#y: 2004

[slapthebass]

#toshiya #dir en grey #b: ESP Prototype #y: tbe #s: tbe #reuniting pics again #pic: unsourced #edit: #s: TOUR04 THE MANIPULATED LIFE #y: 2004 #m: FOOL'S MATE January 2005

[zegalba]

Yohji Yamamoto: Grey Toggle Knit Bag, autumn/winter 2004

#Yohji Yamamoto #Y’s #knit #grey #fashion #accessories #purse #bag #japan #aw04 #2004

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 5 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warnings(s): homophobia is still a theme. another dead relative mentioned. smoking cigarettes.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 6

You'd decided to do nothing about Cady's infiltration for now. Or, well, Regina had told you she'd figure it out and given firm instruction to not do anything.

You didn't exactly like that. Then again, you didn't have any better ideas. Obviously, you wanted her to not be around Regina. It was wrong that she was friends with her under the pretence that she was looking for reasons to stab her in the back. Then again, she didn't need reasons. Regina had provided plenty already.

As September dragged along and eventually turned to October, it felt as if day by day your mind split into an exponentially growing number of pieces. Your desire to protect Regina battled with the fact that she had been wrong so many times, had really hurt people. Didn't they deserve some reparation? Didn't Regina deserve forgiveness? Was any of that for you to decide?

You would have to pick a side and make your stance known, eventually. You'd have to plant your feet firmly on the territory you really believed in. Only, you dreaded that you didn't have as much agency as you'd have liked.

Were you weak or strong for always sticking by someone? What would become of you if you didn't stand up for what you thought was right and wrong? Where was the line?

You didn't want to side with Janis and her lackeys. The more you looked at it, the parallel between them—Janis and Regina—started to become obvious. Janis and Regina weren't that different at all.

What did you even want? What could you want? You didn't have answers to those questions.

The weather was getting colder, so you'd shuffled your wardrobe quite a bit. Short-sleeved flannels and tee shirts were replaced by cotton undershirts and grandpa sweaters. Literal grandpa sweaters. You'd gotten the majority of them from your grandfather's closet, which he had left for you in his will. It was a joke you two had shared, that you looked better in his clothes than he did.

Regina certainly didn't think so.

"Those sweaters are fucking ugly." She put it bluntly, chewing on some gum as she surfed channels on your TV. She'd taken to spending a lot of time at yours recently. You guessed it had to do with her dad being home and her friends no longer being trustworthy.

"They were my gramps'." You pouted and slumped onto the couch next to her. Since your first sleepover, the distance between your bodies had gotten smaller each time. Your knees almost touched.

"The emotional baggage makes them even frumpier." She glanced at you before looking back at the TV. "You'd be better off framing them."

"I like them, Reg." You settled back and turned your attention to the screen as well. "I don't tell you what to wear."

"If you did we wouldn't be friends." She quipped, finally settling on just shutting the thing off. "Now, what's up with you?"

"Nothing." You didn't want to talk about it. You doubted you could talk about something like that and both remain calm. You hated shouting. It always made you cry, no matter the situation. You could've been the angriest you'd ever been, not sad at all, and still cry.

"Fine. Be stubborn." She huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I'm going to Aaron's Halloween Party."

"Are you?" You turned and blinked at her. "Cool, I guess."

"You know how everybody, like, dresses sexy? It's like the whole point of Halloween, yeah? Cady's from Kenya. She doesn't know that. She thinks Halloween's supposed to be scary."

"Isn't it, though?"

"Ugh, for kids it is. We're practically adults. Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it." Regina recited as if from a book. "Karen's words."

"She's very wise, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is." Regina mused.

"You ever told her that?"

"No, she'd get a big head."

"Karen Shetty would get a big head." You said, disbelieving.

"They want what I have so bad," Regina said. "I have to keep them on their toes."

"Are they even your friends? Or do you keep them close to control them?" You sat up straighter, some dots connecting. "Is that why you got Cady to join you? Because she was too pretty to go unchecked?"

"So you think she's pretty." Regina shifted closer, your knees really touching now. You tried to contain your excitement.

"I feel that's pretty obvious." You leaned in also, almost without noticing yourself. She was like a magnet.

"She had potential. If she were to realize it, who knows what she would've gotten up to."

"You made her realize that. That's a self-fulfilling prophecy if I've ever heard one."

"What do you know about prophecies?"

"I know that if I scoped a threat, I wouldn't make them stronger." You licked your lips nervously. "Keeping an eye on her is one thing, but you've made her an enemy."

"Fine, sure, whatever. Now, I'm gonna bring her down. She's gonna humiliate herself by showing up to the party all scary-looking, and then I'm gonna kiss Aaron Samuels." She grinned and blew a bubble. The thin pink of the bubblegum complimented her eyes.

"Why? To make her jealous? Because she wants something you had?"

"To establish dominance."

"I dunno, Reg." You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face. "You're making an enemy."

"It's what I do best, jorts. Just watch." She got up and headed for the kitchen. Hated to see her leave, loved to watch her go.

So, you watched. You watched her hatch her plans, how she deliberately kept Karen from talking to Cady about high school Halloween party etiquette, which seemed like a challenging task indeed, and how her leash on Gretchen tightened to an impossible degree.

You sat alone in the computer room the night of the party, trying to build a profitable amusement park and failing miserably. Your heart wasn't in it. Not even gaming could take your mind off of Regina.

She was probably kissing Aaron Samuels right now. Right now, their lips were sealed together in a nasty French kiss that surely repulsed anybody close enough to hear the slurping and suckling that came from the union. Aaron was probably on her, touching her everywhere he could get his grubby paws, shamelessly licking at the roof of her mouth like a dog.

While the thought of the jock being a bad kisser soothed you somewhat, it didn't cure the clenching in your chest. Fuck, it was stupid that this hurt you. It wasn't even real, she was using him to get to Cady, but the mere thought of them like that made you want to puke.

You watched the chaos unfold the next morning. At lunch, Janis herded you to their table near the back. You were barely listening, too busy glowering in the general direction of the jock table. Cady was officially on board now, you were told. Regina had officially gone too far for her and now their real plans could commence.

"Hey, dude, are you even listening?" Janis punched you on the shoulder. You glared and punched back.

"No. Yes, I- what did you say? Something about Homecoming."

"Yes!" Janis practically hissed, looking a little manic. You looked at Damien, who was eyeing you suspiciously. "We're spraying water on her when she's inevitably crowned Homecoming queen. Cady's also replacing her moisturizer with lard. Can you think of anything?"

What, you were supposed to contribute to bringing Regina down? She was kidding, right? She continued to stare holes in you.

"Uh..." You swallowed. "I'm not really an ideas guy. I can help in other ways?" You squeaked, desperately wanting out of this whole thing.

"Ugh, you're boring." Janis groaned, slumping against Damien.

"Good talk." You said hastily as you got up. "I'm going to smoke a cigarette now." So acutely uncomfortable, you talked like a robot.

"Can you gimme one?" Janis perked up.

"No, she can't." Damien cast a look at Janis. "We agreed, remember? Smoking only at the garage."

You took that opportunity to skedaddle. They bickered like an old married couple. Though there was no romantic chemistry between them, they were obviously a solid duo.

Janis didn't seem so bitter when she was with Damien. Sure, now that they were planning revenge their focus was on Regina, but they often strayed off track. Why couldn't she just let go? She was clearly doing better now.

As you rounded the building and made it across the lawn towards the bleachers, you spotted a couple making out. The boy had the girl pinned to the wall. You were quite far away and you could hear their lips smacking.

You didn't want to look too close, because gross, but the varsity jacket and pink ensemble were hard to ignore.

You gritted your teeth and pulled out the pack of Marlboros you had on hand. Regina and Aaron fucking Samuels. You lit up and inhaled before you were even properly concealed under the bleachers.

God, you were such a hypocrite. If you weren't over what Regina did to you in middle school, then why should she be? She'd had it worse, too. You couldn't even imagine the consequences of something like that.

If people knew you liked girls, it'd be over. Even if it was sort of like an open secret, because nobody ever asked you about boys or stuff like that, to have it confirmed would ruin you beyond repair.

If people knew you liked Regina, it'd be even worse.

"Hey, why're you sulking under there?"

"Regina, I'm not in the mood to talk."

"Uh, grumpy much?"

"Leave me alone."

You leaned your head back against the steel, looking up at Regina as she stood over you. She was in all pink. A pink, fuzzy sweater, white skinnies, and Uggs. You had a blue, old Carhartt jacket, denim jeans and scuffed Converse.

You matched with her way better than Aaron. You could probably kiss better too. Not that you'd had any practice. But you'd at least have the sense to not slobber all over the one you were kissing.

Unless Regina liked sloppy kisses. As if you'd get to find out.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

I like you. I like you too much and it's hard to think. I can't tell wrong from right.

"It's nothing." You took another drag. "Janis and Damien are plotting. It just makes me mad." Not entirely untrue. You were lying by omission, though.

"What kinda plots?"

You hesitated. How could you? "Nothing concrete yet." Now you were really lying. It sunk like a stone down your gullet, hitting your heart on the way down, and dropped heavily into your stomach. It nearly punched a hole clean through.

"Keep me updated." She lingered and you kept looking at her. What would she look like as Homecoming queen, soaked down to her bones up on a stage? What would she look like after smearing lard on her face?

Not ethereal in the sunlight like this, probably. Though you reckoned ruined mascara and pimples wouldn't do anything to shake off this stupid crush.

"For sure." You just nodded and looked down. You couldn't keep your eyes on her when guilt gnawed at your insides.

"Can I have one?" She hopped over your legs and sat down on the grass next to you.

"A cigarette?" You baulked. "A cigarette for Regina George?"

"Yes, you doof." She laughed and reached for your pockets. "Where's the pack?" She kept patting down your body. Your heart sped up, your palms sweated, and a stupid grin split your face.

"Only one." You turned your face as stern as you could make it. "I'm not ruining your beautiful singing voice."

"You think my voice is beautiful?" When she asked questions like that and looked so small waiting for your answer, you didn't quite know what to do with yourself.

"Yeah," You breathed, sounding a little too sincere, too reverent. "You sang at the talent show in middle school that one year. I think it was a Celine Dion song? Captivating."

"That was so embarrassing. I had such shit breath control." She rested her hand on your thigh, casually, and the other behind your back. Your faces were so close. "C'mon, jorts. Now."

"Nobody complained. Everybody loved it." You reached into your pocket and handed her a cig. She put it between her lips and looked at you expectantly.

If you'd been feeling bold, you would've touched the tip of your lit one to hers. Yours was more than halfway done, so you'd have gotten real close. Maybe in your dreams.

You flicked the lighter to life and held the fire for her. "Suck. Yup, you got it."

She inhaled and let the smoke out of her mouth. You took a drag to keep from laughing. "When you've got the smoke in your mouth, inhale it."

She did as you told and started coughing violently. This time, you couldn't keep the laughter in. She shoved you and you laughed harder.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @natashamaximoff-69

(if you want to be added to the taglist, reply to this post :))

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls 2004 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #lesbian regina george #mean girls x reader #wlw #wlw yearning #no use of y/n #fic: yard work

[phantomrose96]

I (different anon) also thought your pfp was Dan and Phil and I think that’s why I followed you when I was like 16-17, I’m 24 now 🫡

committing fraud for clout in the Dan and Phil community since 2013

#ITS HUGHES AND MUSTANG FROM FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST ITS MAES HUGHES AND ROY MUSTANG FROM FUL #me having “phan” in my url sure doesnt fucking help huh #ITS DANNY PHANTOM. ITS PHANTOM AS IN DANNY PHANTOM AS IN THE CULT CLASSIC 2004 NICKELODEON Y-7 CARTOON DANNY PHANTOM ITS

[hotpinkboots]

I've had some little memes floating around in my head for a while so I'm gonna post some of em

#pinkie speakie #phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #erik destler #erik destler x reader #poto #poto 2004 #opera ghost #Erik Destler x y/n #memes #horror

[zer0point5ive]

adam defending lawrence during his post bathroom post hospital interview with the cops

#cop trying to get a statement: so you said dr gordon shot y- #adam: you are soo Annoying. it literally wasnt his fault #chainshipping #adam stanheight #lawrence gordon #saw 2004 #📹

[goatcheesecak3]

Adam Stanheight Red Flag HCs

Adam stanheight x gn!reader

Warnings: jealousy, alcoholism, toxic relationship, vomit

DISCLAIMER: this isn't meant to romanticise any toxic behaviour or condone anything like that, I just want to add a bit more depth to his character and explore his flaws

A/n: I see far too much mischaracterisation with Adam, and it drives me CRAZY!! As much as I absolutely adore him, he's not as soft as he's made out to be in my opinion, so here are some of his red flags.

SUPER INSECURE to the point that he regularly accuses you of cheating, especially when he's drunk.

Speaking of which, Adam drinks far too much, after the first few rounds he's fun and upbeat, but he doesn't know when to stop. He can be a mean drunk, so by the end of the night he always manages to start an argument.

His response to the "would you still love me of I was a worm?" Test is "stop asking me those stupid fucking questions"

He's absolutely a music snob. He hates basically anything that he didn't discover first. God forbid he catches you listening to slipknot or system of a down, they're far too mainstream for his liking and he won't hesitate to shit on you for listening to them.

One of THOSE filmbros. He loves taxi driver but he gets really insufferable about it.

100% asks you to name 3 songs if you wear a band shirt

Will ghost you for days at a time and call you dramatic for being upset about it.

Is friends with Scott Tibbs

Comes home wasted and throws up all over your sofa, will absolutely not clean it up

Punches holes in walls

A/n let me know if you want any more red flag hcs! For Adam or other leigh whannell or saw characters!!

#adam stanheight x reader #saw #leigh whannell #adam stanheight #saw 2004 #sawposting #adam faulkner stanheight #adam faulkner #adam saw #saw adam #saw headcanons #dating headcanons #headcanons #x gn reader #x gn y/n #red flags

[tygerland]

#gael garcia bernal #2004 #celebs #argentina #the motorcycle diaries #retro #2000s #people #cinema #werewolf by night #bad education #y tu mama tambien #film #actors #mozart in the jungle #cassandro

[nessie665]

Hanafusa Mari as Christine Daaé in the Takarazuka production of Yeston and Kopit's Phantom, 2004

Melody, melody My kind of melody Gentle and flowing and free

#okay so we finally got somewhere with this gifmaking thing #hanafusa mari #christine daae #poto #takarazuka phantom #phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #erik x christine #y&k phantom #yeston and kopit phantom #Takarazuka phantom 2004 #y/k phantom #my gifs

[slapthebass]

DIR EN GREY- 腐海 - TOUR04 THE CODE OF VULGAR[ism]

#kaoru #die #kyo #shinya #toshiya #dir en grey #y: 2004 #s: TOUR04 THE CODE OF VULGAR[ism] #g: ESP Ganesa #g: black Ganesa #g: ESP D-DR #g: red ESP #dk: Pearl #b: ESP D-TR [RU-DRIVE] #b: white round #pic: sourced #stb gifs #i'm back with gifs #t: fukai

[gardens-light]

One Giant Problem

With Abe out of action, due to recovering from the previous mission. Hellboy's 'usual' interaction with Manning, and him not taking well to the new comrad. Things hasn't gone down so well at The Bureau.

On top of all that, duty still calls and Hellboy has another mission to do. Not realizing that it may open up more problems... for what happens when the 'evil' you're fighting against, turn out to be people within your own ranks?...

Contents: Mild Coarse Language. Spoilers for Hellboy film (2019). Fluff. One bed cliche hinted towards end. (Part 3)

New Girl Saga. (If you'd like to be tagged for future parts. Let me know.)

Part 1 Part 3

"What?"

You took a step back as Hellboy raised his voice. Keeping your eyes low, simply gazing at the floor, as a gentle sigh left Professor Broom.

"My boy..." Broom approached Hellboy, sitting upon the armrest of the couch while leaning upon his cane. "I know you're upset about Agent Clay. It's not an easy job."

Hellboy continued to stare at the multiple screens, of the box TV's which stacked on top of one another.

"But... it's apart of the job. Everyone here knows that."

"Try and tell Manning that." Hellboy's voice had a firm tone. "He's not in charge, yet the asshole walks and talks like he is."

"I know you and Agent Manning don't always see eye to eye-"

"Father, please! The guy talks to me like a piece of shit, and holds me accountable!"

Professor Broom nodded while placing a gentle hand upon Hellboy's shoulder. "I'll speak with Manning. I agree that he has no right in the matter of addressing people the way he does. But please... there's something important I wish to discuss with you."

A heavy sigh left Hellboy, as he silently nodded. Giving the Professor a chance to continue with what he was trying to say before.

"As I was saying... the Osiris Club. They're a British occult society formed in 1866, by the ranking members of the Heliopic Brotherhood of Ra." Broom adjusted his semi-circle glasses. Feeling Hellboy's confuse gaze. "Like us, they fight against the forces of darkness. Our organizations have had a long-standing relationship."

"We scratch their backs and they scratch ours?" Hellboy questioned.

Broom gave him a warm smile, "in a manner of speaking... they're old friends of mine, and they need your help with dealing a curtain type of problem."

"Oh yea? What kind of problem?"

"Giants..."

Heathrow. England. 6pm

The cargo plane rumbled and shook as it came to land. Waking up from an uncomfortable sleep, a groan left you as you became aware of the crick in your neck.

"You alright, Kid?"

"Hmm?"

Your eyes fluttered open. The leather of Hellboy's trench coat rubbed against your cheek, as you looked up at him. Cheeks going red, once realizing you were resting upon his shoulder.

"H-How long was I out?"

"Roughly about most of the trip. You snored a little."

"O-Oh... umm, sorry."

"Don't be. I thought it was kinda cute."

A small smile came to Hellboy, as he noticed your cheeks redden even more.

"Good morning guys, this is your pilot speaking. We've landed into Heathrow and luckily it's warm and sunny weather. Please stay seated until the plane has come to a complete stop."

Hellboy undid his belt. standing upon his feet and holding onto the railings above him. "Get ready, Kid. These guys run like clockwork from what I've heard."

You struggled onto your feet. Holding onto his coat for balance, as the plane shook one final time while coming to a complete stop. Causing you to fall into his open arms. You both remained speechless as Hellboy helped you back onto your feet, holding you against him to keep you on balance.

A concierge lead you to the taxi which waited at the bottom of the portable stairs. Holding an umbrella, covering Hellboy from any possible views from passersby.

Sitting in the back of the taxi, feeling Hellboy briefly gazing at you throughout the trip. Biting your lip, you slowly looked at him as his attention snapped away from you. His golden eyes gazing out of the black tinted windows.

"Professor Broom was right." Your voice felt loud in the silence that was held between you for so long. "What happened to Abe and Clay... it wasn't your fault. Without you, nothing would of been achieved."

Hesitating for a moment, softly biting your lip before you continued. "I know you don't like me."

Hellboy's attention suddenly snapped back to you, his features softened as his gentle gaze saddened. Looking at you as though he was hurt by your words.

"It's ok." You assured with a weak smile, "but I'll always be here for you- and not because it's apart of my job." You leaned in a little closer to him, "y'know... you're not as bad as you think you are."

"Kid-"

"We've arrived." The driver announced, interrupting Hellboy.

Black iron gates automatically opened, allowing the iconic English car to pass. You looked out of the window, looking up at the impressive Victorian manner. Reminding you of the old fashioned manner from shows like Downton Abby.

Hellboy saw the small smile forming upon your lips, as the sunlight of dusk reflected from the windows and sparkled in your eyes.

I don't hate you, Y/N... his sadden voice echoed within his head. I just hate the fact of what I am keeps us apart...

Exiting the car, the driver opened your door. Gesturing towards the large double wooden doors.

You couldn't help but gaze at your surroundings, as you and Hellboy followed the butler's lead. The foyer itself was huge and grand, a crystal chandelier hung central to the space. You and Hellboy gathered around the small, circular table underneath the impressive fixture. An elegant rug covered the vintage flooring, while renaissance style paintings lined the wooden panelled walls.

"Your... guests, m'lord." the butler announced as he stopped in front of the flight of stairs before you. Hellboy raised an eyebrow at the man's appounciation, while well dressed gentlemen came down the stairs. Approaching you and Hellboy with warm smiles.

"Hellboy, welcome! I'm Lord Adam Glaren."

A middle aged man stepped a little further in front of the other two. His studious gaze fell on you, as you held your hand out.

"I'm Agent Y/N, sir. You have a beautiful home."

Lord Glaren hesitated before shaking your hand. Your smile slowly fading as you became uncomfortable under his curious stare.

"Welcome my dear, and a pleasure to meet you as well. I thank you for your compliment."

As he let go of your hand, you slowly stepped back to Hellboy's side. Your eyes slowly looking around the foyer. Sensing your sudden unease, Hellboy wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"May I introduce to you my associates? Dr Edwin Carp and August Swain." Lord Glaren introduced.

Hellboy smiled at Dr Carp, "hi. Have you guys ever been to the Osiris Club in Jersey?"

"No, I do not believe we have." Dr Carp spoke in thought, "say Glaren. Do we have a club in USA?"

"It's like this, but with strippers."

You couldn't help but smile at Hellboy's joke. Watching the Dr's face screw up into an unimpressed expression eased you to relax a little. Clearing his throat as he walked away and adjusting the blazer of his suit.

"Pay him no mind." Mr Swain politely spoke, stepping closer to you and Hellboy. "Your... hand" he pointed to Hellboy's hand of stone, "a fascinating thing. What purpose does it serve?"

"It smashes things good." Hellboy's voice kept it's bold tone.

"We are so very glad you accepted our invitation." Everyone's attention fell onto Lord Glaren again. "The Professor and I go back a long way."

Hellboy silently nodded, as you slowly approached one of the paintings upon the wall.

"The Osiris Club has been long dedicated to preserving the secret history of Great Britain." Lord Glaren explained, as Hellboy's wandering eyes left him and onto you. "It affords us certain insights into... 'certain individuals'-"

"By that, I assume you mean 'individuals' such as Hellboy?" you spoke over your shoulder.

Lord Glaren raised an eyebrow, as his associates nervously chuckled. The Lord noticing Hellboy's small smile, as the demon's gaze never left you.

"We've also given vital counsel to your B.P.R.D on occasion." Mr Swain added.

Your yawn interrupted the gentleman. Hellboy's attention fell back onto Lord Glaren, "perhaps skip onto the important part? My girl is tired, and I doubt you've flew us halfway around the world just so you could give a little history lesson."

Your body stiffened at the new nickname. An uncomfortable chill slowly crawled up your spine, feeling the two mens studious stare upon your back. While Lord Glaren pulled a fake smile.

"Perhaps... we should just show you?" you could hear the Lord's patronising tone.

Lord Glaren walked towards the bookcase in the far side of the foyer, his fingers tilting the spine of a green, leather book. A squeak echoed throughout the space, as a section of the bookcase opened inward. Exposing a small, spiral staircase which was hidden within the wall.

Hellboy approached you, placing a gentle hand upon the small of your back.

"Shall we?"

His voice snapping you out of your daze, and bringing you back into the moment. "Your... girl?" your brain could barely form the whisper.

Your eyes widened a little, as Hellboy's cheeks flushed to a deeper tone of red. Using his hand of stone to scratch the back of his neck.

"Ye..ah" he nervously chuckled. "You're... y'know... and we're..." his body slouched as a heavy sigh escaped him. "F-Forget I said anything... let's... just follow Mr Fancy-Pants..."

You tried to keep a straight face, as you and Hellboy followed the three men down the spiral staircase, and into a basement like space.

"Giants once dominated the British Isles." Mr Swain explained. "Vile, loathsome creatures that would likely eat you, as to look at you."

"They've always been a problem." Dr Carp added, stroking his mustache. "Bodies buried all over England. It's a curious feature of giants, that they occasionally rise from their graves and wreak havoc."

Lord Glaren flashed a smile that made you comfortable, "and when they do... we organize a hunt."

I'm not liking that tone of his... your thoughts wandered.

Coming to the bottom of the stairs, and walking into an archway. Your eyes looked up, placing a hand to your throat as you swallowed your nerves. Framing the high, circular ceiling was a ray of severed heads of giants- multiple ranging in size and colour. Some had broken tusks and horns sticking out from their grotesque faces. Your stomach turned as your eyes continued to scan the area.

"And I thought you had a big head." Nerves taken over your voice, reducing it to a small whisper that Hellboy couldn't hear your joke.

Slowly panning down from the ceiling to the walls, more paintings and photographs came into view.

"We call it, The Wild Hunt." Lord Glaren announced, as Hellboy walked around the room.

"Clearly, you guys are old pro's at this." Hellboy's attention fell onto Lord Glaren, as his associates stood behind him. "Why request my help to kill a giant?"

Hellboy's looked over his shoulder as you bumped into his back, you flashed him a weak smile. Attempting to not raise his suspicions, as Lord Glaren caught his gaze again.

"Three giants, actually."

Hellboy raised an eyebrow at the gentleman's cocky tone.

"One we can handle. Perhaps even two. But three?... now that's a different matter altogether."

"This particular trio is terrorizing the New Forest." Dr Carp explained, his gaze studying you and Hellboy made your spine tingle. "Sucking on the bones of anyone unlucky enough to fall foul of them."

"The marrow, you see." Mr Swain added, "they can't get enough. So if any were to reach a populated centre-"

"It's meal time?"

Mr Swain turned up his nose at the demon.

"This task isn't something to be taken lightly, Hellboy." Lord Glaren's voice held a serious tone. "These are Gigantum Mortis. The most unpleasant and horrid species of the giant-kind. Just ask your father..."

Hellboy followed the direction of Lord Glaren's pointed finger. His eyes widening as his gaze fell onto a black and white photo. Framed in a copper frame, the photo showed a group of men in their twenties. Standing around the severed head of a giant, while they wore armour that looked like something a medieval templar knight would of worn.

"Professor Broom was a guest of The Hunt, when we took a giant down back in '43." Lord Glaren's voice eased his serious edge, but a firm tone could still be heard.

"I always knew Dad aged well..." Hellboy looked at Lord Glaren, "but you guys... picture looks like it was taken yesterday."

"There's a reason for that..." a feminine voice echoed throughout the basement. Everyone's eyes fell onto a beautiful woman, as she emerged from the spiral staircase.

You couldn't help but gaze at her appearance. Silver hair styled in a 1920's updo framed her delicate face. Rabbit fur coat complemented the pearls that hung around her neck, while her pure white eyes gave her native complexion a mystercal glow.

"The phenomenon you so rightly observed was the by-product of a seance." Her voice held an elegance that just captured the attention of anyone whom she spoke to. "The four of us- along with your Professor Broom, were involved in just before the war."

Your eyes widened, "the war? You mean World War II?"

The woman smiled, appeared to be amused by your shocked tone.

"Allow me to introduce our resident seer, Lady Elizabeth Hatton." Lord Glaren introduced.

"The spirit I made contact that night was exceptionally powerful." Lady Elizabeth circled the room, continuing speaking as though she didn't hear Lord Glaren's voice. "It warned us that something was coming... Something that would end all of mankind, as we know it. Therefore we were chosen to seek it out. And destroy it..."

You felt the atmosphere change within the room. Biting your lip as the stare's from the men begun to play on your building anxiety.

"Ever since, we've aged at a snail's pace in order to fulfill that mission." Her eyes wandered over you briefly, "no matter how long it took."

"Okay... and this, ugh thing you're worried about." Hellboy spoke, "did it show up?"

Lady Elizabeth's eyes wandered over the demon, raising her eyebrows as she said with a small smile. "Yes... it did..."

"You and... your girl, must be exhausted from your trip, Agent Hellboy." Lord Glaren butted in, attempting to ease the tension that begun to build. "I have a guest's quarters prepared for you. One bed wouldn't be problem would it?"

You and Hellboy stiffened, as you both awkwardly glanced at each other.

Oh shit...

Tag List

@a-girl-interupted

@drheinzd

#x reader #fanfiction #fanfic writing #hellboy #hellboy x reader #hellboy 2004 #hellboy movie #hellboy x you #hellboy 2019 #hellboy fanfic #fem reader #x y/n #reader insert #gardens light

[zegalba]

Y-3 by Yohji Yamamoto: Saeko Tsuemura Longsleeve Shirt, autumn/winter 2004

#y3 #y-3 #yohji yamamoto #Saeko Tsuemura #japan #fashion #runeay #illustrations #white #shirt #longsleeve #aw04 #2004

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 2 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 3

During the school day, she'd ignore you as usual. Wandering the halls of Northshore, you'd catch glimpses of her but no more than that. It actually felt like you were seeing less of her than usual. It was hard to avoid somebody in a school like Northshore, but somehow she managed it. You doubted it had anything to do with you specifically. She'd been acting off since you'd had dinner at the Georges'.

After school, those days you went to Regina's house to do their yard work, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Gretchen and Karen weren't around. Regina had taken her mom's place on the patio and bathed in the sun as you worked.

You hated to say it was distracting. Partly because the whole thing had thrown you off kilter, like why was she doing all this all of a sudden, and also because she was hot. There was no question about it. Regina George was hot.

You desperately tried maintaining focus on the chlorine you were pouring into the pool, pretending you weren't all too aware of Regina lying not too far away from you, in a skimpy hot pink bikini, large sunglasses covering her eyes.

"Regina! Oh, that's such a cute 'suit you got, where'd you get it?" You were distantly aware of Mrs George stepping through the sliding door to the backyard. Regina muttered something in return. You didn't have to look to see Mrs George wilt at her daughter's dismissal.

It pissed you off. Regina didn't have to entertain her mom's every whim, she could be a bit much, even you could admit that, but she didn't have to be so mean.

You walked over to them with the empty chlorine bag in hand. "Hey, Mrs George." You called as you approached. "Margaritas?"

"Hi, sweetie! I brought you two some, gotta stay hydrated in this hot weather. All virgin, of course!" Mrs George winked and offered up the tray she had in her hands. You smiled gratefully and took one of the glasses. You were actually quite thirsty and Regina's mom made the best (alcohol-free) cocktails.

"Thanks," You said before taking a sip. Mm, strawberry and basil. Yummy.

"Just leave it there, mom. She's gotta work and I'm busy." Regina pointed at the little table next to the sunbeds before directing her attention back to, uh, lying in the sun. She sure looked busy.

"Okay, honey." Mrs George smiled, but the chirp in her voice was strained. "You just call and I'll be right here, alright?" She looked from her daughter to you.

"You got it, Mrs George."

Once the older woman had ducked out of the door and closed it behind her, you turned to Regina.

"You don't need to be mean, y'know." You took a sip, watching the pink slush move through the swirly straw.

"Excuse me?" Regina craned her neck in your direction, looking very uncomfortable. You walked around to the sunbed next to hers and sat down facing her.

"She just brought us margaritas." You said, continuing to sip on your drink.

"Uh, yeah, and I'm busy." She huffed before reaching for her own drink. "Why she feels the need to bother me is beyond me."

"She's your mom and wanted to do something nice." You rolled your eyes, already sick of her attitude.

Regina didn't bother responding. You adjusted on the seat so you were sitting on it the right way, legs kicked up and leaned back. You decided to relax for a few minutes. It was still the beginning of the school year, September barely just started, so summer was still lingering warm in the air.

There was a robin's nest in one of the apple trees. Red-chested birds flew around, from their home branch to the bird pool, to somewhere you couldn't see and back. Soon it'd be apple picking season. For the last two years of high school Mrs George had given you maybe more than half the apples since she didn't know what to do with so much. Before that, it used to be you and Regina. Picking apples, sitting on the branches, peeling each and every one and boiling them into jam with obscene amounts of sugar. Looking back, you were pretty sure doing all those things without proper adult supervision was like tempting a tragic accident.

(To be fair, you had fallen out of those apple trees once before. You were maybe twelve and it was the middle of summer. You'd lost your balance and toppled onto your wrist. Regina had nearly fallen herself scrambling down to get you. She'd cried more than you and you were the one with a broken bone. She insisted you pick a pink cast. She was the first to sign it, too.)

Out in the sun, it was much hotter than under the partial shade in the yard. You chugged the rest of your drink before standing back up. You pulled off your shirt as you walked to the patio stairs, leaving on just a sports bra and your shorts.

"Jean shorts are so lame," Regina said behind you. You turned to look at her and found her looking at you from over her sunglasses. Her eyes raked over your body, no doubt judging how much weight you'd gained since she last saw you without clothes.

Fuck. Not like that. That sounded wrong. You had spent a lot of time at her pool, both of you in swimsuits, as kids. A totally normal, non-sexual setting.

You shrugged, pretending her wandering eye did not make you insecure. "I like my jorts."

"Your taste is questionable." Regina scoffed, a little smile playing on her lips. "At best." She added sassily. You had a feeling she was mocking you.

"Thanks!" You struck a little pose, cocking your hip and blowing a kiss her way, responding in an equally snarky manner. You knew you didn't stand up to her fashion standards. Loose jean shorts down to a little above your knees, basic brown slides, and now sans a raggedy, well-loved Queen tee was not exactly high couture.

"You're not cute, jorts." She leaned up on her elbows and pushed the shades up to her hair. "I think I saw this exact outfit on you, like, three years ago." She pretended to think, finger on her chin. "So, when we were thirteen..."

"Yeah, you probably did." You chuckled. "You also called me jorts three years ago. So, clearly, nothing's changed, right?"

You both damn well knew a lot had changed. Still, she entertained you with a seemingly genuine smile. You smiled back before turning away to retrieve some tools from the shed. There was a gap in the fence that needed fixing.

Then, for the following week and then some, as if the past years of her ignoring you hadn't happened at all, she started speaking to you. Not at school, though, never in public. Only Kylie and Mrs George were privy to your rekindled friendship. You weren't sure if you could even call it that. Was it friendship if it was conditional to time and place?

You couldn't find it in yourself to care too much, though. You had your own crowd at school. You had things other than the Georges' yard work to do. Sometimes you went skating with the guys, picked up shifts at the shop, did chores and yard work at home, played video games, and on rare occasions studied. You had a life outside of Regina George.

So what if when you fucked up a trick and looked around all frantic, checking that Regina hadn't suddenly spawned at the skate park and seen your epic fall. So what if you spent your work hours thinking about her, counting down the minutes until you got to clean the Georges' pool again. So fucking what you wanted to beat the shit out of Regina in Mortal Kombat.

Maybe you did care. You wanted to spend more time with her. Was that a crime? If you could talk during the several hours of the day, five days a week, that the two of you went to the same school, then that want would've abated. But you had to wait. Sometimes there were several days in a row that you barely got a glimpse of her.

You sounded pathetic. Gosh. You hadn't realized how much you missed her until you got a taste of what it was like to have her back. You couldn't even remember what had caused her sudden avoidance back then. Something with Janice and a sleepover. The details had gone blurry since then. You hadn't even been at the sleepover, but you'd heard something bad had gone down. Something that caused Janis 'Imi'ike to switch schools for the remainder of middle school.

Sighing, you let your pencil fall from your hand. You fucking hated algebra. Functional math, business math, that you could deal with, but derivatives and parables and all that stuff? No. Just no.

You rolled your chair back from your desk and decided it was high time for some relaxation. You walked across the hallway to the computer room, planning on fucking around on RuneScape.

Before you could get into gaming, though, you checked AIM and noticed you had a message. From Regina. What? You click the chat open and see that it's been sent a pretty long while ago.

> can i come over? daddys home

You stared at the uncharacteristic message. You two never spent time at your house back then. It was always empty and you didn't have the same fun things Regina did. Mrs George had been a significantly better cook, to add. Your toaster oven tater tots and dino nuggies couldn't compare.

But, hey, maybe this was the start of something new.

> sure > when? whenevr is fine w me

That could've all been one message but, well, here you were. You jumped in your seat when she responded almost immediately.

> omw

Shit. You shot up from the desk chair, sending it rolling to the other side of the room. You shut down the behemoth of a machine as fast as you could, which wasn't very fast, and shot down the stairs. The living room was a mess 'cause you'd spent the last few days pigging out in front of the TV, playing videogames and eating exclusively takeout.

You spent some time in the pantry trying to look for a garbage bag, time was running out, before rushing to the crime scene that was the couch. Styrofoam containers, probably some cutlery, empty bags of Cheetos and whatnot, empty cans, all that flew into the bag. You wouldn't have time to vacuum, so you just brushed the crumbs away into the couch cushions or onto the floor.

You were almost done when the doorbell rang. You had collected all the trash, but you still had to put away some of the still good leftovers. Didn't wanna waste those since you could eat it later.

"Hi!" You exclaimed, a little too riled up to seem sensible at the door. "I was just cleaning up."

"I see that." Regina drawled, eyeing the garbage bag as well as you. You'd completely forgotten about how you looked.

"Shit, sorry," You looked down at your body and the unfortunate clothes draped over it. Blue briefs with little Spidermen printed on them and a ratty grey hoodie with a devastating stain right on your chest. Your hair probably looked just as bad. You hadn't been bothered to fix up your bedhead, it was a goddamn Sunday.

"Don't worry about me." Regina, with her hands at her hips, looked at you expectantly. "So..."

"Yeah, uh, just stay here," You turned and put your sandals on. "I'll put this to the trash and, I still gotta put some things away and then you can come inside."

Regina just stared at you. You pursed your lips together and hustled past her, down the porch steps and toward the trash cans. By the time you'd hauled the bag away, you could no longer see Regina on the porch.

"Regina! I said don't go in!" You ran after her.

"Don't be ridiculous, jorts, I'm not afraid of a mess. Gosh." You could hear her from inside, probably taking her shoes off. That'd been a thing at your house always, but you didn't expect her to remember.

"Fucking- fine, okay, just..." You huffed as you spied her saunter into your living room as if she owned the place. She slumped down onto the couch, the very same you'd slept on the previous night.

You collected the food from the coffee table and moved it to the kitchen. You gave tentative sniffs to glean if they'd gone bad already. They'd only been out in the open for like, less than a day. So it was probably fine.

"When'd you order that?" Regina's voice came from behind you unexpectedly. You turned to her, caught with your nose in some noodles.

"Uh, last night..." You wiped at your nose with your sleeve.

She walked up to the container, right up in your space, and also gave it a sniff. Then she shrugged.

"I was thinking the same," You poured the noodles into Tupperware and shoved it into the fridge.

"Why's your fridge so empty? Has your dad gone bankrupt?" Regina stepped in before you could fully close the door.

"No, Reggie, he's fine. I don't have the money to stock up like your mom."

Regina turned to look at you, a displeased pout on her lips. She'd always hated it when you called her that. "I fucking hate that stupid nickname. And what do you mean you don't have the money?"

"I mean I don't have the money?" You paused in pouring beef and broccoli into another container, turning to look at her.

"Doesn't he send you money or make someone do it for you when he's away?"

You smiled a little bitterly. "He hasn't done that since I was, like, twelve." You paused. "Well, he's always sent me money but he used to have my babysitter buy groceries when I was way young."

Regina's lips twisted like she was genuinely thinking. You continued, feeling weird now that such a weirdly vulnerable conversation had been opened: "He sends me an allowance every week for groceries and school lunch, but it's not that much. If I didn't work at yours or at the shop I'd be toast." You grinned as you put on the last lid, moving to put the last two containers into the fridge too.

Regina didn't look all that amused. She was still frowning at your fridge, the rather pathetic state of it. You could admit it was pretty bleak. Two-litre bottles of various sodas, microwave meals, and an astonishing amount of condiments were not a sight that sparked hope.

"That's weird," Regina commented. "It's like you're poor but with a nice house."

"Gee, thanks so much, Reg, that makes me feel so good and seen." You drolled. "Oh, you think I have a nice house? That's nice."

"It's alright, I guess. Mine's better." Back to her usual, unthinking and overall not-that-nice persona. This was familiar territory.

"I would know. I work there." You motioned for her to follow you to the couch. "I'm gonna pick your apples soon."

"Daddy's home now. I don't know if you can." Regina sat with her shins tucked under her, leaning her side against the back of the couch. You sat a comfortable distance away, facing her with your legs crossed.

"What did your dad do again?" You asked, trying to remember.

"I don't fucking know." She gestured with her hand. "Human trafficking?"

"I hear it's a lucrative business." You grinned, enjoying talking like this with your old friend.

"We should start a company. Who'd you think would have a good price at our school?" She looked so excited at the prospect of talking shit about your peers. It was a little adorable, but in the way that a man-eating beast was. Like a devil cougar or something like that.

"I think that's eugenics, Reg." You muttered, jokingly wincing. "That's problematic."

"What, are you gonna sue me?" She leaned forward, inclining her head cheekily. "With what money?"

"With daddy's money, you fuck!" You laughed. "What money are you gonna sue me with? Wait, let me guess, uhh... Daddy's money."

"I'll have you know, it might be mommy's money." She widened her eyes dramatically as she began to tell the story. "I did some snooping around, and it just so happens daddy might not be the breadwinner after all, because-"

As Regina got into telling you about Mrs George's strange investments, which she and Kylie both had been pretty sure were pyramid schemes, you listened keenly and watched as she spun the story. She'd always been a good storyteller, good with performing and making the room pay attention to her. It was a shame she'd started to use her powers for evil.

Sitting here, Regina George on your dirty couch in her designer clothes and all, listening as she told you about the most mundane things in her life, made you feel warm in a way you hadn't in a long time. Loneliness was a quiet thing. It snuck up on you and you hadn't even noticed.

You hoped she wouldn't duck out of your life again.

Notes: Written late at night. My eyes don't work like they used to before. Might've missed some spelling errors or weird grammar. I'll return to it after I've slept. Also, in case you haven't noticed, this is firmly set in 2004. This story takes elements from both films, 2004 and 2024, but time-wise it is 2004. Another thing, I changed up the chapter titles. Originally, the first part was the prologue but then I thought about it and it really isn't like a prologue. So, that was chapter 1 and this is chapter 2. Bye-bye, party people.

Taglist: One person asked for this lmao, but I am but a servant of the people. Comment on this post if you wanna be tagged on the next part when it comes out. Disclaimer! Chapters will not usually come out this fast.

@autorasexy

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls 2004 #mean girls fanfic #mean girls x reader #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #reader insert #no use of y/n #regina george #lesbian regina george #fic: yard work

[veras1ne]

✮;༉“Slut Me Out.”

Hi doves! I hope you like my new theme <3 I’ve really been feeling the color purple lately but specifically a dullish purple! Swans are my everything though so they’re still here as always. Anyways, I have another Saw fic for you guys, the next fic I post will be Anakin Skywalker!

✰Pairing´ˎ˗📀: Amanda Young x Kramer!Male!Reader

✰ ‧₊˚ Summary 🦢: Amanda was having a very slow day, until you popped inside the workshop. It’s so distracting having such a beautiful enigma in front of you, but maybe a distraction is just what she needed to make her day go faster, her associates son.

✰ ;➛ WARNINGS🫧: THIS IS AN 18+ SMUT FANFIC WORK. I am NOT responsible for the media you read and consume! Your warnings are the following: Smut, Cunnilingus, Age Gap, PIV, Mild Degrading, Fucking On A Table,

Amanda was having a very slow day. John hadn’t given her any tasks, and yet she’d still been put on standby. With no current traps to build and not having to take care of John, she sat sketching out new ideas for future contraptions.

Every once in a while, she would tinker with some scrap pieces of junk that Hoffman had left out. It wasn’t unusual for her to experience one of these days, but what she wasn’t expecting was to see her associate's son, you, enter the workshop.

You weren’t too much younger than Amanda; you were in your twenties, and yet she still saw you as pure, untainted, and unknowing of the vile world. You were exceptionally talented in her eyes, possessing a natural talent for machinery and craftsmanship. The two of you had minimal interactions but were still friendly at that. In fact, you were the closest thing she had to a friend other than your father, John.

Your face held an open innocence and sincerity. You always treated her kindly, despite her less than flattering history with your father's work. If anything, Amanda liked your company, even if you were only around her to get your father a drink of water or his medication when he forgot to take it during the long mornings.

The more time you spent with each other, though, the more you seemed to gravitate towards her, asking John more questions about her and making up useless excuses to see her. You didn’t necessarily agree with your father's method of rehabilitation; in fact, you thought it was wildly distasteful and that his "apprentices" should never have had to become a part of his games, but nothing mattered when it came to Amanda.

It wasn’t like you’d never spoken to Mandy before, but something in your brain made it near impossible for you to even get full conversations out. You were so awkward and timid in every other way; your body language gave off the impression you wanted nothing to do with her, and your tendency to rant and babble made it even harder.Although if it were anyone else, she would have gotten frustrated, she kept a special place in her mind for you, reminding herself that she’s still human. Despite how hard it seemed to be, Amanda couldn’t bring herself to hate you for all the wrong reasons.

You were just too sweet for her to dislike you, and besides, you were a friend of hers and somebody she cherished.Your footsteps echoed as you walked into the cold, concrete room. The air around you was cold, but your body was warm, and your face was slightly flushed from the heat of the sun. You shivered as you crossed the floor. You had your hands shoved into the pockets of your jacket, looking at the ground in front of you as you passed through the room.

When you noticed Amanda sitting at a table with blueprints and metal, you stopped abruptly and gave a sheepish smile. “Hi Mandy.” Her head followed the sound first, her eyes still attentive to the sketches in front of her. She finally raised her head from the paper when you spoke again. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything." You rubbed the back of your neck as you apologized, looking away.

She sighed deeply before giving you a quick smile. “No, not at all. Take a seat if you’d like.” Her hair was up, her mid-length locks of brown hair being exchanged for a short, updo ponytail that was held up by a small clip. It hung loosely in front of her face, framing it perfectly. You sat down next to her, placing yourself directly across from her, your hands clasped together nervously in your lap, your eyes darting from side to side, trying to find something to focus on.

She placed her sketchbook and pencil on her lap. “What can I do for you, stranger?” Her lips curled in an awkward smile that quickly faded, huffing at her own humor. "I'm just trying to find something to do, really. I thought I’d come see my favorite girl.” You smiled, your gaze lingering on her face for a bit longer than necessary before you looked away. “That is so kind of you." She laughed lightly before continuing. “But really, I’m not doing much; John has Hoffman out finding some guy who stole medication from Homeward." Amanda picked up the piece of metal she had been working on and examined it closely before setting it back down on the table.

Your eyes lingered on her smile, a pink flush to your cheeks. “You know, it’s rude to stare at people.” Her voice was laced with lightheartedness, her tone teasing. A lump caught in your throat as you glanced back at her. “It’s just so hard not to stare when you’re so pretty, Amanda.” You leaned forward on your elbows, resting your chin in the palm of your hand.

Her cheeks turned a dark red, and her heart fluttered. Her mouth opened and closed silently. She shook her head softly and said, ‘no’, over and over until she broke the silence between the two of you. “I bet you think that I don’t see the way you stare at me or the way your eyes follow my movements; I see everything." She paused, her gaze locked on yours. “I know that you think of me at night, whenever you get lonely and need company.” She took a breath. “I can fix that." She leaned forward, her arms snaking up your shoulders and stripping you of your warm jacket. You didn’t protest, not even as her cold fingers slid over your skin. She pressed closer, letting her lips graze the shell of your ear. “Let me save you." She whispered against the skin of your ear before placing soft kisses along your jawline, trailing further down until she reached your neck. Your eyes drifted shut in pleasure as she pulled down the collar of your shirt and exposed the skin of your throat. Her lips traced circles around the sensitive spot as she kissed her way down your neck and chest. Amanda’s breathing quickened and her grip tightened as the woman continued to suck the tender flesh and leave marks along the sides of her neck. She gently bit your shoulder before running the tip of her tongue over it, causing you to let out a groan.

Amanda sucked harder, moving lower along the edge of your collarbone and then sucking gently into the hollow there. A whimper left you as she licked a circle around your clavicle, making your chest rise and fall quickly. Your hands clenched tightly into fists as you tried to hold back your moans. “I’ve wanted to make you mine since the day I met you. So pure and kind, what would John say if he saw his precious little boy being dumbed down to  nothing?" Her words made your breath hitch and your words slur. “Please, please. Please don’t stop; please make me feel good.” You begged in a whisper, biting your lip to keep from crying out.

The woman slowly moved upward, kissing along your cheek, down your jaw, across your neck, and finally settling down at your ear. “Anything for you, baby, but what can you do for me?” She took hold of your hands, dragging them slowly up her shirt, groping her boobs, and luring out a whine from her lips. Her chest was warm, making your hands hot and your face flush. Your hands moved down to her loose pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them to the floor. She began taking the rest of her clothes off, revealing her beautiful naked body, covered in goosebumps due to the sudden change in temperature. You grabbed hold of her bare ass, squeezing it softly, pulling it toward you, and rubbing her back, your nails scraping against her smooth skin.

She turned around, swiping everything off the table onto the floor with a large clatter and hopping onto the smooth, cold metal. Her legs wrapped around your waist, holding on tight. Your hands slid up and cupped her breasts, your thumbs massaging them. As you squeezed them slightly, you gasped. Her soft moans sent chills throughout your body. One of your hands traveled down to her thighs, spreading them and exposing her wet pussy.

Your thumb ran the length of her folds, stroking gently against her clit. She arched her back slightly, lifting her hips up and grinding into your touch as she dug her nails into the skin of your arms. Her moans were loud and desperate while your tongue made contact with her folds. She writhed against you, her back arching higher and higher into your touch as her breathing became more labored. “Oh god,” she panted, her fingers gripping your hair, pulling your head upwards, forcing your tongue deeper inside her, your hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her body closer to your mouth. Her fingernails raked your scalp as she squirmed beneath you, bucking her hips as hard as she could.

Her breath hitched and your name escaped her lips before she fell limp in your grasp, gasping harshly for air, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her body shaking violently. You continued to play with her, stroking the tip of her clit in circular motions, working her through her orgasm. She released a low moan as she came, her entire body shuddering as it worked its way down her body. As her eyes flickered open, they gazed at you with a mixture of lust, passion, and affection. "God, you’re so beautiful,” you breathed out to her as she straddled the table, reaching over and unbuckling your belt.

Her fingers pushed your trousers down, the fabric pooling at your ankles. With gentle fingers, she pushed your boxers down to your thighs, releasing your straining cock from the near-suffocating fabric. She lowered herself slowly over your dick, and you couldn’t help but gasp, your eyes closing involuntarily. “So tight,” you murmured breathlessly, pressing back against her, wanting more. She lifted herself up slightly, allowing you enough room.

She spread her lips wide as she let out a whimper. "God, your cock is so fucking big. I never knew you were such a disgusting little slut for me." Your eyes widened slightly, a small blush creeping across your cheeks as your face grew warmer. “I should’ve known you’d love to be degraded like this. You just love it, don’t you?” she smirked slyly, her husky voice dripping with lust as you ran your hand slowly up and down her stomach, caressing her soft breasts. She wrapped her legs around your waist, forcing your dick deeper inside of her, causing the both of you to let out a deep groan in sync, almost like two puzzle pieces that fit exactly together, your bodies merging and your souls becoming one. She let her head fall back against the metal, putting her arms behind her head as your thrusts quickened. Your teeth grazed her earlobe, nipping lightly as the coils in your stomach tightened. You tugged on her nipples, feeling the heat radiate between her thighs as you began slamming into her, giving her exactly what she desired.

You were in complete control of your body, and yet it felt as if she had taken over your mind, filling your thoughts with her and only her. You gripped her tighter, pumping faster and harder each time you slammed into her, leaving purple bruises as your hips snapped into her pelvic area, and sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. A moan slipped past your lips as Amanda’s grip on your dick tightened, her walls clenching around your cock.

You cried out her name loudly, burying your face into the crook of her neck, your lips trailing up towards her ear. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” She hummed, her voice muffled against your neck and collarbones while her hands found their way to your shoulders. "Mandy, please, I’m going to cum.” Your labored breathing made it hard to understand your words, and your stomach felt tight as your orgasm approached. “I want you to cum inside me; I want to be the one to claim you; taint your mind.” Her words pushed you to the edge, your warm cum spilling into her pussy, leaking out onto her inner thighs. Your body shook as you continued to pound into her, her own orgasm drawing close as you worked her to her second orgasm. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum. Such a good boy, doing all of this for me.” Her stomach snapped, her whines increasing in volume as her body shook uncontrollably, her cries mixing with your grunts.

Her nails dug into your back, her energy running out as she laid flat on the cool table, as opposed to the hot sweat on her body. Her breath was slow and steady as she came down from her high, her muscles relaxing as you finally stopped. You rested your forehead against hers, her hands resting on your shoulders, this time relaxed. “If I knew you could do that, I would’ve done this a lot sooner, kid.” She let out a huffed laugh. You smiled at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, placing a kiss on her forehead, and handing her your jacket to give her some form of protected modesty, even if you had just spent the last nearly thirty minutes pleasuring her. She slipped the jacket on and stood up, turning around to face you once again, leaning down, and kissing you deeply. “Let’s go get cleaned up; I don’t feel like staying sticky all day." You chuckled and nodded at her, slipping your hand into hers and lacing your fingers together as you headed to the door.

Your soft snores were all that were heard in your room as Mandy stroked her fingers through your hair. The sun filtered through the blinds and illuminated your sleeping figure. Large, heavy footsteps rang through the hallway as Amanda turned her head towards the sound of “Hi John.” She smiled and gave a little wave. “I welcome you into my home, give you refuge, and this is what I get in turn? This is a new low for you, Amanda.” John stated it blankly, looking away and walking away from the doorway. “New record, I guess.”

#veras1ne #amanda young smut #amanda young x reader #amanda young #Amanda young fanfiction #Amanda Young fluff #Amanda Young Angst #amanda young saw #saw x reader #saw imagines #saw 2004 #saw x #saw franchise #saw movies #saw #saw fanfic #x male reader #x male y/n #x male smut #Amanda Young x male Reader

[softanddarkk]

Love lessons : Amanda Young (saw) Modern AU

When you’re jigsaws apprentice there is little time left over for a love life or dating, especially when you are as emotionally tourtured as Amanda - but sometimes a one night stand becomes a two night stand and so on & so on.

Amanda Young x fem reader

Warnings: sexual themes, talk of gore, mention of tinder (which is scary to some of us, but this is the only modern AU aspect, everything else is pretty canon)

Tinder is a cesspit of humanity, truely. Modern dating, as simple as it may be, is actually quite the task. You spend hours scrolling through unsuitable or outright unattractive suitors, accieneltly swiping the rare good prospect because you have such a swipe left muscle memory. When you do successfully match with someone who is at best your type, often just bareable - it’s a 50/50 if they match with you. And then if it IS a match, it’s a rush to form a date or be forgotten forever.

Amanda doesnt have the luxury of spare time. Working for John isn’t exactly shift work; she works on a task that he gives her until it is finished to his standard - which is impeccably high.

And that’s never been an issue for Amanda; before John she had nothing but an absent family and a drug problem. John didn’t just give her purpose, he gave her a reason to live.

Amanda often felt her only reason to be on this earth was to help further Johns work; but a girl has needs all the same.

Amanda first downloaded tinder when she had too much alcohol after a particularly nasty day in the meat factory. Since being “sober”, Amanda only drank when she knew she wouldn’t be under the watchful, perceptive eye of John. So after one long, partially bloody day she decided what better to do with her time but too look at what the city had to offer.

Amanda found that not only was it incredibly easy for her to find a match, but it boosted her ego to meet up with these people who wanted her enough to take her home and have sex with her without her even so much as giving them a crumb of information about herself.

That was fine by Amanda; why fill anyone in on the terrible backstory when she could get her leg over and move on.

It wasn’t complicated, it wasn’t tiresome, and most importantly - it didn’t distract from her work.

She humoured all genders; after all, Amanda didn’t exactly stick around to worry about how well she connected with these people. A few tried to stay in contact but Amanda made it brutally clear that she wanted one thing and one thing only, once that was over and she was travelling back to her flat alone she would not have to think about that person again. Not ever.

Until, you.

It was a typical Saturday night, after a long week of crafting and plotting, Amanda needed a physical outlet. She had been talking with this one girl on tinder for a few days and arranged to meet tonight to let off some steam. The girl had picked a partially seedy bar in the sketchy side of town; which told Amanda all she needed to know about this girls intentions.

However, as she checked the grubby clock hung behind the bar, the sure set plan of booze induced sex with a stranger seemed to be derailing slowly. Her match was now half an hour late, which wasn’t a concerning amount of time, but Amanda was impatient.

Swilling her spirit around the glass, she surveyed the room for her date. A group of trucker looking men sneered over a group of girls in a booth, pretending to play pool instead of preforming borderline harassment. One of the girls was catching back to the men, and Amanda looked away as she stood up, making her way to the bar with one of the older men in tow.

The bar tender took her order, Amanda didn’t care to listen, checking her phone for what could be upwards of the twentieth time since noticing her date was late.

“And he will get whatever she’s having too”

Amanda looked up, three sets of eyes on her. The girl had snaked an arm over her shoulder, which would normally be a move Amanda would have met with a stern glare and a hard shrug, but this girls perfume was filling her nostrils and, blaming her distinct level of horniness and lack of company, Amanda wasn’t exactly opposed to the physical touch.

“That’s okay isn’t it, you’ll buy my friend a drink too”

Amanda looked blankly at the older man, his expression mirroring hers. However he twigged on before Amanda, his brain in his pants helping the one in his head get up too speed.

“Sure sweet cheeks, anything for a pretty girl like you”

Amanda internally curled up and died at the level of disgusting this man radiated. She may have thrown a dig, a snap comment that would disarm his confidence; but the mystery girls arm was still around her shoulders and its warmth was radiating through her leather jacket. The girl twirled Amanda’s hair absently with her outstretched hand, such a foreign feeling to Amanda, but one she found herself enjoying one the less.

“Go on then”

Amanda was sprung back into the moment when the girl turned to her, tugging her hair in the process. Her eyes were framed by a thick lash, her makeup slightly worn to show her blushed cheeks underneath. Amanda murmured her order, never taking her eyes off the face staring back at her.

The bar tender made the drinks up and the trucker paid, looking to the mystery girl expectantly.

“Come on then, sweet thing”

The girl turned back round to face him, not before rolling her eyes for Amanda to see.

“Thanks for the drinks, I’ll be over for that game of pool in a second”

The man looked dejectedly at the pair and then scuffled off, most likely realising he had just been used for his wallet.

“Sorry about that, I didnt want to get stuck with him alone” Amanda felt disappointed as the girl removed her arm from her.

The girl flipped her hair, thanking the bar man for her drink and giving Amanda one last smile before turning to leave.

“I’m Amanda by the way”

The words had left her mouth before her brain had chance to catch up.

And when Amanda thinks back now, that’s when it started. She still wasn’t sure what “it” was, but it was something different.

Just like everyone else she’d been out with, she drank with you, but she was actually listening to what you had to say, not just pretending to get you to come home with her. She was interested in you, she wanted to know more.

Something was different, and it made Amanda feel physically sick. Normally when someone touched her she felt nothing, if not a little threatened, but when you touched her she felt nervous. Those butterflies that she hadn’t felt since she was a young teen, before her life went to shit, came back from the dead. And every time you looked up at her from under your lashes, or laughed at her jokes, or touched her leg, they fluttered round her stomach.

She should have left then and there, fled that bar and never looked back. In her head she excused herself, went too the bathroom and climbed out a window for gods sake. If that’s what it took.

But she came home with you, and she felt like that taxi drive was the equivalent to picking a plot, digging and then jumping into her own grave.

Because sex with you wasn’t like how sex was with everyone else. And there had been many, men, women, all those inbetween. Some had been poor, some had been mediocre and some had been pretty good. Amanda had came, sometimes multiple times if she was lucky.

But it was never like this.

Touching you was enough for her to be soaking. She felt your pleasure with her own; and god did she try to give you pleasure. Amanda had never cared if she made the person she had sex with feel good, call it selfish if you want, but she knew she would never see them again and could not bring herself to care enough about what they would remember of her.

But with you, she wanted you to come so many times that her name would be forever branded on your soul.

And maybe yours would be on hers, but that was just too vile for her to comprehend.

Amanda didn’t like people. She didn’t care for their opinions, thoughts or feelings. But with you, she wanted you to see only her good. She felt tense when your hands brushed over her scars on her thighs, she was embarrassed, she didn’t want you knowing she had to do that too deal with her pain. Some of the scars were relatively fresh, which made her feel even more sick about it. What must you think?

When you took the time to kiss your way over those scars, Amanda thought she might pass away there and then. From shock and maybe something else.

Sex had never been tender for Amanda, it was a rough battle of wills, and one that she quite enjoyed. She had never been touched how you touched her. And sore she probably never would be again.

So in the morning,she left before you woke. She couldn’t face seeing you in daylight, not after what you shared

She left to never see you again, never hear your name, never feel those feelings again.

But it was a lie, because before she left she couldn’t resist leaving her number on a note on your bedside table.

And as she scurried back to her day to day, her rat race of trap making and information gathering, she put you too the back of her mind.

It was easy to focus when she had her hands busy, she only thought of you when she saw the colour of your eyes in her tools.

Or when she felt the wind tug her hair how your hands had.

Or when she got on the bus and smelt your perfume on another passenger.

But it didn’t matter, you were a fabrication of her mind - nothing but a fantasy.

She moved on, kept herself focused how she knew best.

She went on more dates, slept with other people. Nobody like you, but sometimes when they touched her she closed her eyes and pretended it was you. Sometimes she would taste their lips and be disappointed they weren’t yours.

And when she lay in bed alone, when her little flat was still and the world felt like it was slumbering outside her window, she would always think of you.

Until, her phone vibrated under her pillow. And she moved embarrassingly fast to see that screen lit up with a unsaved number, Amanda was smiling before she knew how to stop herself.

Because as much as she knew you would be the death of her, she simply wouldn’t want to die at the hands of any other.

#amanda young x reader #amanda young #amanda saw #saw franchise #saw 2004 #Amanda Young imagine #amanda young x you #amanda young x y/n #reader insert

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 1?

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Disclaimer!

This is a story following the events after the Phantom of the Opera (2004) and only follows the movie and not any other adaptations!

Started with this fic a few years ago and finally continued bc I couldn't find any new fic's to read! 🥺

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(For ambiance~)

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Y/n stood with her feet planted infront of the burning Palais Garnier opera house, the ashes of a once red stage curtain falling on her bare shoulders. The only bit of warmth was the costume she was wearing.

A red fire dancer, her hair still in perfect shape. Tho it seems that the other staff of the Opera house weren't as lucky.

Her home was burning down infront of her eyes, and snow did nothing but usher on the burning flames of rage.

This was the doing of one Phantom of the opera. The damned demon took it all from them, their home, their jobs and even Christine Daaé.

The lead singer and great musician that made Y/n dance like never before, Christine's sweet melody made her feet float inches from the ground as her soul danced in sync with her body.

One shiver crawled up Y/n's spine when she heard an unghastly scream. Her feet simply lept to it, only to find a man crawling out of the burning opera house.

"Monsieur!" she cried out to him.

His face seemed to have already been caught by the fire and he barely wore anything but a shirt and his trousers. Y/n fell to her knees beside his weak body.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, you are out of the fire! Please, be still! You are injured. "

She trembled watching blood force its way through the thin gaps between the snowflakes. Blood still warm enough to melt and merge with ice to water.

In a desperate attempt, Y/n pulls off the bottom part of her dancing grown and desperately looked for the point of injury when she finally found the wound on the calve on his leg.

Tieing it tightly before Y/n hoisted him up to his feet.

"Please lean on me, we need to get further from the flames!"

He didn't speak, only grunted in pain. His voice was deep, without effort as if he was willing to Perish without hesitation.

Y/n took a moment to gently touch his burnt skin on his face, he didn't seem to whine. It was as she thought, the wound was not from the fire that had engulfed many others in its treacherous flames.

She shakes herself awake and quickly focuses on the problem at hand.

"I have strength to carry you, but you'll need to carry your consciousness for a little while longer!" she shutted, her voice swelling with pity for him.

'What happened to this poor soul?' She wondered and dragged his feet though the snow.

Y/n didn't know his name, nor his origin from the opera house. Perhaps a operator for the theater special effects? Or perhaps a member of the audience, sitting among the red velvet seats and nearly getting crushed by the chandelier falling loose from its hinges.

It wasn't long after when Y/n and the other performers were taken to a nearby inn. Perhaps it was the will of a greater power that the Opera managers didn't leave them to rot on the streets. Rather to reclaim insurance funds or come around a lone?

At least, she hoped that was the case. But for the moment, she was afraid of what might happen.

The opera house had been home for the last eighteen years of Y/n's life. No, certainly more!

Her father was a dancer, and her mother's legacy had been lost among the chatter and rumors of the opera.

Y/n's father had passed when she was only ten. Now, she was eighteen years older and she promised to follow in his dancing steps to fame.

Still engulfed in her thoughts Y/n stared into the small oil lamp flames while she sat on the bed of the inn. The figure of a woman danced in the red and orange colors.

This seemed to distract her from the man waking up from his exhausted slumber behind her.

He winced with a grumble when Y/n's head turned to face him. His palm covering the burn on his face that she saw before.

"Monsieur?" she whispered in an effort not to frighten him.

His gaze slowly trailed to Y/n's worried expression, but his palm never left his face.

Y/n took this opportunity to explain their predicament.

"Please, do not be frightened. We're in an inn, the managers have sent us to wait until they can reclaim funds."

She stood up to take the bowl of water and cloth to dampen the burnt flesh on the man's face.

She knelt down beside the bed and lightly lifted the damp cloth to his face. His eyes met hers, but Y/n only stared in silence hoping he'd understand her efforts.

Tho he was hesitant, his palm lightly lifted from his face. She feared the wound was still hissing with pain. Lightly the cloth is placed onto his eye and he gave a simple sigh of relief.

Silence filled the room, it would've seemed like only the stars were their witness if it weren't for the drunken cheers from the bar below.

Finally the man took a breath and spoke.

"What of Christine Daaé? Has she been found?"

Y/n's breathing seemed to betray her when her body couldn't fathom the gentle voice the man muttered. She tried to form words, creating a stutter.

"Y-yes, it um, It seems she has been retrieved by the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. She has offered many services to those who did not escape the flames unscathed." she whispered and willed herself to not look into his captivating eyes.

He looks to the side and gives a simple smile, seeming satisfied with his thought.

As soon as his skin was dampened once more he tried to stand with a gasply hiss of pain.

"Monsieur, please be patient! Your wound is still open and fresh!"

He grits his teeth before taking his seat again but looking back at the fireplace.

The rest of the night remained quiet, like he didn't have need to ask her anymore questions.

An awkward night spent sharing a room with a stranger. He fell asleep quickly with exhaustion.

Y/n couldn't sleep. Things ended so abruptly! How could she? Her love died in the fire, her home, belongings. She had nothing to her name anymore.

Y/n quietly stood up from the bed trying to keep noises to a minimum. Avoiding the creeking floor boards and opening the window to look outside.

The smoke from the Opera house covered the sky, no moon in sight. This quiet moment with her thoughts caused her throat to close up and her eyes to push tears.

As quietly as she could, she tried crying everything out, to no avail. Morning her loss took more than just a moment of soft tears.

"I'm sorry my love, Aloïs, I couldn't save you!"

She whispered. Her lover in the theater house had been burnt in the flames because he pushed her away from falling beams.

"Aloïs?"

She gasped when the voice lurks from behind her caught her off guard. The man stood up from the bed and had walked to right behind her without her hearing him.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head before spotting Y/n's shivers. Looking back at the blanket on the bed, he grabs it with one hand and swings it across her shoulders.

A gentleman! Y/n wasn't sure many workers from the Opera were quite so kind.

"You knew my Aloïs?"

He nods before leaning on the wall next to the window.

"Indeed, he helped me with costumes, more specifically Masks." The man mumbled folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n quickly realized what he meant when the dim light shone on his burnt face. Aloïs was the lead costume designer for all actors, singers and dancers in the opera. He'd certainly be willing to help a gentleman like the man stood next to her.

With a small giggle she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Aloïs would do something like that. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable without a mask."

He looks at me confused almost relieved that he wasn't the one in trouble for once. That someone genuinely asked if he was uncomfortable instead of rushing him away and out of sight.

"You're apologizing? Mademoiselle-"

"Y/n, please."

He seems to smile before leaning closer and wiping a lingering tear off Y/n's cheek.

"Y/n, my name is Erik."

Small talk lasted for a few more hours until the sun started to rise.

All members of the Opera house were called to the outside of the Inn where Monsieur André and Firmin would enlighten them of the situation.

Monsieur André took the lead standing ontop of the inn balcony.

"Listen all! I'm afraid we have terrible news you will all now be let go from the Opera house!"

A sudden uproar of voices filled the street and Y/n felt my body wobble a little from shock. Erik stood beside her with his hand on the small of my back trying to stabilize her.

Monsieur Firmin then took the lead and explained:

"This was a terrible tragedy! And with the business in shambles we have no hope of reviving it, thanks to our generous sponsor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, we will be giving out warm clothes to help with your resignation."

They both quickly scurry out of view back into the inn, likely out the back door leaving the crowd in shock and anger.

Y/n bit her lip feeling another wave of sadness overcome her. Quick breathing and a pounding heart for the unknown future that lied before her.

"Fools!" She hears Erik mumble under his breath.

"We must go quickly!" he said grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the front.

They got their clothes, thanks to Erik for getting them there early enough to take a few extra pieces of clothes.

Even with a wounded leg, Erik managed to take them to a proper alleyway to get dressed in the clothing.

He dressed first, then stood at the front of the ally to let Y/n get dressed keeping a look out.

A gentleman walked by peeping into the alleyway, but Erik growled loudly and with his burnt face scared the gentleman away.

"I'm done!"

Y/n smiled walking out with the costume she wore neatly folded in her arms.

Erik seemed to smile at her for a very small second then it quickly fell away, he brought his palm to cover his face.

"May I?"

He looked at Y/n confused until she gently took his hand and pulled it away.

"This might not be as good as Aloïs's handy work."

She looked down at her costume before quickly ripping off a piece of the skirt. She used the edges to tie it delicately around the side of his face tracing over it.

"You shouldn't have to hide! People are children! Gasping at the first strange thing they see." Y/n declared.

Erik chuckles but only for a second before going back into a smile.

"Perhaps."

He offers his arm which Y/n gladly took. They walked out into the crowded streets.

The sights were great and all the small shops and children seemed so foreign to her. In the Opera house they only had wooden or stone walls with the occasional windows high up in the building. The space of an open sky and streets going as far as the eye could see was a breath of fresh air.

A few hours later, Y/n suddenly realized that neither Erik or herself currently had a place to live, she have no living family to rely on.

Walking around the city for the first time in years distracted her from the dormant thoughts about the trouble we were in.

She looked back at Erik ready to ask him if he has a plan, but his eyes were sparkling. He was bewildered and intrigued by buildings, people, sounds and other sights. Y/n was starting to wonder if he'd ever been outside the Opera.

She felt a smile spread across her face from the warmth radiating off Erik.

"Erik, have you never-"

"Hello little mis!" a voice from behind her.

Three men quickly surrounded them and Y/n felt her body shrink into fear. Her lack of outside experience made her forget about the rats lurking around the city.

"Well, well! Give us a smile! How much?"

Y/n felt one of the bigger men behind her run his hand down her back.

She jump forward from his touch ready defend herself however, Erik pinched her arm tightly between his bicep and torso.

Y/n looked up at him and noticed the grimace clenching of his teeth.

"Now, this is unfortunate, just as I was starting to enjoy the outside." Erik fumed.

The man reaches for Y/n's behind again but this time Erik uses a closed fist to swing right into the man's nose.

He pushed Y/n off to the side, just hard enough for her to delicately hit the wall. She watched while this night old acquaintance fights off three large men with a bit of wood he swooped off the ground.

Using it to jab into the first mans forearm and then kneeing him in the groin.

Erik kicks the second man in the side, and to their luck, the third starts running. Finally all three run at the first sight of blood.

Erik breathes heavily before dropping to a knee with a loud grunt,clutching his injured leg from the fire.

"Erik!" Y/n ran to his side and wormed her arm underneath his arm and around his torso.

"We have to leave before they bring friends." Y/n stammered.

Her eyes dart around to land on a Inn with a tavern at the ground floor. The sun was setting again so soon and the candles of the tavern were lit.

She walked with Erik and quickly made their way inside to set Erik down in the corner of the tavern by a table.

"Oi!" The barkeep yells at us.

"Out!! You don't have no money!"

Looking at their clothes Y/n understood exactly how he knew we had no money to spend.

"Please! This man is injured, we need-"

He interrupts Y/n again.

"No money, no service! Out!"

Y/n bit her lip hard, thinking of anything to pay this man until she got a small shred of an idea.

"I dance!"

This makes the barkeep stop and look back at them. He leaned against the bar and waited.

Y/n realized he wanted an example before she swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She slowly pulled her coat off revealing a very inexpensive dress they received from the Managers.

Low cut to account for all bust sizes and too long skirt for all heights of woman in the Opera house. Throwing the coat over Erik she leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Hold on, I'll get more help and medicine for that leg."

He groans grabbing Y/n's arm, objecting to what he knew she'd do. She felt her heart want to cry at his genuine worry for her pride. She gently lifts his hand off before turning back to the bar keep.

She looked down at her skirt before lifting it and tieing it into a knot showing just above her knees.

The musician with a pocket fiddle in the corner starts playing a rhythmic song and patrons start coming in.

Y/n puts on the best smile she could muster before starting to move her legs and hips.

Y/n felt the gazes of every drunken basted, but worst of all, she felt Erik watching her. Intrigued or Disgusted? She wasn't sure. She hoped for the latter. It was the better of the two.

Moving her hand over a rich looking patrons shoulders before spinning to the bar and smiling at another gentleman.

For what felt like forever, Y/n danced following each rhythm of each song played.

Getting a small tip from some patrons before she stopped and leaned against the bar.

Out of breath with her chest moving up and down rapidly. Another song had ended. She wasn't sure how much longer she could continue, her legs burnt from no warm up before hand like she knew she had to.

The barkeep, more likely the owner of the inn, pushed a glass of water toward her.

"Well done girl! We haven't had this many patrons in a while."

He praised but Y/n growled and reached out to him with an open palm.

"I did my part, I need payment."

The barkeep looks disgusted and Y/n was afraid for a moment he would refuse her payment. Thankfully he reached into his apron pocket and gave her a good hand full of coins.

Before she could pull her hand back he grabbed her wrist and smirked.

"Come back, with a better attitude, and you can make twice as much."

Y/n gritted her teeth looking away knowing its a large possibility she'd need to come back for more payment.

She pulled her wrist back then ran to where she'd left Erik only to spot him with an angry expression.

"Erik?"

She knew it, he was disgusted! She hesitated in front of him. He only managed to lean forward and pull the knot out of her skirt letting it cover her legs again.

He looks away but patted on the seat beside him. Y/n felt her body once again shrink in on itself as she sat beside him.

She took this opportunity to count the coins and realized they had enough to rent a room for the night and for her to go buy bandages and medicine.

Once they were in the room she felt a very strange hole in her heart, she felt like she'd betrayed him. She was sure he'd leave the next chance he got. She basically did what he'd tried to prevent in the first place.

She sat on the bed facing away while Erik used this time to wash up in the wash room and apply the medicine and bandages himself.

"Y/n."

His voice stood out from the muffled cheers downstairs.

His hand traveled to Y/n's and he sat beside her on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Those small words made Y/n breath a sigh of relief before she felt his arms wrap her into a hug.

She'd never cried in front of anyone or at least she tried to avoid it as much she could, so how is it possible for this man to have seen her cry twice.

His chin rested on her head as she sobbed. It felt like she would never stop. Until Erik started humming. A soft but familiar tune. A song from the Opera house used in one of the famous plays.

It was beautiful, an angel of music. A voice she didn't know she longed to hear. In sleep he sang to her, and in dreams he he came.

Y/n slowly calmed her sobs before her body fell into a limp sleep and exhaustion.

Erik smiled before slowly laying her onto the bed, however she was clenched onto his shirt so tightly, Erik gave in and layed with her on the bed.

He looked at her calm face wondering how she was able to remain so strong though everything, even taking care of him aswell as herself.

Feeling his heartbeat similarly to the first time it did when he saw Christine. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly pulled her into his chest, keeping her covered from all the worldly wrongs.

#Phantom of the Opera x reader #erik poto #poto #poto erik #phantom of the opera #erik destler #Phantom of the Opera 2004 #christine daae #Viscount Raoul de Chagny #raoul de chagny #Erik #opera #yn #x reader #x you #x y/n #my fic #Reader #Spotify #2004 Erik Destler #2004 Erik Destler x reader #Gerik x reader #Gerik phantom #poto x reader #Phantom of the Opera fanfic #phantom of the opera x reader #the phantom of the opera #The Phantom of the Opera x reader #The Phantom x reader