#not in a creepy way well it is creepy but not like that

[miss-fanfictions]

Sundays at the Library | Spencer Reid x Reader

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Spencer talks to the sweet librarian at his new library and slowly Sundays become his favorite day of the week.

Warnings] Cursing, creepy guy, misunderstandings (but its cute I promise), written from Spencer's POV

Word Count] 8.9k

Author's Note] This is my first fic here! I'm planning on doing a few more parts to this, so this is only the beginning 🙃

The first time Spencer saw you, the encounter wasn’t anything special. 

If he wasn’t working, he was reading, and because he can read 20,000 thousand words per minute, he needed new books often. Not even his FBI salary could afford the amount of books he consumed in a month and his cozy apartment certainly couldn’t contain them all. Already his bookcases were spilling out onto nearby surfaces. So to quench his constant need for new books, Spencer borrowed books from the library. However, since the one near his apartment closed just a week ago, he had to find a new one. That led him to drive to the library ten minutes away. 

It was larger than the one down the street from his apartment—it had a full three floors. Beyond the double doors, he followed two velvet rope barriers onto the main floor of the library, wandering past a grand front desk to his left to where the room divided into two sections and the barriers ended. In the left section, beside the desk, there were a couple computers set up, as well as two printers and a side wall dedicated to DVDs. In the other section there were tables and chairs set up for quiet studying, as well as more comfortable lounges for reading. Behind those two sections started the book shelves, nearly ceiling high and organized via genre and then further alphabetized. When he ascended the staircase at the back of the main floor, he found the upper levels were fully dedicated to rows of shelving containing books, interspersed with a few tables and lounges for reading. 

 He spent approximately 45 minutes getting the layout of the library, as large as it was, and finding the books he wanted to read. Of course, he got a range of books. Two books on psychology, a mathematical textbook, and another two books based in the sciences. A bit of light reading, really, just to occupy his time at home during a busy caseload week. 

He balanced the heavy books awkwardly in his arms as he made his way to the front desk, practically dropping them onto the counter. His lips twisted up in embarrassment, glancing around to see if anyone was disturbed by the loud clatter. When his eyes turned back to the desk, they met the bespeckled ones of you, the librarian, seated behind the counter. They were wide behind the frames, doe-like and startled by the noise. He winced and stuttered out an apology.

Too often he embarrassed himself due to his clumsiness. Over the years, Spencer got a lot better at the shooting range, but he still couldn’t run a mile without tripping a few times, or be able to participate in sports, and he didn’t even want to think about his driving. JJ often compared the experience of being in his passenger seat to riding shotgun with her senile grandmother. No matter what he did, the awkwardness crept in and all he could do was apologize. He didn’t mean to startle the nice librarian who he would seeing every week for the foreseeable future. 

“It’s fine,” your voice was a gentle whisper, perfect for the quiet of the library. You closed the book on your lap and placed it out of sight under the counter, standing up to help him. That’s when he could take you in completely, with your long flowy skirt and oversized sweater. Perhaps a shy attempt to battle the chill running through the library, or maybe a purposeful effort to hide yourself away from prying eyes. He could tell—despite your attire—that you were his age or maybe a little younger. You lacked the wrinkles, grays, and even the weathered dullness associated with age. Your hair was done up messily, effortlessly, and his eyes tracked your chewed up fingernails as you tucked a few strands behind your ears, out of the way of your eyesight. 

He thought you were plain and shy. The soft pastels and neutrals that colored your clothes and the fact the garments covered you so entirely, made you blend into the background. Had he not needed to speak to you directly, he might not have noticed you tucked behind the desk, folded up in your chair with your nose deep in a book. 

“Can I check these out for you?” You asked him, and he almost missed it due to both his staring and your airy cadence. 

“Oh, uh, yes,” he said, then quickly added. “And a library card, please. I’m new to this library.”

“I’ll just need an ID then,” you held out your hand while he rummaged through his wallet for his state ID, and when he placed it into your palm he was careful not to touch your hand. It was less about you as a person as it was his disdain for germs. 

You went about clicking and typing at the computer to the side of the desk, face plain as if whatever you were doing you had done a thousand times. Your nimble fingers only stuttered when you glanced back at him, catching his eyes as he watched you before he darted them away from your face, caught. Quickly, you grabbed the mouse, clicking only three more times before handing back his ID. He was careful not to touch your hand or meet your eyes as he took it back. 

He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with his staring, he had a habit of it, always trying to profile. But you were just a meek librarian, and there was no reason to take note of your behavior. You went about printing out a physical copy of his new library card, and he opened one of his books to occupy himself as you did so. 

When you turned back to him, you scanned a plastic card before offering it to him with a small smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled as you went about scanning the books on the counter with the same barcode reader. You were on the fourth book when your brows creased and you looked back up at him. 

“Are you studying?” You asked, the words sudden as if you couldn’t hold the thought off your lips. 

“No, this is just some light reading,” he answered politely, because it was. Though he forgot that was maybe not normal, because you giggled at his reply. 

The sound brought his eyes to your lips, the way they parted to let the breathy noise out. It was a unique giggle, though he supposed everyone’s is, but something about it suited you so completely. It was soft, and when he glanced around the library to see that no one else had heard it, he thought it was also just for him. There was no taunting, just joy that you emitted in the most delicate of sounds. If only he could understand what he did to extract it from you. 

“Right,” You said jokingly, and then he thought maybe you didn’t believe him, but he didn’t get a chance to assure you he was being truthful before you finished checking out the books. “Here you go, have a nice day, Spencer.”

He hesitated, thrown off by your use of his name, but cleared his throat and collected his books nonetheless. He thanked you and mumbled a brief goodbye as he did so, not looking back as he rushed out of the library. When he got to his car, he used a pack of disinfectant wipes on the books and set them up in his passenger seat, thoughts of the little librarian withering away to the casework waiting for him at work tomorrow.

—

He finished the books quickly, in only two days actually, but thankfully most of his time was taken up by his work. In his remaining free hours, he resorted to rereading a few books on his shelves. On Sunday, he collected his library books and drove the ten minutes back to his new library, exactly one week since his last visit. 

The inside was chilly and smelled like old paper and leather. There weren't many people he could see on the main floor, a few of what looked like college students spread out studying and some preteens huddled on the computers, whispering snarks and giggles. He walked up to the front desk, following the rug and the velvet rope barriers that led right to it from the entrance. This time he didn’t pass by the desk, but stopped at it to place down his books—quietly.

Your familiar framed eyes looked up at him, just as doe-like as surprise crossed them right before a smile took hold. Again, you closed the book in your lap, though this time Spencer caught a glimpse of its orange and yellow cover before you hid it from sight. He couldn’t make out the title. “Back so soon?”

It had been exactly a week since he’d seen you, and though he had not thought of you much since then, Spencer was incapable of forgetting a face. You looked just as you did last week—messy updo, baggy clothes, bare face. It seemed that was your natural state, or at least what you wore to work, but what Spencer wore to work was pretty much his normal wardrobe and he worked in the FBI, not a library.

“Yes, I need to return these books,” he told you, returning your smile with a quirk of his lips and placing his library card on top of the stack of books. 

When your eyes roamed back down from his to the five books, your brows furrowed. “Give up on studying then?” You asked, scanning the books back into the system. 

For a moment, Spencer was confused, then he recalled every word of your last interaction, and realized you still thought he checked the books out to study them, likely for some graduate classes, given his age. “No, I wasn’t studying them. I just needed a few books for casual reading after work.”

You paused once you turned to the computer, looking at him down your glasses. “Casual reading?” Your eyes went back between the thick books and his face, a smirk of disbelief growing. “You read all these books in a week?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. 

“For fun?” You had a skeptical eyebrow quirked.

“That’s what casual reading normally implies.” Spencer furrowed his brows at your line of questioning. Maybe most people wouldn’t read such topics simply for fun, but why would he lie about that? 

At that, you giggled again, a bird’s song, and resumed clicking at your computer. Your gentle laugh tickled something deep in his chest. Again, there was no malice or ill intent to it, not any that he could see behind your genuine eyes and smile. You simply thought he was a funny guy, and no one ever thought that of Spencer. He was too awkward, or too serious, or even too annoying to be fun. 

You took the stack of books in your arms, the pile reaching right up to your chin, and walked them to a cart behind you. When you turned back, you were still smiling sweetly at him. “Your light reading has been checked back in.” You slid his library card across the counter.

He plucked the card back off it with a thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his sweater vest. For a moment, he debated telling you about his PhDs, his eidetic memory, and maybe even his genius IQ because Spencer always felt the need to prove himself—to state facts—because he wasn’t the funny guy. He was very serious and all the things he was telling you weren’t just silly jokes. Then he worried he might wipe the smile right off your face, and he couldn’t let himself do that. So instead he gave you a stiff nod and continued into the library.

. . . Only to spin right back around, fist awkwardly pressed against his lips. “Oh, also, what is the maximum amount of books I could have checked out at once?”

You had just cracked the spine of your book again when you looked back up at him, a swirling look of confusion on your face. “Ten books, but you don’t have any out so I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

Spencer gave another nod, spinning back around on his heels and taking himself right up to the second floor of the library. He spent approximately 37 minutes collecting books from around the library, setting them aside at tables as he weaved through the rows of bookcases for the different genres. A wealth of knowledge in all areas was useful for his job, and also just for him personally. He found great pride in knowing many things, as annoying as others might find his incessant info-dumping. 

When he finished, he took a stack of books from the table and carried them down from the second floor, slowly stepping down the stairs and craning his neck around the stack to watch his steps. He could be uncoordinated at his best, so there was no need to tempt fate into sending him tumbling down the staircase by not paying attention. 

After successfully making it down, he took long strides to the main desk and set the stack down on the counter. Of course, you looked up at him again, however skipped surprise and jumped into an inviting smile. You closed your book and stood up, taking in the books he set in front of you. “Another five to check out then?”

“No, actually, I’ll be right back.” He turned away so fast he almost missed the way your smile faded and you leaned over the counter to watch him ascending the stairs again, spindly legs taking them two at a time.

He grabbed hold of the second tower of books, nearly dropping the top one in his haste to get back to you. After that he continued to take the stairs carefully even as he felt your eyes on him. Maybe especially because he felt your eyes on him, because if you watched him fall down the stairs he’d have to drive an additional ten minutes away to find another new library, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes anymore. 

Beside the first stack on the counter, he set the second, then placed his library card between them. “This is it, I promise.”

Again, you glanced between him and the books, eyes bugging behind their glass shelter. After a moment or so, as if you were making sure he was serious (he was), you began scanning his card and the books. Despite the larger quantity of books, you were slower as you ran the barcodes on the back, taking the time to read the titles and authors. 

“Are you a graduate student?” You asked, looking at a book on human genealogy. 

Spencer twiddled his thumbs. “No, I’m finished with school for now, but I might go back for another PhD in the future when I have more time,” he answered honestly, the words flowing out quickly, even though he wasn’t sure why he was telling you that. Only about two percent of the U.S. population has a PhD, and an even slimmer percent had more than one. So it was an unusual thing to say.

He thought you might laugh again, or even question him, but you simply hummed and moved onto the next book, chewing your lip. “I’m in a graduate program for poetry,” your voice was quiet, as required by the library environment, but more so than usual, like you seemed embarrassed to share that information. 

It made sense you were a graduate student working in a library while earning your MA in writing. He wondered if you had plans for your degree beyond getting a slight pay increase as a librarian. There was a career as an author, or maybe you wanted to be a teacher or a professor, he could see you doing that, standing in front of a class in your skirts and sweaters pointing at a chalkboard with a ruler, though that image was outdated. More likely you’d be in front of a white board or presenting from a projector. 

“That’s interesting. I find myself reading a lot of nonfiction recently—it helps more with my job, though I also just enjoy facts and statistics—but I’ll always have a special appreciation for fiction. I’m fond of poetry in particular because it’s created for multifaceted analysis,” even in his own whisper, the words were breathy and fast. He had to catch his tongue between his teeth when he caught your eyes trailing back up to him. “What do you plan on doing with your degree?”

“Write poetry hopefully,” the words came out in a gust of wind and your eyebrows quirked up, as if you didn’t believe even your own dream. “Maybe you can analyze it one day.” You finished scanning out the books, putting them back into two neat piles as you did. You went about clicking at your computer, making sure the books were grayed out in the system, avoiding his eyes.

So you did want to be a writer then. He could easily see that as well. Though he got the sense you didn’t believe your aspiration was attainable, and it likely wasn’t due to lack of skill. He told himself he wouldn’t profile you, but he did it practically subconsciously. Your lowered gaze, modest clothes, shy smile, and even chewed nails all pointed to a lack of confidence in yourself. He wasn’t sure why. You were pretty in your own right, and were clearly intelligent and hard working if your pursuit of a masters degree said anything. If you needed a little encouragement, the least he could do was give it to you.  “I look forward to it,” he said, and he was just as sincere as he always had been. 

It only seemed to increase your embarrassment, causing your face to shy further away from his gaze. “Thank you, Spencer.” Even if you couldn’t look at him, your tone was of genuine appreciation, and if he tilted his head just right, he could see the wisp of a smile on your face.

He nodded with a tight lipped smile, staring at you while he waited for the conversation to continue, only to realize you’d finished with his books and it was over. His hands stuttered to gather up the first heap of books, muttering about how he’d be back. However he only got a few paces when he heard you say his name again, feet stopping dead.

“Would you like me to help you carry these out?” You were already trying to get a hold on the books.

Quickly, he shook his head. “No,” the words came out abrupt and firm, louder than he’d ever spoken before in the library, and you flinched. 

“You shouldn’t be following anyone out of here to their cars. This library has a disturbing lack of cameras and an abduction, even in a public area, can happen in less than ten seconds. It’s safest for you to remain in the library and follow the good practice of having someone walk you to your car after your shifts.” Spencer felt obligated to warn you strictly, because your distinct quietness and sweetness made you the perfect prey for the killers he hunted daily. 

Though he almost regretted it as he watched the way your hands retreated from the books, crossing around yourself, and the gentle smile became forced. “Oh. I–I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

Spencer nodded and hesitated, but didn’t linger much longer before exiting the library and heading back to his car. He was quick to toss the books into his car, your tangled smile stuck in his mind. Was it an odd thing to say? He was only trying to warn you, to keep you safe. But the look on your face, you didn’t seem at all grateful for the advice. Spencer took brisk strides back to the library entrance. You were standing there behind the front desk, arms still crossed, a distant look on your face. When you heard him approaching the counter taking in breath just a little faster from boardline jogging back, you barely spared him a glance. He scared you a bit, he realized, and he didn’t want to leave you like that. 

He paused beside his leftover books, wetting his lips.  “I didn’t mean to scare you with what I said before.” He finally caught your eyes and you seemed to hear him out. “I work in law enforcement, for the FBI actually, and all too often I see cases of nice girls like you who go missing just because you want to help people. Unfortunately it’s a pretty common ruse. So, I—I didn’t tell you all that to make you worry, but because I want you to be safe,” he admitted, and your face softened again, your hands falling back to the counter. It brought a smile to his own face to see you relax your guard again. “It’d also be awful if my librarian went missing. Who will check out the heap of books I keep bringing you?” 

You giggled, your lips pulling into a toothy smile. “It’d definitely suck, but I’d hope you’d put those FBI skills of yours into finding me.”

Spencer chuckled, ducking his head into his chest to quiet the sound as he pulled his books into his arms. “Of course I would, and I wouldn’t stop until I did.” He was good at his job, he never stopped until he found their victim, their unsub. 

You bowed your own head, hand holding your glasses to keep them from slipping down your nose. “Goodbye, Spencer.” You gave him a small wave with the other hand, ending the conversation with averted eyes, but he still noticed the growing color in your cheeks. 

He fumbled with his own wave under the stack of books, really just an outward flash of the fingers he could manage to peel away for a second, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him with how awkward it was. He turned on his heel, pink growing in his own cheeks, and exited the library again for the final time today. The gears in his head grinded the whole way to the car and continued as he grappled to get into it and wiped the books with disinfectant. 

You lingered in his mind longer than a librarian should have. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to warn you, to explain himself to you, or even comfort you. There was something about you, as meek and bashful as you were, that he found charming. Perhaps he saw himself in you, the insecurity. Or maybe it was how different you were from his job, where he was met with the most wicked minds and evil acts. You in comparison were the very image of innocence and life, in your pastel purples and yellows, lively eyes magnified behind glass, and your—your laugh. He liked your giggle. Even though he suspected at times it meant you didn’t fully believe him, he let you find him unserious, just so he could continue to hear that sweet sound tickle his ears in a way that scratched an itch inside him.

He was sitting in the parking lot staring out the windshield lost in his thoughts of you. When someone walked by, he found himself clearing his throat and finally putting his car in drive. You dissipated from his mind as he pulled out of the parking space because his Sunday at the library was over. 

—

It took five days for him to finish the ten books from the library. The team was in California from Tuesday through Thursday, but he took four books with him to read during his down time and while on the jet. He still ended up with spare time that he spent shopping with Penelope and babysitting Henry for JJ and Will’s date night. It was for this reason he was glad to be back in the library on Sunday.

Inside he was hit with the familiar crisp air and the vague smell of paper and coffee. The tables to the left had quite a few more students than usual, though there were not very many to start with previously. He wondered if a bout of exams were coming up. As Spencer neared the front desk, he could smell something else, a faint vanilla scent maybe.

You were there as always, standing this time, and almost leaning over the counter to see the door. You smiled when you saw him and he realized that you must be wearing perfume, because around you the vanilla air became thicker.

“Sunday at 11am. You're more reliable than my alarm clock,” you hummed cheekily.

Spencer set the books he held in his hands on the counter, his messenger bag following them up. “Having a routine is actually really good for you. It’s been proven to reduce anxiety and stress and also helps people to cope with certain mental illnesses,” he told her, pulling the rest of his books out of his bag.

If you were thrown off by his fact telling, you didn’t show it. “That makes sense. I like having a routine, but I’m pretty sure my friends think it makes me boring.”

Spencer dug around in his vest pocket for his library card, brows furrowing. “Why would you think that?”

You plucked it from his fingers, bringing it to the barcode reader without breaking your eye contact. “Because they say it to me all the time.”

“Oh,” Spencer snorted a little and clutched the strap of his bag closer. There’s something different about you today. You’re much more talkative and playful, but it’s also in your appearance too. Your glasses are still perched on your nose and your face is bare as it always is, but your updo is more put together, less stands fall away into your face. You wear another long skirt, but it's tighter, less flowy, and he can nearly make out the shape of your legs through it. You’re wrapped in a cardigan too, but where one side falls open he can see your tank top underneath and the sight of your skin has him clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back to your face. 

“And how was your recreational reading?” You’ve started to scan the books back into the system. “You must have been pretty entertained with ten books in seven days.” You state it like a fact, but your tone has a whimsical disbelief to it.

“Actually I finished them in five days,” he corrected with an incline of his head. 

You reply quickly, like the words were primed in your mind. “Then you should have come back sooner.” Under the teasing, you sound serious, looking up from the books at him, lashes fluttering against their glass encasement. 

“I would, but I’ve been pretty busy at work.” He was too. He would spend hours in the library reading if working at the BAU didn’t take up so much of his time. He loved his job of course, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, but what is someone with his talents to do but hole himself up gorging every book he can get his hands on. Spencer had a thirst for knowledge, that’s why he wanted to be in the library so much. 

“Well, that’s too bad then. What do you do for work?” Your head tilts with interest and he almost mirrors the movement, brows furrowed. 

 “I told you—I work for the FBI. Specifically, I’m an agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He has an eidetic memory which means he can remember every word you’ve said to him and every word he’s ever said to you, so he knows he’s told you this before. Of course he knows people forget things, but they also normally remember when he tells them he’s in the FBI.

Your face falls a bit and you chew your bottom lip, brows creasing. “Oh. . . right.” You finish scanning the last book quickly, gathering a couple into a pile to carry to a cart behind you. 

Spencer’s not exactly sure what he’s done to upset you, but his fingers twitch with the itch to fix it. Unfortunately, he’s got the idea his job is what makes you so uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was unsettled by the fact he carried a badge and gun, or that he had the authority to arrest people. But you had joked about it last week, possibly were soothed by the fact he was a cop after his blunt and maybe eerie warning. So why were you suddenly so upset with him? 

The thought occurred to him then that  maybe it was because you didn’t completely believe the things he was saying. Not only that, but you were no longer finding whatever game you think he’s playing by telling you those things to be funny. As you carry the rest of the books back to the cart, he fidgets with his fingers, wondering if it was time to show you proof of what he’s been saying. Or did you really even care? Maybe he was wrong and you would be even more frightened by him presenting you with his badge. Was it odd to flash his FBI credentials at his librarian? That was all you were after all. He didn’t even know your name.

You were back to clicking at the computer when you glanced at him. “They’re all checked in.”

Spencer froze as you pulled him out of his thoughts, his hands locking in the joints before dropping to his sides into fists. That was your cue for him to leave. “Right, thank you.” He went to walk away, but his feet were stuck. “. . .thank you, um, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

You didn’t have to tell him, you could have brushed it off. You were just the librarian and one didn’t need to know the librarian's name, but you looked back at him again, eyes studying his face. Then, you murmured your name so softly he almost leaned in to hear it louder. Soundlessly, he let your name ghost over his lips.

He used it as he thanked you one last time, certainly overkill but it seemed like the only correct way to exit. Although he only got a few feet before he heard you call his name.

“Spencer, wait!” You didn’t yell, he’s never heard you yell, but your voice was the loudest he’s ever heard it. You always spoke in a whisper or a hushed tone, but your voice was nearly normal when you called him back. The urgency of it had him back in front of you in just two strides.

You dipped beneath the counter and when you came back up you placed a basket on it. “When I used to go on picnics to read in the park, I used this basket. Well, I haven’t gone in a long time actually, but I thought maybe you could use it for all the books you check out,” you were bashful, tilting your head down and only sparingly meeting his eyes. Spencer was in shock, all he could think about was how this was one of the nicest things someone’s ever done for him. You gave him whiplash with how quickly you seemed to forgive whatever trespass he committed against you. He wondered even if he exaggerated the interaction in his head. 

The basket was woven, made from wicker, and had two handles at the top. It was rectangular in shape, pretty deep, and large for a picnic basket, he thought, big enough for fruits, pastries, sandwiches, and maybe more. It was a very nice basket, and the thought that you were giving it to him made his heart ache the most. You’d considered him, truly sat down and thought about him and then decided you were going to gift him a solution to his awkward problem. Not often did people solve his problems, it was always the other way around.

“Wow,” his finger grazed the side, considering the cost such a nice piece must be. “Are you sure? I really couldn’t take your basket it’s—”

“I don’t use it anymore,” you interrupted him for the first time. He realized that you never cut him off, you had always listened to him. “You can have it. . .” Your face was kind, then suddenly dropped into a panic. “Only if you want it of course! You don’t have to take it. I guess it’s kind of silly, carrying a picnic basket in a library. . .” You started to pick your nails, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he assured you quickly, leaning just a bit closer so he could catch your eyes again. “Thank you so much. Now I don’t have to worry about falling down the stairs or taking two trips to my car.” 

Your smile returned with a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, you kind of made me nervous going down the stairs like that with all those books. You don’t strike me as very. . . coordinated.”

“Ouch,” Spencer said, though he smiled back at you. You’d read him there, he was not very coordinated at all. Knowing physics was one thing, existing smoothly and with grace on the physical plane was another. 

“Sorry,” you shrugged half heartedly.

“No, you’re right. Thank you for the basket and uh, I’ll be back,” he waved you goodbye as he walked toward the stairs and you fluttered your fingers back at him. 

Spencer took exactly 52 minutes and 34 seconds adding books to his new basket. He got a few stares and side glances as he toted it around, mainly from a group of teenagers huddled at a miniature table and chair set in the children’s section. They snickered as they peeked up from their circle at him, but it wasn’t anything Spencer wasn’t used to. All his life people had laughed at him for a variety of reasons—he was too scrawny, too small, too bumbling, too nerdy—the list was miles long. All he could do was grow thicker skin, and he had. So he didn’t let it bother him as he wandered the library, adding books to his basket. 

No, the reason Spencer took so long to pick books was because each time he slipped one into a wicker embrace, he thought of you. He blinked and saw your face like a phantom burned into his retinas. The way the corners of your mouth twisted in your smile when you were so excited to give him the basket flashed and faded in his vision. Sometimes he cursed his eidetic memory because he’d memorized your face in its entirety with all its most miniscule details and peculiarities—and he didn’t even mean to. He would find himself staring into the empty space in the basket and have to drag his brain clawing back into reality.

His watch had ticked past 12 when he made his way back down the stairs to the main floor, lugging his basket in his right hand. It was heavy, weighed by two textbooks and eight other decently thick books, but the woven willow held strong. 

At the landing he could see across the library that you were already checking someone out. He meant to add himself to the queue, but pivoted to a lounge chair between two bookcases just as he got close enough to hear your voice. Immediately he felt wrong, a churning disgust with himself in the pit of his stomach. It was weird, wasn’t it? To watch you from afar just to gauge your behavior? But he had to know, it burdened his brain to wonder if you were just so saccharine it spilled out to everyone around you or if particularly you poured your sugar onto him.

You didn’t see him duck between the shelves to the lounge chair, not in any way that he could tell. With a tranquil neutral face you scanned the book that the college girl at the counter placed in front of you. The interaction was done in comfortable silence, even when you finished the transaction and she said her thank yous, you merely mumbled a “you’re welcome.”

It was different from how you interacted with him, he realized. You were much more playful and chatty with him, but he wasn’t sure what exactly inspired it in you. You were clearly shy, maybe anxious, but in some moments it faded when you talked to him. He didn’t think he said anything particularly special, but thinking you saw something in him that made you so comfortable, so cheerful, made his stomach flip in a way he couldn’t understand.

The next man in the queue placed his book on the counter. He was the only other person waiting. You asked him absent-mindedly for his library card. He was older than you and Spencer, mid to late 40s if Spencer had to guess, but it gave him an idea about how you interacted with men as well. Which was just as bland as your interaction with the college girl before you. Spencer had a fleeting thought that maybe—just maybe—you liked him. Why else would you be so inclined to laugh with him? To be so shy sometimes you couldn’t meet his eyes? He’d read books, watched movies, and he knew the signs. He was just not used to spotting them in women interacting with him.

He cleared his throat as if to shake off the idea. It was vain, and in all likelihood an arrogant over analysis of the little interaction he’s had with you. He was about to get up and put himself in line behind the man when he heard his lurid voice croak out.

“How about you give me a smile, pretty?”

Spencer froze in place, white knuckle grip engraving the grooves of the entwined handle into his palm. Something like anger flared in his chest. It grew hotter as he saw the way you bowed your head even further from the man's sight, pulling your cardigan closer around your body.

“Um, yeah, could I just get your library card?” You squirmed under his leering gaze, lips faintly curling into the most awkward half-smile you could muster. 

Despite the way you clearly showed you were in duress, the man leaned closer over the counter. “My name’s Todd.” He slid his book across the counter to you like that tidbit of information helped any. “I’ll take this book and your number, baby.” Spencer’s jaw clenched.

His body tingled with the readiness to step in, to tell this Todd fucker to leave you be because obviously you weren’t interested. But his mind, the logical side of him, stopped him because Spencer also respected you and your autonomy. He was not an expert on women, but he knew quite a few strong women in the BAU who would be offended if he stepped in to defend them when they were capable of doing it themselves. He definitely didn’t want to offend you if you were able to brush off Todd on your own.

The uncomfortable smile dropped to a grimace. “If I could get your library card. . .” Your hand hesitantly reached for the book only for Todd to grasp your wrist in a tight hand.

“Stop asking for the damn card,” his voice dropped into a growl. “Baby, I’m just trying to talk to you.”

Your arm fought to pull your hand back behind the counter, but Todd’s grip tightened and pulled back to keep you close. “Sir!” Your voice pitched higher, eyes widening almost too big for their frames. “Sir, please let go—”

Todd huffed, face screwing up in frustration. “Why’re you being so difficult?”

“Sir, you’re hurting her and you need to let go now.” Spencer practically flew over to the front desk. It was his instincts as an FBI agent kicking in. The need to de-escalate and protect was driving him. This man was now hurting you and he was not going to allow it to go any further.

Todd’s scowl looked Spencer up and down, assessing whether or not he could take him. He must have come to the conclusion Spencer was not a threat because he puffed up his chest and continued gripping your wrist. However, he was so distracted by Spencer, you were able to yank your arm away, rubbing at your wrist with your free hand. Todd shot you a similar glare before leveling his even angrier gaze back on Spencer.

“We’re just having a conversation here, asshole. So why don’t you get back to your books,” Todd barked at him so loud they had now attracted all the eyes in the library. But Spencer was only looking over at yours—your creased brow and the watery worry the glass highlighted. 

“Spencer, it’s—” You didn’t get to finish as Todd whirled his head between you and Spencer. 

“Spencer? No fucking way this wimp is your boyfriend.” Behind the rage, Todd looked almost smug.

But Spencer wasn’t. He hit his own boiling point and was passed asking politely. He pulled his credentials from his pocket and flipped them open in Todd’s face. “No, I’m the FBI agent who is going to arrest you for harassment, assault, and public disturbance if you don’t get out of this library right now.”

Todd’s head reeled back at the badge in his face, eyes squinting between the lettering and Spencer’s face. Realization of how much shit he was in passed briefly over Todd’s face before reverting to his glower. He must not have wanted trouble with the FBI though, because he started taking steps backwards toward the exit. But he couldn’t leave with a completely bruised ego.

“Whatever man. If you want the uppity bitch so bad you can have her!” Todd slammed open and closed the door as he made his grand exit. The entire library watched it, listening to him as he got his last dig in and fleeing before Spencer could make him eat his words. He didn’t have his cuffs or gun on him, but he’d dealt with enough unsubs to know he didn’t need them to handle Todd. 

When all the eyes slowly went back to their business, sure that Todd wasn’t coming back into the library, Spencer’s gaze returned to you. Your eyes were dinner plates, mouth agape, still clutching your wrist.

Spencer frowned, whispering your name. “Are you okay?”

“You’re an FBI agent. . .” The words slipped out of you in one shocked exhale. His brows furrowed. He just rescued you from an arrogant asshole and that was what you were stuck on, something he’d told you several times.

“Yes? But I told you—” 

“You were serious?” Your head bobbed forward in disbelief. So you really hadn’t been believing what he was saying. 

“Of course, why would I lie about that?” Spencer was confused and deep down a little hurt. It was such an odd thing to lie about to a stranger, he didn’t understand why you thought he wasn’t truthful. 

“I–I don’t know,” your eyes bounced around in a panic. “I thought you were just trying to impress me. I mean—you don’t really look like an FBI agent you’re. . . young? I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with me so I—” Your hand clasped over your mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, sir—agent—”

“Spencer.”

“What?”

“Call me Spencer,” he gave her a tight lipped smile, a near look of pity on his face. Your complete panic reassured him you were just as embarrassed over the miscommunication as he was. “Technically it would be Doctor, since I have three PhDs—but you can just call me Spencer.”

“But—But I didn’t. . . you were being serious the whole time and I. . .” You stuttered, shaking your head in confusion. “I was so unprofessional. . .”

Spencer chuckled, unable to hold it back. “Unprofessional? Just because I’m an FBI doesn’t mean I can’t like to talk to people. And I like talking to you, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” His disappointment dissipated quickly. Your shyness and embarrassment was so genuine and charming he couldn’t find the space to be upset with you beside all his amusement. 

You crossed your arms, somehow becoming even more bashful. “You’re sure it's okay?”

“Of course it's okay.” Spencer grinned.

A small sigh of relief breezed past your lips. “Okay. . . I should—I should definitely apologize for not believing you.” You meet his eyes then with such profound remorse. “Because I am really sorry. It’s just. . . your accomplishments seemed so amazing they were kind of hard to believe, especially for someone so young.”

It was Spencer’s turn to become bashful. His head ducked and he laughed quietly. “I guess they can be hard to believe. Especially when you aren’t meeting me at work. I just thought maybe all the books helped prove it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes wandering back down to the countertop. “I kinda thought that was also to impress me. I didn’t really think you were reading all of them.”

“Well. . . I do.” He shrugged, figuring you had to believe him now. As you smiled at him, he realized he left his basket and books back at the chair. “Speaking of reading, I’ll be right back.”

You eyed him as he retrieved the basket and set it on the counter in front of you along with his library card. “Oh, were you sitting over there?” You looked curious. Certainly you hadn’t seen him sitting there today or anytime before.

Spencer coughed into his fist. “Um, just for a second.” He moved on quickly, removing the books from the basket. “Thank you for this again, by the way, it’s so much easier to carry all the books.”

You hummed, eyebrows jumping up. “Yeah. . . I’m having trouble believing I really gave an FBI agent a picnic basket to carry books in.” You started swiping the books over the barcode scanner, adding them back into the basket once they appeared on the computer screen next to you.

He cracked a half smile. “I think you watch too many movies. We’re not as serious as you think we are.” Hotch’s face flashed in his eyes and he thought maybe they were pretty serious, but not off duty. Hotch could also be serious enough for the whole team sometimes, so maybe he wasn’t a very good example. “And I like the basket. It was nice of you to think about me.”

Your eyes caught on his for a moment, glazed over in thought, so deep you bumped the basket as you went to set the book you held into it. It snapped you back into reality and you watched your hand as you tucked away the book, clearing your throat. “You’re sure it’s not weird?”

Spencer’s head tilted to the left, considering you. He didn’t know what he could do to pull you back from this rut of self-consciousness. He was starting to regret ever pulling out his badge because now you seem standoffish in a way you never were with him before. He wanted to go back to when you laughed and smiled at him and didn’t find him intimidating. “Of course it’s not,” he paused a moment, wetting his lips. “And this isn’t weird either, y’know? Me being in the FBI? I’m still Spencer.”

You looked back at him again, eyes searching his face. “I know that. I’m. . .” You stared at him a second longer, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a smile. “I’m letting it sink in.” You continued scanning the books quietly, not meeting Spencer’s eyes as he absentmindedly picked at a loose string in his pocket.

His thumb brushed against his FBI credentials and the encounter just before this revelation came flooding back. He glanced over at the double doors as if to make sure Todd had not come back, though Spencer already knew he didn’t. 

“Are you okay?” You met his eyes, brows pulled together. “About before—with that guy?”

“Oh.” You shrugged, rolling your wrist unconsciously. “Yeah, I’m fine. We get one of them every now and again. Normally they’re pretty harmless.” A glimmer of realization passed over your face. “Um, thank you! I should have said that before. Not everyone would have done that.”

Spencer shook his head, waving off your thanks. “Of course. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” He was again reminded of the fact he was not a woman, and even though his job was to put away serial killers—monsters, creeps, pervs—he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. You shook it off well, but he didn’t doubt you were scared in the moment. Probably wondering how far he would take it, whether your reaction was appropriate, if your employer would be angry at you. He was just glad he was there to step in.

Slowly, you finished scanning all the books, tucking them neatly into the basket in an organized order he thoroughly appreciated. Heaviest books sat at the bottom and lighter books were stacked on top of them. You paused, flipping through the last book in your hand, a biography of Max Born, a German-British physicist. 

“So. . . you really do read 20,000 words per minute?” You had a cheeky grin as you peeked up at him from beneath those frames, and suddenly you were back. Spencer smiled.

“Yup. I also have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

You giggled, nodding along. “Right. Well then I guess this isn’t even enough books for you.” A finger waved over at the basket.

“It depends on work, actually. I’m usually busy, but I often have to travel too and then I become really busy so I don’t have time to read,” he explained. When he did sit down to read, he could get through one to three books, depending on their volume. “But yeah, ten books in a week is kind of light.”

You tapped the book in your hand with your thumbs, thinking. “Okay.” Suddenly you dropped the book into the basket, dipping below the desk to set another book in front of him. Examining it, he realized by its orange and yellow coloring it was the same book you had been reading the last time he was in the library. It was The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and from the look of its creased spine and faded orange cover, it was well loved. “You should read this too then.”

Spencer turned the book over in his hands, looking at you with a twisted face of confusion. “But the check out limit is ten books?”

You shook your head, gesturing for him to add it to the basket. “It’s not a library book,” when he still looked puzzled, you continued. “It’s my book. You can borrow it from me.”

Your kindness and generosity was both shocking and overwhelming. Spencer wasn’t sure how he was to thank you for being so gracious to him. He could only think of one thing. So he quickly fumbled his wallet up onto the countertop. “You have to let me give you something for this—”

“Spencer,” as you said his name, your hand covered his as he dug for bills to give you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He shook his head, bewildered. Not only was your kindness startling, but so was the feeling of your hand on his. He had to stop his body from flinching at the contact. He was mostly uncomfortable at the thought of people touching him, but your palm was warm, soft, and offered the most comfort he’d felt in a while. “The basket and the book? It’s too much. I mean. . . you’re too nice.”

Your lips spread into a bright smile, flashing him your teeth. “Just bring me back your analysis. I’d love to hear what an IQ of 187 can cook up. Deal?”

Spencer laughed, ducking his head as he nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

When the laughter faded and his head came back up, he looked at you for a while longer, just feeling the paperback cover underneath his fingertips. You met his eyes just for a few moments, twiddling your own fingers. “So um, see you next Sunday?” You asked. He dared to see hope in your eyes.

“See you next Sunday,” Spencer agreed again. He hesitated putting the book in his new basket then finally left the front desk, waving you goodbye as he did. He watched over his shoulder you return his wave as he exited through the double doors. 

Spencer walked back to his car practically swinging the basket, so in his head he didn’t even realize he still had a smile on his face. He set The Poetry of Pablo Neruda aside as he disinfected his books and wondered what he would do the rest of his day off. What he was sure of, deep in his chest, was that he was excited for next Sunday. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer Reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x shy!reader

[nalyra-dreaming]

COMMENTS on 2x05 - SPOILERS ahead, obviously^^

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

First off - this episode made me throw out some things out the window, and rearranged some things, confirmed others - HOLY HELL. A lot of screaming this time, the comments are a bit incoherent because holy fuck. I will need a few days to rearrange stuff after this lmao. . . . . . . . . . .

the (hot) bantering that Daniel does not buy once more

loved Daniel honing in on the change in narration

“narcoleptic pull of the sun” for the younger vamps… I guess that is how they adjusted the lore

MALIK - oh he’s LUNCH. Armand is fucking playing with his food, and honestly, that is quite the… well. Sadistic hunt, to be frank. Supposedly of course those who “deserve” it, but it really reminds me of the “hunting evildoers” they do later, and who they then put into the dungeons for easy snacking

“half in love with an easeful death”

“his methodology is never violent” 💀 (just fatal, depends probably on how you define “violent”)

God Daniel remembering and how they did that is CREEPY

The piano notes - pushing our noses to the important bits, oof

Daniel thinking they had sex (and the reactions both in the past and in Dubai, lol, cute!)

Louis “dined” almost every night he was there….

Mhhhhh Louis’ fangs, and Daniel shaken to the core

Daniel telling Louis he was lonely HIT

“naahhhh”

Them quoting the book there - I love it. Whole passages just recited from the book. Louis reading Lestat for filth, lol - love the dynamic he and Louis have there, lmao.

Oh Louis, sweetie. The way he halted, when Daniel said he was his “first love”

Ah, that is interesting, Daniel questioning Louis not going with Claudia after that bench… “the only choice, the wrong choice” (!!!)

“And then what” looool :)))

Daniel playing the extended file.

OMG

OH MY GOD

Armand going he is at home and always cleaning up after Louis

LOUIS going at Armand for being BORING. Holy shit. “dull as fuck”. “Suffocation by the world’s softest, beigest pillow.” OMG. I know it’s not funny, holy shit, but the DELIVERY?!!!! Oh yeah, Louis loves crazy and apparently he misses it - badly. “Did you want to lick my boots or chop my hands off? Is it the gremlin or the good nurse tonight”!!!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT

Armand mocking Louis “oh it’s so hard to be me” - “It’s so hard to be me” oh my fucking god

AND THEM MOCKING FUCKING THEIR PASTS

AND ARMAND TELLING LOUIS that Claudia did not love him, not like Lestat did, not like HE has. …..

AND OH MY GOD - it’s the Merrick reveal!!!!!!! Of her hating him. Of him having lost her and Lestat. Oh he’s HEARING her calling him!!!! IT’S FUCKING MERRICK in a mixup with the Tulane draft of Armand saving him then (without the Lestat involvement!) FUCK!!!!! I fucking love/hate the writers!!!!!!!! I KNEW THEY WOULD GO THERE BUT HOLY SHIT LIKE THIS???????????

Oh god the wounds. The makeup artists had fun oO.

Ohhhhhhhh Armand is … hurt there. And not having it. Ugh, I get him, but holy shit

Oh hell, the music, and Daniel being slammed around in punishment for Louis!!!

Ohhhhhhhh Armand is full on “gremlin” there. Terrifying shit. “Rest”.

Fascinating, indeed. On all levels, lol. While Louis is screaming in the next room.

“A splinter of coldness in you”

The emotion in “Louis thinks I’m boring”. Ugh.

Armand starting to tell his story, and then breaking off - oh, god, I want him to tell his story to Daniel later, please. Please let it be Daniel in the show, not David.

Love it that Louis and Daniel try to remember pushing their feet into the little rocks next to the tree

Daniel seeing Armand trying to communicate

And HOLY SHIT - that image of Louis in the coffin?!? Tell me I’m not the only one seeing the similarities???? oO

Armand calling out Louis there, deliberately calling Lestat trash, and OH MY GOD Armand theorizing that is why Louis wants to do this, to get the book out?!! To MAKE Lestat chase after Louis because of it!!!!!!!! God the way they call back to the original novel plot lines is AMAZING I literally screamed at that.

And oh my god, the way his voice breaks on the “insanity” part, on “if you want to escape from this prison of empathy I’ve locked you away in” - holy hell. And that small smile.

And him offering to reach out to Lestat for Louis and then NOT TELLING WHAT LESTAT SAID AND CUTTING IT OFF!!! GOD DAMMIT ARMAND. AAARGGHHHHHHHHHH. And the way Lestat’s voice is shaking with fear there. And then screaming!!! WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?! WHY IS ARMAND KEEPING THEM APART?!" AND HOW????

“… have I atoned for my part in Paris”. Ugh.

Armand slowly and gently spellbinding Daniel there was almost beautiful.

And then Louis, NOT asking. And the dynamic changing, immediately. … brutal. Armand’s face there.

And then, and then Daniel suddenly knowing what the words meant, and then. The memory making sense. THEN them both knowing Armand fucking meddled with both their minds. The proof of the fucking “tinkering”, both only having a “truncated version”. “Same precise edit, on two brains.”

And god, Armand coming back, and Louis MIMICKING HIM.

Louis’ face.

GOD YES. HE IS PISSED.

HOLY SHIT. 💀 (again) A lot of my theories are evolving now, with them having pulled up Merrick.

With Armand knowing where Lestat is, and not relaying the message as promised.

With Louis now knowing Armand influenced his mind as well. Holy shit.

They should have called this episode “No Pain” (All the pain). -.-

And the preview, of the blood, and Louis comment of “can you imagine me without the burden of her”.

The BURDEN of her.

Ouch Louis. Just… ouch.

EPISODE INSIDER

“It explains the betrayal” …. (see below)

“It explains everything that is going to happen”(!!!!) Mark Johnson once more.

“The relationship[] has all kinds of problems, many of the same issues he had when he was with Lestat have resurfaced.” (!!!!!) 💀

Assad: “Armand is always conniving. He is always working, and I think that is also the tragedy of him, it’s that he can’t ever relax with the truth.” HOLY FUCKING SHIT

Jacob: “It’s kind of the biggest betrayal, isn’t it, when you choose to spend your life with somebody, you accept each other. I can’t think of a bigger betrayal than lying to that person in such a significant way to the extent that you would rewrite their history.” 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 *Jacob: “It makes me angry, now, Armand is so wrong for that.(!!!!)

Eric: “We both discover the depths of duplicity that Armand has gone to, and what he’s done to each of us.”

... what an episode.

#iwtv spoilers #iwtv s2 #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire s2 #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv louis #louis de pointe du lac #beautiful one #iwtv armand #armand #daniel molloy #iwtv daniel #jacob anderson #iwtv cast #eric bogosian #assad zaman #2x05 #episode insider #tw suicide

[bucephaly]

Hi, um. I am very confused by this: why would people lie about being Cherokee? I'm white, I don't mean to overstep here, I just kind of flashed back to my History of Native Americans class and from what I can tell, being Native means a shit ton of mistreatment in the past and present, a lot of absolutely absurd stereotypes, weird fetishization and creepy dehumanizing language. My great grandfather was Cherokee and he hid that pretty consistently because he knew it was going to be an obstacle to his education, his career and basically his life in general. While some digging into genealogy later confirmed it was legit, I kind of already knew from the start because people don't usually lie about something they forbid you from mentioning outside the family and which they knew would take them from "one of the brightest minds in your field" to "[insert comment about being One Of The Good Ones here]". So why would someone lie about this? It feels like that'd backfire pretty hard given how racist everyone was/is in the US. I'm not doubting it happens - people are jackasses who'll lie about most things - but I just flat-out don't get why it happens. Why, of all the lies to pick, would someone go with a lie about their ethnicity? I know this might be veering into "please explain to whitey about racism" territory but if there's an article or a book or something on this, please let me know because this is so baffling to me. Who would want to be oppressed when oppression is so awful?

So I'm from the south. Everyone and their dog here claims to have cherokee ancestry and there are a number of origins for the stories. I think there's a factor of white people playing Indian being more accepted than real natives. To many of them it's a novelty or fun fact, some of them take it farther and establish fake 'tribes', usually recognized at the state level but not federally because they have no actual history.

During the confederacy, it actually became sorta a weird show of white southern pride to claim to have cherokee ancestry, basically saying 'my family has been here in the south long enough that we were here before the cherokees were removed.' So it was a way to show 'deep roots' in the south.

There was the Guion Miller roll, where cherokees were given a payout of $133 each because of a lawsuit. A lot of people applied knowing full well they weren't cherokee, just hoping to get some money. We even see lawyers advertising the payout to get people to apply just to see if they could get some. 2/3rds of the applicants were declined for having no proof of Cherokee ancestry, and I figure some family stories may have started there. If it wasnt the applicant themself keeping up the lie, maybe it was someone later finding the application and thinking it must have been truth.

In some cases, the cherokee land lotteries could be the origin. Once cherokees were forced out of north Georgia, their land and everything on it, including their houses and personal belongings, was raffled off. Settler families made themselves at home and even started passing down the cherokees belongings as heirlooms. Eventually the story got twisted into the family being cherokee instead of stealing from them.

Then there are some other things. Mixed people claiming to be native because it was less stigmatized than being mixed, ancestors that could've lived in a place called cherokee or near the cherokee and that got misunderstood. The stupidest origin was an ancestor that lived in the 1700s who had a funny name, so she got recorded as being cherokee in the family Bible despite being from Virginia and having sounds in her name that aren't present in the cherokee language.

And I imagine there are plenty that were just tall tales someone told a kid for fun and it got passed down.

I'm not sure about the history of when these fakes started cropping up more, but I imagine it would have been during or after the American Indian Movement when natives were in the news more. But I may be wrong

And of course, nowadays, people love hiring people that give them diversity points without actually being diverse. And fake state tribes can make money. Here in the south, there isn't that much of a legitimate native presence. There is one real tribe in my state, none in two neighboring states. People here don't really figure real natives still exist outside those people with a cherokee gg grandmother that gave them high cheekbones. You'd be surprised how many people I hear saying 'oh yea but I doubt there are actually any fullblood cherokees left' and shit like that.

Oh, and also. Nowadays people love to avoid having to accept that their ancestors were colonizers. Hell, even my aunt who is also cherokee has said stuff like 'I'm sad that we have English ancestry, I was hoping we'd be Irish. I don't wanna be descended from colonizers' like.. auntie the Irish were colonizers here too. People love to be seen as less white. Youll hear pretendians saying 'no don't call me white, I'm not white I'm cherokee!' Etc. And ofc there are the hippie types.

Idk. I hope that helps somewhat, basically society is a lot more willing to accept a pretendian than a real native in a lot of cases. Plus I think a chunk of the modern issues faced by native communities is generational from past oppression [on top of the very real current oppression in native communities] and pretendians just cannot understand that.

And ofc the obligatory disclaimer that I'm reconnecting, I'm new to this too so im not an expert.

If you wanna see how many fakes there are [note: many many from Alabama and Kentucky], join the cherokee research and genealogy Facebook. Just for fun, I'm putting a post of theirs under the cut [it's long] that lists all the wild excuses and stories people have given for why their ancestors don't show up as native in research.

#long post #cherokee #its late so excuse me if there are any weird mistakes with this post. ill check thru it again tomorrow #asks

[cbrownjc]

Some spoiler thoughts for episode 2x05

I haven't done a rewatch yet, so these are just some initial thoughts on the episode (spoilers):

Daniel was so not let go after those 3 days. Bank on it.

Daniel already said it -- the drug den thing was a fabrication of his memories being rewritten. But, more to it, Louis' memories of that time were also rewritten. Between that as well as his extensive burn? Who knows what Louis even remembers of the 1970s either.

Neither Louis nor Daniel remember a damn thing of what happened during what would be the Devil's Minion period! (Particually because who knows how long it took Louis to even heal. With those types of burns, I'm going to say a few years at least.)

The show left things extremely open-ended for both Daniel and Louis' characters at the end of the flashbacks which can be filled with whatever the show writers might have ideas about that time period over how many whatever seasons. They haven't locked themselves into one single thing going forward leaving it open-ended that way.

Yeah, even if they want Louis and Daniel to have had sex sometime later. Because again, they both don't remember anything. 😏

But Armand -- Armand does. He remembers all of it. And oh you dear, f-ed up gremlin, I really did think you might not have been responsible for Daniel's memories, but now I'm starting to wonder . . . .

Louis, in 1973, doing what he does in Merrick. Because it was remembering Claudia -- how she manipulated him -- that sent him running into the sun. And even though he tried -- and failed -- to do it in 1973, he's going to fully remember it in the present day too IMO and, this time, he'll succeed at doing it.

Because yes, in Merrick, Louis actually succeeds in killing himself. It's only because of how vampire blood works, and a lot of it being poured over Louis' body, that he is revived. And I really think we are headed toward a "rule of three" wrt this. I think Armand clocked Louis was close to killing himself sometime directly after Paris because of maybe almost really trying so, and that is why Armand put a veil up over Louis' mind.

Because even back in 1973 it's clear that Louis actually didn't remember the bit about Claudia until he drank Daniel's drugged-up blood! Between that and Arman directly saying "She didn't love you!" (which yes, was a line taken directly from toward the end of the IWTV book that Armand says to Louis about Claudia), whatever cloud Louis was actually under in 1973 lifted for a bit . . . enough for him to run out into that sun and almost succeeded -- which I feel we'll learn/see was actually his second attempt.

His third (and final) attempt will be in the finale. And that time will be the one that succeeds. (And then he'll be resurrected/reborn).

"Am I going to be on suicide watch for the next 1000 years?" Yeah, Armand, it looks very well that you are -- will be.

I loved Luke as young Daniel! And I feel very sure we're going to see more of him. He and Jacob had such a bouncy chemistry.

And oh, the scenes between him and Assad as Armand -- so creepy and sinister! Just what it should be at this point in time between Daniel and Armand, at the beginning of things. They even had Daniel held prisoner in the house for three days, the same length of time he was held in the cage in the books. But everything Armand did to Daniel here was so much more unnerving, particularly the chair thing.

So . . . Armand really didn't know the Talamasca was watching then? Hmm, okay show but I'm side-eyeing that one. Because really, he should have IMO.

Though I did notice that Daniel strategically didn't show Louis the pictures of him and Armand taking Daniel out of the house. Which I still don't think makes any freakin' sense, them doing it the way they did, even with Louis being hurt like that. I supposed Louis wanted to make sure Armand didn't hurt Daniel still, but . . . .

And oh, Armand. I can see any and all attempts to defend you wrt what is coming have really slipped away much after this. I know why you are doing all of this, I get it I do, but . . . *sigh*

You should have told Louis that Lestat was saying, "I love you." But you are still so scared of being alone . . . this is all going to bite you back next season Armand. So, so much.

Would I say it's my most favorite episode of the show ever so far? Not yet. But I known it's the one of Season 2 that I'm going to rewatch over and over the most so far. Yes, I love it for the beginning of Devil's Minion that it gave us, of course. But I love that it also really started to show the friendship and trust that Rolin Jones kept saying last season was between Louis and Daniel. Louis and Daniel just being friends is something I never expected going into the show and has become such a favorite dynamic of mine too.

So yeah, it was a wonderful episode. I do think it was hyped up a bit too much in the "most disturbing thing I've ever seen" department because I actually did not find it to be all that disturbing in the horror department. But as far as character development and dynamic building goes it was stellar and revealed some great things, so I can ignore my little nitpicks.

#Daniel Molloy #Louis de Pointe du Lac #Armand #The Vampire Armand #Devil's Minion #The Devil's Minion #Interview with the Vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv #iwtv spoilers

[stranger-writer]

A Nightmare in Hawkins

Summary: Eddie Munson has become an infamous town legend of Hawkins since the events that transpired in 1986. Whether it’s to scare children or used as a creepy Halloween ghost story, everyone knows his name and the terrifying mark it has left behind. Recently, you find yourself having consistent nightmares about him, but these just aren’t any ordinary night terrors. He’s haunting you in your sleep which starts to bleed into the waking hours of the day. Can you stop him? Or better yet, is Eddie actually the monster everyone claims he is?

Warnings: blood, scary nightmares and “hallucinations”, cursing, biting, 18+, mentions of sexual themes, possessive eddie

Of course this is heavily inspired by the classic, A Nightmare on Elm Street! Hope you all enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated!🖤

…………………………………………………………………………….

1, 2 Eddie’s coming for you…

You were there again. The sky that same hue of red and blue, the sound of lightning taking its violent strike, and the snow-like particles dancing in the air that you began to recognize all too well.

The dreams were always taking place in this strange, unknown place, except tonight, you’re standing right on the concrete pathway staring straight ahead at your house. However, this is nothing like home.

Slithery vines are wrapped around its entirety to the point where you couldn’t tell where one started and one ended. They were right by your scuffed up sneakers too, teasingly moving as if waiting for you to make one wrong step. One wrong move. The windows were boarded up, the beautiful flowers your mother planted are now sitting decayed and lifeless. Here, your house is a corpse that’s rotting from the inside out.

The front stained glass door begins to open with an obnoxious creak that’s similar to nails on a chalkboard.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. You close your eyes, trying something different that can maybe make you snap out of it and wake up.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real…” you whisper the mantra over and over in hopes that this will work.

Instead, you hear that sinister chuckle you have gotten quite familiar with. Your palms begin to sweat and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“You would be such a good little housewife sweetheart, why don’t you come on in and show me.”

His tone is anything but inviting and even though you can’t see him, you can definitely feel him. It’s as if he’s talking to you through your mind and the way your body reacts is by his doing.

“Please…just stop this,” you beg and snap your eyes shut tightly while dropping your head down.

“You’re right, a little housewife doesn’t entirely suit you, does it? You know what I think the perfect fit is?”

You don’t give into his daunting torment and malice as you keep your head hung low.

“Being my pretty. Obedient. Puppet.”

Your head abruptly yanks straight up, as if a string is attached and pulling it. Your forearms do the same, and your legs begin to shakily move, one foot in front of the other. He’s forcing you to walk into the house.

Sobbing, you scream for him to stop or show you any kind of mercy. The tears run rapidly down your flushed, red cheeks. Your body comes to a halt as it approaches the front door. One more step and you would be inside.

You cannot see a thing. It’s like staring into complete and utter darkness, which makes you all the more terrified.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you cry out wherever he is. “Please!” Your cries and pleads are music to his ears, but that’s the only defense you have.

“You want to know what I want?” He asks, but this time, his voice isn’t in your head, but instead you can feel the coolness of his breath as if he’s talking directly in front of you.

You can’t fully see him, but if you squint you can just see the outline of his silhouette.

“I want to hear you scream.”

A force pushes you into the void that’s inside your “house” and you wake up to the feeling like you do when you fall from a one hundred story building.

Your stomach lurches for a moment before your eyes snap open and you jolt awake. The window shows it’s still night time as the fall breeze makes the trees outside sway gently back and forth. Your pillow is soaked from the sweat that accumulated on your neck.

You sit up and tuck your knees into your chest, resting your head on top of them. It was only a dream. Just like all the others. But why do you still feel him, like he’s lingering in the darkness, just waiting to drag you back down to whatever that hell is with him?

……………….……………………………………………………………

“You okay sweetie? Those dark circles make you lookin’ like you're a part of the Addams family,” Tatum observes on your routine walk to school. “Starting your costume a little early?” She smirks as she nudges your shoulder with a playful bump.

You give her a joking eye roll. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

The two of you continue to walk in comfortable silence before you decide to finally bring up the topic of conversation you have been dreading.

“Hey, have you ever had the same kind of dream occur more than once?”

“No, can’t say that I have. Why, have you?” She quirks an eyebrow up and gives you a quizzical glance over.

“It’s just, I’ve been-“

You’re interrupted when Jason and Randy jump out of the bushes, scaring you and Tatum half to death. The shriek you let out was embarrassing, but if they only knew how you have been spending the last couple of nights, they would understand.

“You assholes!” Tatum giggles while running a hand through her hair. Randy walks backwards, facing the group while Jason wraps his arm around your shoulder. You aren’t dating, but he still attempts to flirt in hopes you change your mind.

“What’s the topic of the morning today ladies?” Randy asks with that usual look of mischief across his face. “How sexy Brad Mackenzie looks in his compression pants or the size of Ashley Donald’s ass?” He wiggles his eyebrows in amusement.

“Do you guys know much about the story of Eddie Munson?” You ask. There’s an awkward silence that lingers. Shit. Before you’re about to retract, Randy and Jason start laughing hysterically.

“Hawkins’ ultimate Boogeyman!” Randy bellows before continuing. “You’re telling me you’ve never heard the stories?”

“I mean I know the gist I guess, but c’mon, I’m sure some stuff is made up.”

Randy lets out a breathy chuckle. “I’ll tell you what isn’t made up. They found that babe Chrissy Cunningham mutilated. I’m talkin’ every limb snapped in half, blood seeping out of her eyeballs, and her face was completely distorted. When her mom had to identify the body, she was so fucking traumatized they had to send her to Pennhurst for a month.”

You shudder at the image, trying to erase it from your mind, which only makes it worse.

“Oh please, Chrissy was the girl who acted all sweet and innocent, but was secretly a huge slut. I think the rumours are true and she was fucking the freak,” Tatum adds while checking out her nails.

You grimace and flinch slightly at her very rude and insensitive words.

“It’s always the innocent ones,” Randy winks before hoisting Tatum up and carrying her over his shoulder. She begins to laugh as he runs with her down the sidewalk, leaving you and Jason in the dust.

“So what ever happened to him, Eddie?” You ask, gripping your books tightly to your chest.

“After that night, he disappeared and no one has seen him since. Apparently the townspeople rallied together to hunt him down, but it was unsuccessful.”

You hum in response, staring ahead at the school that’s slowly approaching into view.

“Legend says every year on Halloween he comes back to Hawkins to terrorize the town and take another girl’s soul just like he did that night.”

You stare up at him, a look of worry etched across your delicate features.

“Don’t worry Y/N, if you ask me it’s all a bunch of bull. It’s just some made up stories to scare kids and entertain the people in this boring ass town.”

Biting down on your bottom lip nervously, you ask, “Well what if it isn’t?”

His eyes flash with the slightest concern for just a second before he shrugs and displays a smug grin. “You got me here to protect you.”

You realized in that moment that one of two things are true. Either you are going absolutely mad or you are Eddie Munson’s next victim. And the most horrifying part is you couldn’t tell which one was worse.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Sitting in the dingy bathroom stall of Hawkins High was not exactly how you pictured you’d start your morning. Your knee was bouncing with anxiety as you tried to process everything over and over again in your head. What do you do? Who do you tell? How do you make it stop?

You hear someone come in and decide to pause the merry go round of thoughts that are starting to consume you. Right before you’re about to grab your book bag and head out, you crane your head a little lower and notice the bulky combat boots walking towards your stall. The heavy thump of the shoes and the clinking sound of a chain makes you get that feeling again. No, you thought to yourself. You’re not dreaming.

Whoever it is comes to a halt and stops right in front of your stall. You gulp, the nerves consuming your throat as your shaky hand reaches out to unlock the door.

You yank the door open in such haste that you jump at your own actions before taking a sigh of relief as you see who is before you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Piper,” you apologize with a smile, holding your hand over your heart as a means of comfort.

“Somebody’s jumpy today,” she remarks, which between that and her appearance makes you feel like something is off with her. You can’t put your finger on it, but her stare is vacant when usually she’s super animated. Her attire is on the edgier side too than the usual bright colors she always sports, and her hair is wavy today which it never is.

You give her a closed mouth smile as you begin to swing your bag over your shoulder. You try to politely move past her, but she doesn’t make it easy for you as she remains standing in the same spot, still nothing behind those big brown eyes. Odd. You could have sworn she had green eyes.

Once you slither past her, you’re almost to the door as you grab the handle, but what she says stops you in your tracks.

“It’s almost time,” she grins, but again, this is not her usual, warm smile. It in fact is creepy and quite unnerving.

“Almost time? Almost time for what?”

Your heart drops into your stomach as you wait for her answer.

“For Halloween of course,” She smirks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but there’s still something about her tone that’s unsettling.

“Oh yeah….right. I uh- I better get going, I’m already 15 minutes late for Simmons’ class.”

“He’s coming for you,” she mutters close to a whisper. Your eyebrows furrow as you give her no response and instead run out of the door as fast as you can muster.

…………………………………………………………………………….

The encounter with Piper had you feeling immense paranoia the remainder of the day. The thought crossed your mind to just ditch the rest of today, but you were petrified to be home. Alone.

Usually you hated P.E., but given your current circumstances, it’s your favorite since it’s impossible to close your eyes and pass out.

Running the mile always resulted in you, Tatum, and your other girlfriends simply walking it. Coach Ann always blew the whistle at you all, yelling, “what do you think this is ladies? Book club? Get moving!”

Once you get back to the locker room, you decide to take a quick shower. Tatum wanted you to go to the mall with her after school and you didn’t want to feel sweaty and gross.

You’re happy that all the showers are empty. For some reason, being completely naked in front of the other girls always made you feel awkward.

Stripping off your green “Hawkins P.E.” T-shirt and shorts, you stuff them in your bag before unclasping your bra and doing the same. You quickly pull down your thong and throw that in as well before swiftly entering the shower.

You turn the nozzle to the hottest setting and the burn feels good on your tense muscles. Steam starts to fill the small space, but you don’t mind, it’s the most relaxed you’ve felt all day.

Releasing a deep sigh of relief, you close your eyes and position your face directly into the streaming downpour of water. Suddenly though, you get that feeling again, the slight shiver that shoots up your neck.

When you open your eyes, you're back in that place. You’re still in the shower in the girls locker room, but everything looks decayed and full of grime. Those same slimey, breathing vines are intertwined together along the wall and the color in the room has shifted to a tinge of blue.

In a haste, you yank the towel that’s draped over the rod and speedily wrap it around your body.

“No need to get all modest now sweetheart, I was quite enjoying the show.” Eddie’s voice echoes throughout the locker room.

The grip on your towel is so tight, you can feel the digging of your nails into your palms through the material.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, shocked at your own words that spilled from your lips.

“What filthy words from such a shy, inexperienced girl like yourself.”

He’s taunting you, and you have no idea how, but he knows you’ve never had sex with anyone yet and worse of all, it’s like he knows it’s one of your biggest insecurities.

You try to very quietly pad over to reach the lockers, each step leaving a wet footprint behind. Still gripping the towel tightly to your chest, you can feel the water dripping down your arms and legs.

“Saving yourself for true love,” he declares with a chuckle. “How adorable. But I can sense it. You’re just aching to be touched, aren’t you?”

The room is so eerily quiet that the only sounds you can hear are the small droplets of water coming out of the shower head with a soft plink. From the volume of his voice, you know he’s near.

“I bet you think about it… How do you want your first time to be? All soft and sweet? Because your little friend Jason…well…let’s just say his dreams about fucking you are quite…entertaining.”

Suddenly hearing his daunting footsteps as you see his shadow near the front row of lockers, you patter in a hurry down to the last row to hide. Your back is against the cool metal as you are tempted to take a peek to see around the corner.

“I wish you could see the way he pictures it… with you on your stomach…eyes rolled to the back of your head in pure bliss while he has his way with you. You’re biting down on your lip to suppress your soft, little moans, which makes him fuck you harder…faster…doesn’t that sound nice? Being fucked like a good little slut?”

“Go to hell!” Your voice is trembling and unsteady, but there’s no use of trying to be quiet anymore, he will find you one way or another.

His sinister chortle echos and you can hear his heavy boots stepping closer.

“Awh sweetheart, you didn’t notice? We’re already there.”

You no longer hear his approaching footsteps anymore. Your breathing is intense as you sneak a look to your right and peek around the corner. With a shaky breath you risk a glance, but you don’t see him.

That is, until he catches you off guard from your left and briskly pins you against the lockers.

This is the most face to face you have ever been with him out of all the dreams you’ve had. His eyes are so dark, they’re close to black. The red and purple veins around his eyes are translucent through his icy pale skin. As if this close contact isn’t horrifying enough, you spot them….his fangs.

The grip he has around your neck isn’t hard enough to choke you, but it’s tight enough to hold you in place. He takes a big inhale through his nose before his thirsty eyes bore into yours.

“Too bad Jason will never get to know what that sweet cunt of yours feels like because you belong to me.”

“Please,” you whimper, having a terrible time tearing away from his intense gaze.

“Please…” Eddie mocks with a sarcastic frown. “I think there’s nothing more I love than hearing you beg.

With the grip still on your neck, he takes his other hand to play and twirl with the long strands of your hair.

“You hear that?” He asks, tucking a tendril behind your ear. Your brows furrow before you realize what he’s referring to. It's the sounds of a clock ticking before the chime strikes in the most haunting way.

“It’s almost time,” he grins from ear to ear as you begin to cry. He swipes your tear away with his thumb, and as he brings it to his lips, you see it. It’s blood. You’re not crying tears, but blood.

“Mmmm,” his deep voice hums. “Just how I imagined you’d taste.”

“Leave me alone!” You shout before hearing his maniacal laughter echo through your head in a way that consumes your entire mind. The blood from your eyes is oozing out in streams down your face, dripping onto the floor. Your shrieks and cries are piercing before you’re being violently shaken awake.

“Y/N, wake up! Wake up! Jesus Christ, wake up!” Tatum is kneeling before you, the sound of the shower running is the first thing you hear. You're crouched in the corner, knees tucked to your chest while your hands cover your ears, like you were trying to block out the sound of Eddie’s hysteria.

“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” Tatum asks, well, more like shouts as she takes in your pathetic form. She turns the water off and grabs the towel before wrapping it around your shoulders.

“I’m fine, I-I felt light headed while I was taking a shower and decided to sit down for a minute and I must have passed out for a sec. I’m okay though,” you try to assure, shocked at the believable lie you were quick to muster up on the spot.

“C’mon, let’s get you dressed,” Taum grabs your bag and goes to hand you your undergarments first. She hands your bra over to you and has your skirt and blouse in one hand while the other is digging for something else.

“Did you go commando today?” Tatum asks.

“What? No?”

You grab your bag from her and search through it yourself to not find them in there. You distinctly remember having them on and taking them off right before…..

“Huh, that’s weird,” you utter, not even having a plausible excuse to tell her even though you know exactly who took them.

“Why don’t you let me take you to the doctor or something? Don't you want to make sure your head and everything is okay?”

“Tatum, I’m fine, I promise. I didn’t eat lunch today and the heat and the exercise on an empty stomach got to me.”

She’s not a hundred percent convinced, but she gives you a nod. “Okay. I’ll wait outside while you get changed.” She’s about to get up before your small voice stops her.

“Can you stay here with me while I get dressed?”

You know that she knows something is up, but she decides to not press or ask any more questions. She turns around, giving you some privacy as you begin to throw your clothes on rapidly. There’s nothing more you wanted than to get out of this locker room immediately.

Once you're out in the hallway, you turn to Tatum.

“You and Natalie go on to the mall without me, I’m going to go home and get some rest.”

“Okay, but you promise you’ll call me later?”

You give her a swift nod and a smile before parting ways. As soon as you see her turn the corner, you make a bee line for the library.

Dropping your belongings onto the floor, you plop into the swivel chair, and begin your research.

Like some sort of mad woman, you submerge yourself for almost an hour into every article and interview you can find regarding that fateful night in March of 1986. You almost give up on your search before you scroll down a bit more.

Dustin Henderson.

From what you put together, he was one of the few who was outspoken about Eddie being innocent, which in turn infuriated the town for obvious reasons.

You race to one of the shelves and grab the yearbook from ‘86, frantically turning the pages until you get to the “clubs” section. There, you see them, the infamous group called “The Hellfire Club.” Just based on the photo, it seems like a group of innocent, goofy boys. You ignore the vandalism on the page which accumulated over time. “Burn in hell” is sprawled above the photo, as well as a pentagram and there’s devil horns drawn on top of Eddie’s head.

Maybe if you can talk to this Dustin Henderson, he may have some answers that can help you. At this point, it’s your only hope. You couldn’t go to your family, your friends, or even the police without them thinking you're going clinically insane. A total stranger is your best option at this point.

Tucking the sheet of paper you printed at the library in your pocket, you begin your walk home. This is usually your favorite time of year. The crisp weather, the leaves, everyone’s homes decorated with jack-o’-lanterns and makeshift ghosts.

You pass by a group of little girls jumping rope, but you halt when you realize the nursery rhyme they are singing.

“1, 2 Eddie’s coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door..”

The clouds in the sky begin to darken as the wind drastically picks up, causing your hair to whip around wildly as the sound of thunder begins to rumble.

“Five, six, grab your crucifix…”

The horrifying image of him piercing through the flesh on your neck with his fangs intrudes your mind as if he’s planting the thought in there himself, making you see what he wants you to.

“Seven, eight, gonna stay up late. Nine, ten, never sleep again.”

He’s sitting on the porch swing, legs spread with one arm resting on the back of the swing. His smirk is wide as he shoots you a wink and a wave with the wiggle of his fingers. His fangs and mouth are covered with blood.

With Halloween approaching, you have little time to spare. Each day your dreams are starting to progress, and even worse, are starting to happen when you’re not even asleep. The hallucinations as well as Eddie’s power grow stronger and stronger within each passing second. You’re completely haunted by him night and day, and you can only hope that by the time you reach Dustin, it’s not too late.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #kas!eddie #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x reader #kas!eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

[yanderecrazysie]

Rhododendron (Yandere Android! Oikawa and Iwaizumi)

Part 2 of the Flower Language Series

I got these meanings from the internet, so some may be wrong. Sorry if that is the case, but please ignore my mistakes.

Please do not request the Flower Language Series.

Title: Rhododendron

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader; Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder

Flower meaning: Danger, beware

Summary: There’s something off about your husband’s new androids.

“I know you don’t like me bringing home work, but this is going to blow your mind,” your husband said, one hand on your shoulders as he led you through the apartment to the living room, one hand over your eyes. 

You had a half-smile on your lips, “This has to do with your ‘top secret new project’, doesn’t it?” 

You came to a stop and he removed his hand from your eyes, saying, “You tell me.”

A gasp left your lips. In your doorway stood two tall, rather attractive men with their eyes closed. After a moment, something struck you as off about them, though you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. Maybe it was the way their skin shone under the fluorescent lights. Or maybe, the fact that their skin had no flaws whatsoever and their faces had perfect symmetry.

You spotted your husband’s company’s logo on their matching blue shirts and realization hit you.

“They’re- they’re robots, aren’t they?”

“Androids,” your husband was practically glowing, “I designed them myself. What do you think?”

“They look so real…” you left out the part where you found that to be very creepy.

“Just wait until they open their eyes,” your husband replied eagerly, misreading your hesitation, “The one on the left is called ‘Oikawa’. His model is designed for housekeeping and basic chores. The one on the right is ‘Iwaizumi’, and he’s kind of like an android guard dog.”

“And they’ll be… staying here?” you murmured, unsure of how you felt about their presence.

Your husband finally noticed that you were less than enthusiastic and began to squirm a little, “Well, yeah, just for a little while. They need to be tested so we can work out any bugs. They aren’t dangerous or anything, I promise.”

“And no one else can take them?” you asked in a small voice. You couldn’t help but shiver when you looked at them- something about them frightened you. Some part of you needed them gone.

The pained look on your husband’s face told you all you needed to know, and your heart sank. His voice was quiet when he spoke next, “I’m the lead designer on this project, so it’s required that I test them in a natural environment… I’m really sorry, honey.” 

You squared your shoulders and forced a smile to your face, “It’s fine. It’s totally fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

“Well, like you said, we don’t really have a choice,” you said, unable to keep the sourness out of your voice this time.

“I’ll turn them on,” your husband said softly, “Maybe you’ll warm up to them.”

“I hope so,” you sighed. You didn’t mean to be so unsupportive, but you had both agreed to keep your work at the office and, sometimes, it felt like only you held up your side of the promise. Not to mention, his “work” this time around was very unsettling.

“Oikawa, Iwaizumi, turn on,” your husband commanded.

Their eyes opened at the same time- one pair brown and playful, one pair green and serious. Both androids turned their attention to your husband instantly, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were somehow watching you at the same time.

“I’m adding another authorized user,” he continued. He pointed at you and the androids’ eyes snapped to look at you, making your stomach twist in displeasure, “This is my wife, (Y/n).”

Iwaizumi nodded and said, “Understood.” 

Oikawa, on the other hand, crossed the distance between you and held out his hand, a charming smile spreading across his face. You reluctantly let him take your hand in his and he lifted it to his lips. You shuddered at the coolness of his lips against the back of your hand. There was no warmth in his hands and lips. His “skin” was soft, but it lacked life.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetie” he said, his voice as sweet as honey.

You took your hand out of his and drew it against your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, so you merely nodded, a shiver crawling up your spine at his pleased smile.

You noticed the eager smile on your husband’s face and felt bad that you couldn’t match his enthusiasm. However, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the androids standing before you. Oikawa’s smile was unsettlingly perfect and Iwaizumi’s green eyes seemed to pierce through you. 

“Why don’t I show you what they can do?” your husband suggested excitedly, “Oikawa, clean please. Iwaizumi, check all the doors and windows please.”

“Yes, sir,” the androids said in unison. You watched as Oikawa began tidying up the kitchen, his movements as fluid as a human’s. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, began to check the house, locking the windows that you had forgotten about.

Your husband placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “See? They’re very helpful and you’ll barely notice they’re around.”

You highly doubted that you wouldn’t notice them, but you forced a smile, “I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------

As the days passed, the androids seamlessly became a part of your household routine. Oikawa kept the house spotless, prepared meals, and engaged in small talk that was so eerily human-like that it unnerved you. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, rarely talked and guarded the front door and kept things locked up with military-like precision.

But the feeling of unease never stopped. Oikawa’s gaze always lingered on you for too long, and Iwaizumi seemed more interested in protecting you than your husband. You did your best to avoid being home when your husband was out.

One evening, you returned home from work to find the house unusually quiet. You were surprised that Oikawa was the one to let you in the house and lock the door behind you. It had always been Iwaizumi who did that.

“Good evening,” Oikawa said with a blindingly white-toothed smile, “How was your day, (Y/n)?”

“Good,” you replied, “Where’s Iwaizumi?”

“He’s outside, making sure everything is safe,” Oikawa said pleasantly, “What would you like for dinner?”

“I’m just going to rest, actually,” you said, “Is my husband home yet?”

“No, he is staying late at the office,” Oikawa replied.

That was odd, considering his big project was at the house and he was usually home early, working on the androids.

Oikawa’s head tilted, “You seem tense. Would you like a massage?”

You swallowed uneasily, “No thanks. I just want to rest. Alone.”

Oikawa nodded, but his intense gaze didn’t leave you as you hurried up the stairs and into your bedroom. You locked the door behind you, heart pounding. Something felt off, but you couldn’t figure out what it was.

Moments later, a knock sounded on the door. You froze, praying it wasn’t Oikawa. “Yes?” you called.

“It’s Iwaizumi,” the reply was muffled through the door, but his voice was steady, “I just wanted to let you know that you are safe now.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling as though the words meant something deeper, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Iwaizumi replied. You listened for the sound of retreating footsteps down the stairs but the sound never came. He was still standing outside your door.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and sent a text to your husband, asking when he’d be home. The wait for a response was excruciatingly long, but a reply finally came.

I’m still at the office, sweetie. Is everything okay?

You stared at the message for a full minute before you realized what it was that seemed off. He had never called you sweetie before. Suddenly, a memory resurfaced in your mind of Oikawa.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetie.”

As you stood there, trying to make sense of it all, the door handle turned slightly, as if someone was testing it to see if it was locked. You stopped breathing for a moment before shakily calling out, “Iwaizumi, what are you doing?”

There was a long pause before he answered, “Please do not be alarmed, (Y/n). I must ensure your safety.”

Gathering your courage, desperate for answers and plagued by unease, you opened the door. Iwazumi’s eyes widened at the sight of you as you demanded, “Where is my husband?”

Iwaizumi’s gaze didn’t leave you, “Your husband is at work, overseeing additional development.”

You frowned, “Iwaizumi has anything… changed in your programming recently?”

A flicker of something crossed Iwaizumi’s face, “Our job has always been to ensure your safety and happiness.”

“And what about my husband’s safety and happiness?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, “His safety is secondary to yours.”

A shiver shot down your spine and you quickly pushed past him, hurrying down the stairs. There was something you needed to know.

Oikawa was standing in the kitchen. Not cleaning or cooking, just standing there as though he were waiting for you to come down the stairs, a smile plastered on his face.

You headed for the door, ready to get in your car and get the hell out of your house and away from the androids, but Oikawa blocked your path.

“Out of my way!” you snapped.

“Where are you going?” Oikawa asked sweetly, “You aren’t safe out there, you know.”

“I need to talk to my husband, in person.”

Oikawa’s smile twisted into a victorious grin, “Why don’t you video call him right now?”

You shakily pulled out your phone, “Why a video call?”

“Then you’ll know we aren’t changing our voices to pretend to be him!” Oikawa said with a small chuckle. 

You weren’t even aware they could do something like that. At least he’s being honest. You reassured yourself.

You pressed the video call option on your husband’s contact page and waited. It took a moment for you to comprehend what was on the other side of the screen.

When you did, you screamed, mind branded forever with the sight of the remains of your husband.

Behind you, Oikawa began to laugh.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!! #yandere oikawa #oikawa tooru #yandere iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime

[if-whats-new]

What's New In IF? Issue 8 (2024)

By Erika, Marjorie, Axelle, and Noi

Now Available!

Itch.io. - Keep Reading below

Due to Internal things, the June and July issues will only update on events and games. We hope to resume regular activities and include more pages by August. Note: while Axelle is mentioned, they are currently on a break.

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : RAFFLE FOR PALESTINE ~

The IF COMMUNITY RAFFLE FOR PALESTINE is a charity drive spearheaded by Kit from “The Northern Passage” (@northern-passage) to raise money for Palestine families trying to evacuate Gaza.

To participate in the raffle, you must provide a receipt that you donated 5€/$5 to one of the five selected GoFundMe to receive one ticket for the raffle.

Each further 5€/$5 donation (to the same or one of the other 5 GFM) will grant you another raffle ticket.

Prizes will be assigned to valid raffle ticket at random, using a generator. These prizes include portrait of characters (bust/full, coloured/sketched, background/clean), as well as writing snippets (500+ w/) or playable in- character micro-IF. The list of the 50 participating artists and authors can be found here.

You can redeem tickets for the raffle up until the 21st of June. Winners will be contacted shortly after.

~ CONFERENCE ~

While you cannot register for the Narrascope in person, you can still do so for the online option until June 17th! The event is happening June 21-23. It is also possible to participate in their game jam even if you are not attending! You can already submit now!

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

With this edition of the 🔥 Fuck Capitalism Jam 2024 🔥 being ranked, the jam is currently in its voting period until next week. If you did not submit an entry (and thus, cannot vote), you can still share your thoughts in the games comments!

The Rayuela (Spanish IFComp) is also still in their voting period. If you are Spanish speaking, come support the entries!

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Still ongoing is the ParserComp, which are looking for parser games, both with a classic feel or a more experimental approach.

If you are looking to make a Visual Novel, the Otome Jam will be looking for entries until July 1st. There is also the Josei jam running parallel to it.

While it is not IF-focused, the Anti-Romance Jam is once again looking for anti-romance submissions!

Love/Violence is another unranked game jam looking for entries dealing with Love and Violence and all the things in between (also accepts non IF)

Come submit to the Neo-Twiny Jam for charity! Until the end of June, every 500-word micro IF will help raise money for LBGTQ+ causes. Reach out to the organisers (@neointeractives/@neo-twiny-jam) if you want to donate instead!

From now until the start of July, you can participate in the Fix the Worst Visual Novels Jam.

Can you write something in French? Or use Google Translate? The annual Nouvim3000 is an unranked francophone IF jam where you need to write between 500 and 3k words. This year's theme is “INCOMBUSTIBLE”.

~ ENDED ~

The Tomatoes bitsy jam ended last weekend. Check you the cool half-dozen entries!

~ OTHER ~

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is still running! If you have completed an IF piece this year, consider submitting it! It is happening only on itch!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

The Zen of Kayaking (Z-code) is a text adventure game inspired by 1980s Infocom games, where you go on a Kayak trip on a Sunday morning. @pixelturkey

Goodnight Molly (Ren’Py) is a short visual novel about stories and how we don't always remember them the way we think we do.

Blank Canvas (Ren’Py) is a visual novel where you play as an illustrator asked for a time-sensitive comission.

What Grackle Told the Stranger (Twine) is a short mystery game based on D&D.

Don't forget about the cool games released in the events mentioned in the previous pages! There were a lot of really cool games! (Erika really liked the Neo-Twiny entries.)

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

Eldritch Tales: Inheritance (CScript) is a cosmic horror where you inherit a creepy manor. @darielivalyen

A Rose by Another Name (Twine) is a Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet inspired project with a queer twist. @triscuit-writes

Text Your Life (Ren’Py) is a romance mobile phone chat simulator.

Stygian—Elves of Darkest Night (CScript) is a high-fantasy project.

Project Xavier (CScript) is a high-fantasy project where you play as a hunter.

~ GAMES UPDATES ~

Burning Academia (Twine) has released its second chapter. @burning-academia-if

The Bureau (CScript) has updated its demo with 40k+ words. @morbethgames

One Knight Stand (CScript) is releasing the next update at different Patreon tier. @oneknightstand-if

Honor Bound (CScript) has released its seventh chapter on Patreon. @hpowellsmith

Stygian Sun: Total Eclipse (Twine) has released the first part of Chapter 1. @stygiansun-totaleclipse

The Night Market (Twine) released Chapter 5 on its Patreon. @night-market-if

Dimension Jumper (Twine) added Chapter 11 to the demo. @dimension-jumper-if

Shattered Eagle: Fall of an Empire (CScript) released its third chapter.

Saturnine (CScript) added a new chapter of 36k words. @satur9-if

~ OTHER ~

The Queer Games Bundle (@queergamesbundle) is now live on itch.io. Support a bunch of queer creators (including Interactive Fiction authors!) by purchasing the bundle!

We apologize if we missed an update or a release. We are but volunteers trying to find as much info as possible, but sometimes news pass through the cracks.

Please, let us know if something should have been added to the zine, and we will shout it out next week!

ERIKA, MARJORIE, AXELLE, AND NOI

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 8

#interactive fiction #if news #visual novel #parser #choice of games #choicescript #twine #ink #twine games #ink games #itch.io #interactive game #interactive novel #IF #games #hobby #indie dev #choose your own adventure #if-whats-new #What's New in IF #NEW ISSUE IS OUT!!

[obsessedduh]

YANDERE!READER X WILLING!CARELESS!SIMON PT4.

previous part —> here | next part —> here

tw: mentions of blood, gore, stalking, obsession, peverse and creepy reader, yandere intendecies! implied fem reader, but I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible. unrealistic as fuck but whatever we make it by. 🤷🏿‍♀️🤷🏿‍♀️

side note: the way this has been sitting in my drafts for four months now is so embarrassing help...

again no proof read blame grammarly for the mistakes y'all they supposed to be helping me 😔

mini taglist (by mini, i mean four people who've requested 😭): @warlike-morning @smoothruby @thisisthegypsy @hxnneydew

MDNI – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

careless!willing!simon 'ghost' Riley who's realised you've stopped ignoring him. hey, he could even go the medic and you'll even have a basic sentence with him but the only problem is that ella has gotten close to him again, much to his liking... and soon much to hers as well.

he's notice how you angrily poke at your dinner while watching ella flirt like the mindless bimbo she is with him. god, he loves that jealous look of yours, so fucking cute.

── ✧《✩》✧ ──

today you were this close to gutting that ella bitch alive and you most probably will. what does this stupid bitch think she's playing at? did she seriously not get your fucking warning the first time? you wish you could kill her sooner, but you can't yet. you need to find a day where everyone is tired from their missions and wants to rest, so their brains will slow down at least by an inch. no one is gonna have missions for the next two days. you'll have no choice but to kill her on monday.

and honestly, you can't be bothered to kill anyone at the moment no matter how much you want to. the days before the soldiers break it was non stop injuries and you've been burned down quite a bit from it so killing her on monday was a no go. you'll just have no choice but have to threaten her again. dumb bitch, fucki g getting lucky. girls like her don't normally get second chances, she better take this one for fucking granted.

── ✧《✩》✧ ──

today you hear that ella got injured while training. lucky you, you hope it's something like a cut again and to your disappointment it was nothing but a stupid twisted ankle. you told the other medics to let ella come to you because you needed to have a chat with her anyway and of course your colleagues question a thing.

ella had help from other soldiers to come into your room. she walks, well more like limps into your room with supervision of the other shoulders. she was shocked to your face once again and you tell her heart dropped when the slight neutral expression on her face into one of fear. the other soldiers help her onto the bed and she looks at them with a worried expression as they leave and as soon as the door clicks indicating it was closed her eyes shoot back to yours with a panicked expression and your sweet smile you gave the soldiers as they left dropped into a cold glare.

you sigh and get up to lock the door before taking off ella's shoe and sock. you watch as her eyes scan your actions with panic and she's even shaking a bit.

"hm... ella... oh ella... seems our conversation before didn't quite get through your thick skull, now did it?"

you watch as tears fill her eyes but no reply and your hand wraps around her ankle and you slowly start twisting it more, "hello i'm speaking to you, did it or did it fucking not?!"

she yelps out and shakes her head and you tut, "words."

she couldn't help the tears spill and she choked out a quiet, "n-no."

he snicker mockingly before twisting her ankle more, "hm, sorry, what was that?"

you watch as her eyes shoot open and she screams out, "no!! n-no, i-it d-didnt!!"

"shut the fuck up, you make a sound either than your tears and your voice when answering my questions you'll regret it understood?"

she sobs and doesn't reply to which you squeeze her ankle, "under-fucking-stood?"

she cries out, "y-yes!!"

"hm, good.."

you trace your hand over her twisted ankle and you groan when you hear her stupid, squeaky voice, "p-please d-don't hurt me!!"

"puh-puh-pwease duh-duh-don't hurt me!!" you mock back at her with a roll of your eyes. "shame, you don't listen. didn't want it to come to this, actually that's a lie. you really need to stick your words. hope this teaches you a fucking lesson."

and with that, your hands wrap around her ankle and you twist it until it breaks and watch with a sadistic smirk and she screams out in pain. she chokes over her tears and pained groans as she watched her ankle break in her gaze.

you pout mockingingly, "should've listen to me.." she sobs in response, "oh, stop crying, big baby. ima treat you."

you help with her broken ankle, and the process takes about an hour and thirty and when you finish up and give her some crutches. you unlock the door and when she was about to leave you look at her, "if people ask about why you're crying, you give them a sweet smile say, 'turns out i broke a bone and it was super painful to get it treated, thank god the medic helped me with it' and i want you to say that word by word. understand?"

she quickly nods with fear in her eyes and you unlock the door with a fake sweet smile, "great!! toodles!."

── ✧《✩》✧ ──

simon is currently heading to your office because he accidentally cut himself during training. he had a paper towel pressed against his wound and then he was about to walk in but quickly saw your door open and heard you voice 'great!! toodles!'

hm, strange he thought until he say ella struggle out your door with crutches and a cast on her leg. her eyes puffy and red and her soft sniffles could be heard. she didn't even look at him just struggled her way past him. he smirked and looked ella and muttered to himself, "looks like she won't be bothering me for a while."

he watched as he tried to close the door but he held it open, much to your surprise. you look up at him with shock, "care to help? cut myself durin' trainin'."

"u-um... sure?"

he chuckled, "cheers."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

wanna know more about me? —> here

masterlist —> here

#🎀 — 𝑶𝑩𝑺𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑬𝑫 #cod ghost #cod ghost x you #cod ghost x reader #ghost #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader

[chemicallywrit]

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! What a week! Let’s talk about some shows!

🕷️ Ghosts in the Burbs continues to be the kind of quiet horror that creeps into your brain. This last multipart story has a twist that makes me genuinely worried about the fictionalized Liz Sauer of the podcast. She seems overcome by anxiety and a lack of trust, and I worry it will make her vulnerable to supernatural or mundane attack. And all that would do is reinforce her fears! Hang in there Liz.

📻 @breakerwhiskey HARRY DID WHAT? Suddenly this tenuous, teeth-gritting relationship makes sense. Of course our hero feels betrayed! Of course they never really reconciled! Note that it’s out in the open, I wonder if real reconciliation is on the table.

🌺 @wanderersjournalpod is so fascinating, not just because of the framing device, but also because Marigold tells on themself in this surface humorous story about accidentally poisoning themself. She is starving. Both Marigold and Pluto are in tricky situations and neither of them seems to be reaching out for help from anyone but each other. Is it by necessity, or are they just stubborn?

🦀 What can you say about @thesiltverses? These episodes, mostly monologue, set the scene for whatever the finale will bring, and I can feel the tension building. I have to pour out the accolades for the actors, whose work embodying these roles has been incredible, especially B. Narr.

🌳 My best friend @worldgonewrongpod is back this week and I love this small town drama over creepy trees. Being from small town Colorado myself (although not quite this small), it felt comfortingly familiar. I can’t help but see the parallels between the book banning campaigns in small towns all across the US, which work about as well as shooting trees. This show continues to, in a friendly gentle way, destroy me.

✊🏾1972 wrapped this week! I love a historical drama, and I cheered out loud when Angela Davis was declared not guilty, even though like. That’s a historical event. It wasn’t a surprise. At the same time I found Shirley Chisholm’s campaign so heartbreaking, even though she didn’t. I’d like to be as forgiving and smart as Chisholm, I think. Even though she lost, what she did mattered; even though Angela Davis was in jail for years for no reason, it mattered.

⚙️ In Inn Between news, GET READY FOR THE FINALE KIDS. The penultimate episode is out, and our early access folks will see this season wrap this week. Now I gotta like. Write season six. Pray for me, hopefully this one won’t take a tear and a half.

That’s it for this week! 😘

#audio drama sunday #ghosts in the burbs #breaker whiskey #wanderer’s journal #the silt verses #world gone wrong podcast #1972 podcast #inn between #audio drama #audio fiction #fiction podcast

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Rue the Day

Bones in the Ocean Masterlist

CW: Creepy whumper, blood, restraints, magical whump, nonhuman whumpee, multiple whumpees, defiant whumpee, threats of death

“The rabbit is excellent tonight, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Guilford Wentworth sipped from his wine glass. When Kira didn’t answer right away, he smiled, and his teeth seemed stained slightly red. Kira fought back the way her stomach flipped and bile seemed to rise in her throat, fighting to find its way out. 

She had to stay calm. 

“Miss Losna?” Wentworth’s smile widened, giving the lie to the carefully practiced false concern in his voice. “Are you quite all right?”

Kira cleared her throat, blinking rapidly and forcing herself to sip from the wine as well. She kept her eyes on Wentworth, because if she looked at the display behind him, she may not be able to hold the scream back any longer.

There as a whimper, half-suppressed, and Kira set her jaw and told herself to ignore it.

“I am fine,” She managed, and her voice was calm where her heart beat with frantic, frightened wings within her chest. “Rabbit is not my-... it is not a meat I often dine on, is all. The taste is… new to me.”

“Oh? My apologies. I would have chosen a different entree, but I had heard you come from… well, shall we say humble beginnings, and I thought rabbit may be familiar to you.”

His mockery strengthened her nerves. Kira stabbed a bite of rabbit viciously, trying not to think about how the meat had been coated in a bright red berry sauce that tasted too dark and rich. She chewed, and tried not to taste copper.

Because of course there was no copper.

There couldn’t be.

It was all in her mind, all because of-

“I was not raised on rabbit, Lord Wentworth,” She said coldly, and forced her eyes down to the pale ivory ceramic of her plate, painted with a beautifully oceanic blue. Images of mermaids and sea serpents cavorting in stylized waves, blocked in some spots by the rabbit. Just to the edge of the plate, she saw a handful of painted sirens, looking at the other creatures with… melancholy, perhaps.

The whimper came again. 

Kira’s teeth worked the rabbit to nearly nothing before she swallowed. There was something to that soft sound of pain that struck her like a hammer to a gong, her despair ringing in the air so loudly she could nearly hear it. 

“It is not the siren’s fault that your son spoke up,” She managed to say, if only so she could speak over the way the siren’s careful, determined silence had begun to break against the waves of pain. “You shouldn’t punish him for it.”

“So I should end our dinner early and go punish Ford in person?” Wentworth asked, unbothered by the scene behind him, by the sounds the siren could no longer hold back. “You have quite the cold soul, Miss Losna.” His smile widened. “Perhaps I chose you better than I realized.”

“I do not think you should do anything to your son but leave him alone," Kira bit back. "And you did not choose me." Her fork dropped with a clattering against the plate. “I answered an advertisement. You had no idea who I was before I walked up your front steps.”

“True.” Guilford Wentworth tipped his head forward in acknowledgement. "You answered my advertisement for a job."

“I wish to the gods I hadn’t.”

Guilford Wentworth laughed, a harsh, barking sound that nearly made Kira flinch. Somehow, though, she held steady. “I should be honest with you, Miss Losna. I’m not entirely convinced there are any gods at all.”

Kira sat back. Took another drink of wine, and let the room spin a little around her. It loosened her tongue and stiffened her spine, but it also set her cheeks aflame and left her unsteady. Strong, but dizzy, as if spun endlessly in a dance. “That’s blasphemy.”

“It is.” Wentworth nodded, picking up a heavy red fruit and biting into it, red juice on his chin, dripping onto his plate. Kira’s stomach threatened once again to heave itself empty, and she had to grip onto the edges of the table until they nearly cut into her palms to settle the twisting, flipping sensation. “And yet… well, Miss Losna. If there were gods, then you have to assume one of them would have noticed me, hm? I have one of their own. I live longer than men were meant to live. I haven’t aged a day since my siren was bound to me. They are supposedly a gods’ children, aren’t they?”

Kira was silent, then. 

If he wanted to give a speech, let him. She would simply try to get through this meal, and try equally not to be furious with Guilford’s son Ford, whose dismissal from the table had left her alone with this monster masquerading as man.

From the window, the siren’s soft sounds of pain lengthened into a soft wail. Even that, Kira thought with a shiver, sounded like music.

Against her will, she looked at him.

The siren was strung up like a tormented saint, arms up over his head wrapped in rough sailor’s rope that scratched up his skin and smeared it red. His toes barely danced on the floor, barely able to hold even a little of his weight. To stand normally, he had to let his arms hold all his weight, and it tore the ropes in more deeply, bit by bit. Staying on his tiptoes stretched his leg muscles to what must have been screaming agony. 

He was framed by the yellowing evening light coming through the window, nearly making him a silhouette, a suggestion of endless darkness ringed in awful light.

Kira’s eyes burned with what she resolutely denied could be tears as she saw him twisting his wrists a little, blood running in a rivulet down one arm now. The muscle in his arm twitched as the trail worked down to the crook of his elbow, heading towards his shoulder.

He was naked now, the markings that kept him in bondage to Wentworth’s wicked demands on full display. Kia’s heart beat faster than the rabbit whose remains were on her plate had ever been able to run.

Wentworth had given the order in between inane commentary about weather and what grew in the garden’s greenhouses. It had been tossed out like an aside, as if it didn’t matter at all. Areyto had - staring at Kira all the while - begun to tie himself up. He had climbed up himself into position, moved each arm and leg as Wentworth ordered. The butler Babbage, his eyes clouded and cheerfully convinced he was doing something with curtains, had finished stringing him up. 

Once the weight had become to much, Areyto’s eyes had gone blank and empty. He had wiped himself from his own body with the pain.

Or… perhaps only by the work it took to survive it.

He had no ability to die.

Not unless Guilford Wentworth allowed him to.

Servants bustled around - Nadette and Babbage cheerfully refilled empty cups and whisked away each course and brought the next as though they saw nothing. Nadette had come back puzzled as to what she had even been doing upstairs when she was meant to be attending Kira at dinner, and Kira could only pray to gods that may or may not be real that the clarity in her had lasted long enough to find Kira a way out.

They didn’t see the siren for what he was, or even seem to hear his crying.

Kira did.

And she hated Ford, in the moment, for having been here but then getting himself dismissed so she had to be here alone.

“They are,” Kira said, voice trembling a little. “The moon goddess made the ocean’s creatures, sirens, the mer people, the-”

“And yet,” Wentworth interrupted, too committed to his monologue to allow her to cut him off before he was done. Kira stared at Areyto, watching salt tears running down his cheeks, even though his face was utterly blank. “And yet. Look at him, Miss Losna. Look. Does his goddess save him now?”

Kira swallowed, but her throat felt nearly closed and it took far too much effort to manage. “No,” She whispered. “No. His goddess does not save him.”

Lord Wentworth’s fork scraped in dissonance along his plate, dragging Kira’s gaze back to him. “Clearly she doesn’t,” He said, with confidence. “A century and a half, give or take a dozen years here and there, and my siren remains mine. And he will remain mine. There is no goddess of the moon and waters, Miss Losna. There is no god of the land, no mountain deities to worship, no demons hiding in the Maitsa. There is nothing but people, and two kinds of people at that.”

Kira tried to tear her eyes from the siren’s suffering, but all she could make herself look at was the bottom of her emptied wineglass. There wasn’t enough wine in the world to make this bearable.

“The first sort of person goes on living the life prescribed. Does all the right things, says the right words, gets married and bears a few children and then dies. It’s all for nothing. It means nothing. The second sort of person is far more rare.”

Guilford Wentworth stood, and Kira’s breath caught as he picked up the sharpened blade of the knife that had been beside his plate. He turned away from her, walking over to the siren. Kira should have stood, then - stood and run - but she felt frozen. 

“The second sort of person,” Guilford said, voice lower now, “Is one who controls his own fate. Who refuses to live the prescribed life. Who takes control.”

The edge of the knife cut into the unmarked side of the siren’s body, a slow slice echoing the line of his ribs. 

“Hold still for me,” Guilford said, voice low and thick with some sickening emotion Kira didn’t dare name. The siren turned to look at him, and something in his empty face flickered back to life. There was a pleading there. A scream, but a silent one. “Hold, Areyto.”

The siren’s lips trembled as the knife left him and cut again. Blood ran down to his hip, maneuvered around and over it, ran down the inside of one muscled thigh. Kira’s heart beat so hard she had trouble breathing around it now, as if her lungs refused to expand. She took shallow gasps instead. 

Her fingers closed around her own fork, unconsciously, and she pushed herself to her feet. “Stop,” She whispered. 

“Areyto is mine.” A third slice had the siren weeping openly, unable to fight the pain everywhere within him any longer. Guilford raised his free hand and wiped a tear away with his thumb, licking it off the tip and humming, as if he’d tasted the finest wine. “As you will be. I could cut you just like this, and if he commanded it, you would hold perfectly still.”

“I said-” Her voice cracked. She moved, though, without thinking, coming around the edge of the table and heading towards him. The fork seemed to come to life in her hand, silvered metal twisting and heating up until her palm felt like it was burning. But somehow the burn did not hurt at all. “I said for you to stop. He does whatever you want, leave him be. I don’t require this showcase of your power, Lord Wentworth, you already have me held here against my will!”

“Oh, Miss Losna.” Guilford sighed, happily. “You find yourself terribly mistaken. This isn’t about you at all. I’m not doing this to show you my power over him.”

“Then-” Kira came to a stop, a few feet away. The fork in her hand no longer felt like a fork at all. She looked slowly down at it. “Then why are you-”

“Because he is beautiful,” Guilford breathed, looking back to the siren with shining eyes. “Like this. Because there is nothing I cannot do now.”

Kira had no ready rejoinder, and after a heartbeat of trying - and failing - to think of one she gave up. Standing here watching her captor torture a siren who had done nothing but run into him hurt more than it should. Sirens, after all, were monsters who sang men to their deaths, who took sailors to the depths. But Areyto was also a man, if not a human one. One worn down like river rocks, and soon enough he would be fine as sand, and then he would be nothing at all. 

The air felt heavier and heavier around her, as if any moment now she would cease to be able to breathe it. The inside of her head, by contrast, felt too light, floating away from her. 

Torn in two, she decided to hell with false politeness. 

“Why not just get it over with?” She asked, without looking away. The siren seemed to feel her eyes on him and managed to - briefly - meet her gaze. There was something pleading, there, in the darkness of his eyes. 

“It?” Guilford cut him again, and Kira watched skin twitching beneath his knife and wondered if she could simply vomit all over Wentworth to make this awfulness end. In her hand, the for had become long, straightened out. A sort of tiny spear of silver, and it burned hot enough that she knew if she hadn’t been the one to create it, her hand would be blistered and bubbling. 

She raised her chin. “It, Lord Wentworth. Whatever it is you plan to do to me. Destroying my mind, marrying me off to your son, whatever it is you’ve got tucked away to ruin lives for your own amusement. Why not just do it and cease forcing me to… wait?” 

“Ah.” Wentworth smiled. “Well, that’s quite simple, Miss  Losna.”

“It… it is?”

“It is indeed. Areyto? Would you care to explain?”

The siren cut his eyes back to Guilford, staring at him with such open, baleful loathing that the sheer force of the expression took Kira’s breath away. Then the pain overtook his ability to hold the expression and he slumped into sullen silence, seconds ticking past. 

“Areyto.” Guilford Wentworth’s eyes narrowed. “Tell. Her.”

Areyto’s mouth opened without his say-so. Kira watched him as he spoke, rote and lifeless, voice thin and rough with pain. “The magic-... must be written with free will, or… or it is too weak to hold me.”

Kira blinked. “But-... wait. You-... you enthralled your first magician-”

“I had the thrall lifted,” Guilford said, voice going a little softer. He looked away, then, over towards the grand floor-to-ceiling windows. “Every ten years. For two days, I had it lifted. And she strengthened the spell.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Guilford said, almost gently, lifting his own knife just under the siren’s chin, nicking his throat just to watch the blood run from there, too. “If she didn’t, I would ensure my wife would throw herself off the roof.”

Kira took in a breath.

There was only one monster in this room.

She moved all at once, pushed by a swell of emotion that felt like being sucked under by the riptide, and reached up as high as she could. The burning-hot silver in her hand sliced through the ropes that held the siren as if they were made of butter, not heavy hemp, and the siren dropped to the floor all at once with a cry.

She turned, stepping between Guilford and the siren, lifting her chin. 

“You have no such way to force me, Lord Wentworth.”

To her shock, though he did step back from her, Guilford Wentworth did not react with fear or anger. 

Instead… he laughed. “Of course I do.”

“Oh?” Kira shifted, unconsciously moving closer to Areyto, who had not moved from the floor. She could hear him growling, a sound somehow utterly animal and deeply musical, a bass note held unending. Blood smeared under his hands, soaking into the shining wood under him. It was a deep, oxygen-rich burgundy, darker than Kira’s own - a reminder that despite his appearance, he wasn’t human. 

Not that being inhuman meant he deserved any bit of this.

She faced Wentworth head on, chin high, with every ounce of courage she had in her. The wine had gone entirely to her head, but her voice stayed steady and strong. “And what, exactly, will you do to make me obey you and help you make an empire for yourself when I would happily tear out your throat with my own damn teeth if they weren’t so blunt?” 

Behind her, the siren made a new sound.

It wasn’t quite open laughter - he was in far too much pain. But the soft sound, the huff of breath with the barest edge of volume to it, set stronger steel in Kira’s spine just the same. Warmed something in her that had frozen over before. 

“I won't lift a finger to stop you, Miss Losna.” Wentworth moved away, picking up his wine glass and taking another sip. 

Her lip lifted in a snarl at the smug lie he told so easily. “You speak like a man who hasn’t barred all the bedroom windows to keep me inside,” She responded, voice tight.

Wentworth’s smile did not waver or fade, but something in it tightened. “I will not stop you,” He repeated. “But everyone else here will.”

“You will have them… attack me? Do me harm?”

“No. I will have them do themselves harm.”

Kira froze. “What?” Her voice was a whisper. 

Wentworth shrugged. “Every single one of them will die, by their own hand, as soon as you step off of my property. Their deaths will not be quick or clean, and they will be because of you.”

Kira’s jaw worked, her eyes moving to where Nadette and Babbage still stood by the kitchen door, both of them smiling politely and seemingly unaware of the confrontation by the window. “You lie.”

“No, my dear, I do not. The order has already been given.” Wentworth sighed, voice gentling. “It was given as soon as I knew you had already met my siren. If you leave, they will die. You will consign three dozen servants to their deaths, including my butler and of course your own sweet maidservant… even the stable boy will hang himself in the barn. Every one of them will die in some way, and they will know why they do it but be unable to stop. So.” He lifted one hand, twirling his finger in pointed down. “I suggest, Miss Losna, that you drop your weapon, or I will command the first death. Which of course will be the lovely young Nadette.”

Kira hitched in a breath, fear washing cold across her. She stared at Nadette’s smiling face, where she stood across the room, and thought of the terror in the girl when she had grabbed her arm and said I don't want to be here. “I-... You wouldn't. How would your life ever continue-”

“I will. If you refuse me, and I lose my siren’s power, then my life will be short and brutish regardless. I have little to lose, if the creature is lost. So leave and know your selfishness will be their cause of death. And know, also, that I will ensure you are charged by the king with every single murder. After all, I have no magic. But you do. Or so the king will believe. Drop the weapon, Miss Losna. Now.”

“Lord Wentworth-”

“Drop the weapon,” Guilford said, voice lower than ever. “And say, yes, my lord. Or Nadette will drink the vial she carries in her pocket, and you will watch her die in agony.”

Kira stood still for a long moment.

The bit of silver clattered from her numb fingers to the floor. 

When Wentworth's eyebrows raised and he leaned forward, one hand cupped behind his ear as he waited, she swallowed and managed, in a trembling voice, “Y-... Yes, m-my lord.”

“Good girl.” Wentworth's voice was sickly sweet and low. His smile widened once more - too wide, grotesquely stretched. “Sit back down, we still have to enjoy our dessert.”

Kira felt her feet moving without her, drifting back to her chair. Her mind raced and the world around her felt suddenly unreal as she settled, staring down at her plate until Babbage whisked it away and disappeared back into the kitchen again.

Kira looked over at the siren, where he still knelt on the floor.

“You, too,” Wentworth said, beckoning the siren with a single crook of his finger. Areyto pushed himself uncertainly to his feet, struggling to stay upright. His ribs were still bleeding, the smell of it overwhelming and making Kira’s stomach flip again. Or maybe it had never stopped. 

Areyto sat back in his chair, still naked - the servants didn’t seem to notice. Kira couldn’t see anything past his bright eyes and the red of his blood. The sight of him felt real in a way nothing else in this house of horrors did. 

“You will not leave your room again unless summoned,” Wentworth said, imperious now. “If you are found anywhere else, even once, I will begin ordering deaths. If you care about the lives of anyone but yourself, Miss Losna, you will go where you are bid and do what I tell you. And you will bind my siren back to me with all the magic you can use.”

Kira kept her eyes on the siren.

She had no idea what was served for dessert. She heard nothing Wentworth said after that. At some point, she was given leave to return to her rooms and she fled to the stairs, feeling a stab of guilt at leaving the siren once again alone with this monstrous man. But it was not enough guilt to stop her.

Once she had closed the door behind her, she flung herself on her bed, screaming into the heavy soft pillow.

How had she already begun to think of this as her room? This bed as her bed? How could she have been so well encircled and not realized he would use the servants against her?

She screamed again.

This time, she kept it up until her throat burned with it and her voice began to give, going hoarse and rough. She held the pillow against her face until sparks danced behind her closed eyes as she fought for air. Finally, she threw the pillow away, watching it thump onto the floor.

Then she turned to where it had been and saw the crumpled paper there. Kira swallowed, picking the folded piece of paper up and slowly opening it. 

Young Master Ford, Young Miss Nathalie, and the twins all have rooms without bars on the windows. 

Master Ford will come to you at midnight with the siren. 

Miss Nathalie will, too.

Nathalie. Kira felt something in her settle. That would be the eldest daughter from the painting, Ford’s younger sister. Clearly she and Ford felt similarly, if they were going to help Kira and Areyto, or even just Kira…

No.

She wouldn’t leave here without the siren beside her. Areyto needed rescue more than she did, in the end, and it wasn’t his singing that made her believe it. It was her own conviction. Her own certainty.

Kira pushed herself off the bed, then, setting her shoulders with resolution and heading into the bathing room, hoping against hope she could somehow manage to get this dress off all by herself.

She was sorely in need of a bath.

-

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings  @theelvishcowgirl  @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10   @apokolyps   @wildfaewhump   @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee @angelsproject @loony-whumptoons

#whump #bones in the ocean #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #forced domesticity #magical whump #magical whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #siren whump #captivity #threats of death #sadistic whumper #defiant whumpee #writing #multiple whumpees #violent whumper #blood tw #restrainted #stress position #original writing #original fiction #fantasy writing #original fantasy

[darkstarofchaos]

Yet more EarthSpark S2 spoilers.

And now for some general thoughts about the season itself.

Where was Nightshade during all this? They are a main character, why did they not have so much as a subplot in another character's focus episode? People talk about Thrash getting sidelined, but he had a whole episode plus a paired episode with Twitch. Nightshade is barely there, and when they are, it's either a battle scene or sharing the scientific spotlight with Wheeljack.

Speaking of Thrash, I liked his episode. I would like to think finding a random Quintesson on earth and then shooting it into space will have repercussions later in the season, especially with the Quint lore in the final episode. But now that the Decepticons are just flat and evil, I might not even watch that far.

Why are the Decepticons interchangeable now? Starscream and Shockwave are the only ones allowed a personality beyond "smash stuff". And yes, I'm counting Breakdown in that, because he's a shadow of his former self, and the whole thing with him being a parent to Aftermath got dropped after five minutes. And you know, I might be giving Shockwave too much credit, because disagreeing with your leader on one course of action isn't a personality trait. And Starscream's ultimate goal is apparently just smash stuff. So you know what, I'll amend that, why do none of the Decepticons have a personality beyond smash stuff?

Like. Twitch ends up in the Decepticon base in the guise of Spitfire, and we don't get a single characterization moment. I guess the Cons all just stand and snarl at each other when they aren't on missions.

On the other hand, I don't understand why so many people were confused that the Decepticons were following Starscream, because why wouldn't they? He seems to have been doing a fine job, judging by the number of Emberstone shards the Cons had. I get that most Starscreams can't get support to save their lives (often through no fault of their own), but the Decepticons here seem to have no reason not to follow him.

Moving on from the Decepticons, I'd have to call the trailer episode and the carnival episode the worst of the lot. The whole subplot with Robbie having a crush was the most uncomfortable thing I've had to sit through in a while, and I would not voluntarily watch it again. And the trailer episode was just tedious. I get having something more relaxed in between the Spitfire two-parter and the finale, but couldn't they have found any other plot for it? People rag on the bear episode, but at least that had a nice little lesson about not messing with people's prostheses rolled in. This episode was just. Nothing. But it did come with a distinct lack of squicky "feeling your brother's crush through your psychic bond" stuff, so I'll give it that it's rewatchable.

Okay, this was a problem with S1 too, but that psychic bond has to go. It's creepy and invasive, and it's only going to get more so as the humans get older and start exploring adult relationships. At least give them some way to close it or otherwise shield themselves from it (it's also a constant plot hole, because characters often end up in danger that the others somehow don't notice. Like, is there a range on this psychic thing? How far apart do they have to be before they can't feel each other anymore? This thing is not explained well enough, and I don't see why it even needs to exist).

Assorted episode nitpicks:

That is not how you dispose of hard drives. Why did you not wipe them before recycling.

No food ever touches the plates on the dinner table in the Quintesson episode. I am unreasonably bothered by this.

How did none of the adults think to address Spitfire's insistence on being part of the mission by pointing out that Twitch is older and more experienced than her? Like, yeah, Spitfire probably wouldn't have cared, but someone should still have put their foot down and said she can't go on a mission until she's had some training.

Megatron, you are the only non-participant who can fly and the final stretch of that obstacle course was over a ravine. Why were you not in a position where you could quickly help out if someone fell? Twitch wouldn't have had to go back to save Alex herself and the whole thing with Spitfire being mad because she crossed the finish line first wouldn't have happened if you had positioned yourself more strategically.

Actually, Megatron proposed the race, Megatron wasn't close enough to be helpful during the race, and Megatron said they needed to let Twitch and Spitfire sort things out themselves, which resulted in Twitch getting bodyswapped. Every problem in this episode was Megatron's fault. Optimus, why are you not vetoing any of this? Why are you just standing there and letting Megatron pit kids against each other? You're a leader, do some leading!

On the other hand, Megatron wanting to resolve everything by letting the arguing parties fight it out is on brand for him, so like. Kudos for characterization, now get an adult in here.

#transformers #Transformers EarthSpark #EarthSpark Spoilers

[asmrrpaddict]

In voice alone, because… well, you’ll understand. Throughout most of today’s Lasko’s HBS video, I couldn’t place why the voice sounded so familiar (other than being Erik of course) then it finally hit me!!!

LASKO IS MR. MILO JAMES THATCH!!!! I kept picturing a nerdy lanky type guy with glasses. Something about the voice tonight other than the actual words because Milo (Disney Milo) is a PG rating guy while the audio was… not.

As I’m writing this it kind of cracks me up thinking about more, somewhat grasping at straws, connections.

Kida: Milo’s love interest, associated with the color blue and her home was taken by waves = Dear being Lasko’s love interest and a water elemental.

Rourke: bad guy who pretended to be a good man just wanting to help Milo and who sacrificed Helga to save himself = Kody who pretended to be Freelancer’s friend until he betrayed their trust and sacrificed who knows how many to save himself during the Inversion.

Go with me now on this one.

Helga: woman who “seduced” Milo into going to Mr. Whitmore’s then teased him later when they met again and all around made Milo nervous = Gavin. They had their first… encounter then Gavin proceeds to tease him every chance he gets.

Vinny: a man who likes explosions and can get a bit away sometimes, but ultimately just wants to settle down comfortably = Damian a fire elemental who can get carried away with multiple things, but who just wants a nice life with Hux and helping human borns.

Audrey: a capable woman in her own right who doesn’t take crap and worked hard to get to where she is, but she isn’t always taken seriously as a young woman = Freelancer someone who has struggled being human born and has had to work hard to prove they are equal to those born with powers and does their own thing no matter what anyone says.

Mole: dirt lover who loves to dig holes = Huxley an earth elemental who loves to dig holes. That is the only way I’m comparing our boy Hux to the creepy troll.

The King of Atlantis: grumpy old man who wants people out of his way = Jett from the Department wanting to be left alone by (Redacted) Milo and Lasko.

Bonus points:

Helga and Cookie’s conversation about the food groups = Gavin vs Hux and Freelancer’s Thanksgiving dinner.

Because I loved his character so much I’m really need a way to include him that I’m reaching for a connection:

Dr Sweet: doctor who loves what he does and is loved by all = Sam a healer who loves it and is loved by all but Quinn and Alexis, but no one cares what they think. 😆

I hope Erik got some inspiration from this amazingly underrated film!!!

#asmr roleplay #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted listener #redacted gavin #redacted milo #redacted damien #redacted lasko #redacted huxley #redacted freelancer #redacted kody #atlantis the lost empire #milo thatch #princess kida #redacted sam #redacted quinn #redacted alexis

[prince-liest]

R.e. Lady's first. Alastor going all in on female gender expectations gives different implications to the "smile is a tool" thing, doesn't it.

Doesn't it!!!! >:)))))

I didn't actually write a moment where I went into it in the fic itself, but I was 100% pondering at one point the, like, connotations of telling women to smile compared to men. There's a little bit of it in the pilot episode when Alastor tells Vaggie to smile, and you can kind of tell (or at least I interpret it as such) that he's just being a bit of an old-timey demonically-creepy jackass, but she takes it as the kind of skeevy "Smile, sweetheart!" that women get from men all the time.

And the thing is, I think that a fem!Alastor would just fully internalize it just like that. It would be a showman's smile for her as well, but it would also feel like something that is expected of her as a woman, which makes it interesting to me because I think Alastor's smile in canon is fully a self-protective choice to mask his own feelings and prop up his persona, and it takes on a totally different tone when it's something born not just of Alastor's own emotional neuroses but also societal expectation.

Anyway, I just think that consigning herself to female gender expectations would fuck Alastor up extra in some fun ways (and conversely also free her in some others, such as emotional expressiveness).

#ask #personal #downthegenderriver #my writing #hazbin hotel #alastor #lady's first #(spoiler: I don't really subscribe to Alastor's smile being stitched on) #(I just think it's infinitely more interesting/fun if it's fully self-imposed) #((also I was too much of a Loki fan in high school to not associate stitched mouths with not SPEAKING of things))

[crying-fantasies]

Hiii! Sorry if I keep sending you more ask-

I was wondering what if Mayhem accidentally got transported into the TFP universe? (Considering it's the Idw comics, anything wacky is possible 😭)

How will Soundwave from that universe react to Mayhem? And will Mayhem react to his 'dad'?

Thanks for the ask! Sorry for being so late.

In reality this could go down in many different ways.

TFP Soundwave, as far as I've seen him, holds Laserbeak as his own last shard of sanity, maybe in the past he had all of them and, well, the gladiator pits, the war, that little drone is all he has left, I don't know if in TFP the concept of sparkling or new sparks exist like it does on BV or this AU, but maybe Laserbeak was someone like that for him.

Having that in mind, as in by some fucked up chain of events (as in having Sunset near with his inherited bad and absurd luck), Mayhem were to fall in any other universe (because after the whole Brainstorm-made-a-time-machine-and-teared-the-whole-reality-apart well, now we have a multiverse!) you can bet that first and foremost Soundwave, as in the one in this reality, will tear even more the barriers between realities to have his sparkling back.

Meanwhile TFP Soundwave looks at the sparkling with a big interrogation mark on his visor, because where did he come from? How come his bio signature is so similar to his but he can't pinpoint from where, or what, the other part has come? How old is him? Depending of such, if Mayhem is still a newly forged mech then you can bet TFP Soundwave will guard him like a jealous mother (in that phase they aren't different from human babies), no one can look at such delicate little sparkle of joy, if Megatron asks nicely and is obviously in his right mind maybe he would consider it, if Mayhem was already an operative mech it would be so much difficult to hide him, and he has to drag him back more than once when he tries to reach the autobots, Mayhem has learned a lot from his sire back in his own reality, to this point everyone knows about him, the vehicons know better than stop him because he can only get so far before a pair of tentacles catch and drag him back again, no matter that his sharp digits claw at the ground, once back inside he is given a portion of energon to please be calm.

He would never let him interact with Starscream by obvious reasons, maybe Breakdown can talk more comfortable with him, but absolutely no permission to talk or interact or even be in the presence of Shockwave or Knockout, Soundwave doesn't like their look of "science" when they look at Mayhem.

Now with SG Soundwave, believe it or not, Mayhem feels even more horrified by different reasons, all his life his sire, his father, has always been taciturn, quiet, maybe a little gloomy, but overall he always thrived in his affection, while not so big like he has seen with other families, he knows his father loves him with little things.

SG Soundwave makes him sputter with his headband and overall colors, the way he talks and moves are so unnatural that make him feel itchy, but above all else what gets him totally out of his zone is that SG Soundwave makes a quick scanner at him, processes the data in two clicks, and soon tackles him down with a hug calling him "my baby".

In the SG universe they know of different realities thanks to Cliffjumper, and SG Soundwave has to recompose himself a moment and let go of the young mech, there is paint transfer in both of them due to the obvious crash.

If TFP Soundwave was creepy to Mayhem, he can't even start to describe SG Soundwave, but he does recognize him as creepy in his own way.

Obviously this is the most talkative Soundwave, "How many centuries are you? Have you been well from where you come from? Are you a medic? So proud! Do your do my young mech! Did you came from the hotspot in Kaon like me? If you didn't that's fine too!"

And obviously so, this Soundwave gets on the slightly different wavelength Mayhem does, "Do you have a sire? A carrier? Did I've you alone?" as he shows every other righteous decepticon the young mech, Mayhem has never seen other decepticons so fast and easy, they look happy to see him, totally different from his reality, "Such a handsome young lad!", somebot says, and SG Soundwave is quick to answer: "Sure is! Bet he got it from his other mentor!" as his visor shines green with absolute glee, the questions previously done return and Mayhem doesn't know if he should mangle this reality and tell him, he decided not to, because everything is backwards here, what if you are different too?

Mayhem doesn't want to answer, and he gets another cybertronian equivalent of aneurism when he meets the cassettes of this reality, at least he got to meet SG Ravage, because he never meet the one of his reality, never had the chance.

SG Soundwave is maybe the only one to help him return to his reality, retracting his battle mask to give a little peck on his helm, "Take care of you and the fam', Lil' doc".

Once Mayhem is safely returned, SG Soundwave makes a bee line to you, who seems to have a very bad day or your usual sour and tired expression is somehow worse, drinking some kind of human beverage to keep your sanity intact, but every ounce of sanity it's throw out of the window when he sits next to you, hands together as if he is begging or praying, your coffee is dripping from your mouth as he says "I wanna've your sparkling, my amor", because he recognized the wavelength of Mayhem's spark mimicking the one of a human, a human he knows very well.

Flatline has to come and help you as your coffee goes down the wrong way, Soundwave has this idea on his helm and nothing, nothing,will take it away.

Your destiny is sealed as Megatron looks at you helplessly, maybe you have a reason to date Soundwave now.

#transformers #x reader #tf mtmte #transformers x reader #reader insert #transformers idw #angst #transformers x human reader #tf soundwave #soundwave x human reader #soundwave x reader

[spennsrs]

spencer agnew x reader

reader is a new intern/assistant for the games department and her and spencer kinda hit it off

possible slow burn

spencer content <3 love you

↳˳;; ❝ fuckin' nerd ༊*·˚

here we go spencer nation this is for you and erm its somewhat slowburn ig.... no confirmation of relationship so yas... reader referred to using they/them <3

first day jitters fuckin' sucked. [y/n] could attest to that.

they rub their hands on the front of their jeans, the material somewhat grounding them as they stare at the office building... okay, technically it wasn't their first day, they had been there yesterday to set their desk up and get somewhat acquainted with the games side of the office. they met alex tran, jacqi, even vida!

but a specific glasses wearing, kickstart drinkin' idiot (alex tran's words) wasn't there. spencer agnew.. or their boss, essentially.

[y/n] didn't know why they were so nervous. it's not like spencer was a scary guy, per say... maybe he was. shaking their head, [y/n] enters the building with a semi-confident grin on their face, entering the lobby... only to be met with another body. well.. more like colliding.

"oh shit, i'm sorry dude-" "my bad-"

[y/n] collects themself as they brush off their clothes, before looking up to an average height male with curly dark hair and round glasses framing his eyes. he was... cute, in a... kind of dorky, awkward nerdy best friend in some mediocre coming of age novel. they find themself staring and quickly before they start to talk.

"you okay? we bumped pretty hard into each other... usually, i'm paying way more attention, i guess, i'm so sorry-" "hey.. you're that new intern, right? holy shit, you are. [y/n], right? what a first impression... i'm spencer by the way."

fuck. shit. fuckin' shit. of course this was their boss. they just ran into their boss, on their second first day...

"uhm... yeah. i'm [y/n], the one and only, heh. listen, i feel terrible for what i did, i can make it up to you! buy you a coffee, extra work, whatever you need, i'm willing."

their words were met with silence from spencer, and for a brief moment, they thought they fucked up royally. completely. fired on the spot.

"first meeting, an you're already asking me on a date? bold moves, [y/n], but i'm not that easily swayed." spencer's lips tug into a toothy grin, a grin that holds a teasing and chaff, a grin that promises lots of fun jokes at work, a grin that promised to keep them on their toes, to keep their heart fluttering-

[y/n] can't help but snort with a raised brow, determined to give back the same sass. if this is what it was like working here, they could get used to this place. "in your dreams, boss man. workplace relationships never work out anyway." they snap back with a laugh, which makes spencer mirror the action.

"fair enough, fair enough. i'm just pulling your chain, welcome to smosh games. i think we'll get along just fine."

[y/n] likes to agree with that statement.

only a week of working at smosh, and [y/n] was finding the place to be a second home of sorts.

alex t had quickly climbed the ranks of becoming [y/n]'s favorite person, almost like a brother figure of sorts to the newer employee. on the other end of that, spencer had grown to be [y/n]'s biggest enemy, bully, and pin in their ass.

in a loving way, of course.

the two of them would bounce off each other's energy, and could bicker for hours, and had even developed a bit of a joking beef in the office. this also led to a little.. club of sorts, smosh employees who were banking on spencer and [y/n] eventually ending up together. even mythical employees were in on this, thanks to trevor. (who would've known rhett and link would be the fan club's number one members)

of course, this had led to some unspoken feelings, at least on spencer's side of things. he refused to say a thing, workplace relationships and h.r and all that jazz or whatever. he also didn't want to seem creepy as their boss having a crush on one of the interns. the only person who actively knew about spencer's little... predicament was alex t, which kind of sucks considering how close alex was to [y/n]. so, all in all, he was fucked.

lost in his own thoughts, spencer made his way to the office kitchen to grab another kickstart when he notices [y/n] fiddling with... well, he couldn't give a shit. what mattered was [y/n] was here. he runs a hand through his hair as he approaches them from behind, a wicked grin on his lips before he gently pokes their side. the other's body jolts and spencer catches how their eyes go wide like saucers, before spinning to glare at spencer. he could tell the glare wasn't angry or upset really, but also the bubbling laugh kinda gave them away.

"hey, [y/n], whatcha doin'? anything interesting?"

the other scoffs and turns back to what they were doing, which spencer can actually see is them fixing their lunch as [y/n] releases a dramatic sigh. "i was peacefully making lunch, but now the duke of chaos himself is here."

"duke of chaos? i'm the god of chaos, thank you very much, goddess of idiocy." that earned him another friendly glare over the shoulder. this is what he adored about them. sure, they were really cute, and their laugh was like... the most beautiful song he's heard, and their hands were nice and soft and fit right in his perfectly-

spence, stop getting carried away.. right.

he adored [y/n] because they knew how to joke, how to have a laugh, to keep up with his rather snarky little comments. he really valued that in a friend or a partner, but for some reason.. playful bullying looked really good especially on [y/n]. well... [y/n]'s specific hair color looked good on them as well... and that new top - he knew it was new because maybe he overheard them talking to chanse about it - fit them perfectly, and their eye color fit them perfectly-

"anyone home in there? this is ground control to spencer agnew, do you copy?" .... oh shit, they had been talking. he stared at them with wide eyes, swallowing thickly. he felt something akin to a blush creeping up his neck to settle on his cheeks, and he knew they could see it based on the sly smirk that played onto their lips. "you're lucky it's me you're staring, y'know. think about that next time you gawk at women while zoning out."

"i wasn't-.. shut up, i wasn't gawking!" he definitely was gawking.

"you stupid fuckin' nerd. come on, we have a meeting to get to."

spencer could live with this, keeping the pretty intern a daydream away so they could keep a good work friendship with their inside jokes and their movie nights they'll end up having, spencer sharing his love for kickstarts with [y/n] who will complain but drink them anyway... as long as they were in his life, he didn't quite care what they were, or what other people thought of them. he couldn't care less if he gave his feelings away in the fleeting touches when they returned a pen they borrowed and how he made it linger, or how he stared at them like they hung the stars in the sky just for him... he didn't need a picture perfect movie ending...

all that mattered was he was their stupid fuckin' nerd, where they liked (or knew) it or not.

#charlie's writings! #requested by :: anon ! #spencer agnew #smosh #smosh x reader #spencer agnew x reader #reqs open #request #smosh games #smoshblr #spencer nation #smosh spencer

[akxmee]

𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗦, 𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗘𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠 𝗨𝗣. //𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎.

choso x stalker!reader

She was obsessed with her cute neighbour, so she always made excuses to enter his house. He knew it, and still let her in.

14k words.

Tw: creepy things stalkers do, mentions of locking people in, obsession. There's no +18 scenes, only a few heated kisses.

'Choso Kamo.'

That's the name of one of your computer's documents. It was the last among the rest of the files, locked with a password and completely secured.

Why, you may ask?

Well, let's put it like this. Everyone has a favorite thing, don't they? Kids have a favorite ice cream flavour, teenagers have a favorite TV show they always watch no matter what, adults have their favorite company to make deals with... Well, you had a favorite too. It was Choso Kamo, your adorable neighbour who moved in next to your house not so long ago.

He was your favorite person, your favorite hobby.

Collecting photos of him was something creepy and you felt bad for it at first, but he looked so cute playing with his cats in them that you started to enjoy having little albums in your carpet about him. You even dedicated a whole schedule to the man; writing down when he worked out, whenever he ate, when he started drawing as he usually did thrice a week..he was just so perfect, so made for you.

Yeah. If god exists, he made Choso just for you.

Fate has intertwined you two the moment he became your neighbour, you were so sure of that. Not only was he totally your type, you guys had a lot in common!

You two liked cats, you liked the same bands, you both liked the same food, enjoyed the same shows, read the same genres when it came to books..you even started to like crafting too when you first saw him working on something at his garden! Yes, the look on his eyes as he sawed the wood, the sweat on his forehead falling as he drove the screws and the exhausted breaths he left as he carried those heavy pieces into his house drove you head over heels, so now you like crafting too! Not because of the hobby itself, but because choso looked so good doing it that you may aswell like the days he crafts something.

Besides, it was tha reason you were working right now. A lemonade with a refreshing effect, that's what you were making for your hardworking neighbour. You added the perfect amount of ice that you knew he loved, pouring the liquid in a cute vase and heading to his home to pay him another visit.

Yeah, another visit.

You visited his house frequently, always having a excuse to do so. And somehow, he was kind enough to always let you enter! Now you both were in "friendly neighbour terms", but you wished to get even closer. Because you could pat his shoulder, but you wanted to hold his hand and because you could talk to him, but you craved to kiss him. Everything you desired was proximity, closeness, being able to call him withouth making any dumb excuse.

But that was something that required patience and insistence, just how you were being right now.

—Y/N? Is something the matter?

Ah, that sound got you out of your trance. You looked up, finding choso who just opened the door. He looked so damn good, and you melted just by the way his tired eyes focused on your figure.

—Not really. I could hear the saw from my house, so..

He scratched the back of his neck, giving you an apologetic smile.

—I figured you did, sorry. I'm crafting some furniture for my house.

You shook your head.

—No, no! It's okay, I understand. I knocked just to give you this, you looked...—Your eyes analyzed him, fighting the urge to drop any compliment. —..exhausted, and i thought you would enjoy this.

The black haired man looked at your hands only to see you offering him the vase of lemonade. He raised his eyebrows, his lips curved in what almost seemed like a cute smile for a second. He grabbed the vase you gave him.

—That's so thoughtful of you, thanks.

He smiled, you nodded.

—Want to come in so i can give you a drink in return?

That's what you were waiting for.

Choso was always so kind, letting you enter his house for food or games whenever you did something for him. That's his way of payment, since you knew he had issues with money and couldn't afford to pay you whenever you helped him change his lights, shelves or doors (he never asked for your help, however you somehow casually just happened to pass by whenever he was struggling with something like that). You always reassured him that it was fine, but he still insisted on having you over for dinner or lunch.

You smiled.

—Yeah, that would be nice.

He let you in, and you sat on his sofá while he brought something for you to drink. Minutes later he came, sat down next to you and gave you a cup of tea.

—Not as refreshing as the lemonade, but I promise it's good.

He handed it to you and you thanked him as a result. You gave it a sip and a surprised expression appeared on your face. He noticed that and asked:

—Is something wrong with the tea?

You instantly shook your head, resting the cup on your lap.

—Nothing at all! It's just, this is my favorite tea.

—It is? It's my favorite tea too.

He laughed at your reaction, as you smiled sweetly at him. To him, you were a cute girl he had for a neighbour that he could rely on when he needed help with his home or ask for help when it came to baking something for his little brother whenever he would visit and also a great companion he liked to have around since you were sweet and fun, but that's just his impression of you. He didn't know you were as awful as he was when it came to baking but mastered it just for him, he didn't know you found boring changing lightbulbs and only found fun the time spent with him and neither was he aware of the fact that you weren't giggling because you thought he was funny, but because you were so excited about having another thing in common with him.

The evening went great, you both laughed and updated eachother with gossip from your neighbourhood. You were making progress day by day, and you could feel It by the way he seemed more and more casual as the visits kept happening. He was growing more comfortable with you, and you were loving it! Choso talked to you about his brother Yuji, about how life working as an artist was and even showed you some photos —which you already saw, but now that he was the one showing them to you they looked even prettier—, he also asked about how to make Apple pies and more.

But that's not one of the main of reasons you came here for.

—Hey, Choso?

He hummed, taking a sip of his lemonade.

—Could I use the bathroom?

He looked at you, then pointed at the hall.

—The last door, the one on the right wall.

You already knew that, but thanked him anyways and went on your way there. You counted the Doors: one, two..then the third one. That's the one you're looking for.

Not because it was the bathroom, no.

Because it was his bedroom.

You entered the room, checking every corner you never saw through the window. He had a small computer on the desk, a few clothes on the floor, school items scattered all over the sheets of the bed such as a few pencils, notes, papers and more to be seen. Looking at the walls, you found several posters and pictures he made along with photos of him and his family: most of them were with yuji, his little brother, at places like a lake, his first day of kindergarten, at a sleepover...you found yourself smiling because of that, he was just so perfect. You had to capture this place, the place that held the most of his personality out of this home. Just a picture, only to visualize what kind of things he likes or what kind of furniture he's more fond of. You just needed a picture, something to have as a reference to analyze him, and it was as simple as clicking a single button of the mini polaroid you carried in your purse. However, as your hand reached for your purse to grab it...

—I think you're at the wrong bathroom, aren't you?

You froze.

Right behind you was Choso, the owner of the voice, leaning on the frame of the door while looking at you waiting for an answer. You weren't even facing him and you could already feel the grin on his face while he talked to you. Did he find out? Did he know the reason you entered his room? A lot of questions ran through your mind in a span of seconds. You tried to keep calm telling yourself things such as "no, how could he ever know? He wouldn't have let me in if he did" or "it's imposible for him to know I had a camera, since I didn't even get to grab it" and eventually, you had the courage to turn around to make visual contact with him and make up a lie.

—I'm sorry, got distracted in the way.

He kept quiet, letting you continue talking since he was not satisfied with your answer. You turn your gaze to the walls of the room, finding a lot of artpieces he made. You looked at him again, pointing at them with your eyes to let him know what you were going to refer to.

—I just wanted to see them up close. You showed me through photos, but i never thought they would be so...detailed. It's truly beautiful.

He seemed to be taken back by your answer.

—You think so?

—I really do. You're a great artist, Choso.

The black haired male looked like he bought your excuse. He looked actually touched by your lie and you obviously knew why; that's why you chose to lie with it in the first place. Choso was never validated as an artist, being always told that he could do so much better if he studied something like economy or science. Nobody really complimented his art withouth mentioning how it, as good as it is, should be kept as a hobby instead of dedicating his whole life to it because it just wouldn't really make a lot of money. He knew that, but still chose that life ignoring people's words. However, sometimes it was imposible to ignore it and he somehow became insecure when people gave his art compliments, since he didn't really know if they meant them or if they think the same as the rest.

And that's exactly what you knew that he was thinking right now.

—You're not going to say anything else?

He expected you to throw your advice now. He was expecting you to say something among the lines of "it's beautiful, but I personally wouldn't dedicate my whole career to it", waiting for something hurtful like it always happens. He waited and waited, and you finally talked.

—Yeah, I do.

He mentally sighed. Oh, he was a fool for believing that you could be different just because you were his friend. Choso ran a hand through his hair, messing up his bangs a little.

However, you proved him wrong.

—Since you draw so good, could you teach me one day? I really need it for this project at school, so i thought that maybe you...

You kept talking, but he stopped hearing whatever you were saying. Choso's expression suddenly stiffened, he gulped and his jaw tensed as you kept going on something he lost a few seconds ago. His eyes lit up with a complete different light, and he took a few steps towards you.

Noticing his silence and the way he walked to you, you grew worried. You did know that this was a sensible topic for him and already planned how his reaction would be, but this was not what you expected as he looked so intimidating while he slowly made his way towards you.

—I'm sorry, did I talk too much? Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, you don't have to actually say yes.

He grabbed you by the shoulders with such force you did not expect from him. Fuck, you messed up didn't you?

By the way he was looking at you, yes the hell you did.

That's the least you ever wanted, honestly. Choso hating you for touching some personal topic was the worst thing that could happen to you. You just complimented him, so why? He was frowing, his muscles tense, his body language indicated that he was nervous and his expression showed he was deep in thought. You wondered how did you even manage to get him like that, to get him to shift his personality like that. One minute he was touched by your words, now he was looking at you like you were something new to his eyes.

And you were, he just wasn't showing it how he should've.

Why? Because he never received this type of trait from someone. Something as simple as that, he never experienced it even though he craved for it for so long.

—What are you doing?

He asks you, his tone demanding for an answer.

—What?

You answer, and there's seconds of plain silence until he talks again.

—To me.

That tone.

That soft tone and cracked voice as he whispered with such tenderness, urging you for an answer desperately.

Now you understood, looking up at him and figuring out his expression. His grip on you was not because he was angry, but because he didn't want you to run away from his question. His frown was not because he was angry at you, but because he was trying to figure himself out. His shaky hands and body language was not screaming at you to stop talking, but to keep doing so.

You finally broke him down.

It took you months worth of visits, weeks and weeks of effort to make this man finally see in you what you see in him. You relaxed.

—You finally see it, don't you?

Your hand traced his jawline softly, watching him close his eyes as he leans into your touch like a puppy. This was all you ever wished, to have him like this. If you knew it only took a few compliments, some deep talks about life the nights after you help him fix his garden and making him some food from time to time to make him finally look at you like this, you would have done it sooner. But once again patience is key, so you don't complain now that he opens his eyes and adverts his gaze towards you in such a delicate way.

—I do.

You grin.

—That's good.. that's good. How about you and I, having dinner at a restaurant tonight? Let's get to know eachother.

He hesitates at first but then nods, according to your words.

—Sounds like a good plan.

You already know everything about him, but the idea of having a date seemed so casual and so cute you couldn't help but cheer internally. How would it be? Would he dress and look handsome for tonight? Would you two share your first kiss then? Would he lend you his jacked if it's cold? God, you were so excited! He was just the perfect man, choso had everything you ever wanted and that's all that mattered. It's okay if it rains, choso will cover you from the water. Doesn't matter if your heels tire you, choso will carry you home. It's also okay if you don't like the food at the restaurant, choso will surely share his with you. He actually will, because you know everything about him when it comes to a relationship too. It only took creating a fake account and pretending to be some random girl to ask his exes how he was in a relationship. You had to be informed of what you would be getting into, of course!

They all agreed that the man in front of you was a true romantic, detail-oriented and above all very observant of his partner. Aside from that, the complaints that caused them to break up were each one different from the other. However, when it came to complaints or the reason they broke up, each was different so you didn't have anything to base yourself on.

But oh, you were rushing things again weren't you? You two didn't even have a first date, and you were already thinking about how you would be as a couple! You'll see when the time comes.

—Then, I'll leave and you come pick me up at 9. I'll look pretty for you, so look handsome for me.

He looked at you with certain surprise.

—You'll leave?

—Well, yes. You don't want me to look like this at the date, no?

You signaled to yourself, making him look at your simple dress and face with a casual makeup. You wished to look pretty and have an elaborated makeup to your date, and he seemed to catch up. Choso shook his head.

—That's what I thought. I'll see you at nine, then?

—Yeah.

Yet, his grip on your shoulders didn't cease. You gave him a few seconds to let you go, but he didn't.

—Choso?

He looked to the side, and a slight blush could be seen on his cheeks.

—I'm sorry, you don't have to do it if you're uncomfortable but..can I at least get a goodbye?

Oh, oh.

You were speechless for a second, did he just ask for you to kiss him that politely? Then you chuckled, making him look at you with an embarrassed expression. His grip on you disappeared, and he covered half of his face with his hand for you not to see the shame in his face.

—Nevermind, i'm taking things too far. I'll see you at nine.

He didn't even have the chance to run away from the situation when you grabbed the collar of his sweater and gently pulled on it to get him closer, giving him a little peck on the lips. Choso was the one to quickly pull away in surprise, but soon he realized what just happened and leaned back again for another one since he wasn't satisfied with that little taste. He grabbed cupped your cheek with one hand while his lips collided with yours in a way that you weren't even upset your first kiss isn't at the date. The feeling was almost as if they were giving you something that you have been longing for for a long time, something that you have only had the pleasure of imagining becomes a reality.

Then you pulled away, in need of air.

—That's enough for a goodbye, isn't it?

He looked at you in silence, panting as he catched his breath. Soon after, his lips were on yours again with more intensity than before, dancing a tango of emotions where the music increased with each gasp of air. Eventually his hand found the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, and his tongue explored your mouth with a lot of ease. He seemed to have a lot of experience, while you were left trying to catch up on his rythm.

—Not enough. Five more minutes and you go, please.

He pleaded when you separated before kissing you again. You didn't even have time to say yes, but the way you reciprocated the kiss told him more than enough. Soon enough his other hand found your waist and guided you out of the room, through the hall. His bedroom had this huge window —which you were really thankful for, by the way. It always gave you such a good view of him when you were looking at him through your window—, and he didn't want anyone looking at you two since it was an easy thing to do, so he guided you through the hall to another room between heated kisses with your fingers tangled in his hair. You ended up with your back against the wall while Choso took some keys out of his pocket, opening the door while leaving a trail of light kisses on your neck.

It wasn't strange for him to have a key to a room, since it was a normal thing for people in your neighbourhood to do so since burglasses were quite common so they kept valuable things safe in a room. You guessed he was taking you there since it was a more private area, but you found yourself with a room. Not enough time was left for you when you were thrown on a bed, having choso on top of you while pinning one of your wrists above you. You looked at him, who stared back at you intensely.

—Choso, five minutes already passed..

The man looked at you for a few seconds more, like he was admiring you. He looked absolutely breathtaking, His hair was messy, his eyes half open, his breathing altered, and his lips stained with the lipstick you were wearing. You dreamed so many times of this moment, yet you also wished for the date to happen so you couldn't entertain this more.

—I'm sorry, I just can't help It.

He kisses you once again. A soft tender kiss is left in your lips.

—Now that I have you, i can't let you go.

Once again. This kiss seemed to have more emotion than the rest, and it felt like he was devouring you.

—I can't let you go.

And again. Now, the kiss feels desperate and feral, he was kissing you again and again as if he was an animal.

—I can't. You can't go.

You were getting worried about what he was saying, but when you tried to get your wrist out of his hand a metalic sound was heard. You pulled.

CLANK.

You tried to pull again.

CLANK.

—Choso?

You asked, confused.

His hands left your wrist, and then you saw.

You were chained up to the bed.

He got up from the bed, and you tried to do too. However, you failed and almost fell off the bed due to the force of the pull that the metal gave you in reaction to your quick attempt of getting on your feet. He stopped you from falling, sitting you on the bed once again.

—Shh.. it's okay, don't freak out.

—What do you mean don't freak out? Is this some time of kinky roleplay?!

You tried to pull on the chain with your free hand, but it was no use. He scratched the back of his neck nervous, making a face of disappointment.

—Yeah, I figured you wouldn't like this place at first but don't worry, you'll like it eventually. It's pretty, isn't it? Look.

He grabbed your face and forced you to look around, and you found the least thing you could ever expect from this man. How could you not notice this when you entered? There were pictures of you all over the walls, a map of the city and different dots connected on a cardboard. A lot of your pictures were also on a desk, alongside with little hearts drawn of them. There was a part of one of the walls that was completely covered in drawings of your face in different angles, of your body and you doing some of your hobbies. Anyone that looked at it would easily think you were his muse. A computer was opened on the desk that had different recordings of the outsides of your house, and you were sure all of those pendrives scattered near were just about the same thing.

—It looks creepy now, but I'll eventually clean it. You know, you weren't supposed to come here today..—He, still grabbing your face, made you look at him by raising your chin with the intention that you maintain eye contact with him.—I was still making cute furniture for you to enjoy this place..but then i saw it. I saw what you tried to do.

His free hand reached his pocket, taking out your mini polaroid that was supposed to be in your purse. When did he take it? Fuck, it probably was while you two were kissing.

—I saw that you, deep inside, were just as sick as I am. And i couldn't resist it.

Your jaw tensed, but you still talked.

—Why?

He grinned, and his voice came out in a whisper.

—Because i have been waiting for so, so long.

He smiled at your innocence. Did you really think he would let you were being sly with that dirty, little secret of yours? No, Choso had his eye on you for longer than you did. He saw you at work once, then he grew obsessed with you even if you never noticed him. Seeing you at work was not enough, so he eventually bought a House next to yours as if fate wanted him to get closer to you, and noted how to catch your attention. He changed his whole personality into some shy, cute and fun but still serious with black cat aesthetic boy just because he knew it was your type, and even went as far as creating profiles on social media acting like his exs whenever you, with another account he managed to find, asked about how he was in a relationship. That account was simply "asking for a friend", but he knew better than that. He lied to you, telling you just what you wanted to hear about a perfect boy in a relationship and stupid reasons of the breakup each different from another so you wouldn't think he had any specific red flag.

God, you were so adorable that he could lock you up forever.

Except for the fact that he already was.

—No, you're another whole level of sick. You were so normal, we had a lot of things in common..

—But we do! Y/N, look at me.—he brushed a strand of hair off your face, smiling softly.—We have things in common. We're both so in love with eachother, it's okay..

You bit your lip and slipped out of his grasp. He seemed upset at that, but decided to let you be.

You were still too in shock to understand what he did for you, weren't you?

—Fine, do whatever you want. However, you're not getting away from here. Understood?

He scoffed, and you felt such a rush of emotions going on at the same time. Every feeling that you may have accumulated towards him during all these months disappeared from your heart as if they were pieces of a puzzle. Each moment you grew excited because you were just about to visit him, each photo you took of him and hung on the wall while you daydreamed of the day you could take one together with him, each moment you replayed in your head every conversation with him again and again before going to sleep...it all vanished. The love you felt slowly turned into a darker feeling that extinguished it until it turned into a kind of repulsion, disgust. You knew that the day will come when you your karma will come for you for having gotten into such dangerous terrain, but you didn't expect it to be this way.

Specially for it to be this man.

The man you idealized so much, the man you thought to be so perfect.

The man you claimed to have so many things in common with.

Well, now you knew for sure.

You did have a lot in common with Choso Kamo.

Author's note: not my favorite fanfic, honestly. It's not edited since it's 2am and i don't wanna re-read, so tell me if you find any mistakes! By the way, new chapter of "dogs and Cats café" will be out next week when i'm finally done with my final exams.

Hope you liked this, I'll be reading your comments 💕

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