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francis-writes · 1 year

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Red Flags (Corinthian x gn! Reader)

A/n: ok, so I recently got obsessed with this song and decided to write story inspired by it. Also, reader has no morals so don't complain.

The date started off so well Begin my night not expecting the fright of my life She was perfect from what I could tell How could I not see the dangers right in front of me

When you met for the first time, Corinthian seemed to be perfect and your next dates only confirmed that your impression was correct. He was charming and handsome - sometimes you felt that he was out of your league and wondered why out of all people, he decided to date you. But he didn't let you doubt for long; Corinthian was a very caring partner and you could see he was captivated by you. He always listened what you were telling him, whether it was about your day or your passions. You spent a lot of time together, sometimes going to a date to a concert or club, or just relaxing in home, watching movies and eating junk food. Altough Corinthian was often leaving for a few days (he claimed it was connected with his work; you believed him even if sometimes you worried that he has other lover), he called you everyday and he brought little gifts for you from his trips. One day, you were laying together on the couch and you were talking about true crime. That was another thing you loved about Corinthian - he didn't judge you and he didn't call your interests weird like many other people. Well, somebody likes comedies and hiking, you liked horror and histories about serial killers. People should respect each other hobbies.

Human Centipede, Human Centipede I think that I'm gonna get murdered tonight * Human Centipede, please God save me I think that's a red flag, I don't want to get stabbed

"...anyway, Chikatilo cut out eyes of his victims but it was for practical reasons, if you can call them that. There was a superstition that the image of the last thing a dying person saw stayed on their eyes. He just didn't want to leave an evidence. But I have no idea why that killer they recently talk about so much, takes victim's eyes. Is it a kind of a trophy?" Corinthian changed position and sat on the couch. He was hesitating. You were close and he wanted to tell you the truth about himself for some time but he was afraid that you would get scared and try to run away. And he would have to kill you. But at the other hand - you liked to listen about murders so maybe you would take it well. "I think I can answer your question. I have to tell you something" "What, that you are this famous killer?" You chuckled but then Corinthian took off his glasses and you looked into his eyes. Or where the eyes were supposed to be. Instead of them, he had two little mouths, full of teeth. "I'm a Nightmare. I escaped from the land of Dreaming a long time ago. And answering your question... yes, I am a serial killer. Or collector, if you prefer" "What do you do with the eyes?" "I eat them" "Oh" something clicked in your mind and you asked "That's why you were leaving the town for a few days?" He nodded. You had an inner turmoil. Sure, you liked to read about true crime but dating an eyes eating serial killer was completely different thing. You felt terrified. Was he going to kill you? Maybe not, after all, you knew each other for months and if he wanted to, he could do it earlier. But if you break up with him or try to run away, he will definitely catch you and cut out your eyes. You will become character of new episode of your favourite podcast. You wondered if there's any chance to sneak out and hide from him, but Corinthian would certainly guess what you're trying to do. Maybe if you screamed loud enough, neighbours would come in time...

Stop hiding behind your silly made up red flag To not take a chance on the best relationship you never had Maybe you're right and I'm looking for excuses My heart's got bruises but I'm ready to choose this love

You looked at your boyfriend. He was observing you carefully with his eye-mouths, waiting for your reaction. It reminded you about all the good moments you had together. Your dates, falling asleep on his chest, that one time you took him to a family dinner... Honestly, nobody treated you as good as Corinthian. He didn't think you were weird, he respected your boundaries, he protected you when some assholes tried to attack you when you were coming home. This was the best relationship you could dream about. Why his murders were supposed to change that? You were happy together and that was all that matter. Hell, it could be quite interesting to date a serial killer. You had so many questions. "Well" you smiled "I guess I shouldn't have talk so much about your competitors. You weren't jealous?" Corinthian relaxed a bit. You took it pretty well, though for a few moments you looked as if you were planning an escape. "I know they are no competition for me" he leaned to you "And I trust you" You kissed him. Your hand was caressing back of his neck while Corinthian pulled you closer to himself. Without breaking the kiss, you shifted so you were sitting on his lap. He slided his hand under your shirt and you shivered under his touch. "Cori?" You broke a kiss when a sudden thought came to you. "Yes?" "If you want... you can eat my eyes" "What?" Even though he witnessed a lot of weird things both in the Dreaming and during his life in the Waking World, Corinthian was surprised. That wasn't a combination of words he ever expected to hear. You shrugged, not sure how to explain your proposition. "Well, if you like them, and I suppose you do, you can take them" "Why would you offer me your own eyes?" "I can live without them and I want to give you pleasure. You're so good for me " Corinthian caressed the skin under your eye with his thumb. Sure, he mentioned that he loved your eyes. They were one of the prettiest he had ever seen and he loved that spark in them when you got excited. To be honest, at the beginning of your relationship he considered eating them. He wanted to see everything you saw, to learn your thoughts and memories. But he eventually decided that it's much better to see them everyday when you look at him. "I appreciate your proposition but I once said that I would never hurt you. I will keep my word" "Okay. Hmmm, I have one more question " you added before Corinthian managed to kiss you again. "Go on" "Can I join you on your trip? Please, just once" "You wanna see the murder?" "Yes. Is it a problem?" "No" Corinthian smiled "Y/n, you're completely unhinged " "Is it a bad thing?" You looked at him. Was a serial killer going to moralize you? "No. To be honest, I think I'm gonna love it"

hey, if you enjoy my work, maybe you would like to support me on ko-fi? Only if you can afford this. It would mean a lot to me<3 link is in the pinned post

#The Corinthian x reader #The Corinthian imagine #Sandman imagine

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jvstheworld · 8 months

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The Buffy Re-watch: S2E15 (part 1)

Phases

The trophy from s1e3 makes an appearance.

Oz's opinion on some films being forgettable as soon as you leave the cinema is true and can apply to many films. Popcorn is always good though, I'm more of a sweet fan than salty.

Oz and Willow, still in their awkward phase but they do like each other, so that's in their favour.

Larry, still an asshole and still gross towards any woman he sees. there is something to be said about how homophobia and misogyny go hand in hand. He is scared about being found out and so harasses women to make him seem like a heterosexual guy.

I'm glad that Willow is moving on from Xander, she can do better than him. I honestly hate that part in season 3 where they end up cheating on Oz and Cordelia.

'Only girl in school without a real boyfriend.' You don't need to be in a relationship in high school. While developing social skills is important, you do not need to be in a romantic relationship to have the full high school experience. Also, probably not the best comment to make when your best friend's boyfriend has turned in to a soulless serial killer again. I do appreciate that Willow immediately sees her mistake, apologises and then checks on Buffy. That's some good accountability right there.

Willow is still bitter about Cordy and Xander, and Xander is sus about Oz even though he is only one year older than her.

Cordy describing the scenery and situation to Xander and then telling him to shut up. Who says romance is dead?

A werewolf! The first one of the show.

Xander needs to let go of his thing for Buffy and his jealousy over Willow go, it's getting old now.

No one got hurt by the werewolf, that's a first.

Giles is happy to do some learning about our new monster friend.

Sunnydale is getting more dangerous? It already was pretty dangerous before the werewolf. Did they hold self-defence classes to the other students that came before?

Is this a mixed grade class because Oz is there and her is a senior while Buffy, Willow and others are juniors?

Huge dog bit Larry, we think he might be set up as a contender for the werewolf, while Oz got bit by his human cousin and no one will think anything about it.

Larry realising he will be in the same group as Buffy and then remembering what happened at Halloween. It's not looking good for him.

I don't think Buffy should hide the fact she can fight in this instance. The class is about self-defence, she should be able to show that she can take care of herself, just not at full strength.

Larry had it coming. You don't get to sexually harass people and expect to get away with it.

#buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #rupert giles #willow rosenberg #xander harris #cordelia chase #btvs s2 #buffy rewatch #tv show thoughts

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cakemuffin · 2 months

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SUMMARY:

Seviathan, thinks it’s time to mend her broken heart and propose marriage.

Unfortunately for him. Even in death, Charlie. Was forever bound to Alastor.

———————————————————————

Charlie had a strained smile on her face as she turned to look at one of her old suitors before she had gotten married.

“Thank you for walking me home, Seviathan. i do appreciate it. Now if you would excau-“ “it was no trouble at all Charlie dear. Why, a little ol sweetie like you? It’s always a pleasure. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you now. i mean you living here in this big house all alone.” He interrupted her as he walked passed her and strolled straight inside her house. Inviting himself in but shivering instantly when he felt the temperature suddenly drop.

“Wow..is it cold in here or is it just me?” He asked with a furrowed brow. As he instinctively wrapped his arms around himself. Charlie chuckled as she closed the door and walked passed him. Arms full of groceries as she shrug. “The weather is perfectly fine today. But i guess that’s what happens when you have a block of ice for a heart.” She sang.

The tall man laughed at that. “always one for jokes..” he mused as he followed her into the kitchen.

He couldn’t help but grin as he watched her put her groceries on the counter. Her kitchen was small but spacious, with a small window that was letting in enough sunlight to brighten the place up and make it look even more cozy.

The ex-suitor, admired how truly lovely the short blond was, as she busily put away the things she had brought while she talked to him about something he couldn’t care to listen too.

Charlie was wearing an apple patterned white dress that fit her slender frame perfectly. Her hair was short and curly. And her lipstick a bright red, which helped to frame her angelic face.

Seviathan nodded his head at thinking of how perfect She was. How nicely she would look with his arm draped around her shoulders. How people would envy him for having her by his side. Yes, she was perfect.

The perfect trophy wife.

A real shame she had gotten married to someone else a few years ago really…

And not just anyone he might add. But to the infamous serial killer of New Orleans! The recently deceased Radio talk show host. Alastor! The man was a fucking psychopath who had been able to kill 28 people in a spun of four years.

When the police had finally caught up to him and killed him as he tried to flee. Charlie had been distraught. Everyone in town knew she was innocent and couldn’t possibly have known of her husband’s sadistic secret. No..she was too sweet and kind to be a part of that deranged fools games.

Seviathan had warned her about the sketchy man she had fallen inlove with. But she was just too pure and naive to know better. Such a sweet thing. That fuck up Radio host didn’t deserve her. And from the looks of it, she seems to have moved on from that monster’s death.

Good!

She shouldn’t be mourning such an ill man anyways. Not when she had him to look forward to. He grinned smugly at that. Ignoring the ominous feeling he had as he stepped closer to where the blond haired beauty stood. “ i’m really happy to see you smiling again Charlie.” Seviathan said as he watched the blond whip her head to look at him with a small grin. “Thank you Sev. But as i said, you really need to be going now. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here longer.” She said as she pursed her lips at him.

The dark haired man cock a brow at that as he tilted his head. Amused at the tiny blond. “Nonsense…a lil thing like you shouldn’t be home alone. There’s a lot of sickos out there you know?” He pushed as he stalked on closer to her.

“I think i’ll manage Sev…” she frowned as she looked at him with an unreadable emotion in her eyes.

“Awe come on now sweetheart-fuck! It’s getting colder in here. Anyways, You know you need a man to take good care of you.”

“Honestly, i don’t. Now please-Seviathan. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” She said with a pleading look on her face.

The tall man stopped to a halt at the sentence. Unsure of what he had just heard but decided to shrug it off. Moving faster as he cornered her against a wall. Her eyes going wide as she gasped. Eyes not seeming to be looking directly at him though. She was probably so nervous that she couldn’t make eye contact. Adorable. Seviathan thought as he chuckled at how vulnerable she was for him.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I won’t hurt ya.” He said with a smirk before feeling a sudden intense burning pain in both his arms.

“Oohhhh but i will definitely hurt you!”

Seviathan’s mind panicked at the unworldly demonic voice he just heard as he watched at a wide eyed Charlie stare at whatever was behind him. His joints suddenly feeling like they were being crushed simultaneously. He felt his whole body stiffen as he tried to scream at the excruciating pain. But couldn’t as he began to spit blood.

His heart and mind were racing to figure out what the fuck was happening as he watched in horror as a large red demonic figure approach him. His eyes were of that of a Radio dial as it showed his sharp teeth at him with the most fucked up smile he had ever seen.

What the fuck! He was panicking as he tried to look at Charlie for help. Blood dripping out of his mouth as he tried to scream but to no avail as he continued to feel his body being crushed by an invisible force.

“Alastor! Enough! You promised!” Charlie flung to the the 7 foot tall demon by her side. Her face upset but not scared, as she looked up and gripped at the demons side.

Alastor? What the fuck?!! Wha-what was happening?!! This must be all some kind of fucked up dream??!!! What the hell! He tried to move to scream. Anything but he couldn’t. He felt like his organs were being ripped apart! He could feel a thick liquid coming out of his eyes while he started to choke on his own blood.

It had felt like an eternity before the pain had stopped and he fell to the floor with a loud thud. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. He didn’t know if he was still breathing as he tried to gasp for air but only tasted copper.

He stared blankly as the demonic Alastor thrusted in and out of his small wife, who was clutching at his massively large chest. His enormous dick delving deep inside her tiny body. Making her belly bulged to accommodate his size.

“Ah..ah! Ah! You promised! Ah! No more killing..” She cried as he looked at her small form writher beneath him. Her doe eyes getting foggy with lust as he continued to pound into her. “He was taking advantage of you. Trying to make a move on what’s mine!” He said with his demonic voice that seemed to sound like radio static. Charlie couldn’t help but moan and shudder when he had quickened his pace. Her sweet flushed face falling apart as she cried out his name. “Too deep! Ah! Ah!!! Too deep! Alastor…I’m gonna cum!!” She cried as the demon brutally pounded into her. Making her see stars as she came around his monstrous dick.

The now dead corpse of Charlie’s former suitor lay lifeless on the floor behind them. Forgotten and unimportant. As the demon continued to fuck his now overly sensitive wife against the counter tops. “T-the chain a-ah! kinda fe-oh!! God!! Feels heavy…” Charlie managed to say as she felt the now visible thin chain rattle between them. It glowed a bright red as her large demonic husband intertwined their hands together as he thrusted one last time before finishing inside her.

Loving the way her dainty fingers curled against his large ones. His head now resting against her chest as she panted below him.

“I really wish you would of at least let me handle things by myself this time..” Charlie had pouted when she regained her breathing. Her demonic husband made a buzzing sound at that which made the tiny woman chuckle before groaning as she stared at the corpse behind her husband. “That really wasn’t very nice..” “you know what isn’t nice? Hitting on another man’s wife. Whether he be alive or dead.” Charlie rolled her eyes at him before asking her husband to at least make the corpse look presentable. With a snap, the dead body looked good as new. Now looking like he had just a heart attack before he passed.

“Please! Promise me this is the last time. No more killing.” Charlie huffed. Alastor merely smiled wickedly as he nodded at his wife. leaning down to press his head against Charlie’s to give her a tender kiss.

The two ignoring the red chain that seemed to turn invisible again between them. As they discussed on calling the police and what to tell them.

——————————

Find me on AO3 as Captainstark12 for more Alastor fics

#hazbin hotel alastor #obsessive alastor #jealous alastor #human alastor #@charlasstor #alastor x charlie

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tiktaalic · 2 years

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ok cute script write gleenatural next

RACHEL finds a lucky necklace that's supposed to give the wearer good luck and it works she gets the solo has a great date etc. this is significant because everyone thought she was gonna finally bomb because she just got over strep throat or something. she starts like running into talent agents at the grocery store and she's like guys this is crazy i mean of course i'm talented enough to get signed but a real broadway recruiter? in the lima ohio krogers? i think this really is a lucky necklace! santana thinks she's full of it and rips it off of her in the middle of glee club and mr shue is like girls. enough fighting. i'm confiscating this until the two of you can get along. within hours rachel has mono and the recruiter calls her back to be like oh sorry lol i thought we had spots for you but we dont. rachel yells at him about this and he swears to blacklist her from the industry For Good. she blames this all on santana. santana says if she needs a necklace to be good then she's not all that good. mr shue takes the necklace home to surprise emma with. she won't wear it until it's been under UV light for two hours but she thinks it's sweet. to prove to her that shes making a big deal out of nothing he puts it on and then wakes up in the front yard covered in blood. he also starts getting insanely lucky. makes the connection between necklace = luck = blood sacrifice (killing random citizens) and hems and haws for a few days about whether or not murder is ok if it makes him rich . one night the amulet makes him attack sue and she beats him handily and calls the police etc etc. this is about the time that sam and dean roll into town. they interview sue and are like huh i guess it was just a serial killer. dean grumbles about driving to ohio for nothing. chatter fades out as sue opens her desk drawer and puts on the necklace and says something like thanks for the battle trophy will.

#ask #anonynmous #spnwatch

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s-talking · 2 years

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i broke up with someone, can i get some advice on how to get them back? i heard you're a pro at this!

𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒. their unexpected question has envy absolutely stumped; just ' who ' said such a thing? better yet, why? shifting from one foot to another, the little killer tilts his head & stares at the other as though he just missed a train. this has to be a prank. a jest. a silly little banter to get the conversation going, but then again, what if── ? what if they are completely dead serious about the break-up? despite the first logical thought, the madness in him viciously cuts off the possibility & after what seems like a full minute of plain staring, envy finally speaks up in a low, boyish tone; ❝ you... broke it up? ❞

suddenly leaning close, the other is forced to stumble back & fall against the nearby wall, coerced to peer right back into the void of those cold & soulless eyes as they sharpen with delirium. ❝ is it because they're expandable? because you couldn't find anyone... better... ? ❞ he whispers slowly, ❝ or is it because it is you who couldn't actually keep up... ? ❞ slamming a lone hand next to their head, the young serial killer leans even closer & the following words roll down his tongue with pure wickedness & vice, ❝ what makes you think.... i won't just gut you alive.... & take them from you? take your pitiful head as a trophy for them to keep? ❞

#// akgjalkgj -- I'M SO SORRY FOR TAKING Y E A R S!#andi'mevenmoresorryforenvy'sreplyherelmao #he really doesn't dig the idea of dumping someone #just to get them back later.#he'd much rather see them dead than with someone else.#either way! thank you for sending this in ♥#my anon is off for now but eventually i may turn it back on #🔪 ❝ ᵀʰᵉ ᶫᶦᵗᵗᶫᵉ ᵏᶦᶫᶫᵉʳ⋅⋅ ❞ {{ ;; ‘𝓔𝓷𝓿𝔂’ }}

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cloudy-dayys · 2 years

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ok so i wanna elaborate more on my mandela cult au. its moreso just a human au tbh. in this world, the alternates are human. theres a large christian church in mandela county where lucifer, who is a 'normal' human child, grew up in. hes a very twisted kid and in his late teens killed off the original pastor of the church and took his place as he became an adult and no one questioned it. becoming the new head of the church, he started twisting the bible and the people's minds to fit his narrative and leadership. as he continued into his twenties and early thirties, everyone in the church became very sickly involved with lucifer, who changed his name to gabriel as a symbolic message for his people. his knowledge and teachings of the bible became so horrendous and evil that it was slowly driving other's mental/physical states to deteriorate. a lot of people were losing their sense of humanity over time. the church officially became a cult and the people involved gave their entire lives/families/finances/homes to gabriel in the name of the lord. he had full control over the people now. wanting to expand the church and gain more power, gabriel had a few people he worked close with who devoted their entire heart/mind/body/soul to him, one of them being human 6. 6 goes around the counties and kidnaps children at gabriel's demand, forcing the kids to become part of the church as well. the children's families never see them again and usually die under 'mysterious' circumstances or are so distraught that they usually leave the town. the preacher, who works closely with the bible and gabriel's teachings, goes around to spread the 'gospel', aka manipulating anyone they can into joining the church. anybody who tries rebelling or deviates from the church dies under mysterious circumstances too. it seems like suicide, but the evidence points to murder.

with all this power and manipulation, gabriel wants to take over every church in every state, effectively bending the country in his hands. hes already affected around 5 counties in his time.

now, for human T and how he is involved:

tyler grew up in the manipulated church that gabriel taught at, an orphan who did not know his parents. he never connected to gabriel's teachings or the religion itself and faces a lot of persecution for being different. constant baptisms, prayers, and borderline psychological torture to try and get him to be a better child of god but it never succeeded, giving him resentment and trauma regarding religion. growing up, he was put into a sacrificial role where gabriel would have crucified him when he was old enough. however, he ran away once he turned into an adult, killing off some nuns that tried stopping him in the process. he deviated completely and learned just how fucked up the church is and how truly terrible gabriel is as well and wanted to somehow stop it.

he became a serial killer of the church, killing anyone involved with it in some manner and being a refugee for the kids before they became corrupted, transporting them outside of the counties and to safer places. he kept his identity and face a secret, killing these people in the shadows and leaving no trace of himself behind. no one knows who is doing this and gabriel reassures them that he will stop the murderer. several towns and counties have dubbed tyler as the church killer and actively tells people to stay away from him and report him to the police. tyler kills church goers in extreme and violent ways, taking his anger and trauma out on the people who gave themselves to gabriel. depending on how close someone is with gabriel, he will behead you and keep your head as a trophy. its a war of the people and the church now.

in the end, he will kill gabriel and behead him and keep it as a trophy, along with 6 as well lol. though, not before almost dying from being crucified, ofc.

that's just a summary of the key components in the au!!

some facts:

- anyone involved with the church, except the kids, has an uncanny valley affect to them. it truly alienates these people from the rest of the normal town folks.

- tyler is littered in scars from the physical punishments he took growing up in the church. a lot of those came from the nuns and the more severe ones came from gabriel himself, who wanted to force him into submission.

- tyler's face has such a heavy uncanny valley affect to it that it gives people instant anxiety when looking at him or even seeing his face at all. he has grown uncomfortable with his own face and tries hiding it as much as possible with glasses and masks.

- tyler enjoys working out

- in one of the distant towns not associated with a church, he is an auto shop owner. he fixes cars daily and enjoys tinking with em. his business does pretty okay. he stays somewhat near other towns so he can keep them under wrap and kill people in the churches. he has a home inside the auto shop he resides at too.

#tanner talks #mandela catalogue #religion tw #death tw #mandela cult au

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feyre-hel-dresden · 1 year

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Gore questions 1 thru 20 hehe ;)

1. Have you ever considered killing someone?

I've had fantasies about it, and of course sometimes people annoy me to a level that I debate it, due to a history of bullying and trauma. But other than that... Well, that would be telling wouldn't it

2. Would you touch a corpse?

Yes, my friend from childhood, sister, and my ex girlfriend, not die to me killing her before you ask, but I kissed her forehead at her funeral

3. Have you ever had a sexual attraction to a corpse?

I've had an attraction to pictures of them, but the last times I had seen a corpse, sexual attraction wasn't something I was great at honestly

4. Ever tasted someone elses blood?

Yes, many times actually

5. Honest thoughts about cannibalism?

Can definitely see why it would be hot, and occasionally I write about it, but I'm not massively into it

6. Favorite killer and why?

Are we talking rl or fiction? I'll answer both either way. Rl, first thing that comes to mind is Stephen marshall, he basically became a vigilante and killed sex offenders

Fiction, gotta be ghostface, because I'd get freaky with that

7. Do you collect dead things?

I used to, but lost a large portion of my collection when I moved, however I still have a dog rib, and a broken part of a fox skull

8. Would your victims be women or men, does it matter?

Doesn't matter to me

9. Strangulation or blunt force?

Hmmm, it depends on my feelings for you. If I love you? Strangle, if I hate you I'll beat your head I'm with a brick

10. Shooting or stabbing?

Stabbing

11. What would cause you to snap?

Hmm, idk actually, it's been 5 years if me having this kink, and I never actually killed so who knows

12. Which is more your style: school shooting or serial murder?

Serial, I may like killers but I find school shooters awful people, there is no reason for that behavior, and if someone on my life says they wanna be a school shooter I will stop talking to them

13. If you could have sex with any serial killer, alive or dead, who would you choose?

Never actually thought about it, might have to make a follow up post for that

14. How would you leave the body?

Leave it? No no you take it with you, you keep it

15. Would you keep trophies, if so, what?

Well, see above

But if it has to be just one, the heart

16. Do you believe in the death penalty for murder? No

17. What fascinates you about death?

The calmness of a corpse, the cold touch, the feeling of peace

Also trauma fucked me up sooo

18. Are you based more in fantasy or reality?

Fantasy I suppose, but I wish I could move more to reality, it's hard currently as I live in a household full of people, one of whom is somewhat abusive, but soon

19. If the opportunity ever arose, would you consume human flesh?

Absolutely, just to see what it's like

20. The song you would play during a violent act?

I have a whole playlist, so I'll make a follow up about this later on too

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lonespektr · 8 months

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FRIDAY SEPTEMBER FIRST HORROR WATCH 2023 DOUBLE FEATURE

Violent Night (2022) & Bones and All (2022)

Violent Night

Ok ok ok it took a while to get my Internet to cooperate

Oh shizz that's actually Santa, i thought it was about a thief Maybe??

Omg i been watching the righteous gemstones and she's playing the same character

911?

Love sis hair

Lol amazon packages

The sleigh is cool

Actual coal

Diligent santa presentation

Lol he forgot

You didn't write a letter? Well who's fault is that?

Lol one way radio

I mean not a bad ploy if you know your kid

Mean to ddeer

Okay solid magic

That's right booo skim

Where's the goat milk

I like the leather outfit over what's it usually like .. velour velvet?

The matriarch is good

Luguizamo!

Revlers

KRAMPUS!

Lovely code names

She's got perfect cheekbones and they are making sure we see em

I knew he was asleep

Outfits and everything

Lol damn she just left her kids

Even her favorite granddaughter

Babe u sneaking out use your magic

They shorted him out as a drunk, could have maybe referenced that earlier

Aggressive stitching

Lol they ditched him

Everybody can fight like fa real fa real

Serious icicle oh it's a display

Cookie addict more than drink

Ooo writing maybe not consistent

Omg shit decorative work 🤣

Look at that table

Having trouble with exposition

That's a long way round to implicate U.S. imperialism

Fancy safe good set

The thieves costumes are killing me he really made them get dressed up

Nice gimmick i hope they keep doing it

Russian tat santa okay Celtic tat makes more sense

Kinda annoyed he can't hear her

I choose to blame his magic

This is a creative Christmas kills montage

I know it was going to be that radio but I'm annoyed it's not magic

He's got a scroll database which absolves him from being a peeper

Shove it up the borderline

I forgot they managed to kill the black guy first horror check ✔️

He's kinda perfect weight for this

I just realized they paired him with another kid (stranger things)

The audacity of WOW people have wow

Lol that's her fav whiskey she's rich i have a bottle of that

The parents don't the helpless thing with kids bugs me

Should they be able to access the bag?

Oh 😂 villian sob story

Super campy

Lol he already confessed

Magic tied to belief had three temporary believers

Lol how long did that take, hour long did they expect to get into the safe?

Lol PLOT TWIST

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Damn couldn't just get a job

🤣🤣🤣 wait the kid is actually smart

The mercenaries are head to toe covered up but there are womens voices

That's right ladies equality

The main heist crew also has 1? 2 women?

Respect the home alone references with an absolutely plausible rationale

Great amount of blood

Lol he wants to kill Christmas fa real fa real

Some of the stuff is silly/ lazy for no reason

Cornier ending than i thought v cute

Bones and all (2022)

I didn't know it was a period piece

ANDRE!

Very sapphic

Okay right to erotic cannibalism

I looked down earlier, i thought she got kicked in

Oof

Bailed

Birth certificate?

Whoa! Like your mother did

Oh the other way nm

There's clearly some political era they are referencing but idk

Okay not even 100bucks

Thought there was two

First murder 3 omg

So much andre i love it

What a creeper

Omg it's full fantasy

I just thought she was an emotionally disturbed girl into cannibalism

It's full scale werewolf adjacent

Smell from miles off

Oh vinegar!

Does he have a discoloration too? Under his neck

No kill

The implication sites seem to be it's being on addiction

Aannd there's a serial killer trophies

The camera pan to the photos

Grandpa

That's smart

He can smell

3 then 8

I believed you had to

I watched to see if you looked sad

Hopefully she stole something from the house to sell

Typical boy shit

I hope he's a poser a wannabe but i don't think so

Nope

No one our age is new at this

That's quite young

The implication bring there are hella serial killers

Presumably this is supposed to be attractive and endearing

Another shower

No way she slept with the knife like that

No way he's a buck forty even

Itchy

Sympathy for the cows

No i think his is a scar

These kids are smart

Very romantic

Lol for a cop bit

Damn i wanted the poser to be the kid

What does she care

Creeping out again

The implications of that are clear

The future being a friend to yourself

Bailed

She came back

Day job

Creeper

Down

None of these people carry bleach

Kayla

Tasteful eating cut aways

Closer to sex addiction than drug addiction

I hate when films end on a cut of better times

Like ok but that's not what you just showed me

It feels like a cop out

I mean it reinforces the continued delusion

#graywatchhorror23 #violent night #bones and all

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aztecbrujeria · 2 years

Text

Wolfsbane: TojiGo (Assassins AU)

Summary: Under the full moon Gojo Saturo, the Gojo Clan's strongest, waited for his target to show themselves. He wasn't just there to take his hit down he was also there to avenge his dead lover. Toji Fushiguro finally makes his presence known walking into the side room full of Zen'in clan members. Here is the story of how Toji breaks Gojo teaching him the most proficient way to avenge Geto Suguru.

Chapter 2 here.

WC: 1.5k

NSFW CW: Violence, Blood, Gore, Fighting, Trophies, Slow Burn, alludes to serial killer behavior, trophies, vengeance, M/M

@anime-central-archived @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi

“Be a predator not a prey otherwise the world won’t let you live.” - Prabhu Mariappan

Under the cover of the dark moon a pair of vibrant cyan eyes stood out against the heavy cloak of the void, standing vigilant waiting for the moment to strike. Gojo courched beneath the overhang of the adjacent Minka to the main house of the compound where his target was housed. Like the shadows he used the absence of natural light to thrive along with the chaotic memories swirling within his mind, “Gojo, don’t forget our deal... I want to be able to win this time, okay...” The venomous feeling of chaos and hatred permeated throughout his system.

As time passed he sat and observed the surroundings of the compound, flashes of his deadly motive played behind his eyes, Gojo was waiting for the perfect time to quench his bloodlust. He expected the hit to be easy like all the rest, especially this one fueled by his hatred, but he was never prepared for the harsh reality of losing the battle. He had been preparing for this moment since he had received the parcel carrying what was left of Getou’s midnight locks that were now woven into fibers of his Ito. As he sat letting the adrenaline and anticipation collide within his blood stream his skin began to itch with the call of violence within him.

Catching a glimpse of movement from the main house he saw the giant frame of his target reveal himself in the corridor. Eyes growing wide with excitement and his heart rate increasing, he could feel his limitless swirl beneath his skin making the hairs on his body stand at attention. He watched as the target’s thick muscular frame dwarfed the men that walked with him into the corridor, his presence was domineering and predatory it made Gojo salivate. The procession slowly entered a side room from the corridor. Gojo waited seconds before making his way in the cover of the shadows to get a closer look at his target and find out the best way to draw the men out so he could play with his target.

Smiling like a mad man in the darkness he waited and finally knew what he needed to do to draw the target out into the open. Gojo wasn’t worried about the others that were on the other side of that shoji, this was part of why he was the strongest, they were dead weight already. Gojo noticed a straggler that had no interest in keeping watch, he made his way to the edge of the roof slowly letting himself down, when he finally stood behind the man he spoke from the shadows. “I’m surprised the Ze’nin have weaklings like you.” Gojo reached around and slit the man’s throat, catching his body from hitting the floor; Gojo had a tendency of demanding a dramatic entrance. Before the clan member was even cold he threw the dead man into the shoji, staining the delicate paper, announcing his presence, “Good morning.” Gojo, with a wicked smirk splayed across his features fueling his ego, began to chuckle with a single finger pointing into the corner of the room where a pair of verdant eyes flashed with amusement and intrigue at the scene.

There was no hesitation from the clansmen, the roar of a battle cry rang out as Gojo backed into the open courtyard drawing out the men and dodging quick attacks. The scene was filled with clashing swords and groans of the fallen as they took their last breaths. Making quick work of the clansmen, having never broken a sweat, Gojo’s lithe frame walked to the middle of the open space with his blade staining the earth crimson behind him. “Well, that was disappointing, I was expecting more of a challenge. After all, the Zen’in clan is supposed to be the best of the best, what a let down The Elders lied again.” A lone clansman tried to stand and ran towards Gojo, clicking his tongue in disgust, he simply brought his blade down and felt the man walk past him and fall face first into his death.

Cold cyan eyes looked towards the darkened room as the Large man walked out into the courtyard, “Finally, have you decided to come out and play? I do have to give you a message.” Gojo, whipping his sword, flung the blood from his blade at the feet of his target waiting for him to make his move, running his fingers through the hair on his Ito like a grounding caress from his lover. The target walked out from the shadows into the light of the moon, one arm resting in his black haori, the other resting atop the hilt of his sword. Gojo could feel the pull of the man’s aura and couldn’t help the crazed laugh that escaped his lips, “Did you think your little present wouldn’t go unnoticed? I have to say, when Getou didn’t come home, you hurt my feelings.” Taking both hands to grip his sword he steadied his blade, almost feeling his lover's hands upon his own, moving into his defensive stance awaiting for his target’s first move.

The man before him undid his haori and let it fall to the ground behind him. Eyes widening and the stirrings of adrenaline in the pit of Gojo’s stomach raged within, he took in the sight of his prey swallowing thickly. Standing at 6’4”, 230 pounds of lean muscle, midnight colored hair fell into the man’s face to frame the mesmerizing green eyes encased in thick eyelashes. A smirk quirked the scar on the right side of his full lips, giving the illusion of sharp fangs, Gojo knew this man was death incarnate and it made the palpable excitement suffocate him as it surrounded the courtyard. “My, my, my aren’t you handsome. I’m almost sorry to cut up that pretty face of yours. It would have been fun…in another life.” The man before him looked as if his footsteps would be heavy and alert anyone to his whereabouts, but it was the opposite. Gojo was left with the surprise of his deadly silence as his blade reverberated through his body at the target's first hit.

Quicker than Gojo had time to register, even with his limitless technique, he only felt the stirrings of a false breeze and galvanized steel press up against the pulsing artery beneath his chin before he could blink. With god-like speed Gojo deflected the attack and flipped back, turning about face towards the target, he watched as Toji’s smile widened. Stopping to touch the knick upon his carotid, bringing it to his lips to taste, “That was a close one. I may have underestimated you, Toji Zen’in; or is it Fushiguro now?” He watched the man’s malachite eyes swirl with murderous intent, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Smiling wider he was ready as he watched the monstrous man swing his broadsword in front of him to steady it for the fight that was coming. He watched as the man’s primal frame of muscle rolled his neck, crouching, and let his wide shoulders flex for the strike. “Oh, more of the silent treatment. I hope I can make you scream when I make you pay for what you did to Getou.” Gojo didn’t wait for the strike from the man before him, lunging towards him with his sword, he thought he was going to strike him one time aiming for the man’s neck finishing the job. Gojo was confident that he was going to feel the give of flesh beneath his steel, he had once again misjudged his skills as Toji seemed to have simply dodged his attack.

When there was no give in the edge of his blade, Saturo began to register his opponent was better than he had ever imagined, when the fuck did he move?...He left his back open only turning to look above him, catching an Oni smiling down upon him. Saturo was in disbelief that even with his abilities this man was able to negate his limitless, “How the fu-...” In the pit of his stomach he felt a stone drop, he had no time to move from his stance, when he felt the heavy hit from the hilt of the man’s broadsword making his body drop. The only thing he remembered was the feel of the dirt that was ground into his cheek as the abyss of unconsciousness took him.

Toji stood over his prey and smirked, “You sound better when your mouth is closed.” Kicking the assassin’s sword from his grasp, his eye caught the sheen of Gojo’s Ito. “Ah, I see you like your trophies as well…I remember that kill, it was the most pleasurable one.” Toji bent down, beginning to hum to himself, finding something to restrain the unconscious body. Once he felt his prey was subdued enough Toji grabbed Gojo’s ankles and began to drag him to the heart of the Ze’nin compound with ease. “I guess I’ll get to play with you, just like your dead lover. I wonder if you’ll scream just like he did.” He smiled wickedly and laughed at himself, filling the bloodied courtyard, making a plan on how he would break the assassin when he woke from his quick nap.

#jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen gojo #tojigo #gojo satoru #toji zenin #tojigosmut #jjk smut #2d men #jujutsu kaisen #husbando

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winterscaptain · 3 years

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a kindness.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it is loving megan kane hours!! i’ve been working on this one for a while and i am so excited to share it with you!! we have ajf!pleasure is my business at last! as always, tell me what you think!! i adore your feedback. also, if you’re thinking ‘what the hell, tali! why am i missing from the tag list?????’ it’s because i redid it! the link to the form is below.

words: 4.8k warnings: language, canon-typical death, canon-typical discussion of sex work

summary: “i believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.” ― steve martin. au!february 2009

a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You rap twice on the office door before pushing it open with your fingertips, peering inside while ready to retreat at a moment’s notice.

There’s no need. Aaron’s alone.

“You’re here early,” he says, his eyes still on his paperwork.

You snort. “So are you.”

He looks at you over his nose. “Can I help you with something?”

Sitting down opposite him at his desk, you prop your chin on your hands and grin at him. “You stole my line.”

“Get out of my office.”

Your smile stays plastered on your face as you stand and cross the room, closing the door behind you. On your way out, you catch the ghost of his smile.

+++

You watch Hotch leave the bullpen, his go-bag slung over his shoulder.

“Where you headed?” You ask, looking up. You’re still the only one in the bullpen, taking a few consults off your teammates’ hands by typing up quick briefs they can review without going through every single comma in the file.

He sighs. “Dallas.”

Yikes.

“By yourself?”

He sighs. “Standby - not sure what’s going on yet. Can you -” He gestures to the hallway behind you.

You nod and stand. “Yeah. Fly safe.”

After you watch him leave, you turn and make a beeline for JJ’s office. She’s here early, too - pushing away the separation anxiety by diving into work.

“Jayje?”

She looks away from her computer, looking exhausted. “Yeah?”

“Hotch just left for Dallas - we might have a case there, but it didn’t sound like something that would come across your desk.”

She squints. “Why d’you say that?”

“He had that look on his face like he was going into a room full of lawyers.”

+++

You lean forward, jamming yourself into the circle around the table with the rest of your team. Hotch, on the other end of the line, sounds oddly well-rested.

Spencer, as usual, gives you the history and textbook briefing before you get to the actual case. “Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies.”

“Because there’s no sexual gratification when a woman kills,” Derek adds.

Looks like we’re all getting in on the pre-brief today.

“Exactly. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra.”

That makes you laugh a little. “So, basically, women are more efficient at killing?”

Spencer shrugs. “Historically, they’ve had body counts in the hundreds.”

Hotch, of course, is the one to get you all back on track. “So, assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?”

Derek, of course, is the first to follow. “Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder…”

The team bounces for a moment, covering previous cases of serial killers with a history of sex work. Emily brings up Allison Wuornos, but Aaron shuts it down. He thinks this killer is organized, not so much driven by trauma or need but the mission itself.

Spencer looks at the medical examiner’s reports again, comparing notes between the victims. “She’s using tetra-methylene-disulfotetramine.”

You don’t look up from the same report. “Bless you.”

Emily snorts.

Spencer continues, unperturbed. “It’s a popular rat poison in China - easily soluble in alcohol.”

“Poison is the perfect M.O.,” Dave notes. “Quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they’re getting lucky.” He turns back toward the phone. “Does that mean something to you?”

“Well, at $10,000 a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex.”

Fair point.

“She has a history with them. They see her repeatedly.”

You look over at Dave, trying to find the thread that connects Aaron’s thought to his.

Before you can really get to it yourself, Aaron spells it out for you. “She didn't decide to kill them in the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them.”

There we go.

“So she's not just organized,” you add. “She's also methodical. Could she be parsing out which clients are worth killing and which aren’t?”

“Maybe the victims all share the same fetish?” Emily offers.

Derek shrugs, his eyebrows raised in thoughtful agreement. “Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible. Careful about their image. I mean, if they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it.”

“And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out.”

There’s the exhaustion I’m used to from Hotch.

He sounds weird without it.

“Actually,” JJ says, “I had some luck there. Hoyt Ashford's wife isn't too happy with how he died. But because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement.”

JJ pulls the statement from her file and reads aloud: “Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.” She puts it down again. “They're already trying to close ranks.”

Spencer frowns. “Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“The press release from the first victim.” He recalls, not needing the paper itself. “‘According to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home.’”

Hotch begins to make assignments, directing Emily and Derek to the wife of the second victim. JJ’s tasked with the lawyers and you’re tasked with setup at the precinct with Spencer and Dave. When he’s done, you pick your phone up from the table, taking him off speaker.

“What are you gonna do?” You ask.

Hotch snorts. “I’m gonna see which of the lawyers calls us back and in the meantime, see what I can get out of anyone else.”

“Good luck.”

+++

You’re up in your hotel room, getting a little bit settled and unpacked when you get a call to your cell.

“Hey, Hotch.”

There’s a sigh. “We got another body.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

+++

You hop out of the car, following Aaron through the service entrance and up the back hallways to the lobby. Between your travel from your room and Aaron’s wrap-up in his, Derek and Dave beat you to the scene.

Hotch is wearing that coat - your favorite, the one he’s apparently had for years - with the red lining and the soft wool exterior. It so rarely sees the field anymore you were afraid he’d done away with it, but every time you remember it exists and worry about its whereabouts, he brings it out again.

Derek hands you a notebook when you reach him. You settle near Dave for the rest of the info. He, of course, delivers.

“Victim was Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here.”

You frown. “Poisoned? Like the others?”

“And staged,” Derek says. “She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found.”

“The lipstick's new,” you muse, circling the body in the elevator. “Done postmortem, it looks like.” You find Derek’s eyes with a little frown. “Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable.”

He hums. “Now she wants to be noticed.”

There’s some kind of scuffle at the police line - another man in a suit who thinks he’s more important than God.

Hopefully he’s looking for Hotch.

“Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?”

Ugh. Good.

You step back and point at Aaron, getting out of his way as he shoves past the crime scene techs.

Aaron turns. “I'm Hotchner.”

“Larry Bartlett.” The man holds out his hand, but Aaron doesn’t take it. He retracts his hand with an unperturbed tilt of his head. “I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries.

Hotch, as usual, has no time for his bullshit. “This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett.”

My lawyer could kick your lawyer’s ass.

That’s a good bumper sticker.

You shake off your thought and return to the victim, directing one of the younger crime scene techs. After a moment, you return to Derek’s side.

“Yes. I spoke to Ellen Daniels.” This clown still sounds far too confident for his own good. “She said you're a very... reasonable man.”

“Escort him out, please.”

You stifle a laugh.

“No, wait. Please.” The lawyer - Mr. Bartlett - shrugs off the security team and chases after Hotch on his way to your side.

Aaron stops, but looks inconvenienced in the extreme.

“The press is outside and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?”

“We're not about to lie for you.” Derek’s even less amused than Aaron, if that’s even possible.

Aaron squints at the other lawyer, and you find it nearly impossible to tear your gaze from the little pinch at the corners of his brown eyes.

You can only imagine him behind a prosecutor’s bench, laying into witnesses with the same deadpan amusement - like a bored cat with a half-dead mouse. Hoping to back him up a little bit, you get a little closer, looking skeptically at the lawyer from over Aaron’s shoulder.

“You don't have to lie,” Mr. Bartlett insists, his eyes flickering to you. “Just don't comment.”

“Excuse us.” He takes you by the shoulder and leads the three of you into a huddle.

“Is there any reason to go public yet?” Aaron asks.

Dave wavers. “Validating her is exactly what she wants.”

“If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake,” Derek says.

You raise your eyebrows, looking over your shoulder for a moment. “He doesn't need to know that.”

Hotch’s mouth twitches, and you know it’s almost a smile. He turns over his shoulder, back in game mode as he approaches Bartlett again. “We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails, everything.”

+++

“Eighteen cars, six houses, and three boats.” Spencer rattles off the numbers with only the barest hint of shock in his voice.

Your brow pinches and you look up. “Can you even boat in Dallas?”

“You know, when you're talking about that much money, ten grand for a call girl is like deciding where to go for dinner.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Em,” you laugh.

She rolls her eyes, still pinning photos to the board. “Yeah, right. My mom had a pretty cushy gig with her postings, but we were never that well-off. But...” She looks over her shoulder, “I’m sure Rossi would know a little something about that.”

Before you can all get too out of control, Hotch reaches over you to connect to Garcia on the speakerphone. “Are you there, Garcia?”

“Affirmative.”

JJ flags him down. “I have half a million over here for something called the Bat Cave...”

It really takes everything in you not to laugh.

“...and here's a picture of him as fetish Batman. That is… wrong.”

Emily pulls a face.

“Is there anything this guy didn't like to spend money on?” Spencer asks.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “His ex-wives. Fielding was married four times. He didn't have prenups for the first two, but he did everything he could to cut them off anyway.”

You lean forward, trying to see the paper in his hands. “Are there children involved?”

“Yes, with three of the wives.” He hands it over to you and looks at Emily. “Hoyt Ashford was married a few times, too, wasn't he?”

She nods in the affirmative.

“You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans, this amount of money is sick.”

Tell me about it, Pen.

Emily sounds resigned. “What did you find?”

Garcia outlines a series of bitter court battles about child support, alimony, custody, etc. “And even when the court ruled in the wife’s favor - which was almost always - these three charmers just, you know, decided not to pay.”

Hotch asks for a cross-checked list of high-profile Dallas CEOs holding out on their ex-wives, and you figure it’s not a short one.

“One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, comin' at ya. Penelope out.”

The line goes dead and Aaron turns off the speaker.

“So,” Aaron leans heavily on the table. “Why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?”

Spencer obliges. “For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him.”

“They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold.” JJ shakes her head and looks over at Hotch, seeking an answer.

“Narcissistic, self-absorbed, a pathological avoidance of paternal responsibilities.”

There’s an odd kind of look that passes over Aaron’s face as he speaks, and you pin it for later. You can already tell he’s falling into a headspace that’s fraught with comparison and self-loathing.

They bounce around for a moment while you keep your eyes on Aaron.

“Well,” JJ brings you back. “Should I assemble the police for a profile?”

Your mouth twists. “I just don't think it's gonna help.”

“She lives in a completely different world than they do,” Aaron adds.

“And,” Emily pipes up, “the CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it.”

JJ snorts. “Like I couldn't even get past the team of lawyers protecting them.”

“What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers?” Aaron stands straight, his hands resting on his hips. “They've cleaned up after her, even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman.”

“Why would they go for that?” You ask.

“Because she's putting them at risk, too.”

Your phone rings and you answer as you always do, chirping your last name into the receiver without really looking too closely at the caller ID.

“Hey, it’s me.”

You nod once to your team as you step out of earshot. “Hey, Haley.”

“I can’t get a hold of Aaron. Is everything alright?” She’s beyond surprise or concern at this point. You’re sure you could tell her Aaron’s been shot in the head and she’d probably just hum at you.

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. “Things are crazy and there are lawyers all wrapped up in this. Are you alright?”

“Jack’s got a fever - I just wanted to let Aaron know I’m taking him in to get checked out. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let him know. Give Jack a big kiss from me and I’ll do my best to get us all home quickly and in one piece.”

She laughs a little into the phone. “Thanks. Will do. Talk soon.”

You hang up and return to the table, shooting Hotch a significant look. He nods and pulls you aside.

“What’s up?”

“Jack has a fever - Haley just wanted me to let you know she’s taking him to the pediatrician to get him all checked out, just in case. I told her we’d all do our best to get home soon.”

Aaron sighs and flips his phone in his hand. “I’ll call her now…”

“No need. She knows this is a tough one and you’re getting your money’s worth out of your JD this week.”

When he starts to walk away, you call his name again. He turns.

“You know - um.” You wet your lips and swallow. “You’re not like these guys. You know that, right? You’re a great dad.”

His face lifts in surprise for a fraction of a second before he recovers.

“Thank you,” He says. “Really.”

You offer him a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

+++

Hotch stops you all before you enter the conference room, full to the brim with suits and pantsuits. “Let me lead on this one. I’ve handled corporate lawyers like this before and they can smell blood.” He snorts. “This time, it’s their own.”

You and Derek raise your hands in simultaneous and identical postures of surrender.

“Have at it,” you say, falling into line behind Aaron. “Corporate lawyers scare the fuck out of me.”

+++

“Hey, Prentiss. Got a whip?” Derek holds the leather outfit to Emily’s shoulders and she laughs.

“Yeah, right.”

You fondly roll your eyes at them and continue following off Aaron’s right shoulder. The two of you reach the bookshelf - an impressive glass case that runs from the floor to the ceiling.

Aaron’s gloved finger opens the case and runs over some of the spines. “Antique first editions on the bookshelves.”

Rossi quips something about porn in the DVD player while Spencer espouses about the merits of a disposable, adaptable lifestyle in this line of work.

“Well, these aren't just for show,” Aaron says. “The spines are cracked. Somebody's read these.”

You peer over his shoulder. “Who reads Voltaire in French?”

“Someone with good taste. Probably well-educated…”

You pick up where he trails off. “We profiled that she learned to fake privilege. What if she's not faking it?”

“You're saying maybe she came from money the whole time?”

You shrug. “It’s a possibility, at least.”

Just then, the apartment phone rings.

“Prentiss should answer,” Aaron says. “If it's a customer, she'll get more information out of them.”

You hum, hedging your bets a little. ‘Unless she's calling in for her messages.”

Too late. Derek’s already on the phone with Penelope. “Yeah, Baby Girl, we're getting a call to this line. Can you work some magic?”

“I don't have a trap-and-trace in place yet. Give me a few. I'm gonna stay on the line.”

Aaron gives her the go-ahead. “Prentiss, get ready to vamp.”

The voicemail picks it up before Emily can so much as reach for the phone.

“Hi, it's me. You know what to do.” Beep.

“...Aaron.”

You turn your head so fast you throw your neck out. You raise a hand to the crick and work it with your fingers. Aaron’s too busy frowning at the phone to notice.

“I know you're up there. Pick up… Aaron Hotchner... Hello?” She drags out her words, almost flirting with everyone listening.

With a sigh, Aaron pushes past the rest of you, silently counts to three, and picks up the phone while Emily clicks the speakerphone button.

“I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, But I don't know yours. Can we start there?”

Nice start.

The game has begun.

“I thought I could trust you, Aaron.”

What?

The pinch between his brows deepens. “Who says you can't?”

“I want to. I even looked you up online. Is that strange?”

Yes.

“No.” Aaron wets his lips and begins to pace, the gears whirring in his head. “It's flattering to be noticed by a woman like you.”

The woman continues as if he hasn’t said anything at all. “And I thought you were so... upstanding. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings. I found it posted on YouTube...”

She has good taste. That’s an excellent presentation.

“...And for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world.”

“But I've disappointed you, haven't I?” He asks. “Just like all the other men in your life Who've walked out on their families, Who deserve to be punished.”

“Did you walk out on your family?”

His eyes flicker to you and you nod, nearly imperceptibly, reminding him he’s not alone. “No. My wife left me.”

“Do you have kids?”

“I have a son.”

A sweet, thoughtful, perfect son.

You smile a little, thinking of Jack, but it disappears when you remember that he’s home sick with Haley, probably having a miserable time.

“How often do you see him?” She asks.

“I try to see him every week.”

“Do you see him every week?” The question is mocking, smothered in dark amusement that could almost be called sarcasm save for its bitterness.

“No,” Aaron’s eyes fall to the floor. “No, I don't get there as often as I want.”

“I believe you.” Her response is softer, and you think she might make a decent profiler if she wasn’t on the other side.

She is a profiler.

In some ways, you suppose it’s true. She has to read and respond to everything her clients do, say, how they behave. It makes her good at her job and you good at yours.

Same skillset, very different application.

“But don't compare yourself to the men I see,” she continues. “You are nothing like them. You're just another whore.”

Never in my life did I ever think I’d hear someone call Aaron Hotchner a whore. Unironically.

That catches everyone’s attention, even Derek’s, still on hold with Penelope.

“How am I a whore?” He asks.

“You come when called. You do their bidding. In hotels you take the side elevator to avoid crowds, while the men who pay your salary walk across the ivory marble foyer into their cars.”

Derek, behind you, presses. “Garcia.”

You can hear her, faintly. “I'm in on the landline. Triangulating the cell. Give me like sixty seconds.”

You gesture to Aaron when he looks. Keep going.

He nods. “But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?”

She sighs, sounding a little impatient for the first time. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you want to show the world all these bad men and my investigation's just getting in your way.”

“No, Aaron.” You almost startle, her tone escalating to a deeply frustrated shout. “You're not doing your job! You don't want to arrest me, you don't want me in custody because you're in their pocket.”

She’s crying now, actively. “You just want me to disappear, just like they do.”

“Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you.”

Now that’s a tone you recognize - you’ve heard it when he talks to Haley. Most recently, when he couldn’t make it to some appointment or another. It’s one that’s disarming in the extreme, soft, but not condescending.

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Am I right?”

Just like Haley always does, the woman loses steam, sniffling once before answering. “Yeah.”

“Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.”

“If we met under different circumstances... I could believe that. I won't let you cover this up.”

A gunshot rings through the line and you flinch, turning to Derek just as the line goes dead. You know Penelope will have something for you soon.

She never fails, directing you to an address only moments after the elevator doors close in front of the team.

+++

Once you found Megan Kane, it was easy enough to find her father.

You could empathize with her mission well enough after meeting him. He’s shrouded by his lawyers - detached and seemingly indifferent to anything Aaron had to say.

Aaron starts the car and you settle back into the seat. “So, the wall of lawyers strikes again.”

A shadow of a smile ghosts around the creases at the corners of his eyes. “So it seems.”

“What’s next?”

“We tail him - home and office. He’ll meet with her soon enough.”

Your brow furrows. “Not to protect her, right? It doesn’t seem like he cares that much.”

Aaron turns, placing his hand on the back of your seat as he pulls out of the parking spot. You’re momentarily distracted as he turns back, spinning the wheel with the heel of his hand and gunning it out of the garage.

Focus.

“No,” he says. “Think about it.”

It comes to you only seconds later. “To protect himself.”

“There you go.” He turns to you, another little smile threatening. “You’re getting pretty good at this.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been here over a year, Hotch. I’d fucking hope so.”

You’re rewarded with a real smile, and it’s enough.

+++

You take Derek’s six through the hotel, clearing the floors and reporting back to the rest of the team. SWAT is in full deployment, clearing the hard-to-reach areas like the stairways and rooftops, just in case.

Aaron catches up to you, taking the four o’clock position off your left shoulder as Derek breaches the door.

The gun and chilled champagne sit like ironic centerpieces on the entry table, but they hardly use any of your bandwidth as you clear the room, your vision narrowed by the sight of your service weapon.

You hold a hand up when you catch the figure on the balcony. “Hotch.”

He squints, and you move to raise your gun again and make the arrest, but he stops you with a hand over yours. “Easy.”

There’s a question in your eyes.

He, of course, answers it. “She knows it’s over.”

Just then, she places an empty champagne glass on the table where you can see it.

“I’ll call 911,” Derek says, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

You turn to leave with Derek, but catch Aaron’s open hand, subtly signaling you from just under his hip.

Stay here. It says. Stay close.

So, you stay. You lean on the far wall of the hotel room, watching Aaron hold the hand of this dying, hurting woman. They’re speaking softly, and she smiles at him when she drops something into his hand. His eyes are soft, gentle, not even searching. Just warm.

You feel for her.

It’s the best way to go, you think. If there was ever a time you were dying before your time, you’d want Aaron there, holding your hand, telling you he was going to continue the work that killed you, that it was gonna be okay.

“How could your wife have ever left someone like you?” You hear her ask.

As much as you love Haley, the same question often floats through your head, and your heart aches for this woman who’s been able to see Aaron so clearly, even if she’s only seeing him for the first time now.

“You’re the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t let me down.”

You creep forward, further into Aaron’s eyeline, and sit on the edge of the couch. She’s close to her last breath and you can feel it - so can Aaron. His eyes flicker to you for a moment before returning to her.

Megan’s voice is full of tears when she asks, “Will you stay with me?”

You have a feeling it isn’t the first time she’s asked the question and you find yourself hoping Emily will be particularly rough with the handcuffs when she apprehends Mr. Kane. Hopefully he didn’t make it past the checkpoint and is still on-site.

“Yes.” Aaron is solemn, so sincere, so genuine it makes your heart ache.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s doing her a great kindness - one that many would not offer.

It’s because he is good.

A good man.

The tension drains out of her, and she grips tightly to Aaron’s hand as she fights through her final breaths. His hands are gentle, his attention only on her. He looks more like a father in this moment than any other time you’ve known him. She’s safe. She knows she can die in peace.

Once more, you hope you have the opportunity to leave this plane of reality in such safety, when your time comes.

When she’s gone, he places her hand in her lap and takes a moment to brush the hair off of her face, pressing the back of his fingers to her temple as if checking her for fever.

After a minute or so, he turns to you, and you hope the pride and respect coursing through you is evident in your gaze. You pull an evidence bag out of your pocket, but he shakes his head, pocketing the SIM card.

You rise as he gets closer, returning the evidence bag to your pocket. He’s clearly affected, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes.

Opening your arms to him, he wilts into you, allowing you to gather him into your shoulder. His arms are loose around your waist, his fingers wrapped around his opposite wrist as an anchor. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability and you’d hate to make him feel anything less than safe.

You still have a minute or so before they all come stomping through the door to collect Megan’s body.

“I’m sorry, Hotch.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know why this one hurts.”

Your arms tighten around him. “It’s okay. I feel it, too.”

A deep, shaky breath rolls through him.

“She’s right, you know.” You almost regret your words, afraid you’re giving yourself away.

“What?”

“You didn’t let her down. You’re a good man.”

His jaw tightens, and you can feel it against your neck where his head falls into your shoulder.

“Oh, stop. You’ve never let me down.” Your hand reaches up, stroking the back of his head, carding your fingers through the hair. “She died knowing you kept your promise.”

+++

You look up to Aaron’s office when news of the leak breaks, finding his silhouette haunting the window, staring at the television.

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and he turns back to his desk, settling back down to work.

+++

tagging: @aaronhotchnerr @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygrangerwriting @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @kerrswriting @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

Text

nobody's keeping score

Ship: HideKane

Summary: In a world where ink stains the white papers of constitutions, damning the lives of ghouls, their existence is no secret or rumor, but a topic of heated debate, protests, and anonymous organ donations in shady alleys. No matter how bright the CCG appears in their white coats, their light cannot reach the dark tunnels where ghouls and sympathizers alike are plotting. And when Hide, after hours of sitting at his best friend’s hospital bed, sees him wake with one eye black and red, the difficult question is not how to get him help, but how to avoid him becoming the figurehead of a conflict threatening to turn into a bloody revolution.

AN: Notes: You ever just take a 4-year break from a fandom and return with spite fic because you remembered how much you hated canon? Yeah. This fanfic is my attempt at corralling the TG worldbuilding into something coherent that makes sense. I will keep some elements of canon, others I will throw out of the window straight away. This is utterly self-indulgent.

“And with the developments in synthetic meat production—”

Hide wanted to groan. They’d been discussing the same question for the last three hours of class and he was, frankly speaking, done with it. People were running out of arguments and circling back to topics that didn’t contribute anything to the conversation they were supposed to be having. From the way their lecturer was glaring at the latest speaker, Hide would say that she was also very done.

“Yoshimura, as stated before, we are not discussing possibilities for ghoul integration, but the mere premise of whether they even deserve the rights needed to legalize their status as citizens. The right of existence of an individual should not be dependent on what modifications would have to be made to accommodate them, but whether they deserve to live regardless.”

Hide had zoned out about an hour ago. His opinion on ghouls had always felt rather clinical, mathematically detached, despite Hide’s history. Maybe too much time had passed since he’d looked at the bloody remains of his father to really hammer home the fear-motivated rejection so many people fell to. Perhaps the CCG investigators, who had dragged him away from his father’s corpse, should have allowed him to get a little more traumatized before the kindness of his new parents had become enough to dull those painful memories.

Some ghouls were no different than brutal serial killers, and they had to be taken down, but the rest seemed to be getting by just fine. If a new legislation would make it even easier for them to go about their everyday lives, perhaps the number of violent ghoul attacks would go down as well. Hide was well aware that this was the view of a privileged person. Growing up in the 20th ward meant that you needn’t be scared of leaving your house when it was already dark. Kamii University prided itself on the fact that it could safely offer evening classes such as the one Hide was attending now. The same certainly couldn’t be said for the other wards. Any citizen between the 9th and 13th wards would probably advocate vocally for the extermination of ghouls. The 11th especially resembled a warzone even during the daylight. Ghoul sightings were nothing unusual there, and investigators’ mutilated bodies were displayed as trophies and warnings alike. Meanwhile, nobody had died in the 20th war for something like ten odd years. Sometimes it felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop, but most of the time, Hide didn’t even think about ghouls.

By the time class was finally over, Hide had taken only one or two more bullet points. They hadn’t really said anything of interest and it reflected in his writing. Usually, Hide would be sending rapid-fire texts to Kaneki now, but his friend was still on his date and Hide didn’t want to bother him. It had taken more than just a bit of teasing and probing to get Kaneki to ask that girl out and he wouldn’t self-sabotage his hard work.

It was good that Kaneki was connecting to people that weren’t just Hide.

And it would be awesome if Hide could do the same.

Codependence needed two people to work and Kaneki was definitely not the only one struggling with independence. Hide had yet to figure out how to let go of Kaneki when his relationship to the other boy had been the only stable thing in his world for the longest time. Nothing said mental health like latching onto an abused child to escape the stifling air of his brand-new foster fathers’ home.

The next time he visited his parents, he’d bring them some flowers to make up for how troublesome he’d been as a child.

Glancing at his phone again, Hide realized he had to hurry if he wanted to take the early bus home. He was just about to plug in his headphones when an unknown number flashed up on the display. Who would call him at this time? Hide was definitely someone who preferred texting. Even his parents knew better than to call unless it was serious. The only person he ever actually called was Kaneki, and that was only because his friend sometimes got so lost in a book, he forgot to text back or didn’t even hear the phone buzz. Hide contemplated picking up for another ring, then gave in and accepted. “Nagachika Hideyoshi speaking, who’s calling?”

“Hello, I am Tanaka Akako, a nurse of the Kanou General Hospital. You are Nagachika Hideyoshi, Kaneki Ken’s emergency contact?”

The blood in Hide’s veins froze.

“Yes, I am. Has— has anything happened? Is Kaneki alright!?”

The nurse’s voice was so calm, steady, and pleasant as if this was a chat between friends. Somewhere Hide knew that it probably helped most people, but it just put him on edge. “Nagachika-san, your friend and another young woman were involved in an accident. Dr. Kanou is preparing him for surgery, but as his emergency contact, we have to discuss the possible options before we can proceed.”

Hide didn’t want to discuss any options. There shouldn’t be any besides Kaneki’s survival. Hide wanted to rush into the operation hall and hold Kaneki’s hand, wishing he could turn back time, tell his friend to remain at his side and consider that girl out of his league so he’d spent the evening with him and not getting sent to ER. This couldn’t be real; he was sick to his stomach.

“What are the options?” Hide asked, panic threatening to strangle him as he rushed to the street, trying to find a taxi to take him to Kanou General straightaway.

“Kaneki-san sustained serious injuries. Dr. Kanou is willing to transplant the deceased Kamishiro-san’s organs into your friend to save his life even if her family hasn’t consented yet. The only consent we can ask for in Kaneki-san’s case is yours and—”

“Do it,” Hide replied immediately. He didn’t know Kaneki’s date, and as much as Hide loved people, argued for a baseline acceptance every day in class, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the wishes of a family whose daughter was already dead. The only thing they were still good for once their hearts stopped beating was serving the living with their remains.

Kaneki might survive because of her; what else could matter? “Do it, whatever you need to save him— you have my full permission.”

Finally, a taxi approached and stopped right when Hide waved for it. He quickly climbed inside and, paying no attention to the driver, told him to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

“And in case he doesn’t survive, may his organs—”

“He will survive,” Hide pressed because he didn’t know what he’d do with himself if he were to lose Kaneki. He’d built a life around his best friend and how much they meant to one another. Hide couldn’t give up on that, couldn’t let it slip past his fingers. “He’ll survive. I know it.”

Organ transplants took place every day without any complications—

Hide’s eyes widened. “Kaneki has recessive ROS!” he all but shouted at the nurse, startling the taxi driver.

Kaneki’s father had died because of it. If Kaneki got the wrong blood transfusions or anything, his RC cells were suddenly pushed to start acting up, the dormant sickness could turn on and what if Hide had just damned him to a life of wasting away—

No.

Stay positive. Don’t freak out even more. They hadn’t done anything yet, merely asked for Hide’s permission to help Kaneki at all. He was saving his friend’s life; he wasn’t cursing him.

“Thank you for telling me, Nagachika-san. I will pass that on to Dr. Kanou. You have just contributed immensely to the safety of the procedure.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Hide said. “Just— he has to hold on. Tell Kaneki he has to hold on until I’m there.”

“We will, Nagachika-san, don’t worry. Dr. Kanou will do his best.”

His best.

The words echoed in Hide’s mind. How was he ever supposed to know if Kanou’s best would be enough for his friend? Hide excelled at being optimistic, could see the positive side of most things in life, had learned how to be hopeful at the funerals of people he’d loathed. He just couldn’t allow himself to drown in any negative possibilities.

The rest of the drive passed in the blur, either because the driver had known to speed up after listening in on the phone call, or because Hide was so out of it that he didn’t really register the streetlamps flickering by until the taxi had reached its destination. Hide passed the driver a couple bills, probably more than the transport had actually cost, but he didn’t care. What were one or two skipped meals compared to being there before it was too late? Hide rushed inside the sterile white hospital, eyes immediately set on the front desk.

“My friend,” Hide stuttered as he clung to the counter, holding it as if it were his lifeline. “He was brought in— an accident. He was on a date and there was an accident. Dr. Kanou is operating him?”

The receptionist seemed confused, needing a moment to make something coherent out of Hide’s rambles. “I need your identification before I can tell you anything about our patients.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Hide fumbled for his student ID card and put it on the counter with shaky hands. “Nagachika Hideyoshi, I’m Kaneki Ken’s emergency contact.”

“Of course, your friend is still in the operating room. You can wait here.”

Hide didn’t want to wait, but what else was there he could do? He hated feeling useless like this, unable to contribute anything productive. The receptionist sent him a kind look and, defeated, Hide crossed the entrance hall to the waiting room where he remained together with other worried family members and patients, clutching his phone so he wouldn’t start screaming. He couldn’t stop moving his legs, stress keeping him wide awake even as the hospital emptied and less and less people sat around him. How long did such an operation take? An hour? Two? Hide had absolutely no idea. He didn’t study anything like this. His major was English literature, which was about as helpful as hot air at this moment.

He could quote enough books concerned with some medical drama and family members in the hospital, but none of them brought him any comfort.

“Nagachika-san?”

Hide looked up into the kind face of an elderly man wearing a pristine white coat.

“Y- yes?” Hide replied and quickly stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. “Are you Dr. Kanou? Is my friend alright? Can I see him?”

“I am sorry to have caused you such worries. The operation went well. Your friend is resting in intensive care right now. He is still asleep, but you may visit him. The presence of loved ones is often very beneficial to the healing process.”

Healing.

A sob shook Hide’s shoulders. Kaneki was alive. He hadn’t died.

“Thank you,” he managed to say in between his sobs. “Thank you, thank you for saving his life.”

The doctor only kept on smiling and kindly put his hand on Hide’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly in what was meant to be comforting. “It is my job, young man. You don’t have to thank me. Nothing is more important to me than saving innocent lives. If you follow one of the nurses, you can see your friend immediately.”

Hide thanked the doctor once more, relief slowly filling the pits anxiety had hollowed out. He followed the nurse through the labyrinth of death, decay, healing, and salvation up to the intensive care station. Quietly, he was led to a room. The door opened, revealing one lone figure on a bed.

From a distance, hooked up with so many tubes and wires, Kaneki was nothing like the person who took up half of Hide’s life. He seemed so much smaller and looked like just one push could snap his connection to life.

“Please remain quiet,” the nurse told him. “And don’t move him.” Glancing at his still trembling fingers, she added, “but you may hold his hand.”

Hide nodded, then quickly crossed the room to Kaneki’s bed and sat down on the chair next to it. Kaneki didn’t move at all; not even a single muscle twitched. Hide would assume they had led him to view his friend’s corpse if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest. Pushing up the sleeves of his jacket, Hide took Kaneki’s hand in his own.

“Hey, Ken,” he muttered, pressing his eye close so no tears would escape them. “You scared me there. Don’t ever do that again.”

Predictably, Kaneki didn’t reply. Nevertheless, Hide imagined that just for a moment, he squeezed Hide’s hand back. Slowly, the tension bled from Hides’s shoulders and he made himself comfortable in the hard plastic chair. This was bound to be a long night and he was starting to feel his exhaustion catch up to him. He tried to keep his eyes trained on his friend for as long as possible, remaining alert for a change to his condition, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep them open.

Eventually, the darkness caught him as he fell. Hide knew he stirred a couple more times during the night, likely when the nurses came to check on Kaneki. Nobody asked him to move and leave, something he was immensely thankful for. He wouldn’t have been able to let go. By the time the sun began to chase away the shadows again, Hide wasn’t sure how much he had slept, only that it had definitely not been enough. But that was alright, he could catch up on sleep sometime later. It was far more important that Kaneki was going to be alright.

Hide turned to look at Kaneki’s face and found his friend awake, staring back at him.

One eye gray like a stormy cloud before the morning rainfall.

The other was blood-red against the night sky.

#tokyo ghoul #hideyoshi nagachika #kaneki ken #tg #hidekane #fanfic #what UP i'm back with spite fic #also on ao3 #but i will add the link later bc tumblr likes to mess up

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hannigramficrecs · 3 years

Text

A/B/O

The One That Got Away by whatacunningboy [words: 4,694]

Hannibal Lecter had this macabre air to his name. Everyone knew who he was and in what he specialized in—assassination was his trade and no one questioned it. He could make anyone disappear with a simple trick or two. He never missed a target, he was quiet, and swift. Yet, he missed the biggest target of all.

Ethics & Aesthetics by fragile-teacup [words: 106,330]

Pride and Prejudice omegaverse AU

Beginning and Ending by LittleUggie [words: 36,888]

19 year old Will gets cornered in an alley right before his first heat. Hannibal steps into help him out and decides he wants to keep the young omega. Will eventually comes around, against his better judgement. Let the mutual manipulation and power games begin.

I Could Just Eat You Up by orphan_account [words: 32,604]

Hannibal breeds Will. A love story in bodily fluids.

Sirens Wail by Breakmybones [words: 48,495]

Will has been an Omega since his eighteenth birthday. He's been a Beta since his twenty-third. Finding a mate was never a priority - staying out of the spotlight and keeping his secret was. Enter Hannibal: dark, dangerous and keeping secrets of his own, Will knows what he is from the beginning, but he's more interested in understanding the beast than slaying it.

Bright Hair About The Bone by MissDisoriental [words: 484,669]

In a world where omegas are little more than trophies to be bought and sold, Will Graham has done the unthinkable by escaping a forced bonding. Already in high demand as a profiler, Will's determined to find freedom on his own terms.For Hannibal Lecter the outlook is far more straightforward: a slow, systematic seduction of the most uniquely captivating omega he's ever encountered.As the shadow of a new and terrifying serial killer falls over Baltimore, the stage is set to redefine all accepted meanings of passion, temptation, horror and beauty – and to discover the ecstasy of a genuine love crime.

Not Interested by Watermelonsmellinfellon [words: 64,333]

Will Graham, an Omega of forty-four years, finally finds himself interested in an Alpha. The only problem... that Alpha is not interested in him! And he can't stand it!

The Only Place I Can Hold You by snapdragonpop007 [words: 27,865]

“Hello, Jack.” These past two years had not been kind to Will Graham-Lecter. The solitary confinement that Chilton had promised would help had only seemed to make the omega worse. “I was wondering when you were gonna come talk to me.” Will hadn’t looked up from the book in his hands. He was running his fingertips across the pages, and when Jack looked a little closer he could see that it was full of photographs.

Friends To Lovers by Sirenja, TigerPrawn [words: 8,008]

When Harry Met Sally AU

Consortio by kelex [words: 23,088]

Every Omega in the land is brought to the lord on the evening of their first heat. Lord Hannibal usually doesn't choose to exercise that right, but this night's offering is too much for him to pass up. A virgin Omega in his first heat, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a spirit that can't be broken.

Sharing A Bed by TigerPrawn [words: 4,150]

Will, Hannibal, Jimmy and Zeller are sent to Butfuck Nowhere on a case and the small hotel has messed up the booking leaving them with only 2 rooms between the 4 of them. And specifically Omega Will having to share with Hannibal, the only Alpha on the trip.

Stormchaser by YouAreMyDesign [words: 6,465]

One thing, Hannibal knows absolutely; Will is empty, all the time. He aches to be filled.

Pathology by YouAreMyDesign [words: 14,129]

In his periphery, Hannibal's head tilts. "Tell me," he purrs, "how exactly does one your age come to enroll in an FBI training facility?"

There Will Be Bells by Entropyrose [words: 36,639]

In Georgian England, male omegas are very rare diamonds. Baron and Baroness Graham have a plan to build their wealth and social status by offering their son Will's hand in marriage to a mysterious older Duke, an Alpha named Lord Hannibal Lecter. Will's personal feelings need not apply.

Alpha Mart by slashyrogue [words: 63,164]

Will needs an alpha. After years of fake knots, half-assed suppressants, and his own damn hand during heats he’s reached the end of his rope. He doesn’t do dating so he decides to waste his life savings and hype with the current trend. Alpha Mart.

Enchanted By Your Name by CarnivalMirai [words: 9,207]

“Now, my husband would prefer it if I got the job done quickly.” He says, slashing down the back of each gag as he passes each man, watching as the silk falls gracefully to the floor. “However, I want to have some fun. Considering you’ve troubled my husband so much… it’s only fair, right?” One of the men whimpered fearfully. Or: The name "Will Graham" is a name you'll only ever hear once.

I've Been Building Black Ships by cloudsarefluffy [words: 8,116]

Alpha Hannibal moves to the States with his sister Mischa after being overtly done with the fancy life of a count, and his blind omega neighbor gives him an insight into love that he never quite expected.

A Rare Find by hit_the_books [words: 5,379]

Life as an omega bookseller can be quite lonely. However, as the owner of Graham’s Books, Will Graham is reasonably content. That is until he meets—long-time customer and crush—Doctor Hannibal Lecter in person for the first time. Attraction blossoming between them both, Will agrees to a dinner date with the good doctor.

We All Have a Hunger by 1ntothew1ld [words: 12,260]

Hannibal will ensure a properly slow and painful death for an alpha who allowed a beautiful young omega to go to waste as this one has. Too skinny for his own good, a stuttering and humble mess. The likes of the omega in front of him belonged at Opera houses and in million-dollar mansions, not scrounging for his next meal. Meek and afraid in some disheveled row house. When he finally looked back up the alpha had to conceal the utter punch to the stomach that meager glance was, blue eyes full of innocence but also hunger.

The Doctor Is In by Kummerspeck7

Will nearly scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe you'd want anything other than a delicate flower to adorn your side, keep your ostentatious home, bare you the exact number of children you want--No more, no less-- all while being available at your whims." "Not at all." Hannibal disagreed. "I would no more put a wilting flower in my home than in a bouquet given as a gift. Tell me, Will, is that how you are treated? Forbidden from work, cloistered inside and used at Mr Brown's discretion?" "My Alpha's discretion." Hannibal looked pointedly at the curve of Will's neck, free from a single scar. "Not yet he isn't."

Sugar by Sweaty_dogman [words: 12,659]

Hannibal finds himself hung up on his friends mother, desperate to find ways to spend time with the omega. Will Graham is a beautiful, kind and single omega. The young alpha finds himself struggling to keep his emotions hidden.

No One Falls the Way We Fell by HigherMagic [words: 9,206]

Five years ago, Hannibal's mate died, leaving him with their young daughter. He's tried to move on, but Abigail keeps interrupting his sleep and insisting that she can see her mother in her room at night. Hannibal turns to Alana for help, and Alana gives Abigail a doll, someone to talk to and help her accept her mother's passing. Once the doll arrives, though, strange things start happening in Hannibal's house. It's impossible to consider, of course, but if anyone could defy death and return to them from beyond the grave, it would be Will.

Proud of You by CarnivalMirai [words: 11,748]

Will worked right up until labour to make money, through all the sickness and fatigue and swollen ankles, he worked to bring his little boy the best life. And it has paid off. As of last week, Hannibal has sent off his university applications. Medicine at Johns Hopkins, Harvard Medical School, Stanford University, and the University of Pennsylvania. He’s applied for a scholarship at all of them, and Will desperately hopes he gets it. He knows he will. He’s Hannibal, after all. His baby can do anything.

Venus Is Bright by wolfgraham [words: 7,237]

Tomorrow, he tells himself, tomorrow he'll set new rules, boundaries. He'll tidy up Hannibal's room and give him the talk, and download Matefinder on his phone. But is it so bad? So bad to wish that the world outside the two of them would just disappear and leave them be?

Creator by Caidepgun, wolfgraham [words: 5,589]

Will and his son, Hannibal, have an unusual relationship.

My First, My Last, My Everything by TheBl00dyFl0wer [words: 14,930]

Will Graham's encephalitis gets out of control and messes with his hormones, mutates him. May I present: Will Graham, the first known Omega.

Room 205 by HotMolasses [words: 9,220]

Will is an Alpha, but in name only. He's a hotel maid at the Graham Bed & Breakfast. He considers himself a freak; an Alpha with no knot, who dreams of a powerful Omega to dominate him. He's pretty certain that because of this, he'll be alone for the rest of his life. Then he meets Hannibal Lecter.

Howl by multifandom_fanfic_writer [words: 7,083]

When omegas go into heat, they go feral. Only an alpha strong enough to subdue them is a worthy mate. Will Graham has never found anyone worthy. After all, there is only one alpha Will plans to submit to – and he doesn’t even know their name.

Careful, He Bites by maxxeoff [words: 10,328]

Will Graham is a feral child. His dad died when he was five, and he lives with a wolf pack until he has his first heat. He's found, brought to Baltimore. Dr. Lecter takes an interest in him.

Predator by eijirouN_17 [words: 7,619]

Will hasn't presented, he doesn't give off any scent at all so everyone, including himself, assumes he's a beta. Then Will goes into heat. At a crime scene. In front of everyone. And Hannibal tries so hard not to go feral.

#abo

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years

Note

Chromeskull falling for the reader whose a Burlesque Dancer who wears a revealing Bride of Frankenstein costume that shows off childhood scars that have tattoos to look like stitches over them.

Chromeskull x Reader- Freakish Proposition

Authors Note: Writing again for my 6′7 tall husband....and also trying to get back into the writing game more.

Warning: None

Words: 2.1k

Jesse Cromeans was an extrovert by any means and the nature of his business got him into all type of places, especially exclusive clubs varying from classy snobby ones to stripper nightclubs to the more unusual ones, so no wonder that Halloween was to be spent into a night of fine alcohol and possibly some piggy hunting into these nightclubs.

Halloween meant that he could be more of Chromeskull and less Jesse Cromeans, wearing the chromed skull mask was giving him a boost of power and confidence, not like he really needed it, but for Jesse there was never enough, call him a greedy bastard, but that's how you get successful and respected into the world of the rich and nasty.

Humans were like animals in Jesse's opinion, even him, but here depends on what animal you are according to the food chain, and Jesse was definitely an apex predator and what does a predator do? Stalk piggies and tear them apart, limb by limb.

Nightclubs were the perfect environment for piggies, especially the exclusive ones because all piggies had to do to get a free ticket inside was flash some skin, push their chest out, and bat their eyelashes, looking for a fat walking wallet full of money to support their needs. They didn't care who it was as long as they were buying the piggy the last Gucci purse and gifted them a Porsche for their birthday.

It was the cruel reality of what relationships were like nowadays; there was no such thing as love, it was all business under the facade of sweet-talking and arms holding. Jesse didn't mind cruelty, it was one of his top characteristics, one that gained him his status in society; no wonder men wanted to be in his Oxford shoes and women to choke on his cock in an attempt to get a fancy dinner and a bottle of Moet.

He loved the dim-lit nightclubs, he was accustomed to the eerie vibe it gave, after all, the most interesting part of his life happened at night, and the fact that everyone's attention was pulled on the highlighted stage gave him the opportunity to observe more; more piggies to kill and from the audience sitting at the tables, close to the old geezers, he had plenty to choose from.

The show was about to start in 15 minutes, so he took his time, a waitress coming to deliver a bottle of Lagavulin, a whiskey glass, and a small bucket of ice. She poured Jesse the expensive liquor into the crystal glass, adding two cubs of ice, and he was more than amused when she tried to flash him a view of her cleavage; desperate piggy.

He could see from behind the mask how the other piggies observed; they were predators too in a way, but cheaper ones, their eyes always scanning what the men ordered because that showed how much money they had.

You don't just simply go to a man who orders one glass of cheap vodka over one who had a whole bottle of a 16-year-old fine whiskey.

Tattooed hands pulled the chromed mask off, and from the corner of his eyes, he could read the disgust on the piggies across the room as they took in his scarred face. He got used to such reactions, but flash a stack of money in their faces and the botoxed bimbos will be on their knees, worshipping his cock.

Jesse wondered how their lips would look cut off and showed up their loose cunts, while their eyes would be filled with tears, blood pouring out of each cut on their caked up skin, each cut deeper than the last.

He was pulled out of his sadistic daydream by a voice announcing that the show will start in 10 seconds and a chorus of applause followed as the red curtain drapes moved to each side, the slow jazz music started as did the girls on the stage started their dancing.

One girl, in particular, pulled on Jesse's attention, unlike the other females, her attire and make-up were different, declaring that she was the lead one, and his assumptions were approved as she started to sing, or better said, you started to sing, the slow beat of the music picking up speed as did the sensual moves.

Unlike the other dancers who wore white, your attire was as black as night, with lace details, a tight corset that made the bald man feel jealous. Most would say that your outfit was skimpy, but that's how the burlesque dancers were supposed to be dressed; sexy, sensual, and very appealing to the eye, and God how much you caught Mr. Cromeans brown eye.

Not only were you a vixen in black lace, but also very adorable, your smile and sparkling eyes showing that you were genuine having the time of your life. Jesse is a very observant man and couldn't ignore the tattoo sleeves down your arms; red and black roses are adorned by delicate barbed wire representing stitches.

If Jesse knew something very well, it was the ink on the skin and could identify scars under the intricate designs, and sure as hell, you were hiding quite a lot for such a delicate, little thing; well, everything was little compared to his intimidating height. It was very unusual to see scars nowadays on women; maybe you had a toxic and abusive relationship, maybe a destructive childhood?

He was getting curious and not even the depraved looks from the piggies around him got his attention, and that said something because he wasn't on to pass up the opportunity to slaughter some beef. He was more interested in the little ghoul on the stage; you finished your performance and bowed with a grin, waving around, the audience clapping and some wolf-whistling, the scarlet curtain falling down and hiding the stage.

Taking one sip of his whiskey, he saw you march up to the bar in a happy skip like you didn't have a care in the whole world. He snapped his fingers and motioned for the waitress to come to him which she happily did.

"What can I do for you, Sir?" she asked, batting her eyelashes, not at all impressing Jesse.

'Her. Tell her to come over here.' he typed on the phone then showed the waitress, who dropped her sugar-sweet attitude and rolled her eyes.

Note: Hang the waitress by her guts later.

You were ready to get a drink for yourself too after the performance, but someone tapped you on the shoulder. Turning around you saw it was Tina, who had a scowl on her face.

"That bald guy over there wants to talk with you." she told you, then just like that left. You furrowed your eyebrows and finally, your gaze landed on the said man, who motioned for you with a curled finger to come to him.

Curiosity took over you and you moved over to him.

"Yes? May I help you?" you asked and you noticed that he was typing on the phone, then an electronic voice startled you.

'Sit down. I could use some company.'

Well, that certainly took you by surprise; one that he wanted your company when he could get any waitress or glamorous trophy girl from this nightclub, and two...He was mute....That or either he was some weirdo who hated to talk.

You did as he wanted, taking a seat across from him, looking down at your hands, not knowing exactly what to discuss with him, not to mention he didn't even tell you his name, so you decided to start with that, introducing yourself.

'Jesse Cromeans, a pleasure to meet you, little ghoul.' you really needed to get used to that spooky electronic voice from his phone.

"Actually, I was supposed to be Frankensteins Bride, but it turned out to be more of a ghoul." you said with a nervous chuckle, which he returned with a smirk, one that seemed to suit him, despite the scars he had, he was...unique; not necessarily handsome or drop-dead beautiful, but he had that specific charisma that drew people in like an aphrodisiac.

'And where is your Frankenstein?' You had to stifle a laugh at his humorous question, so might as feel continue to entertain him.

"Probably in a coffin." you answered, making Jesse's smirk devilish so like you said something very appealing and familiar.

"Seriously, no. No undead husband or boyfriend." you said, licking your dry lips. You really needed a drink and like Jesse could read body language he called upon the waitress again, and you ordered your favorite.

'White Russian? I pictured you more of a Bloody Mary.'

Again, you smiled and laughed.

"Not a fan of tomato juice. If I had to choose a red drink, maybe cherry or strawberry." you responded.

Although your answers seemed all casual and not even flirty, to Jesse they triggered the killer side, because when you're a very sleek serial killer like Chromeskull, you got a dark sense of humor.

'Performing again next weekend?'

"No. This was just a one-time thing, I'm not exactly a showgirl and if I'm gonna be honest the only reason I was so relaxed was because of the make-up that made me look like a monster girl." you answered, taking a sip of your drink.

'If not a showgirl, then what?'

Jesse was simply curious; if she wasn't a performer here then with what was she filling her time, what did she worked as?

"I am studying medicine, but it's not exactly the path I've wanted." you said with a sigh, your cheerful mood dropping.

'Interesting. The medicine you say? And why did you choose it if you don't like it?'

"No, no! I like...well, liked it, but let's say it's not cheap to stay for so many years in college and I don't wanna burden my parents with the taxes that are way out of their limit."

A good-hearted piggy? That was something new.

'How did you managed to get so far if you say the taxes are way over your budget?'

He was pretty much dissecting her, he wanted to know more; and it wouldn't really surprise him if she said that she did unorthodox things for money, most girls in college do.

"Well, when I finished high-school I went to military school and went for two years in Afganistan, but you know...not the perfect environment for a small girl like me so I came back to try something else. I chose medicine, I was really curious about it, and with the money from the military years, I managed to pay my taxes until now.

Military? That would explain the scars, you don't need to be a detective to put the pieces together.

'Now?'

"Now? I work three jobs; at a library, as a waitress for a kids' restaurant, and recently here, but I think I'm gonna pass....Skimpy clothes aren't my cup of tea." you said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, putting one between red-painted lips, only to be snatched away by Jesse.

You looked at him with a dumbfounded look.

'Talk. Smoking later.'

You sighed, not in the mood to make a scene over a cigarette, plus he seemed like the type who will have his way no matter what.

"What else do you want to know?"

'Amuse me.'

You snorted at that.

"What do you want me to juggle with knives?" you asked in a sassy tone.

Oh, piggy....That would definitely be entertaining.

'I have a proposition for you. If it's really your dream to be a surgeon and dissect people, I can help you get through with taxes.'

"I'm not a prostitute, jerk." you quickly said, probably it was a bit rude, and in other circumstances, Jesse would have bend over the said person and decapitate said piggy, but he was more amused and gave you a silent laugh.

'As much as tempting that sounds, no. I can help you pay the taxes; I can offer you a decent job that won't involve parading for old geezers...but if you want to spice things up I won't deny it.'

Was he really hitting on you?

"I didn't picture you for a philantroph." you responded, earning an arrogant smirk from Jesse, who lightened up the cigarette that he snatched from you, blowing a cloud of smoke in your direction.

'I can be many things, sugar....What do you say?'

Debating a little and looking down at your remaining drink in hand, you chose.

"I'm listening."

'Sweet. I knew you would see things my way.'

#chromeskull #laid to rest 2009 #chromeskull: laid to rest 2012 #Jesse Cromeans #chromeskull x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #slasher x reader #horror movies

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star-killer-md · 3 years

Text

Happy Hunting 2: Large Game

Part One Here//AO3

Request: From @clumsycopy: Charlie Barber + any of the kinks from October 17th in Kinktober list? 💕

Knife-play | 69 | Bondage

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: mentions of drug use, Kinfe-play, blood kink, blood as lube, knife fighting, violence against both the reader and Charlie, foreign object insertion, oral sex f receiving, afab reader but no pronouns used, dead dove do not eat, dark fic, it’s about to get bloody y’all

Ship: Serial killer!Charlie x Reader

Summary: Charlie Barber is not a man who is easily swayed by failure.

You were dancing again.

He could just make out the familiar movement of your hips, the way they swayed to a song he couldn’t hear. It was the same half-salsa feet-forward, hands beckoning him further into your coils—ready to wind him up in a vice grip and strike.

Charlie hadn’t been back to the bar—your bar, as you’d said. Your bar, your territory. No, he had been good, stayed off your hunting grounds ever since he woke up nearly frozen to a concerned police officer prodding him with a nightstick. So, he kept his distance from that section of the city, but he couldn’t quite manage to keep his distance from you.

It was even colder now with winter in full swing, and the harsh wind, tunneled by the city grids, beat at his back. Your street was small—quiet but not enough that he’d seem out of place leaning on the corner just out of range of the streetlights. Through your third story window he watched as you moved, staying just within the frame like it was a spotlight. Like this was just another performance and the stage notes placed you front and center for the whole of New York to see.

Well, maybe not the whole city, he thought when you pushed the curtains open.

He followed the movement of your hands, cracking the window despite the chill and letting some of the music drift down to him. It was soft, but familiar with a good beat. None of the crap that played when he drank and watched you stalk the small, neon lit dance floor for fresh meat.

“Did you know that prey animals never have forward facing eyes?”

He recalled more of that night than he expected too. And in particularly vivid detail, he remembered your voice. The growl of it, the power, the ‘I’d rip your throat out with my teeth and love every second of it’ snarl in his ear.

God what he wouldn’t give to hear it lilted and pitched high, whining with your hands clawing at his—

Charlie felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

It was familiar by now. You usually caught him—or at the very least he usually noticed when you did. A shiver ran through him every time you picked him out of the surroundings and pinned him with that predatory gaze that said ‘I see you.’

And you did.

You did see him, not just lurking in the dark on your corner, but you saw him. Saw the creature that lurked and festered behind his mask and understood it. That is why he had to keep coming back. Had to keep watching you dance from your bedroom window like a one person stage play, and he was the only one in the audience that got it. But really, who could blame him?

It wasn’t often one meets another of their kind and lives through it.

So Charlie came every night he could manage it, ever since you left him drugged and cold in that park with its circle path like a black hole. And he knew you watched him too.

He was your type after all.

It was so obvious once he thought it over, he almost kicked himself for missing it. You’d just been so distracting. All those men, tall with their dark hair and dark eyes and not nearly as handsome as him but close enough. None of them had ever walked away. But you took him to your graveyard, pressed him into the killing floor and…let him go.

There was desire in the way you’d ground yourself against him—a craving he knew all too well would not be shaken.

You slipped once, and you would do it again. He could feel it. And when you did...

The fallout would be delicious.

***

Slipping in was easy enough. Your lovely elderly neighbor was more than willing to buzz in ‘such a nice young man’ as it were, and your name was printed clearly along the mail slots with your unit number conveniently displayed adjacent.

That was quite the oversight.

You were at work, he’d taken off a day last week to trail you into the city center. The office building you worked in was a few train rides away and Charlie knew you wouldn’t be back until late that evening. Which left him plenty of time to get to know you a bit better.

Now, Charlie liked to think of himself as a man of skill. Maybe he’d underestimated you at the start, allowed his judgment to be clouded by fantasies of you, restrained and begging, gushing wet and ready to take him like no one else ever could. But after his last encounter, he’d grown sharper.

Anyway, he’d been right all along.

You would be so much more than a trophy.

But there was only so much he could learn from the few hours between rehearsals, hopping from train to train, and following you like a lost dog. He needed more than that, more than sitting outside your workplace or cafés. He needed you, all of you, and he suspected you needed him as well.

Why else would you have left him breathing?

Gaining back a bit of high ground would be necessary, though. You knew he was watching, and seemed to like it a little too much. All of this was a show to you, a character, a role, but Charlie needed to know about the actor. The hunter. And what better way to do that than to learn how you lived when no one was watching.

Or, when you thought no one was watching.

He climbed the narrow staircase to the third floor and found your door at the end of the hall. The lock was easy enough to pick and these older buildings never had security cameras. So when the door clicked open, he stepped in and shut it behind him without an eye batted in his direction.

Your apartment was neat, but in a lived-in sort of way. There were dishes in the sink and some clothes strewn about the floor of the hall and piled on the small sofa, but overall it looked exceedingly...normal.

To be fair, Charlie’s place was just as unassuming and far less homely than this, so his shock was probably unwarranted.

He wandered through your kitchen first. A mug sat on the counter, still lukewarm and half full from your breakfast he supposed. So you left in a rush. That seemed to suit you, always moving, The clothes on the sofa were separated into piles, lights and darks ready to be laundered.

His hands sifted through the mounds of soft fabric, lifting shirts and such to his face every so often to catch your scent. But it was mostly overpowered by perfume or soap until his hands felt strapy lace and pulled and that oh, that was what you smelled like. Tangy and sweet and making his mouth water. His jeans grew tight as he thought briefly about laying amongst your laundry, enveloped by the heady scent of you.

He could push the lace of your panties between his lips and suck hard, taste the remnants of your slick on his tongue, imagine your thighs were pressed against his ears. Conjure up the feeling of your knees at his back again and let the adrenaline course through him while he stroked himself.

While equal parts enraging, that night was the closest to ecstasy Charlie could recall. The weight of you, settled in his lap and grinding on his cock, while he could barely lift a finger was a rush unlike any other.

Suddenly he understood the allure of big game hunting.

You were his bear, his wolf, his lion, every dangerous thing that could rip him apart and fuck. Even getting close enough to land a shot now was invigorating.

That meant he had to be especially cautious, though. There could be no more mistakes this time. No more strings left untied or your claws would be at his throat again and he doubted his chances of survival the second time around. But, that didn’t mean he couldn’t reward himself just a bit. Just getting this far was quite the accomplishment. So, he tucked the underwear into his back pocket and moved swiftly through the rest of your home.

The bathroom was uneventful and your hall closet held nothing but sheets and towels. There was nothing left then but your bedroom at the end of the hall. He let the door creak open slowly, revealing a sizable bed graced by natural light from the window. The very same one he’d watched you through for weeks. It felt odd to be on the other side of it.

Your drawers yielded nothing of particular interest, though the closet was much less disappointing. On a shelf sat a bin peeking out from in between spare blankets. He tugged it down and cracked the lid, grinning when it finally dawned on him what exactly he’d discovered.

In his hand Charlie held one familiar, hideously neon green sneaker. So that’s what had become of your unfortunate first dance partner. It was intermixed with multitudes of other innocuous items. Some wallets, car keys, rings, and gloves were all folded and stacked with precision. Most were clearly men’s, and all were meticulously organized.

He chuckled, looking down at your trophy case. Keepsakes, he guessed, from all your former conquests. He wondered if you took them all to that park, or if it was new. Wondered if you left them all to freeze and be found by unsuspecting passersby.

Charlie was so entranced by this new information, that he failed to hear the front door drift slowly open. Never heard the soft steps of your feet on the hardwood, nor the drag of the knife from it’s butcher block. In fact, it wasn’t until the chill ran down his spine, gooseflesh erupting across his arms in a wave, did he pause.

“Hello, Charlie,” you mused from behind him.

The sound of your voice was like a cracking stick in the woods at night. A pair of glowing eyes in the glare of a flashlight. Ominous and growing closer. His breath froze in his chest as he rose carefully up from the floor and turned.

***

It was quite the sight:

You—shoulders relaxed and leaned against the doorframe, lips pulled into that mixed drink expression he’d grown to crave. One part grin, three parts wolfish snarl. Your finger was placed gently at the tip of a sizable carving knife, the other hand gripped tightly just below the bolster.

Charlie towered over you, but in that moment he felt dwarfed standing in your bedroom and staring at you down his nose.

He said nothing and you dropped the blade to your side.

“I thought we talked about this,” your voice echoed. “Seems like you did a piss poor job of listening.”

Slowly you took one step then another, until you stood only a foot or so away and your chin was tipped up to maintain your gaze. Charlie’s hands were curled into fists at his sides. You were supposed to be on your way to work, boarding the E train by now seated or standing next to the door so you could make it onto the platform before the incoming crowd. You shouldn’t have returned until late tonight.

Late tonight when you would have undressed and he could have seen the silhouette of your body through the sheer curtains. Could have locked the memory away for later and stroked himself off into the new panties in his pocket.

That was your pattern. Those were your rules.

Why would you break them now?

“Then again, I suppose the stereotypes ring true,” you said and grinned up at him. “Directors aren’t very good at taking orders.”

Charlie’s eyes widened and your smile grew.

“Did you think you were the only one doing research?”

“I’m impressed you found the time,” he mumbled into the closing space between your chests.

“It comes with experience,” you breathed across his lips.

His gaze was locked on you, but he made sure to keep the knife in your hand within view. Charlie was larger and he guessed he’d have little problem restraining you, but now was not the time to be taking chances.

You lifted the weapon slowly, trailing it up his chest and letting it catch on the buttons of his shirt. His hand was fast, moving on instinct and engulfing your wrist so that the tip of the blade rested right in the dip of his collarbone. The cool metal left a trail of tingling skin behind. His cock throbbed in his pants as your tongue flicked out to wet your lips.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Barber,” you brought your empty hand up to pat his cheek once again. “You can always learn from your mistakes.”

He grunted when you wound back suddenly and landed a sharp kick to his shin. In the scrabble you wrenched your wrist from his grip, slicing into his forearm before he could regain his balance.

“Fuck!” he hissed, pressing a hand to the wound. “You—god— you bitch.”

From the corner of his eye Charlie watched your circle to the left, “Now now, I don’t think your son would appreciate that kind of language.”

A sharp, stinging pain was radiating from his arm and his hands shook with the adrenaline and its accompanying rage.

“You need to shut your fucking mouth,” Charlie growled and pounced at you, catching your hand as it brought the knife down in an arch towards his chest.

“What, are you gonna make me?” you jeered and tried to twist your hand away but his thumb dug into the pounding veins just below the skin of your wrist. You cried out and he caught the movement before you could land another kick.

You let out a muffled yell when he gripped your thigh and yanked you off your feet. The blade clattered from your hand as you crashed to the floor as Charlie felt a familiar rush at seeing you, dazed and limp below him. Quickly he snatched the knife and pulled you up by your arm. Your hands were clutching at the back of your head where it had smashed against the hardwood and your eyes were unfocused. He shoved you towards the bed even as you tried to blindly scratch at his face.

His hand wound around your throat as your back hit the mattress and you clawed at his fingers.

“Not so talkative now are you?” he snarled against your lips, bringing the blade up to rest at your throat. “Little whore needs her prey drugged up and half dead before she can strike? Some fucking hunter you are.”

You squirmed as Charlie squeezed just enough to stop the blood flowing in your neck, watching your face contort with the pain and the loss of breath.

“Kiss. My. Ass,” you spat with what little air you could gasp.

He straddled your body easily, so much smaller now that you were pinned under his fist. The knife bit into you, sending pretty beads of scarlet down your bare chest. The tip dug just past the skin. He loved that sight, the way your skin yielded to the metal and parted at just the lightest pressure. The noise that left you when he first breached your flesh was almost as delicious as what he imagined you’d sound like when he sunk his cock into you.

Very nearly moaning at the sight, dragging the blade down leaving a shallow stripe that stopped just between your breasts. You stilled, wincing but licking your lips once again as his eyes trailed up the cut and met yours. The deeper slice on his forearm was dripping a slow, steady stream into the hollow of your throat that spilled out around his fingers and ran down your chest.

Charlie watched, entranced as your blood mingled and his pants tented. He dragged the hand at your neck through the mess. The smell of iron was thick in the air, and his own blood rushed. His ears were ringing, your bedroom fading out until all he could focus on was the pounding of your pulse under his palm and the heaving of your breasts as you gasped for breath.

His grip on your throat loosened. There was something happening, something coming over him as your eyes roamed his face, stuttering at his lips and traveling back to meet his stare. Time had stopped, and he was reminded again of how alluring you were.

How had he forgotten?

The same grace that he’d been drawn to was evident in the slow movement of your arm, moving to softly grip the knife in his hand and gently push it to the side. Charlie let you move the blade from your throat.

It was hours maybe, or just seconds that you both stared, bleeding, at one another. It was a standoff, the tension growing with each passing moment. The rolls had finally been reversed. You were right where he had fantasized you would be for so long, but there was still something in the way you gazed at him.

Head on, eyes forward.

Predator eyes.

And that had to be what all the others were missing.

That spark. That fight. The sharp teeth, eyes locked, ready to tear into his neck stare that made the catch so much more exciting.

The others were nothing compared to this.

This is why he needed you alive, wanted you kicking. Wanted you screaming and crying and moaning for him. On his fingers, on his cock, on his blade. Fuck, he wanted to be buried in you and it didn’t matter which way.

He needed to taste his victory, and it seemed so did you.

“Shit,” he breathed as you lifted the knife from his hand and placed the tip just above his belt, slashing his shirt open by the buttons one at a time until it hung loose around his shoulders.

“You want to hunt, Charlie Barber?” you asked slowly, and—fucking christ—that voice did something to him. His breathing came in pants as you pulled his hand from your throat and wrapped it around the knife handle, placing the tip at the hem of your top. “Let’s hunt.”

Charlie growled, really truly growled as your shirt tore easily in the path of the blade. It fell open, exposing your skin to the cool air as a new trickle of blood leaked down the valley of your breasts and rolled in rivulets down your ribs.

His mouth watered.

Placing his hands on either side of your head, he lowered his head and followed the trail of blood with his tongue. Groaning as the sharp, iron tang of it coated his mouth but the sound caught in his throat as you surged forward. Your teeth dug into the meat of his shoulder, very nearly breaking the skin and laving over the angry red mark you left behind.

“Do you always taste yours?” you asked, nudging his nose with yours.

Charlie leaned back on his heels as you sat up. He rested half his weight in your lap as you tugged the remains of his shirt off and trailed your fingers along the edge of the slice you’d left in him. The sting of it awoke something, some ache, an itch that was never quite satisfied with any of his other prey.

“I asked you a question,” you lifted your hand, two fingers coated red and pressed them to his lips.

When he opened his mouth to answer, your fingers slipped inside and dragged along his tongue.

“Yes,” he muttered

“Hm,” you bit your lip bottom lip and he wanted to replace your teeth with his. “Well then, how do I compare?”

He let you pull him down by his jaw, “I don’t think I’ve had quite enough to tell you.”

The mattress dipped when he pulled away and stood. You watched carefully—eyes flicking between his hands, his face, and the obvious bulge of his arousal—as Charlie brought the knife up and trailed the point along the fabric covering your pussy. The quick breath that left you made him shutter.

He glanced back up at you, and nodded his head to the buckle of your pants. A few seconds past in which the two of you stood your ground—a stalemate between alpha’s—until, shockingly, you relented with a huff.

Charlie kept his eyes on your face until the last of your clothing thumped softly on the floor. Bare and decorated with drying trails of blood, you laid back and let your legs fall open slowly, giving him a full view of your glistening lips.

It was unlike anything he’d seen before or even dared to imagine.

His mind raced through dozens of images just like the scene before him. But when he thought of all those before you, looking down on them was more akin to staring at a piece of meat. They were no more entertaining than a chuck roast, flopping about and whimpering. Even when they begged or screamed it felt nothing like this.

You were a cut steak in the same way that a dream was reality. He could treat it as such, but it would never be true.

It occurred to him then that until now, he had been much like a beast in an empty cage—pacing and yearning for some kind of challenge, something more stimulating than prey that couldn’t bite back. And you were exactly what he’d been waiting for all this time.

Slowly, you drew your fingers through the mess pooling between your breasts and brought them, dripping, down to draw bloody circles over your clit.

“Well, why don’t you taste a little more?”

***

Charlie was uncertain how long he’d been on his knees, your ass sat on the edge of the bed as he sucked and nipped at your clit, drinking down the slick that gushed from you. Regardless, it was long enough to have reduced you to what he assumed was the closest you would ever come to a writhing mess on the mattress above him.

“Fucking Christ,” you groaned and raked your nails harshly against his scalp.

He hummed as the sting intensified with your fingers knotting themselves in his hair and tugging. Your thighs tensed, slamming shut around his ears until he wrenched them open again and continued to run his tongue in slow circles over the nub, pulling it between his teeth every so often just to hear the catch in your breath when he did. Charlie had yet to even delve his fingers inside of you, and he could sense your growing impatience.

But every new gushing of your cunt flooded his mouth mixing with the blood on his tongue and clouding his thoughts in a tangy, metallic haze.

Shit, he’d decided the second he licked his first, long stripe up your pussy that he would never taste anything more delectable. If he ever got caught—which was incredibly unlikely—but if he was, his last meal would be to bury himself between your legs and drink until they took him away.

The only thing that dragged him back into the world outside of his mouth on your lips was the sharp smack of your hand against his temple. You yanked his head back and growled down at him.

“Don’t forget who you’re toying with, Mr. Barber,” you hissed.

Charlie couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his cheeks, “Trust me, I’m well versed in dealing with desperate whores.”

He caught the beginning of your lunge before your back left the bed. His passive palm slammed down onto your chest, smearing a handprint on the bloody skin and effectively pinning you on the bed. God, he had come close to cumming in his pants a few times since the start of your little game, but the sight of his hand encompassing the swell of flesh at the top of your breasts nearly brought him to his breaking point.

“Well,” you gasped and hooked your legs around his waist, rocking his aching cock between your folds, “luckily, so am I.”

Charlie grunted and felt himself start to boil over. Even through the rough fabric of his pants, your pussy was so incredibly warm and wet he had to wrench himself away. And then you were laughing, the chuckle building low in your gut and working its way out to grate his ears, make his face burn and his hands curl into fists.

“I think you would do well not to forget who you’re toying with, either,” he snapped, dragging you again to the edge of the bed and retrieving the knife he’d discarded on the floor.

“What do you think you’re—”

He cut you off, as he flipped the blade into palm and ran the pommel against your entrance, nudging your clit again, “You want something inside this fucking cunt so bad, I’m going to give it to you.”

The sharp metal bit into his hand as he plunged its hilt all the way into the bolster. The cry that left you, half sob, half choked relief at finally being filled seeped into his veins and spread like venom.

“You, son—fuck—son of a bitch,” you moaned as he pumped the knife handle harshly into your soaking cunt.

He couldn’t help himself.

Charlie’s hand dropped to the zipper of his pants, hastily unfastening the clasps and pulling his dick, raging hard and flushed red from the confines of his underwear. It slapped against the skin of his stomach and left a trail of precum behind. As he fucked you on the knife, angling the hooked end so that it stroked your upper walls, he roughly fisted his length. His hips bucked up into his dry palm but the friction was nowhere close to what he needed.

He wanted your hot, wet, pussy to clench around him so he could mark you with his cum and his teeth and make you his.

But he couldn’t give in so quickly.

The second he relented to those base instincts, you would have won, and Charlie couldn’t have you gaining any more leverage than you already had.

So instead, he let his cock go excruciatingly untouched and reached up to knead your breasts. Your nipples peaked under his fingers and he rolled one between them, listening to the whining in your throat as he pinched the stiff flesh. He almost lost himself entirely in the wonder of your softness, the way you yielded and shaped to fit in his palm.

Without much thought he arched up, mouthing across your tits and sucking hungrily at the nipple. When Charlie drew back, your skin was shiny with his spit and the blood still oozing out and collecting in the dip of your chest. Entranced, smeared his palm through the sticky, warm pool and coated his palm. He brought it down, jerking his cock once again and the sweet, hot slide of his blood covered hand was enough.

“You like it?” he mumbled, growing more incoherent by the minute. “Such a fucking slut, I’m going to ruin this pussy, you know that right?”

You kept your mouth shut, but through the haze of pleasure and pain, you managed to fix him with another bone-shattering stare.

“You’re going to take my cock and no one else will ever be good enough when I’m done with you,” he was rambling now, fucking his hand and your cunt with his face in your tits.

Charlie didn’t believe in a god, but right now—he certainly felt like one.

“Admit it,” he snarled, “we’re the same.”

His hips came to a stuttering halt, thumb teasing at his cockhead before letting go completely to press hard at your clit again. “None of those assholes you picked up ever satisfied you, I know they didn’t.”

“You’re right,” your words were so quiet he almost missed them entirely.

He never relented on your clit of the hand driving the knife’s hilt impossibly deep into your cunt, but he did raise his head from your breasts to hover over your face.

“What was that,” he asked in a whisper.

It suddenly felt incredibly wrong to speak any louder.

Your face was twisted in pain of admittance and the release that he’d kept you on the brink of for so long, “You’re right, nothing was ever enough.”

Until him.

You didn’t say it, but he knew that was what you meant.

And then Charlie Barber was kissing you. His lips were on yours in an instant and it was all teeth and tongue and battling for dominance which developed quickly into a truce of sorts.

Neither of you were better than the other.

Just two sides of the same monster.

You moaned, deep and low into his mouth, licking past his lips to trace the crooked edges of his teeth. He hoped you could taste yourself on his tongue.

Below, you were rocking your hips now, meeting each thrust of the knife. He could feel the tension on every backstroke as your walls clenched tighter against the hilt.

He wanted to see you cum so desperately. He needed to know what you looked like in the throes of bliss that only he could bring you. So, he tore his lips from yours and watched as your back arched into his chest and you threw your head back choking as your pussy clamped around the unforgiving handle while the orgasm washed over you.

There was a moment of silence as you both panted and twitched and revealed in the incredible satisfaction of finally, finally finding your equal—your match. But then your eyes were locking onto his face again and he felt the familiar predatory urge to bitesuckpouncepound once more.

The following seconds were a flurry of movement.

Charlie ripped the knife from your cunt and let it clatter to the floor as you latched onto his neck and sucked hard. In the midst of the tangle of arms and limbs his pants were fully abandoned and he crawled over your body, sitting back against the headboard and dragging you into his lap.

You pulled back, foreheads resting together and both looking down to his cock. Coated in a slick of blood and precum that leaked steadily from the tip, it was nestled between your bodies and twitched with every rapid beat of his heart.

Ever so slowly, your eyes drifted back to meet and he swallowed thickly before your mouths were crashing together again. Time was irrelevant as your bodies moved incomprehensibly fast, aching to be joined and satisfied.

“Take me,” he groaned into your mouth, sucking on your tongue and releasing it with a pop.

Thankfully, you just nodded. No smartass quip, no talking back.

The knowledge that you needed this just as much only spurred him forward.

Swiftly, you lifted your hips, guiding Charlie’s length between your folds and sinking down in one sharp thrust that seated your ass comfortably against his thighs. The blood and your first orgasm eased the slide of his dick. Almost immediately you started bouncing in his lap, and he gripped your hips, bursting vessels under the skin.

One hand traveled up to your back, holding your chests together as the other guided you down, spearing you on his dick and you both moaned at the feel of completeness.

Your nipples dragged across his as your bodies frantically moved together and the sweet sensation stung his fraying nerves.

“Charlie,” you sounded just as wrecked as he felt, “Fuck.”

“I know,” he whispered your name in between the sloppy meeting of your lips, “I know.”

The room was filled with the most base of animalistic sounds and the wet slap of your cunt on his cock. You were tightening around him and he felt your fingers bury themselves in his hair, tugging his mouth from yours so he was looking you in the eye. The hand on your hip was digging dark bruises into the pliant flesh as you ground against him, breath fanning over his face.

And this was it.

This was what it had all been leading up to.

The rest had just been practice.

And this was the culmination of everything he’d learned.

So when you came with a shout of his name, looking him straight in both eyes, he knew you really would be his last.

There would be no others after this. As much as he had claimed your cunt, your body, you for himself, you owned this pleasure—his pleasure—just as completely. And that alone had him pulsing, coating your walls in thick, hot ropes of him that mixed with the bloody mess coating your bodies and dripped out around the base of his cock.

The whole time, your eyes never left his for a moment.

Perpetually looking forward.

***

Charlie’s arm throbbed from under the packs of gauze and ace bandages. It was raining again and the train platform was particularly packed considering it was well past midnight.

Performances were set to start next weekend and rehearsals had him working till the early hours of the morning, catching trains at ungodly times and stumbling into bed only to rinse and repeat the next day.

He missed you.

It felt good to admit that. Not shameful or weak. He’d come to terms with the feelings of loss that had formed like a rock in his gut when he slunk from your apartment two weeks ago. Still marked in your blood and tasting you on his lips, Charlie had left you sleeping and stumbled back to his place to shower and make it to the start of dress rehearsals.

And since then, he hadn’t had a free minute to sneak away.

It’s not as though he could just shoot you a text the way his intern did constantly at even the simplest of tasks. But the closing wound concealed behind his cardigan and trench coat was a pleasant, if painful reminder of his final hunt.

He was right, after all.

If the others were lackluster before he met you, he was entirely disinterested now.

So he comforted himself by reliving the events that transpired in your room—your voice that he felt more than heard, the cut of the blade, his name caught between your teeth. He took a calming breath, glancing around to clear his head lest he miss the train while caught up in the fantasy of your bare skin on his.

As the tunnel vibrated and shook with the force of the approaching subway, Charlie gazed across the tracks to the adjacent platform. It was less crowded, not many people taking the southbound lines from this part of the city. He was certain he caught a familiar glimpse of a coat, a wolf’s snarl, two eyes locked on him. But the train blocked his view before he could get a better look.

Frantically, he boarded the compartment and shouldered his way to the opposite doors and looked out the smudged window.

His heart stuttered in his chest when he saw you.

Standing relaxed on the filthy green tile, you grinned at him and very suddenly Charlie was no longer bending under the weight of his work. As the train started up again, rushing faster and faster away, he looked for as long as he could at your figure growing smaller until it was swallowed up by the maze of pitch black tunnels.

With a sigh, Charlie sunk down onto the vacant bench and laid his head in his hands. Though just to hide the sinful smile that graced his lips from any prying eyes.

You really were a perfect trophy.

This hunt might be his last, but something told him it would not be ending anytime soon.

And that was more than enough.

#charlie barber x reader #serial killer!charlie #charlie barber smut #marriage story #serial killer!au #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #blood kink #kinfe play #kinktober #adcu fanfic #mind the tags #dr. b writes

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