

“Just stay on the phone with me, ok? Don’t hang up. I’m on my way,” she hurried out as she stepped into her shoes, not even bothering to tie the laces. She was out the door and in the car in seconds, her raw panic nearly driving her to hysteria.

The call dropped as she backed out of her driveway, cutting you off mid-sentence. Tara’s heart stopped and only restarted when she noticed that her phone was dead. She took her own advice and took a deep breath.

She needed to get to you. Now.

Tara made it to your house in record time. She left her keys in the ignition, barely remembering to close the car door before she was running up to the door, grabbing the spare key she knew your mother kept under the potted plant by the doormat, and unlocking it.

The moment she stepped inside she froze.

Whatever she was expecting paled in the face of what she was met with on the other side of your door.

A man, presumably your father, lay limp on the floor. The back of his skull was caved in against the edge of the glass coffee table in front of the couch, staining the table and the carpet beneath it an achingly familiar shade of crimson.

After getting over the shock, Tara’s eyes were drawn to you standing a few feet away, looking unsteady on your feet.

Shamefully, her first thought was how amazing you looked with someone else’s blood on you. A depraved part of her was excited by the sight.

But that excitement was quickly drowned out by her concern at your state. To put it simply, you looked forlorn. Tears cascaded down your face in seemingly endless waves. Your eyes were flitting between your father’s body and your blood-stained hands, breaths coming in short, panicked bursts. You were shaking so vigorously that Tara was afraid your legs would give out, finally prompting her to move.

Slowly, Tara stepped inside and softly closed the door behind her. The sound of it, though quiet, still made you flinch. Your head turned, and once your eyes met hers, she saw some awareness creep back in.

“T-Tara,” you sputtered. She smiled sweetly and cautiously approached you, putting her body between you and your father’s corpse.

From this close, she could see the beginnings of large bruises blooming across your neck and upon closer inspection, she saw how heavily the outlines of the darkening marks resembled fingers.

Red clouded Tara’s vision. The familiar burn of her rage rose within her, but she forced her voice to be soft and soothing. The last thing you needed right now was her anger.

“Hi, sweetheart. Can you tell me what happened?”

“He-he tried to…” Your words broke off into choked sobs. But you didn’t need to finish. The bruises on your neck told her everything she needed to know.

“He-I wanted him off. So I pushed him and h-he…He tripped and…” You trailed off, eyes refocusing on the body over her shoulder. She saw the anguish rising and put a stop to it.

“Hey, no. Don’t look at that.” She brought you into her arms, guiding your face to her neck. You nestled into her instantly, clutching onto her like a lifeline as you wept once more. The blood on your hands was staining her shirt, something she took note of while she wrapped her arms around you.

Tara held you close, softly running one hand up and down your back while the other held your head. On the outside, she made sure she appeared calm and comforting, but on the inside, she was anything but.

Pure, unadulterated fury surged through her. Usually, Tara loved being proven right, loved the satisfaction and vindication that came with it. But this time she could feel nothing but malignancy because he tried to strangle you.

And the fact that you had to be the one to kill him deeply infuriated her.

A death at the hands of an angel was far, far better than he ever deserved.

She wished his heart would somehow restart, just so she could have the pleasure of making his last breath as painful as it should have been.

Better yet, she wished she could have gotten to him before he laid his hands on you.

Tara allowed herself, briefly, to daydream about what she would’ve done. A man like that didn’t even deserve the time it took to plan an intricate murder, so she would have kept it simple. Slow, excruciating exsanguination. Death by a thousand torturously shallow cuts as she forced him to keep his eyes open, so the tears could flow unimpeded. So she could watch the life slowly drain from his eyes.

So she could see the terror on his face when, instead of an angel, he spent his last fleeting moments staring into the eyes of the devil.

Your voice broke her out of her fantasies.

“What am I gonna do, Tara?” you sobbed into her neck. “I-I…he’s dead. And I did that.”

Tara hugged you closer and let you cry for a few minutes. It was painful to listen to, but she needed to put her focus on formulating a plan. Plus, it was probably good for you to let it out anyways.

While you wept, Tara took stock of the situation.

There was one body. Cause of death was a fatal head wound which meant there was lots of blood to clean. Luckily, you had a carpet to soak it up. A quick glance told her that nothing else appeared to have any blood splatter, significantly lessening the amount of cleaning she would need to do.

But even with all that in mind, she still had to find a way to get rid of the body. And that would be a tall task to undertake on her own.

There was also the matter of your mother’s whereabouts. Her car was in the driveway. Tara’s car was parked right beside it, so she had to be around here somewhere.

She decided to concentrate on locating her first. Both to make sure she wasn’t informing anyone else about the situation and because, as much as Tara hated to admit it, she would need help with disposing of the body in a timely manner.

Your father could wait a bit. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon anyways.

With her mind made up, Tara gently pulled you back and cradled your face between your hands. “Do you know where your mother is, sweetheart?”

You blinked then looked away, biting your lip in concentration as you thought about the question. A smile pulled at Tara’s lips at the sight. Even now, you managed to be cute. You looked back a moment later, shaking your head shamefully. Tara just gave you an encouraging smile.

“That’s ok. I’ll find her,” she assured, wiping your tears with her thumbs.

You sniffed. “You will?”

“Yeah.” She looked around, eyes landing on the couch. Gently, she brought you to the back of it, guiding you to sit with your back against it. “Wait here for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

A nod, and you were burying your face in your knees, your shoulders starting to shake again. Tara wanted to comfort you but there was work that needed to be done, so she set her mind to the task at hand and began her search.

It didn’t take very long.

She found your mother in the kitchen, only a room over from where you were. The woman was curled into a ball by the stove, blank eyes staring out into space.

Tara’s brows shot up. Had she been there the entire time?

“Hey,” she called out, staying a healthy distance away.

No reaction. Tara sighed, looked at the clock on the stove.

12:17 a.m.

There was no time for this. Tara knelt down before the woman, getting directly in her line of sight. That worked and her gaze slowly drifted to Tara’s.

“Are you hearing me?” she asked.

Her inquiry was met with a languid nod. Good, Tara thought. She decided to ask her most pressing question next.

“Did you call anyone?”

Sluggishly, the woman shook her head. Tara let out a silent sigh of relief. Not having to worry about police made this a bit easier, but getting rid of a body on such short notice was still going to be a challenge.

“You were in here the entire time?” She couldn’t resist asking, needing to know if your own mother just sat by and listened while you were being attacked.

She averted her eyes away from Tara’s, choosing not to respond. But the silence itself was an answer, and not one that Tara liked. Her muscles tensed instinctively, fingers curling into fists, but she forced herself to relax.

After a breath, she asked, “Are you hurt?”

Another silent shake of her head and Tara had enough of this conversation.

“Then you are going to get up and help me help your daughter. Do you understand?” she gritted out, colder than she probably should have been.

For a long moment, your mother said nothing. The silence made Tara’s jaw clench painfully. Eventually, she gave another painstakingly slow nod, but the tension within Tara still remained.

Realistically, she knew your mother wasn’t entirely to blame for this situation, likely being a victim herself, but she had knowingly allowed you to get hurt. And there was no forgiveness for that. Not for Tara.

Still, she needed the woman’s help right now if she wanted everything taken care of in a timely manner, so she relaxed her jaw and scrubbed away the impatience in her tone.

“Good. Stay here, I need to take care of something real quick.”

Tara was striding out of the room before she had the chance to respond. Rounding the couch, she found you again. You had your knees pressed to your chest, mirroring your mother’s position.

With a sweet smile, she crouched down in front of you.

“Hey, I found your mom.”

Your eyes widened. “Is she ok?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” she affirmed, bringing a hand up to your shoulder. “I need you to listen to me carefully, ok?”

“Ok,” you mumbled.

“Go upstairs and take a shower. Put these clothes in a plastic bag and leave the bag in the bathroom. Then you can go lay down in your bed and rest. I’ll come up when I’m finished.”

“What are you gonna do?” You sounded scared, she wanted to alleviate that fear.

“Your mom and I are going to take care of your dad.”

You still looked hesitant. Tara brought her hand up to trace your jaw, stared deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered immediately, making Tara smile.

“Then I need you to do as I say right now. Everything is going to be ok.”

“Promise?” you whispered. Your red eyes and quivering form made for a truly heartbreaking sight. One that Tara hoped she would never have to see again.

With a tender smile, she said, “Yeah, baby, I promise.”

She planted a kiss on your forehead then pulled you to your feet. You lingered for a fleeting moment before following Tara’s orders and heading up to the bathroom. Once Tara heard your footsteps upstairs, she went back to the kitchen.

Your mother was exactly where Tara left her. The smaller girl barely spared her a glance as she spoke.

“Alright, I’m going to need you to gather some things for me.”

Finally, she spoke up for the first time, feeble and low. “You have a…plan?”

At the question, the younger girl paused. She definitely didn’t, but she needed to come up with something, and quickly. She began brainstorming.

She had neither the time nor the tools to try the more elaborate methods of disposal that she’d seen in movies over the years. Things like cutting the body up and hiding the pieces, or melting the body with chemicals were off the table.

So she went with the easiest, least time-consuming plan that came to mind.

Turning, she said, “I need the largest bag you have, a shovel, a sheet, a hat, a bandana, a shirt, a pair of gloves, and your car keys.”

Your mother’s brows raised in disbelief. “My car keys?”

“Yes,” Tara answered, an equal amount of disbelief in her tone. There was no way she was going to potentially get your father’s DNA in her car. She wasn’t stupid. “Do you need me to write all of that down for you?”

She stared at Tara with that disconcerting look again before shaking her head and leaving to gather the items Tara asked for. While she was gone, Tara ventured to the kitchen, searching all of the cabinets until she found plastic wrap.

Returning to the body, Tara lifted your dad’s head off the carpet, careful to get as little blood on her as possible, and began wrapping the plastic around it. Layer after layer of plastic wrap was wound around his head as tightly as Tara could make it, using the entire roll to be safe.

She was just finishing up when your mother returned, the various things Tara requested in her arms. All but the shovel, Tara noticed. A large duffel bag was set down beside her, and Tara glanced up just in time to see her still.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing Tara with a queasy look. Tara’s fist clenched. She hated being interrupted while working.

“I’m wrapping his head so his brains don’t leak out inside of your car,” she explained flatly, shifting briefly to give the woman an annoyed look. “Unless you want that in your trunk?”

She paled, shaking her head vigorously. Her complexion was looking a bit green by the time she regained her train of thought. “The uh, t-the shovel is in the basement.”

Tara blinked. “Then go get it.”

A hurried nod and your mother was practically running to the basement. Tara rolled her eyes.

She took a long look at the bag beside her. It was a bit smaller than she would’ve liked, but it could work with the right positioning.

Taking advantage of your mother’s absence, Tara stripped her bloodied shirt off and shrugged the new one on. It was a simple t-shirt, solid black thankfully with no designs. Perfect for what she was going to be doing.

She dropped the bloodied shirt onto the carpet so it could be disposed of along with it and began unfolding the sheet on the floor next to your father. Very carefully, she rolled him over onto the sheet then did it again and again until he was completely wrapped inside of it like a burrito.

Once he was fully wrapped, she slid the hat over her head, tucking her hair up into it, and tied the bandana over the bottom half of her face.

Just as she was slipping the gloves on, footsteps sounded from the basement stairs and her accomplice appeared at the top of the steps, shovel in hand.

“Put that by the door, I need your help with this,” Tara gestured to the wrapped corpse.

Her eyes widened, noticeably avoiding looking at the body Tara was referring to.

“Y-you want me to help with…that?”

Tara bit back the scathing retort on her tongue and took on a pleading tone instead.

“Yes. Please,” she tried, “I can’t lift him into the bag by myself.”

Conflict flashed in her eyes. She swallowed roughly, still unmoving. Tara was about to give up and try putting him in by herself when she finally moved to where the smaller girl was.

Tara opened the duffel bag, and with some initial struggle, they maneuvered him onto his side, pushing his knees to his chest so he could just fit inside. It was a tighter fit than anticipated but they made it work.

Together, they lifted the bag and walked it to the car, placing it in the trunk alongside the shovel. Tara grabbed your mother’s arm before she could go back inside.

“Listen,” she spoke lowly, “while I’m gone, you’re gonna roll up the carpet and burn it in the firepit out back. Get the clothes from the bathroom and burn them as well. If there’s anything else that got blood or DNA on it, then throw that in too. Understand?”

A timid nod was the only response she got from the woman before she walked back toward the house.

“Oh, and clean the table too,” Tara called out as she reached for her own keys in her pocket and popped the trunk.

She was suddenly very thankful that she kept her platforms in her trunk for… spontaneous occasions.

With a practiced ease, she tied the shoes on and unlocked your mother’s car, quietly slipping into the driver’s seat. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel and she found that her body was more tense than usual.

The next part of the plan relied entirely on luck, something Tara didn’t particularly like. But she had no choice.

Turning the key in the ignition, Tara pulled out of your driveway and began the drive across town.

Woodsboro was a sleepy little town. Very few were out and about after 10 p.m. and even less were out now, well after midnight. But still, she needed to be as careful as possible.

She drove slow, headlights off, taking as many backroads as possible to avoid any cameras and the sightlines of any major streets or apartment buildings in case anyone was awake and watching.

After about twenty minutes of driving, Tara pulled into one of the two cemeteries in Woodsboro. A slow ten-minute circuit around the place told her that there was nothing of use there. It disheartened her a bit, but she couldn’t give up, so she set off to her next destination.

Thankfully, luck seemed to be on her side because a few minutes into her drive around the second cemetery, she found exactly what she was looking for.

A freshly dug grave.

It had been a real gamble. But considering most funerals were held on Saturday’s and it was a Friday night (or early Saturday morning, now), there was a chance she would find one.

Tara quickly got out and opened the trunk. She grabbed the shovel with one hand and the bag with the other, almost falling over as she tried to lift it out of the car.

Very quickly, she gave up trying to carry the duffel bag and settled for pulling it along by the bag strap with both hands.

“Heavy sack of shit,” she mumbled as she dragged the bag across the grass.

She lugged him over, grumbling, and set him down by the hole. Tara noted the dirt piled around the dug out grave. At least she wouldn’t need to worry about making a mess.

When she checked the time before getting out of the car it was already 12:47.

She had to get this done so she could get back to your house. Back to you.

With a sigh, Tara grabbed the shovel, jumped into the grave, and got to work.

Digging was an arduous process. Aside from how taxing it was on the arms, Tara had no real way of knowing how far down she was digging, so she had to just trust her instincts. She only stopped when she confidently estimated she had dug around two feet down.

Getting back out was a challenge even with platforms on to accentuate her height. Being short was a curse, Tara was convinced. But after a few attempts (and a lot of embarrassment) she managed to haul herself out with the shovel in tow.

Once back on her feet, Tara roughly kicked the duffel bag into the hole and started covering it with dirt.

Trying to gauge how much dirt she was putting in while also attempting to make it perfectly even to not arouse suspicion was difficult with the limited moonlight. She could have used her phone flashlight, but she wasn’t trying to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, so she made it work.

By the time she stumbled back to the car, threw the shovel back in the trunk, and collapsed into the driver’s seat, Tara was exhausted.

Her arms ached with a fierceness and she didn’t even want to think about how they would feel when she woke up in the morning. She sighed.

Why did breaking the law have to be so much goddamn work?

A glance at the clock told her it was 1:56 A.M.

You had probably long since finished your shower by now. She pushed her fatigue aside and got back on the road.

The knowledge that you were waiting for her made her want to slam her foot down on the pedal, but she held back. This was the home stretch, getting caught now would potentially ruin everything.

Tara let out a sigh of relief when she pulled into your driveway. She turned the car off and took the shovel out the trunk, the thought of every step bringing her closer to you driving her forward.

As she stepped inside, she set the shovel by the door and instantly spotted your mother, cleaning the blood off the glass table just as Tara asked. She was also pleasantly surprised to see that the carpet that formerly resided under the table was missing.

It seemed that the feeble woman actually was good for something.

“How is she?” Tara asked while taking the hat and bandana off. Silence followed. Tara threw the garments onto the couch and looked to your mother, who had stopped scrubbing to stare at the floor.

Tara blinked. Hard. Her eyebrows shot up.

“Have you not gone to check on her?” She couldn’t bother to keep her incredulousness in check.

Again, the room lapsed into silence as the older woman kept her head down. Tara couldn’t believe what she was hearing—or rather what she was not hearing.

After sitting by while your own father—her ex-husband was trying to kill you, she couldn’t even be bothered to check in on you. “Angry” didn’t even begin to cover how Tara felt at the flagrant display of cowardice.

She couldn’t help but wonder, was this even the first time something like this happened while your mother hid instead of intervening? Was this the first time she refused to look at you because of her own shame or selfishness or both?

Enough was enough, she decided.

“She’s staying with me.”

That got your mother’s attention. She shot to her feet; eyes trained directly on Tara’s for the first time since she stepped back into the house.

“She absolutely isn’t. Why would you think that?”

“I think it’d be better if she’s away from this house for a while,” Tara gritted out, patience running thin.

“There is still a killer on the loose in this town. I won’t let you take my daughter somewhere where I won’t know if she’s safe or not.”

Indignation burned bright and hot in Tara’s veins. Her lips curled into a distorted smile.

“And you think she’ll be safer here? With you?” she spat, enjoying the way your mother’s eyes widened. “You couldn’t even protect her from your own husband, do you really think you could protect her from a vicious murderer?”

The woman blanched and inched back, but Tara didn’t stop, taking a step into her space as she continued.

“Even tonight, as your husband tried to kill her, what did you do? Did you try to stop him? Or did you cower in the kitchen like you were when I came?”

Tara waited for an answer. None came. She persisted.

“That’s right, you did nothing. You didn’t try to stop him; you didn’t try to save your own child. Hell, you didn’t even try to call the police. Your daughter had to call me for help after he died because you were being too useless to even stand up.”

Your mother had gone completely still, a slight tremble setting in. She was close to crumbling, Tara knew. One more solid push should do it. So Tara leaned in real close, eyes dark, voice but a whisper.

“You couldn’t protect her all these years. What makes you think you can now?”

As predicted, that did it. Tara watched her shatter in one swift motion.

Tears pooled and spilled over as all of the blood drained from her face. The tremble in her limbs became a violent shake, sending her to her knees with a gargled whimper.

Tara just stood, watching the display with distaste. Languidly, she knelt down before your mother and caught her teary gaze.

“If anyone asks where your ex-husband is, you tell them that he moved out west and cut contact with you. Use the divorce as an excuse,” she instructed slowly. Eyes darkening further, Tara leaned forward, dropping her voice. “You will not speak a word about what happened here tonight to anyone. Your daughter will be staying with me until she’s able to feel safe in her own home again. Do you understand?”

It was a statement more than it was a question, the finality in her tone leaving no room for argument. There was only one acceptable answer for Tara. And it seemed that she understood that. Lips trembling, she gave Tara a shaky nod, making the smaller girl smile.

Satisfied, Tara stood, intending on collecting you and leaving, but your mother apparently wasn’t finished annoying her.

“P-please, please tell her that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” she gasped out between miserable sobs, weakly grabbing Tara’s hand.

Tara’s lips curled with disgust. Even now, after everything that had happened, your own mother couldn’t give you the apology you deserved to your face.

How pathetic.

Snatching her hand from the woman’s frail grasp, she began making her way upstairs, letting the pitiful cries fade with distance.

Tara entered the upstairs hallway, scanning it quickly. There were four doors that branched from the hall. The one all the way at the end was partially open. She made her way to it, taking a peek inside the bathroom along the way, pleased to see that the bag you presumably left on the floor was indeed gone.

At least your mother was good at following orders.

Pushing the door open wider, she was greeted by the unfamiliar sight of your room. It was a surprisingly sparse room for someone with so much personality. If Tara didn’t know any better, she wouldn’t have even guessed it was yours.

The walls were bare, lacking all the decoration that Tara’s had, and the furniture was more of the same. Plain, brown, and devoid of all the emotion and spirit that she envisioned it having. The only sign of life in the room was on your bed, where you laid unnaturally still.

You rested atop your comforter, your damp hair fanned out on the pillow beneath you, gradually soaking it. But you either didn’t notice or didn’t care, staring resolutely out your window. The bruising on your neck was already darker, a nauseating shade of purple that made Tara’s stomach stir.

She approached quietly, not wanting to startle you in your seemingly fragile state, and sat down on the edge of the bed. You didn’t register the shifting of your bed, so Tara tentatively slipped her hand into yours.

Finally, Tara saw you inhale, and your attention shifted from the outside world to her.

“Tara,” you whispered, voice gravelly, “my dad, w-wha-“

“Don’t worry about him, baby. I took care of everything,” she cooed, stroking her thumb over your cheek.

“Did…you call the police?” you asked. The soft furrow of your brows would be adorable if it weren’t for the worry in your eyes that accompanied it.

Tara shook her head. “No. No police.”

“Wh-“ A harsh cough forced its way from your throat, making Tara wince in sympathy. “What’s gonna happen now?”

The fear in your eyes made her chest ache. To combat it, she put a small, comforting smile on her face. “Actually, that’s what I was coming to tell you. I talked it over with your mom we came to an agreement. You’ll be staying with me for the time being.”

She half expected you to say no, to refuse being uprooted from your home so suddenly. Instead, you asked, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude on you or Sam.”

Tara almost sighed. You had a way of constantly making yourself out to be a burden when you were anything but.

“You could never intrude on us. Sam loves you and so do I. More than you could ever know. If you want to stay, you would be more than welcome,” she paused then posed the question. “Do you want to stay with me?”

She tried to brace herself for whatever you would say but your answer, only one small syllable, was said so fast that she didn’t even have time.

“Please.”

The rush of relief she felt was so powerful it almost knocked the air from her lungs.

Tara went over to your closet and started putting clothes into the overnight bag you used when you stayed with her for the weekend, grabbing your favorites first. The bag wasn’t big enough to fit everything, but it didn’t really matter, she could always come back and pick up more if need be.

Or you could wear her clothes. Tara liked that idea much better.

Once it was as full as she could get it, she turned to you and froze. You were sitting up now, brows drawn together as you stared at nothing.

Concerned, Tara dropped the bag and knelt down in front of you, reaching to cradle one of your hands between hers.

“Hey,” she prompted, voice soft, “what’s going through that head of yours?”

Pursing your lips, you tried to look away, but Tara wasn’t letting you get away that easily. She leaned forward, following your eyes. A sigh was expelled through your nose, voice dropping to a grave whisper.

“Do you think I’m a monster, Tara?”

Tara swore she could feel her heart fracture.

“No,” she asserted, shaking her head. “No, look at me.”

You did. She chose her next words very carefully, trying very hard to steer clear of anything resembling “he deserved it” (even if it was true).

“What you did was an accident,” she started, speaking slowly and clearly. “You didn’t want to hurt him, but he was hurting you and you reacted. You couldn’t have known that he would trip. And if you did know, you probably wouldn’t have done it. Why? Because you’re not a monster. You could never be one, not to me anyways.”

There was a brief silence after her small monologue. You took in her words while she watched you, admired you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. She just smiled, placing a feather-light kiss on your lips.

Tara tried not to dwell on how you would view her if you ever found out about the sins she’s committed without remorse.

She stood on unsteady legs. “Are you ready to leave?”

Thankfully you nodded, seeming just as eager as she was to get the hell out of this house.

She grabbed your bag and escorted you out of the house. Tara didn’t miss the way you barely glanced in your mother’s direction as you passed her.

The ride to her house was silent, as expected. You looked on the verge of either falling asleep or breaking down and nothing Tara could say would change that. Still, she reached over to intertwine your fingers with hers at the first red light.

Sam’s car was in the driveway when Tara pulled in, which made her groan. She was hoping she could at least wait until morning to explain the situation to her sister, that would have given her time to come up with a suitably vague excuse for your indefinite stay.

But her sister surprised her.

She stood from the couch as you both entered and took your shoes off, that irritating look on her face that indicated to Tara that an interrogation was imminent, but the minute she saw you, her mouth clamped shut.

The way her wide eyes trailed over the bruises on your neck didn’t escape Tara’s notice, and she was just about to step up and get defensive when Sam wrapped you in a delicate hug and told you that you could stay as long as you needed to.

Tara was shocked. She didn’t think it would be so easy, but she supposed this fell in line with Sam’s newer personality quirks.

Sam had a recent habit of being… protective of the people she cared for. It annoyed the hell out of Tara but, if it could help her get what she wanted, as it did just now, then she would learn to tolerate it.

So she sent her sister a large, grateful smile and pulled you upstairs, making a mental note to find other ways to take advantage of Sam’s overprotective streak in the future.

Tara debated bringing your things into her room, but she figured you deserved a space of your own that could truly feel like it was yours. She led you to the guest room, conveniently right across the hall from her room, and placed your bag on the edge of the bed.

She paused then, finding herself entirely unsure of what to do next. Part of her wanted to invite you to her room like usual, while the other argued that you may want some space to process what happened earlier.

Discordant words interrupted the beginnings of her internal debate.

“Can I sleep with you?” you rasped, sounding shy despite the fact that you’d shared a bed with her dozens of times before. Tara smiled.

“Of course.” She took your hand in hers again and took you across the hall, gesturing for you to lay down while she changed and put her dirty clothes away. She made another mental note to wash those clothes tomorrow. Just in case.

In the few minutes that took, you were already on the verge of falling asleep when she turned back around.

With a small grin, she laid beside you and opened her arms. The tiny smile you gave her in return was blinding. You burrowed into her and buried your face into Tara’s neck like you always did when you slept together. Tara started carding her hand through your hair, knowing it would lull you off faster.

You were asleep within minutes. She couldn’t blame you, it had been an eventful night, and Tara herself should have been passed out instantly with the amount of physical labor she had done not even a few hours prior, but she just couldn’t shut her eyes.

How could she peacefully sleep knowing what she did to you?

This entire situation was her fault. Her inaction led to this moment, her hesitance to possibly hurt you nearly got you killed.

Her hesitance made you kill. That was devastating.

Tara wasn’t oblivious. She wasn’t so naïve as to think that her ultraviolent impulses were normal. No, there was a reason why she hid her true nature.

Whereas she found killing to be exhilarating—as utterly satisfying as scratching an itch you hadn’t been able to reach—you found it to be tormenting. She saw how stricken you were earlier, heard how terribly you thought of yourself for your actions just earlier in your room.

This would torture you. Would be a burden you carried for a long time. Because of her.

Just the thought was agonizing. The knowledge that she had hurt you, intentionally or not, made her want to drive a knife through her own flesh.

It would never happen, that she would make sure of.

With reinvigorated purpose, Tara pulled a blanket over the both of you and pressed a long, firm kiss to the top of your head. A silent promise to do better. A vow that for as long as she had you, she would never let another soul do you harm.

And the next time she even suspected anyone of laying their hands on you, there would no hesitation and absolutely no mercy.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #ghostface!tara #scream #scream vi #jenna ortega #i still don't know what damn tags to use lmao #shoutout to the mutual that informed me about exsanguination #ur a real one! #hope this isn't too disappointing

[shadesoflsk]

Okay but imagine Leon having a hispanic/latino s/o? Like him being introduced to their family at parties and having to memorize all the cousins, him falling in love with all the aspects of their culture. Also i feel like he would love gustavo cerati???? Coming from a latina (boricua y dominicana) this has me kicking my feet and giggling!! Ly 💗!! - 🐚

Hi! This is the first time someone claimed an emoji! I feel so excited, hehe.

And I just noticed I often reply to these asks with just my thoughts not knowing if any of you want a whole fic 😭 If you want one let me know ‘cause I'm dense.

Regarding Gustavo Cerati… you're so real 🐚 anon. In fact, I'm preparing a post which is basically hispanic music I think Leon would like. And let me tell you, there are A LOT OF Cerati's songs. If you guys want to share your thoughts/suggest some artists or songs you're welcome to do so. 🙏🏻

Anyway, I could definitely see Leon being overjoyed dating someone hispanic/latino.

The term itself is really broad, so I'm going to leave the details of the culture as ambiguous as I can so everyone can imagine their own.

leon kennedy x gn reader (reader speaks spanish)

Leon himself isn't someone who actually got to spend his childhood and younger years next to a family, or at least a loving one. So, when he met you, he slowly discovered your upbringing and how beautiful your culture was.

It started with little things. When you first mentioned Leon where you come from, he'd search for one thing he really enjoys—music! He fully believes art is the door to a culture, so there's nothing better than getting to know your country by its artists and songs.

He'd need to translate them, though. He barely knows how to say hello in another language. But then again, he tries his best to actually engage in your culture and show genuine interest.

While he navigates through the songs, typical dances, and festivities, the next step is obvious. As your relationship gets more serious, you'd tell him that your family wants to meet him. He isn't scared, not all. He's actually really excited at the prospect of meeting your relatives and taking such a serious step with you.

However, he is nervous about something.You had previously told him that your family was big, and while it didn't bother him, he isn't confident about his ability to remember names.

Poor boy would be the target of your family's teasing. As soon as he enters your home, some of your relatives would give him a pat on his back, seeing how nervous he is. The whole experience would be overwhelming but in a good way.

You'd introduce him to every family member. He'd say his name as best as he could (He asked you to teach him a bit of Spanish, to at least impress some of your relatives).

Very basic and broken Spanish: “Hola yo me llamo Leon, ¿Cómo estás tú?” Baby is trying his best, and everyone could see how much respect he holds for their culture and language.

He's really respectful in every aspect you could think of. When the little mingling comes to an end and hunger starts to brim in each one of your relatives, Leon would be delighted to try everything.

As soon as he starts eating, there are two outcomes. A) He really likes the food. B) He doesn't like it. For the first scenario, he'd devour the plate. Having something prepared with so much seasoning and love was something foreign to him. He'd whisper and ask you to tell your mom if he could fetch himself another serving. He's too shy for his own good.

For the latter, he'd still remain as respectful as he could. It's okay not to like certain things, and while he tries to finish his plate your family would joke about how he couldn’t handle the spice (even if it wasn't spicy in the first place.)

His favorite activity to do with your family is to see your childhood photo album. They would pull out embarrassing photos of yourself, but he'd think you look lovely. In moments like these, he gets to bond with your family even more, feeling himself blending with them and being part of a family he always longed for.

Overall, Leon would find himself falling in love with you and your culture. No matter how different it's from his own upbringing, he'd be honored to share moments getting to know everything about your country.

#I imagine re2r leon for this one #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #resident evil #— ࣪ ⊹ 💌 ruby's askbox #: ･ 。. 🐚 anon

[kairiscorner]

OMG IF YOU WANT PLS DO WRITE THE FIC ABOUT MIGUEL SEEING OUR THIRST TRAPS 😭 salamat talagaaaa wala na kasi akong maisip maliban kay miguel

HELLOOOOO, OFC I WILL ANON, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS HEHE this is another excuse to make more text fics bc it's starting to feel fun for me LMAO <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

is it not for me? – miguel o'hara x reader (reacting to your thirst traps)

a/n: kind of suggestive shit underneath the cut, sorry if you don't like it, you have every right to scroll away ^^

after getting used to the controls and operations on social media and understanding the basic goal, or lack, of it–miguel had begun scrolling through his feed like you and lyla directed him to do. he scrolled and scrolled through the endless photos, videos, and posts sent his way by the very strange algorithm of the app. he still hadn't found the right thing for him on social media and he honestly wouldn't be here if you and lyla didn't force him to try it out so much, but when he least expected it... he happened upon your account.

he saw a photo of your back, it was you taking a selfie in the mirror with hardly anything covering your back. your behind was in full view but covered up, the lighting was dim, save for the flash of your phone's camera. the caption read: "for m, hoping you'll enjoy this three-course meal 🍓"

...that did something to miguel. it set some sort of feeling off of him, something that urged him to not just click like, but to comment right then and there: "who the shock is 'm'?" but if only he knew how to comment; all he knows how to do is click like and scroll.

he clicked the like button, unsure of how to feel about that very... eye-catching photo of yours. he tried shaking the feeling off, but he just couldn't; he couldn't stop thinking about it. he scrolled back up to see who else liked your photo, it took him a few tries to figure out how to do that. he also saw a few of the preview comments, complimenting your looks and tagging their friends who had 'm' in their names–joking that the photo was for them.

it pissed miguel off that these people could think your photos were for them, when you promised him you were all his. it damaged his ego slightly, but he figured these people were just douches, simple as that.

...but he needed to be doubly sure, so he click on your profile and looked through the posts you made. you really did love showing off your behind, it seemed like you were incredibly proud of it; miguel's totally in love with your ass, don't get him wrong, bur to know other people could see it and get to revisit the sight of your ass? oh, that made him feel a bit of a stinging pain in his chest.

he hated that feeling, where he felt like you were sharing intimate bits of yourself when you kept reminding and telling him you're all his. that, and as he scrolled through your comments, he saw a lot of people who not only loved your photos and sent you many compliments, but many who told you to get off the platform–many also catcalled you in the comments, too, much to his disgust.

"can't even keep this shit in real life, what losers." he muttered under his breath as he felt his anger rise as he kept scrolling through your comment section. he had gone through almost all of your posts, memorizing all the details of your posts and how you looked in them, feeling his face and chest flare up in a fit of heat as he looked through them all one by one. he sighed as he noticed you were a little too bold in these photos, in his opinion. he didn't want you to jeopardize yourself, seeing as how there were a lot of creeps on your account, he wanted to bring it to you attention.

hence, he messaged you all about his concerns.

"for... her mother?" miguel repeated to himself as he reread your message to him. he sighed, not believing your excuse one bit, believing you directed it to someone with an 'm' in their name, like him, but he decided to play along for now to get you to fess up eventually. that, and he doesn't think you'd wish your mom would have a lovely three-course meal with your ass picture, but he did see that you took pictures of food afterwards, so... it was plausible. but you were not off the hook yet.

he sighed as you laughed at his attempt at guessing who that post was for, who 'm' was. he felt a little embarrassed, a little ashamed he thought it was him, but then he thought of who would be closest to you, had 'm' in their name, and would enjoy the three-course meal that was... you already know what. he sighed as he typed and retyped his message after deleting the previous one, trying to get himself together after outing himself as being a little expectant that those thirst traps were for him.

he finally messaged you, trying to sound stern over text, but he was completely ignored by you when you sent him a selfie of your bottom half, with little letters on your bottom that read: "good????? bad????? should i get em....."

fuck, you baited him again.

he felt his cheeks grow hot and his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at your photo for a second, hoping you wouldn't post this, that this could remain as just a little thing between you two. but then again, he couldn't control you, so he'd just try to respond back–seeming unfazed. hopefully.

he was so easy to please sometimes.

moral of the story?

miguel loves your ass and wants to beat up the creeps in your comments section, while making it known to both you and the world that your ass is all for him–nobody else.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @arachnoia @meeom @ophanimgold @melovetitties @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @popeheywardssecretgf

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv imagines #atsv fluff #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

[one-flower-one-sword]

"Gege, don't panic just yet. I'll repeat those words to you. Give them a listen."

"...Alright," Xie Lian said.

Hua Cheng's memory was exceptional, and he clearly and precisely repeated the words as soon as they left the area where the corpse-eating rats had gathered. Xie Lian stared intently at his lips as he pronounced a series of moderately paced and somewhat bizarre-sounding phrases. The words had a strange, ancient rhythm to them. Hearing them spoken with such steady control through Hua Cheng's lips made the notes deep, beautiful, and pleasing to the ears.

TGCF Volume 5, page 343

Mu Qing rolled all the silk veils into a ball and tossed them to the side, his veins popping slightly. "How would I know? Because all your clothes, accessories, and daily living needs were my responsibility back then. I washed for you, I mended for you - and every item in your wardrobe was unique. These statues are too detailed - everything is there, exactly the same, completely! When I saw those clothes, of course I knew which face they would have!"

TGCF Volume 6, page 50

For he had remembered something else: the tale of the red-clad ghost who set hundreds of civil and martial temples ablaze. Hua Cheng became famous overnight when he defeated thirty-three heavenly officials and obliterated every single one of their temples and shrines across the entirety of the Mortal Realm.

Xie Lian had long forgotten how many heavenly officials had fought him over that blessed land; their titles, their faces, and even the words they said were lost to him. He could only vaguely recall that there were about thirty of them.

TGCF Volume 8, page 24

Was thinking about Hua Cheng's memory while rereading these scenes and how he appears to basically have perfect recall. Yes, we know he can "record" things with his butterflies, but he only seems to be doing so during strategic moments. If he had recorded what the corpse-eating rats were saying, there would have been no need for him to repeat their words himself, but he does. And they were words in a language he could read but not understand when spoken, and he only heard them spoken once and when there was no reason for him to memorize them. And yet he can recall them perfectly.

Xie Lian wonders if the extreme accuracy of the statues' details is because the sculptor's mind was so filled with images of him and only him, and while that's not wrong, I do think it's remarkable that Hua Cheng was able to remember all those intricate details. After all, they're from a time where he mostly was only able to watch over Xie Lian from afar, and even when they were close for once, it was usually during very stressful circumstances. Yet years later, he can still recreate it all perfectly, to a point that, according to Xie Lian, not even Xianle's most renowned sculptors were able to.

Same with the thirty-three heavenly officials - Hua Cheng was a ghost fire during that time and again it were very stressful circumstances where he was actively trying to defend Xie Lian with what little power he had. And yet, even years later, even after he was almost dispersed as Wu Ming and out of his mind, he can apparently recall every single one of their faces and knows exactly who was there. It's a stark contrast to how Xie Lian has no idea anymore even how many there were, much less their names and faces.

Of course, at this point it's been several hundred years, so that's not surprising. Still, there are many moments like these where Xie Lian is confused and taken aback by Hua Cheng's strong reaction to things he himself can barely remember and often doesn't even really think about anymore. That's a multi-layered issue of course - for one thing, trauma messes with memory, and Xie Lian himself has stated things like that he'd rather remember the delicious meat bun he ate the day before than how he'd been trampled to death years ago. For another, Hua Cheng has reason to cling to those memories Xie Lian would rather forget because of his immense anger on Xie Lian's behalf.

This doesn't explain moments like with the corpse-eating rats though, since like previously stated there was no reason for Hua Cheng to actively try and memorize what they were saying. It can thus be extrapolated from these examples that he always remembers everything this precisely, whether he wants to or not, even if he only heard or saw it once, and no matter how much time has passed since then.

On the one hand, this would evidently serve him very well in cases like his worship of Xie Lian or his goals in aiding and protecting him. On the other, this would mean that every moment of suffering he went through - or that Xie Lian went through, which to Hua Cheng is the worst kind of suffering - will forever be present in his mind in perfect detail. To him, it will always be as if it happened just yesterday. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't forget, because there's no "off setting" to his perfect memory, it's always "on" and can't be overwritten.

I think this might also be a small but not insignificant part of what makes up Hua Cheng's palpable intensity and sharpness, and also contributes to the strong emotions he surpresses beneath his controlled exterior.

#tgcf #rereading tgcf #hua cheng

[scarletevening]

stitches leave scars [ keegan p. russ ]

someone reqd this n i accidentally deleted the post and im literally so upset over it it's not even funny

this is long asf btw i loved that req so much omfg

cw: near death experience/mentions of death, violence [not in detail, sorta game typical], severe injury, foul language, angst & comfort, mutual pining, gn!reader

"Two o'clock, hold it!" A gruff voice rang through the crackle of your radio. You wanted to growl back in a fuss, but he wasn't wrong. You wanted him to be, to impress him. Lunging, knowing you shouldn't, just a smidge of a moment too early, you attempt an assault on your enemy.

Keyword; Attempt.

Quickly struck down, your body flung to the floor, feeble attempts at escaping the violent blast of your enemies gun. The same gruff voice rang in your ears, your mind aching as it faltered, struggling to evade the darkness that was at your heels. Familiar crackle, and static of the radio drowned out, your open wounds numbing slowly from their agonizing burn, tripping over your feet as you fell into black.

He was right.

Keegans heart stopped. His mouth opened, the squeak of mind-shattering tension the only thing sounding, air escapes his lungs. Instincts went lame, trying to do anything but make his fingers twitch, to jump to you, to block the person who shot you, to take the damn bullet for you. The air was suddenly loud, the silence deafening. The radio static became meaningless, just as it may have been for you, he thought, eyes focusing on your slowly darkening eyes.

He's watched peoples life drain out of their eyes, but never before, has he wanted to look away so badly, only to be forced to stare by his fear.

Sound came crashing down on his consciousness, he mind moving faster than his lips as he screamed into his radio for medical, grasping for your body as he pulled you into the shadows. His hands never shook the way they did as they tried their hardest to act confident. Keegan's mind rushed to remember his basic life support training,

"Pressure...." His voice drudged in worry, his eyes were filled with a crazed look, unable to properly focus as he felt the burning panic rose up his throat, his hands clasping around your flesh. Sharp sounds of torn clothes, knifes against fabric, the lack of warmth.

The lack of you.

Although it had been a day, it seemed as though no time had passed. Muscles moved in memorized movements, shooting, announcing, ordering, and following without a hitch. But he wasn't there, neither were you. Keegans mind felt empty as he fell back into his seat at the debriefing, voices of his superiors becoming a buzz in his ears, broken by the vibration on his thigh.

"Hey, thought you would be interested in dropping by the infirmary?"

Never more in his life was Keegan grateful for the nurse he befriended. His knee bounced, teeth digging into the pink flesh of his lips as he watched the clock tick on his wrist. Each moment felt too long, the lousy mouth of his captain never seeming more annoying than now. Clock struck two. Two o'clock, just like it had when you were shot.

He shot up, disregarding the usual chit-chat he sat through with his teammates as he stormed to the infirmary, your name ringing like a cowbell, bringing him to you. His feet rushed passed familiar faces, glancing with a systematic nod, not stopping. Every step reminded him of every moment he didn't help you, when he watched blood spill from your body, when he watched as you were dying.

Hospitals were always eerily clean, despite the copious amount of lives that were held there. And it always made it worse when you realized ever beep that ticked in a, hopefully, forever constant beat, was someones life. The thought terrorized Keegan as he stood before the door with the dreaded sound of incessant beeping, murmurs of a T.V. screen just behind that piece of wood on hinges. He never thought that his skill to listen, just like it would in missions, would be used to make sure that the electronic beating of your heart rate monitor, didn't change, didn't stop. The door handle was just as cold as the rest of the hospital, bringing no comfort to the trembling hand of the wicked soldier.

Your ears perked at the sound of your name, head snapping to the door. Eyes sparkling, you smiled, so sweetly as you whispered his name weekly,

"Keegan?" The sound broke him. Even with tubes in your arms, dug in eye bags, and obviously a little delirious from pain killers. you still smiled at him. The strings of his heart tightened like a painful knot, eyes burning with irresistible tears. His bit-in lips part, your name barely a whisper on his tongue as he rushes to you.

"You look like you're doing well," He responds, tightly gripping the metal bars the sat on the side of you bed, looking down to your exhausted figure. His eyes glazed over each figure, making sure they were as familiar as they were a few days ago. "that's the least you could do after that move."

His tongue was sharp, unintentionally, causing the sting of hurt, pulling your lips into a straight line. You look down, whispering, "Y.... you're right about that, huh?" You chuckle, almost upset. It was hard to swallow your saliva when you heard him exhale sharply.

He always did that when you disappointed him.

"Look, kid" His fingers messaged his forehead, you knew without looking, head still hung low.

"M' not a kid, you know," You croaked, endeared by the name, but too defensive to actually accept it.

"You are to me." Keegan couldn't control the anger that seeped into his voice, his hands tightening around the cold metal. "You are a kid, when you act like that on the field," Nothing about his voice was kind, it wasn't loud, no, but it was full of a venom you've never tasted from him.

"C'mon Kee-"

"No." Firm, an order. His eyes glared down at you, hiding away the worry, the desperation to hold you, to celebrate the slight colour in your face. Taking a deep breath, he sighs, "I'm not angry,"

You roll your eyes at his sentence, turning away with a pout. He watched you, sighing once more as his shaky hand placed itself on your shoulder,

"I was... shit," He retracts his hand awkwardly, much to your dismay, to pinch his forehead. Your mind ran a million miles, trying, and struggling, to fill in the blanks as he thought of his words. Your lips parted, face timidly turning up to meet his eyes, apparent that you had settled on the worst possible actions.

"I thought I lost you."

Your eyes met his, the always unreadable sergeant's eyes filled with an overwhelming amount of emotion. Never, ever, did you expect the man you admired to deeply to look at the way he was looking at you, to return that burning adoration, the sight alone enough to make your lip quiver

It was never just admiration. For neither of you.

A small smile pinched onto the sergeant's face, a deep sigh passing from him as he tilted his head down, taking his gaze with him. Were it not for his prediction, you most definitely would have pounced on him. His hand laced with you, gently holding you still.

"A-are you alright?" A meek voice peeks in from beyond the curtain, in wrinkled nurse uniform. Blushing madly, you stammer and nod, waving her off. Your heart beat was on a screen after all.

Keegan on the other hand, snorts as he hold in a laugh, leaning in to grin down at you, "Do I make you nervous, pretty?" His eyes were sharp, fervor-filled as they bore into yours, too much to look away from. His face inched closer to your, slowly approaching you, grin descending into a small smile. "God," His voice hung like boulders as his breath brushed across your cheek, down your neck, hot and fast. His lips pressed to the corner of yours,

"You're just trying to get me fired, aren't you?" His voice was gruff, playful even. You blush as you look up at him, rolling your eyes as you let out the breath you forgot you were holding.

"You're such a tease."

"Says you, fucking getting yourself shot." You jaw drops, glaring at him as you stammer, trying to wave your hands as he still gently holds them down,

"You're saying you've never gotten shot on field?" The grin on his face would forever be engraved in your mind. His low voice rings in your ears as he finally moves his face directly in front of yours, eyes locking.

He smiles, his lips softly pressing into yours, the blaring beeping of your heart rate monitor no longer worries him, though maybe the nurse, as he pulls away, sighing into your neck as he whispers, smirking against your skin. "Not while trying to impress my crush."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"keegan is super perfectionis and reader is impuslive and they ifght n someone goes in near death experience and they go mua mua" <- thats how I remembered the req after I deleted it lmao

im not gonna shut up about that omfg im so upset over that like i swear to god. i think it was @/bad smth idk but the pfp was blue IF IT WAS YOU IM SO SORRY.

directory

#i accidentally pressed post so i deleted it thinking i could respond again and I didn't realize that it deleted the req too like tf #literally the worst mistake of my life #WHY DOES IT REMOVE IT FROM MY NOTIFS TOO??? #keegan p russ #ao3 #fluff #drabble #ao3 author #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ #call of duty ghosts #ghosts #cod ghosts #cood #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #angst #cod angst #keegan p russ angst #keegan russ angst #angst fic #cod x reader #x reader #cod violence #angst with a happy ending #mutual pining

[stuckinapril]

Hi Cianna, just wanted to say I really admire your study ethic and general vibe on this blog (you inspire me to do better!)

Do you have any advice/tips for good study habits and staying focused? I find that I get some work done, but after a break I can't get back on track

Sorry for the long ask/ studyblr type of question;; what is your favourite hairstyle that you do with your hair! (I also have curly brown hair :)

Have a lovely day also <3

🌻🌻

hi! i touch on a lot of points in this other ask, but a few specific learning techniques i abide by are:

parkinson's law. parkinson's law states that work expands to fill the time. basically if you have an essay that's due in a week, it will magically take you one week to get it done, even if the task itself could've been done in one day. to counter this i just set artifical deadlines for myself--even if an essay is due in a week, my personal deadline has it due in two days.

prime your brain prior to learning. if you need to study a biology chapter, pre-skim it the night before. this is not the time to go into detail--it's the time to familiarize yourself with the overview of the topic, so you should only be making a quick scan of the chapter. another priming method is to make a concept map of topics before diving into a chapter. as you skim write down key terms haphazardly, google those you don't recognize, and draw a concept map linking them together. this is effective bc it requires you to actually put effort into connecting the topics, takes no longer than 15 minutes, and speeds up the learning process that follows. it doesn't matter if you find out you're wrong once you dive in; what's important is you're actively thinking of how these topics coexist, as opposed to mindlessly taking notes or highlighting only to forget what you learned a couple hours later. i'm also a fan of concept maps bc i get to go back and highlight stuff i'm weak in, which is always a plus.

if you like to take notes, use it as another means of active recall. don't just passively take notes as you go along. what i like to do is i read a paragraph, close the book, then try to take down notes based off memory alone. this helps me both phrase the topic in my own words and realize what my learning gaps are, rather than just passively summarize without putting effort into truly understanding/memorizing something. anything i get wrong i hammer into my brain until i can't get it wrong anymore.

take notes effectively. our brain does not learn in sentences and paragraphs. it learns in bullet points, diagrams, and figures--and that's how i like to frame my notes. first i ask myself if i actually need to take notes to begin with, or if there are online notes out there i can use to save time (which, as a stem student, there typically are). if i do decide to take notes, i never mindlessly summarize. i always condense the material into bullet points, diagrams, concept maps, or visual representations. i also like to phrase my notes as questions rather than just passive summaries, so that when i review them i'm already testing myself in a way. most people would not understand my notes bc they're either very low-yield stuff, stuff i'm weak in, or bare-bones fragments of information.

always prioritize weaknesses. if you're weaker at chapter 18 of your textbook vs chapter 1, maybe start with chapter 18. don't spend 6 hours taking notes on chapter 1 if you're already strong in chapter 1. always attack your weaknesses first.

practice practice practice!! so so important. i owe all my As to mock exams, quizzes i make myself, end-of-chapter questions etc etc. imo practice matters a lot more than passive content review.

interleaving concepts helps with retention. an example of this is i like to do biology and chemistry one day, biochemistry and organic chemistry the next day, physics and psychology the day after... i'm not just doing biology all day, every day. another thing i like to do if i'm in a massive rut is i hop between tons of different subjects on the same day, which keeps me from getting bored/helps me understand the subjects better through distinguishing their differences.

retrospective timetable. an example of this is if i find i'm pretty weak in a particular physics topic, the next few days will disproportionately focus on physics over other subjects. inversely, if i just breezed through a biology chapter, the next few days will have less biology than initially planned. i'm constantly going back and revising my study timetable based on my performance of the day, rather than relying on a rigid prospective timetable that doesn't take into account my progress.

less passive learning, more active. spaced repetition is a big one. i love anki for this bc there's an algorithm that dictates how often topics come up again based on how well you answer them. other methods include active recall, having friends quiz you, and trying to teach the topic to others (or the plushie in your bedroom haha). if you find you're struggling to simplify topics and explain them, that's a sign you don't understand them very well yourself.

#haha no worries <3 answering these asks helps ground me too so it's a pretty symbiotic relationship #and i'm always happy to help!! good luck :) #study tips #ask

[loveundrwrld]

Yan artists x artist.. reader

(One is a painter the other is a singer make up your mind)

hi anon! i hope that this lined up to what you were thinking of re: your request- you didn't specify a gender for the yans, so i made it a female painter yan, and a male vocalist yan. i also have the reader as someone who both is an artist as well a singer. i hope that that's alright with you!

poly yans- female artist yan x hobbyist gn reader x male vocalist yan

(cw: implied stalking, implied sabotage, dubiously consensual kissing, gaslighting (kinda?))

- eva goes to your college, and she’s an art major. she’s a painter, and quite a good one.

- she’s a very serious, cold type of person. a straight-A student who acts better than others.

- in her eyes… it’s justified that she acts like she’s above all the rest. she knows her paintings will be shown in galleries, after all.

- her future is all planned out for her, with thanks to her parents. a wonderful childhood friend who’s become her wonderful boyfriend will become the perfect husband. the perfect internship she got will become the perfect first job.

- even though she’s assured a great future, she’s still very careful. she doesn’t want to risk her perfect plan, after all! so she's going to make sure that she does well in college too, so everything lines up well.

- she had seen you a few times around campus. you were bouncing around, talking to friends, not seeming to be taking anything seriously. you were in so many different clubs, with none of them having anything to do with your major. they were clearly just an excuse to spend more time around your friends, she thought.

- she didn't think you were the type of person that she would get along with. the opposite, in fact. you seemed too silly, too carefree. she couldn't imagine spending so much time out of classes just hanging out and not studying- it was like you weren't being careful about your future.

- then, she saw you in one of her classes- drawing 101. by chance, you were also taking it as one of your electives.

- she first internally scoffed at you for taking it as a non-art major. she pegged you in her head as someone she didn’t need to remember- someone who just thinks of art as a fun little side project, not as something worth consideration.

- in your class together she watched you draw from time to time, looking over to your sketch pad. you seemed to be struggling a bit with some things like perspective, but to her surprise, you showed clear potential. your artwork was really good for a non-art major. and you were improving fast.

- when the teacher said that the class was doing portraits for the next class assignment, eva picked you. it was out of curiousity, at the time. she wanted to see what you were like, and this was a good opportunity.

- you were to draw her, and she was to draw you. you both were to spend all of class staring at each other, basically. it was the best scenario for one to get to know each other better.

- and she did indeed get to know you better. she saw that, staring at you while you were looking at her to study her features. you were studying her intensely, and kept erasing what you drew to redraw it, perfecting your details- you really cared about improving your work.

- it changed her opinion of you completely. you put your all into learning things, she realized, and didn’t see art as some little casual thing on the side. rather, you were earnest in your efforts to improve yourself.

- and of course… she also realized at the same time, that you were rather attractive. every minute she spent looking at you to memorize the details of your face, she realized how lovely each little part of your face really was.

- she felt a strange feeling, deep in her stomach... something she had only ever felt for her boyfriend. and yet, now, she was feeling it for you...

- without thinking, she presses too hard on her sketch pad with her pencil.

- after you two are done with the portrait assignment, eva feels like she still can't let you go. even though she knows it's wrong to enable herself in doing this when she has a boyfriend... she feels too strongly about you.

- she wants to know everything about you. she's scoured all of your social media accounts that she can find but... it just isn't enough. she needs more.

- instead of using her time between classes to study like she used to, she instead uses it to go around campus, looking for you...

- when she ends up finding you frequently "by coincidence" you just figure that she's lonely, and you don't think much of it.

- even if the accuracy to which she's predicting your locations and moods is becoming... a little worrisome. it seems like she knows when you’ve skipped lunch, when you’ve spent an all-nighter, when you have a big test you’re preparing for in one of your classes…

- she'll often spend a lot of time waiting for you. too often for someone who already has a partner, you think.

- you think you maybe should tell her boyfriend, but you think better of it. you feel bad for claude- you know that he really loves his girlfriend.

- claude, her boyfriend, was the shining star of the music department. he was a former child prodigy at the piano, and still plays it beautifully. but what he's really known for is his angelic, soothing voice.

- he’s a very handsome, polite man, someone who is able to charm both teachers and students alike.

- and yet, although he could get with anyone he wanted, he was steadfast in his devotion to eva. constantly keeping an arm on her while at social events and always doing favors for her to make her happy.

- but right now, little did you know... claude himself wasn’t feeling too loved.

- he had been noticing that his girlfriend had been spending even less time with him, and was evasive when she was asked who she was with.

- she already didn’t spend much time together with him, as she was studying and painting for most of her time out of her classes. now, it was like he barely saw her at all. and when she did, she seemed different, distracted even.

- she was smiling and blushing to herself while she was thinking. far moreso than she normally would than she was around him. it made his heart hurt, seeing his normally stoic girlfriend act like this about someone else.

- clearly, she was starting to have feelings for someone else. but he didn’t feel that he had the right to say anything about it right now. after all, he too was falling for someone else.

- he’d met someone in one of his basic singing classes. they’d been taking it so they could get better at singing, since they liked doing so as a hobby.

- he’d fallen in love with their voice, thinking it was beautiful. an amateur sound, sure, but it sounded so lovely alongside his own.

- he’d try to convince them to let him tutor them. after all, it would be a waste for them to not perfect this talent of theirs, no?

- even though he had a girlfriend, he insisted on spending more time with them. he felt like he needed to spend as much time with them as he could, savoring the lovely sound of their voice.

- he had thoughts about them that he had only had for eva, before. his head swarmed with an obsessive need to just have them, keep them to himself. even though, he already had a love of his own already…

- he felt guilty, thinking he was betraying one love for another by holding both in his heart. he has started to follow eva, wanting to remind himself that she was his love, and not them.

- to his surprise, though, the mystery person that eva was meeting behind his back turned out to be you. you, the person that he fell for as well.

- and then, the gears started turning in his head.

- maybe it wasn't a problem that his girlfriend had a crush after all... after all, it's good to share in a relationship, isn't it?

- once the two of them decide to work together to gain your affection, your life becomes very different. though you don’t know why, both seem to be acting more open and friendly with you in public. they’re both very touchy with you, gently putting their hands on you often.

- when you’re singing or drawing with them in private, you don't feel creeped out or surprised when they put their hands on your arm or back to correct your posture... though, you do feel like they are touching for longer than they should. aren't you already in the right position by now?

- the two of them end up being very supportive of your interests, urging you to do duets with claude, draw eva while she's posing for you, and show the two of them your sketchbook.

- they give you a lot of special things, too- including making you special tea for your voice, expensive art supplies, sheet music, etc.

- you end up being signed on as the understudy for a role in a musical a lot, and the two of them say that they'll watch you perform. you shake your head saying that you probably won't get on stage. but oddly enough, accidents happen frequently enough that you often do.

- you feel a bit overwhelmed by their attention, and all the odd occurrences happening around them are starting to creep you out... but, both of them are in the clubs and classes that you want to join, so you also feel that you can't avoid them.

---

claude put his fingers gently on your throat. you weren't sure that this was really necessary, but his cool fingers felt good on you. you gulped a bit as he pressed his fingers up near your jaw, and uneasily you looked towards eva sitting on the other side of the room.

she was looking at the two of you with an unreadable expression. you flitted your eyes away, worrying that she was (understandably) jealous about the close contact you were having with her boyfriend.

she seemed mad earlier too, when you had said that you were auditioning in the role of one of the leads in the next musical the theater department was holding. you didn't understand why she was upset with you for that, but you had hoped that she wouldn't be mad at you for long- she was a little frightening when she was upset, and you would really like to get on her good graces.

you had just come over since claude had offered to tutor you a bit in the song you chose for your audition. you had no idea that eva would even be here, let alone that claude's lesson would be so... hands on. you blushed slightly, unused to the strange situation.

"mm, your tonsils are a bit swollen. that's not good for someone who's supposed to sing on stage, you know," he said to you softly, giving you a sympathetic smile.

"really? you think i got sick?" you say, surprised. “i feel just fine, though. are you sure?”

claude nodded.

"mhm, trust me, i've been singing for a long time- i know tonsillitis when i see it."

you look at eva to see if she'll say anything, but she nods in agreement.

"well, you shouldn't audition if there's any chance of you being sick, right? after all, doesn't this play have a kissing scene? you wouldn't want to pass on your germs to them during rehearsal."

"eva's right, you shouldn't do it."

you frown a bit. you really feel fine... doesn't tonsilitis feel much worse than this? your throat doesn't even feel sore.

"well... okay," you say, grumbling slightly. "i guess you do know better."

he seems to preen a bit at this, standing up straighter. he smiles at you widely.

"just stay here, you'll be fine soon. you can just get some medicine here and rest up. we'll take care of you," claude says, patting the top of your head gently. to your surprise, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. you make a sound of surprise, and look at eva and then back at him. your eyes are wide with shock, but they're both acting like this was just a handshake.

"wait, hang on, what was that about-" you start saying, but he's already off to another room. you turn to eva, frowning slightly in confusion.

"eva, i'm sorry, i don't know why he would-"

before you finish your sentence though, she's already walked up to you and placed a kiss on you as well.

"don't worry about it.”

#yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #gender neutral reader #female yandere x reader #yandere poly #kind of less ‘gaslighting’ and more ‘lying’ lol but ykwim haha #eva cassatt #claude calloway

[merakiui]

Just wanted to pop in and ask, would you ever consider a yan4yan fic? (Basically, the MC is obsessive, if not just as bad as the LI)

I'd love to maybe one day see your take on that. You have major talent when it comes to obsessive characters and overall writing characters with different and unique thought processes and mannerisms.

Definitely! I think it would be interesting to write a fic where both darling and the yan are obsessed with one another. For a while I've considered the idea of a reader who keeps Riddle captive and dresses him in cute clothes and constantly love-bombs him. Riddle is stuck trying so hard not to succumb to Stockholm syndrome, but it's just so difficult when you're giving him all of the love and attention he never received from his mother or peers. >_<

It may not exactly be yandere, but the reader in tmdg is very obsessed with Floyd (to the point of wearing her makeup a certain way, wanting to know every little detail about Floyd, memorizing his schedule at the lounge, etc), and Jade wholly enables this,,, OTL I also like the concept of a darling who is obsessed but not nearly as obsessed as the yan, so it feels like varying levels of intensity. Tmdg!Reader is essentially just really infatuated with Floyd, but Jade is a different type of obsessed.

I find it fascinating to explore all facets of obsession, even in a reader character. I like the concept of a reader who was formerly obsessed and codependent with the yan, but then they work to improve themselves and break away from that mindset to become healthier. But the yan doesn't want to let them go. Concepts like that are always interesting to think about. The lengths in which one will go to preserve a delusion or an obsession and how that applies to a reader versus the yan.

#twisted chit chat #thank you for saying i have talent!!!! <3 i'm flattered :D

[cookienha]

☆ be my valentine? ¦ valentine dates with zb1 (hyung line)

¦ hyung line!zb1 x gn!reader, fluff

¦ warnings: established relationships, pet names, kisses, mentions of food and drinks, butchered french, not proofread!!

¦ a/n: happy valentine's day, lovebirds!!

kim jiwoong !!

☆ classic romantic dinner - without a doubt, jiwoong is a romantic man, so a classic romantic dinner is his go-to plan on a valentine's evening. just imagine; soft candlelights, fresh flowers and classical music playing in the background. whether it be in a fancy restaurant or a simple dinner he orchestrated at the comfort of your home, he makes sure to pay attention to every detail, ensuring that every moment of the dinner is filled with love and thoughtfulness, making it a memorable and cherished experience for both himself and his partner.

I sighed, closing the door behind me as arrived home after a long day at work, stumbling over my own feet whilst taking off my shoes. "Babe!" I called out before looking up, noticing a trail of rose petals leading from the entrance to the dining area.

Curious, I followed their path, the anticipation building with each step. Upon entering the dining area, I was greeted by the soft glow of candlelight and the sweet scent of fresh flowers, Jiwoong standing behind the table with his pink apron still on.

"Woah, what is all this?" I giggled, looking around. The soft glow of candlelight danced around the room, the table was adorned with fresh flowers, their delicate fragrance filling the air, while gentle piano music played in the background. My cheeks flushed as I felt a rush of warmth at his thoughtful gesture. "Bonjour, mademoiselle. I prepared dinner for us tonight. Please have a seat, my lady." Jiwoong replied with a smile that made my heart flutter, pulling out a chair for me with a flourish.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the gesture, placing my handbag at a table nearby before walking to where he was standing, sitting down on the chair. As I took my seat, he leaned in close, whispering, "I wanted tonight to be as special as you are to me."

zhang hao !!

☆ making diy's - i see him as the type to customize things, either it be his or yours. adores you wearing or using the diy gift he made for you, whether it be clothes, bracelets, hats, anything basically! you will also (always) find him wearing and using whatever you made for him, even if it's not the prettiest. making diy gifts on valentine's day as a date may not be much compared to other type of dates, but it's a great way to show show your love and effort in creating something meaningful for him to cherish.

Surrounded by shelves stocked with beads, threads, and charms, we sat at the table in silence, glancing up at each other from time to time. My eyebrows furrowed in concentration as I carefully selected colorful beads, envisioning the perfect combination for Hao's bracelet. With each bead threaded onto the string, I poured my effort into the creation, imagining his smile when he saw the finished piece. Meanwhile, Zhang Hao meticulously crafted a delicate phone charm, his fingers dancing across the tiny pieces with precision, choosing colours he thought suited me best. As he worked, I couldn't help but admire his focus and dedication, chuckling at the way he pouts his lips when he's focused. "This is fun," he remarked, glancing over at my progress. "We should do this again." I chuckled before nodding in agreement, a sense of contentment washing over me. "It's special because we're making it for each other." Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in the art of creation, laughter and whispered conversations filling the air. With each passing moment, our bond grew stronger, woven into the intricate patterns of our handmade gifts. Finally, as the workshop began to close for the day, we exchanged our creations, hearts overflowing with love and gratitude. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love," Zhang Hao said, slipping the bracelet onto my wrist before landing a small kiss on my forehead. I smiled, holding his handcrafted phone charm in my palm, the other hand intertwined with his as we walked home. "Happy Valentine's Day, Hao."

sung hanbin !!

☆ café hopping - caffeine + sung hanbin = free therapy. he definitely loves trying out new café's you two come across, every cup of coffee with him becomes a soothing experience; a safe haven. sipping on your coffee, sharing stories from the past week and sharing laughters here and there, nothing could get better than that. on valentine's though, he'd definitely prefer a more intimate setting, so if he decides to bring you on a simple café date, he'll take you to visit his mother's café. think of it as spending time with your future mother-in-law.

"Seriously, where are we heading?" I asked, impatience lacing my tone as I glanced at the tall figure guiding our way. Hanbin simply chuckled, taking hold of my hand. "Just follow me, angel." he replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

With a mixture of curiosity and excitement bubbling inside me, I followed his lead, eager to discover his surprise.

After a few more minutes of walking (and occasional complaints) we finally arrived at a quaint café nestled on a charming street corner. My heart skipped a beat when I read the sign placed outside the place, realizing his plan for our little date was to visit his mother's café.

It was like stepping into a piece of his heart, and I couldn't help but feel touched by his gesture. As we entered the café, Hanbin's mother seemed surprised when she looked up, standing behind the counter. "Oh, welcome!" She smiled warmly, walking over to give us both a tight hug. "We thought we'd spend our day here," Hanbin said, chuckling. She beamed at us, her eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm so glad you're here. Sit, sit! Let me get you something special." We settled into a corner booth, the familiar sights and smells instantly comforting. Hanbin's mother returned shortly after with two steaming cups of coffee, each adorned with a heart-shaped foam. "Here you go, my dears. A little Valentine's treat from me," she said, placing the cups in front of us with a wink. "Thank you, Mom," Hanbin said, leaning over to give her a quick hug. As we sipped our coffee, Hanbin's mother bustled about the café, greeting customers and tending to their needs. The atmosphere was bustling yet cozy, filled with the hum of conversation and the clink of coffee cups. "So, what do you think?" Hanbin asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Do you like it here?" I smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze. "I love it. I've been wanting to go here for a while now," Hanbin grinned, his dimples deepening. "I'm glad you feel that way. I wanted to make today special for you." "Being with you already makes my everyday special, Hanbin."

seok matthew !!

☆ movie night - the perfect end for a valentine's night. he would select a movie that either you love or a movie that holds a special meaning in your relationship. dim lights, snacks neatly arranged on the coffee table, pillows and blankets surrounding you, your favourite movie playing, and the best part; cuddling with him.

As I walked out of our shared bedroom after freshening up, I was greeted by the soft glow of dim lights illuminating our cozy living room. On the TV screen, a movie was paused, pillows and blankets arranged invitingly on the couch and a bowl of popcorn sitting on the coffee table. Just then, Matthew emerged from the kitchen with DVD's in hand, a playful smile on his face.

"I couldn't decide which one to choose, so I picked both," he said with a grin. I laughed, feeling my heart swell with love for this thoughtful man. "You always know how to make me happy," I replied, reaching out to take one of the DVDs from him. Together, we settled onto the couch, our bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Matthew wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close as he pressed play on the remote. The movie began, and instantly I felt a surge of nostalgia wash over me. It was our favorite film, one that we had watched together on our very first date. As the familiar scenes played out on screen, I couldn't help but smile, remembering the nervous excitement of that night.

It was the simple act of being here with Matthew, surrounded by love and warmth.

As the credits rolled and the room filled with silence, I turned to him, my heart overflowing with gratitude. "Thank you for the perfect end for today," I whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Matthew smiled, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Anything for you, my dear," He murmured, pulling me even closer until there was no space left between us.

kim taerae !!

☆ relaxing at the spa - taerae is attentive to your needs and senses, especially if you've been stressed with work or school. so, bringing you to the spa is his own way of showing he cares and wants you to be relaxed and happy. he loves the idea of pampering you and helping you unwind from the troubles of the week. besides, he gets to spend quality time with you in a tranquil setting, indulging in the luxurious treatments himself.

I could feel the tension knotting my shoulders and the weight of exhaustion settling in each and every piece of my bone. Work was stressful, and I practically dragged myself as I entered the apartment.

"You're home," Taerae, ever perceptive to my moods, greeted me with a warm smile and a gentle hug. "You seem like you could use some relaxation," he remarked with a joking tone, his eyes soft with concern. I nodded, sinking into his embrace as he practically had to drag my exhausted body the couch. "I feel like I haven't stopped running all day." Taerae's expression brightened with an idea. "What do you say we escape for a day at the spa? A little pampering might do wonders for both of us." The thought of indulging in a spa day with Taerae sounded like a dream. He knew how much I loved being pampered and cherished any opportunity to unwind together. "Really?" I asked, a glimmer of hope creeping into my weary voice. "Absolutely," he replied, his smile widening. "You deserve it." The next morning, we found ourselves enveloped in the serene atmosphere of the spa. Soft music played in the background as we slipped into plush robes and slippers, leaving the stresses of the outside world behind. "Doesn't this feel amazing?" Taerae whispered as we settled into a couple's massage room. I sighed contentedly, closing my eyes. "It's perfect. Thank you for suggesting this." As skilled hands worked away the tension in my muscles, I could feel myself melting into the table, the cares of the past stressful days fading into oblivion. After our massages, we indulged in facials, steam rooms, and even a luxurious soak in a hot tub. With each passing moment, I felt the weight of stress lifting from my shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love," Taerae whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead as we relaxed in the hot tub. I smiled up at him, feeling overwhelmed with love and gratitude. "Happy Valentine's Day to you too. Thank you for making it so special." As we left the spa later that evening, I felt lighter than I had in weeks, my mind clear and my body relaxed. Taerae, standing next to me with our hands intertwined, wore a contented smile, knowing that he had succeeded in bringing a little slice of paradise into my life when I needed it most.

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