#bitch MURDERED her OWN SON

[softestepilogue]

i was watching only murders in the building and honestly mabel’s friend wasn’t murdered. she was hitting theo and he grabbed her arm to get her to stop hitting him and she started yanking her hand away telling him to let go and then she tripped back and fell to her death. her death was an accident that could’ve been avoided if she just gave theo the ring and left lol.

[fuzzyunicorn]

Me @ my “mom” after she killed my first body in her womb so I wouldn’t b born into our family & god orchestrated me 2 b born to another but baby swapped at birth back into my family ha ha ha

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; kidnapping; smut!; violence!; rafe is a red flag; guns and blood; p in v;

word count: 8k

part ii; part iii; part iv; part v; part vi; part vii (finale)

The sun dipped low, painting the Outer Banks marshes in shades of fiery orange. Tensions between Kooks and Pogues had hit a fever pitch, and in the middle of it all? Rafe Cameron, the last person you'd want to encounter. Ever. 

Every run-in with him left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was like he had a knack for getting under your skin. Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster. Each interaction with him sucked the life out of you. You were convinced that nothing good could ever come from being around him. And yet, there you were, another Maybank, caught in the chaos of the island's most influential family feud.

You knew the risks, but loyalty drove you forward. And now? Well, now you were in deep shit.

Your plan had been reckless, driven by the desperate need to save Sarah from her deranged family and retrieve Pope's stolen cross. Everything had gone smoothly until chaos erupted, and you found yourself abruptly yanked away from the corridor by a strong grip on your arm, before you could even call out for your brother and Kie.

Another hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any attempts to scream. In a blur, you were dragged into a dimly lit cabin, the men's hold on you unyielding. Struggling was futile and stupid against his iron grip. He tossed you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

The gravity of your situation hit hard immediately – you were alone, at the mercy of the Cameron's. Ward Cameron, the man who'd silenced anyone who dared oppose him, even going as far as faking his own death, kidnapping his own daughter, and manipulating his son into committing murder. Because in his sick twisted world, family trumped everything. Even murder.

Great.

Your mind raced as you took in your surroundings. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor. There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue. You quickly checked your options but there weren't many. The door was solid, and you didn't have anything strong enough to force it open. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

You took a deep breath, trying not to lose your shit. Panic wouldn't help; you needed a plan. But then, like a nightmare come to life, the devil himself stepped into the room, his eyes piercing as they landed on you. The man who had captured you stood behind him, a smug grin on his face. 

Rafe was visibly surprised to see you, but he quickly concealed it behind a calculating expression. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his temples. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through from the scorching heat, and beads of perspiration trickled down his face. He wiped his brow with a weary hand and his gun gleamed ominously in the dim light.

"Well shit,” Rafe's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see ya again so soon pretty Maybank.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing with questions. Where were your friends? Were they safe? Was your brother even alive? Before you could ask, Rafe continued, his tone mocking. 

"Your brother really did a number on you, huh? Left you behind without a second thought. Typical Maybank shit. Always knew you were unreliable."

Son of a bitch.

You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. "You're lying," you countered, "He wouldn't leave me."

Not unless he was forced to.

Rafe chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Believe what you want. They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me."

“You’re lying.”

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he walked towards you.

You took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cold, metal wall pressed against your back, mirroring the chill that settled in your bones. It felt like you were being hunted.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely contemplating your fate. The gun in his hand swung lazily at his side, but you knew better than to think it wasn't ready to be used at any given moment.

You swallowed hard, your mind frantically searching for a way out of this hellhole. He was unpredictable and volatile; years of snorting cocaine and family trauma did that to some people. 

But maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him. You were always a litte too good for your own good.

“Rafe, listen. You don't have to do this. Let me go and we can both walk away from this. No one has to get hurt."

Again. 

His laugh was bitter, like you were trying to humor him,"You think I'm going to let you go just because you asked nicely?" He stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "Nah. You're going to stay right here until I decide what to do with you.“ 

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but all you felt was fear.

The odds were against you, as they had always been your entire life.

"What do you want, Rafe? The cross? We can make a deal."

His eyes narrowed, the amusement fading. 

"You think this is about money? About that fucking cross? This is about power. Control. And right now...huh, shit, I control you." He leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. "The cross is mine now. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

Your top lip curled in disgust, “I’d rather drown.”

His smile twisted into something even darker. “I think you’re worth more alive, at least for now.”

You refused to show him any more fear. “To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Maybank. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You laughed bitterly, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah, no. You're right. Just that you're dad’s little lapdog, doing his dirty work while he pretends to be some upstanding citizen. And where’s your mom in all this? Oh! She left.”

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming.

Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

Anger took over you like wildfire, hotter than the pain. Your jaw throbbed, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to hit him back, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him feel the hurt he had inflicted on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, every muscle in your body burning with desire for retribution. The fury in your eyes matched the darkness in his.

You spat blood at his face, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’re just a puppet. Your sister hates you, your dad uses you, and deep down, you know it. You’ll never be more than his bitch.” 

His grip tightened painfully, rough fingers digging into your flesh, lips twitching into a snarl, but you didn’t flinch. If you were going down, you’d go down fighting.

His eyes flickered with something you’d never seen in him, before he released you, stepping back. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So tough.”

“Smarter than you,” you shot back. “At least I know who I am. What are you, Rafe?“

He stared at you, tongue pressed against his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent chills down your spine. His hand reached out, and your breath stilled throat tightening as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out another laugh, entirely dismissive of the way you’d felt.

“You’ve got guts, Maybank. It's gonna get you killed.“

You wiped the blood from your mouth, “I’ve survived worse than you.”

And you had.

If anything prepared you for violence, drugs, and pain, was living with Luke Maybank your entire life. And maybe, if you didn’t hate Rafe with every fiber of your being, after everything he’d done, you’d feel sorry for him. But you didn’t, and he sure as hell didn't feel sorry for you. 

For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the ship’s engines. Then Rafe turned on his heel, motioning to the man by the door. “Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Do I look like fucking Michael Phelps? Where the fuck would I go? We’re on a ship you crazy bastar—Hey! Rafe! Open the fucking door!” 

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit cabin. You listened to his footsteps fade away, feeling a sense of dread settle in your chest. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? They could kill you, dispose your body in the ocean and no would care. No one would think you’d gone missing, because you were a Maybank and that’s what your kind of people did, apparently.

Your brother would probably assume you were dead, he’d try to get justice and fail in the end, because the rich always won.

The musty air of the cabin felt oppressive as you turned away from the small porthole, where the bright sun and endless expanse of blue ocean mocked you from beyond.

The days melded into one another, marked only by the delivery of meals and the sporadic presence of Rafe. You had hoped for some clarity, some hint of what your future looked like, but his visits offered nothing but insults or complete silence.

You paced the small room, your mind racing with the possibilities of what they had planned for you. The guard remained a silent sentinel, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. But then, the cabin door creaked open again, and you tensed as Ward Cameron stepped in, his presence commanding immediate attention. 

He gave a nod to the guard, who stepped out, leaving you alone with the man who held your fate in his hands. A fucking lunatic with enough means to play for all the dramatics he enjoyed. Great.

"Get comfortable," Ward announced, "We're almost there."

"Almost where?"

"The Bahamas," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A little slice of paradise, if you will."

"And what happens then?" you pressed, needing to know more.

Ward studied you for a moment, “Keep out of sight, stay quiet. Rafe and I have some business to attend to, and we can't afford any distractions."

"And if I refuse?" you challenged, though you knew the answer.

Ward's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. You knew he enjoyed watching people squirm around like worthless worms.

"Let's not be stupid, sweetheart. You're here because you know too much. Refusing isn't an option. Cooperation, however…”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. The answer was very clear, and you realized that your only chance was to play along, at least until you could figure out a way to escape this nightmare.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Eventually, you felt the ship slow, the engines quieting as you approached your destination. When the door opened again, Rafe was there, that stupid frown always attached to his face.

"Time to go," he said simply, motioning for you to follow, "Move."

You stepped out onto the deck, the warm, salty breeze hitting your face as you looked around. The sight of the lush, tropical landscape did little to ease your anxiety. You were led to a smaller boat, and soon you were speeding towards a secluded island, the main landmass of the Bahamas visible in the distance. You were a world away from the familiar streets and faces of The Cut. It was straight out of a postcard. Something you and JJ would fantasize about while high of your asses and writing bucklists. 

God, JJ. You only hoped he made it. You’d never gone a day without each other before you were dragged into this mess last summer. It wasn’t fair. You only wanted enough money to get by, an easy fix to get everything sorted, finish college, ship your dad somewhere far away from you two. But Ward’s greedy ass had to ruin everything for you. 

As the boat neared the shore, you couldn't ignore the feeling of impending doom. Were you going to die there? In between pristine beaches and swaying palm trees?

Rafe’s hand gripped your arm, his grasp tight as he led you onto the sandy beach. Ward followed close behind, as he surveyed the scene before him.

"This way," he said, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

You followed obediently, your mind racing with possibilities. Escape seemed unlikely, but you there was still a slim hope that you could find a way out of this mess. Eventually.

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set. You could feel the weight of Ward and Rafe's gazes on you, watching their prey.

Finally, you reached a clearing, and your heart sank as you saw what awaited you. A small house. In the middle of nowhere. Oh god, you were a dead woman. 

“This will be your home for the time being" Ward said it like he was offering you a vacation rental and not kidnapping you. A lunatic.

You wanted to protest, to demand answers, but you knew it was futile and there was little fight left in you from how tired you'd been feeling.

“Rafe will be keeping you company."

The way Rafe’s head snapped in his father’s direction told you more than what you needed to know. Once again, daddy dearest was calling the shots without taking his opinion into consideration.

Ward’s casual cruelty was suffocating, a reminder of the power he had over everyone. As he turned to leave, leaving no space of negotiations or pleadings, Rafe’s eyes bored into yours. No questions asked, only blind devotion to his father. 

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone with Rafe once more. He looked at you, resentment playing across his face, like this was your fault and not theirs.

“I’m not going to make this easy for you," You hissed, “I’m not dying here. Not with you.” 

Rafe chuckled, greasy bangs moving as he shook his head, “You really think you have a choice here?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space, “You think you’re special? Nah, Maybank. He’ll get rid of you eventually, don’t worry.”

“Exactly. He will, not you. You don’t have any control either and I think you hate being here as much as I do. That shit makes us both prisoners.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

You were sure he wouldn't, only if Ward asked him to.

He’d fucked up enough before, when he accidentally shot Sarah and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. You knew he wouldn’t do it again, not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder and his trust fund. Ward Cameron hated slips ups, hated even more the monster he raised, but he sure came in handy when he needed him. 

"Empty threats," you shot back, squaring your shoulders. "I've dealt with bigger monsters than you, Rafe."

He only started at you, eyes bloodshot red, perhaps from the lack of sleep or maybe because he was high off his mind, you didn’t care to ask. But just as quickly, his usual sneer returned. "Enjoy your stay, Maybank.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Him and the stupid slamming of doors. You were alone again.

You had to get out. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were a Maybank—survival was in your blood. You took stock of your surroundings once more, this time with a sharper eye. The walls were thin, the windows barred, but there had to be some weakness, some way to exploit the situation.

You ran your fingers along the seams of the walls, looking for anything that might give. Your mind raced through every piece of advice JJ had ever given you about breaking and entering. You’d done a lot of that over the years, and while most people thought you pogues were simply criminals, they never cared enough to ask why you and your brother spent so much time in and out of the sheriff’s department. 

So, what if two dirty, no-good kids were barely hanging on for dear life? No one gave a shit. 

Weeks blurred into each other, each one marked by the same routine.

Rafe's visits, Ward's passive aggressive threats, and the endless search for an opportunity to escape. You watched Rafe carefully, noting his every move, his every interaction with Ward.

You noticed the way Ward belittled him, treating him more like a tool than a son. It was a toxic dynamic, one that made you wonder if Rafe was as much a victim as you were. You’d seen bits and pieces before, but Sarah had described Ward as some sort of saint up until recently.

Rafe on the other hand? Their dynamic was so different from what you were used to. You and JJ were like two peas in a pod, you’d die for him and you know he would do the same, no questions asked. If there was one good thing in your life, it was your brother. 

You couldn't help but feel a little pity for Rafe, despite everything he'd done. He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.  It was easy to spot the cracks in his armor if you spent enough time in the same room, the secretive moments of doubt and vulnerability. The way his hands would shake every time Ward raised his voice, the way he would bite his nails to hide the embarrassment booming in his cheeks. How he never walked into his father’s space or any other room without announcing his presence.

It gave you whiplash. 

You began to argue less with him, your animosity giving way to a grudging understanding. You hated feeling so…forgiving. This boy had done unspeakable things to you and your friends, to your family…and there you were. Feeling sorry for him like you didn’t know better. 

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small house, Rafe brought you dinner. He placed the plate on the table, his movements tense, his expression unusually subdued. Strangely so, you’d memorized that expression. You didn’t even have to ask to understand what had gotten under his skin.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. You didn’t understand why you did it. You regretted the words the moment they came out of your lips, but there was something inside itching you to ask. 

His eyes snapped to yours, rage and something else—pain—flashing in them. "What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but there was less bite in his words. At this point he just sounded tired. 

"I understand,” you replied, thinking of your own father. "I know what it's like to want to prove yourself, to be more than what they think you are."

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he looked lost, like a boy searching for something he could never find.

"You don't know shit," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"I know enough," you said quietly. "You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to be his puppet."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You think it's that simple?"

"Maybe not. But you can choose to be better than him. You can choose to stop this.”

Rafe looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. It was borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way your stomach flip-flops under his attention. 

“Shut the fuck up and eat, Maybank."

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope. 

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked out, leaving you alone. 

Again. 

The days continued to pass, but something changed. Rafe was less hostile, more contemplative. He didn't treat you as roughly, didn't hurl as many insults. It was a small change, but it was there. And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for him too.

You knew what he did, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to rot in hell with someone like Ward. You needed to bide your time, to wait for the right moment. And when that moment came, you had to be ready to act. 

Another day began with the same oppressive humid heat. The sun had just started to rise, casting golden hue over the island. You were in the small kitchen of the house, preparing a meager breakfast from the limited supplies you had that day. The routine had become almost mechanical, a way to keep your mind occupied and stave off the panic.

Rafe entered the kitchen, eyes barely open as he wiped the sleep away. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass breaking the silence. Very healthy.

He stood with his back to you, staring out the window. 

“What’s Luke like?”

You froze, your hands pausing mid-motion. It was an unexpected question, one that made you want to hurl on the spot even though you hadn’t had anything to eat yet. 

“Why do you want to know?" you asked cautiously, wondering if it was some kind of trick question.

Rafe shrugged, still not turning to face you. "Just curious. You Maybanks are a tight bunch, right? So what's he like?"

Tight bunch…that was one way to put it. 

You took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to reveal. "He’s a drunk, a thief. But he's still my dad."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "So why do you stick around? Why not just leave him?"

You knew what he was trying to do, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You couldn’t blame him. 

"Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away."

"Family's supposed to be everything, right?" His voice carried a bitter edge, hinting at his unresolved inner conflicts.

"That's what they say," you replied quietly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Must be tough, having a dad like that."

Tough? It was heartbreaking. Knowing that the one person who was supposed to love you, cherish you and protect you for life never gave a single fuck about his kids? Yeah, sure it’s “tough”.

"Guess we have that in common.”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, we do." He set his glass down with a heavy thud, the sound resonating in the small kitchen.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, but then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"I get it," he said quietly. "More than you know."

You watched him, the way his fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Then why do you keep doing this? You don’t have to."

“It's not that simple," he snapped. "You think I have a choice? I killed someone. For him.” 

It was the first time he had said those words out loud. And it made him sick to his stomach. That he’d been scared and high enough to do something so reckless, just so they wouldn’t take away his dad. 

"We always have a choice," you countered, "Maybe not the best ones, but we can always choose to be better."

He shook his head, turning away. "You don't know anything," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his words than before.

"I know enough," you said softly, watching his retreating back. "And so do you."

He paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame tightly.

Without turning around, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the kitchen felt colder, but you knew you had reached him, even if just a little. And that gave you hope.

After that, Rafe’s visits were less frequent, and when he did come by, there was an uneasy tension between you both. You couldn't tell if it was because of your last conversation or the sheer exhaustion of being trapped in this toxic cycle.

Still, every interaction seemed to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself, revealing little glimpses of the person he might have been, had his life taken a different path.

Tonight, the air is still, the only sound is the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. You have been biding your time, watching for the perfect moment to make your escape. The house is quiet, Ward is gone and you haven’t seen Rafe in two days. By now, you know how the guards outside fell asleep before 2am like clockwork. 

You can it. 

This is your chance, and you can’t afford to waste it.

You move silently, slipping out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Every creak of the wooden floorboards seems to echo in the stillness, and you hold your breath, praying you won’t get caught.

Your heart races as you slowly turn the handle of the front door, wincing at the faint click that accompanies the action. Once outside, you glance around, ensuring the coast is clear, then make your way towards the small boat moored at the edge of the beach.

The plan is simple: get to the boat, start the engine, and head for the main island where you could find help.

You keep low, moving quickly but cautiously, like a cat. The boat is within reach when a noise behind you makes your blood run cold. 

The crunch of gravel underfoot is unmistakable.

You turn sharply, and in the dim moonlight, the silhouette of one of the guards emerges from the shadows. The asshole who got you here in the first place. He’s closer than you had anticipated.

Your heart pounds, adrenaline moving through your veins as you break into a sprint, abandoning stealth for speed.

"Stop!" the guard shouts, his voice carrying across the trees. You don’t dare to look back, your eyes locked on the boat. A sharp crack split the night—a gunshot. You feel a searing pain in your arm, but you can’t stop. You push through the pain, your goal now just a few yards away.

Another gunshot rings out, but you are too focused to notice where it lands. You reach the boat, hands trembling as you fumble with the ropes. The pain in your arm intensifies, but you force yourself to keep moving, when suddenly, a heavy hand grabs your shoulder, spinning you around.

You struggle, kicking and thrashing, but he’s stronger. He pulls you to the ground, pinning you down as he radioes for backup. It feels all to familiar. You hate very second of it.

"Got her," he says into the radio, his terrible breath hot against your ear. You try to wriggle free, but his grip only tightens. Moments later, two more guards arrive, hauling you to your feet and dragging you back towards the house. This wasn't supposed to happen.

The sting in your arm is painful reminder of your failed attempt as they pull you inside, your brief taste of freedom slipping away. You were so fucking close.

Moments feel like hours as you sit in the chair, the pain in your arm throbbing with each heartbeat. They didn't even try to stop the bleeding.

The quiet murmurs of the guards outside are interrupted by the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone approaching. The door flies open, and there stands Rafe, disheveled and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tightly in his hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barks. His gaze scans the room, landing on you. 

The sight of the blood staining your arm makes his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

He storms towards you, his eyes blazing. “What happened?” he all but demands.

Before you could answer, he whirls around to face the guards who re-enters the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe shouts, waving his gun erratically. “She’s bleeding! I try to sleep in peace and this is what I come back to?”

The guards exchange nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably under Rafe’s glare. “She was trying to escape, Mr. Cameron,” one of them stammers out. “We had to stop her.”

His expression twists with rage. “So you fucking shot her?” His voice drips with incredulity and disdain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? My father wants her in once piece.”

The guard who caught you tries to explain, but Rafe cuts him off.

“Shut up. Just... shut up.” He turns back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he takes in the sight of your injured arm. Or maybe the pain is making you delirious.

 “We need to get that cleaned up,” he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else. Without another word, he holsters his gun and gently takes your uninjured arm, pulling you to your feet. The guards look on, unsure of what to do or say. 

Rafe shoots them a deadly look. “Get out,” he snaps. “Before I shoot you bitches myself.”

Once Ward’s men leave, Rafe's demeanor changes. His concern, which had briefly softened his striking features, making younguer, hardens back into anger. He runs a hand through his long hair, pacing the small room before finally stopping in front of you.

He looks pissed.

He sneers at you, his voice dripping with exasperation, "I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours," he spats out, practically screaming in your face, "What were you even thinking? Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed?"

You try to speak, to defend yourself, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His words come fast, "You could've died out there! A bullet barely missed you—do you even understand how lucky you are?"

The monologue doesn't stop there.

His fists clench at his sides, "I just don't get it. Do you think you're invincible? Because you're not. You're just..." He stops himself, taking a deep breath as if trying to control his temper while he paces around th room, unable to stay put, "You're just reckless," he continues, his voice quieter but still seething, "You didn’t think about the consequences, about what it would do to..."

What?

"Don't act like you give a shit about me," you call after him, your voice trembling. You don't know if it's the pain or the weird pull in your stomach making you feel all weird and fuzzy inside.

He stops in his tracks, his back stiffening for a moment before slowly turning to face you,"I don't," he retorts, "But my ass is on the line too. You think Ward won't come down on me if something happens to you?"

You take a step towards him, despite the throbbing pain in your arm, not buying his bullshit speech.

"So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."

Rafe's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about," his voice is dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

You scoff through your nose.

“Here we go again. Control? You think dragging me back here, shooting at me, is control? It's chaos, Rafe. You're just as trapped as I am, and you can't stand it."

His face twists showcasing his wrath, and he takes a step towards you, closing the distance.

"Shut up!” he growls. "You don’t understand the pressure I'm under. The expectations, the demands. I didn’t ask for any of this."

"And neither did I," you shoot back, a strict finger aimed at his face in warning, “So shut the fuck up.”

He takes another step, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You think this is just about me? It's about keeping everything from falling apart. It's about—"

Before he can finish, you grab the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, your faces almost touching.

“I don’t care about your excuses, Rafe. I don’t care about your pressures or your fucking control. All I know is I’m not staying here.”

The look he gives you was filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his pretty features contorted. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts. His hands come up, gripping your waist, not gently but not roughly either, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"You're impossible," he hisses, like the snake he is.

"And you’re a coward.”

The next moment happens without much thinking. Without any thinking, really.

Rafe’s grip tightens, fingers didding into your skin and before you can process what is happening, his lips crash into yours with a ferocity that you never saw coming. His mouth is demanding, almost punishing, and you, like an idiot, kiss him back, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as you want to push him away.

The kiss is all rough and desperate, there's only room for anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain. You should know better.

And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there is a stupid spark—as if you are both too messed up to understand how much you need each other. Each fingertip of his leaves an imprint wherever he touches, a silent declaration of the strength he’s restraining. And some sick twisted part of you finds that attractive.

It’s like he’s fighting to contain this fury within him, to keep it from overwhelming you both. But you want it.

If someone told you you’d be kissing Rafe fucking Cameron of all people just a month ago, you’d think they were crazy. And yet… 

All you want are his hands on your body, his warm skin against your own.

Oh his hands.

They roam slowly over your lower back, over your waist again. You breathe out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pull him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes. And while you grew up hating that particular combination, it worked on him.

He pulls away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinks down at you. You watch him lick his bottom lip, swollen, wet with both of your spits, taking in the sight of you.

“’You’re bleeding—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

His blue eyes flare with renewed anger, turning almost black—something darker, more primal. Your words are like a match to gasoline. He doesn’t answer verbally; instead, he takes a half step back before swooping you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly.

With a swift motion, Rafe carries you to the dining table, and you barely have time to register the cool wood against your back before he’s on you again, his body pressing down on yours with a desperation that matches your own. There’s no tenderness there, only raw need.

He pries your lips apart again, his tongue sweeping in as he kisses you deeply, his mouth moving invasively over yours. His fingers grip your jaw with a vice-like hold. A strange sensation flutters beneath your skin, and you wrap your legs around his hips, closing the distance between your bodies as he presses flush against your center.

His hands move with such intent, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing every curve with a delicious blend of roughness and urgency. Your hands tangle in his hair, urging him closer as your kiss deepens. Everything around you fades into background noise as the room spins, his body so close making you breathless, his taste lingering on your lips.

You tug at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons because you just can’t wait. He lets out a deep, sexy growl that makes a shiver run down your spine. His hands are all over you, touching your skin and leaving fiery trails wherever they go. It feels like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, wanting to claim you in a way he hadn't before.

"You're impossible," he mutters against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. He leans down closer to your collarbone, to catch the scent on your skin, and he can’t tell if you are amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks round.

"And you’re an asshole,” your voice comes out breathless.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Good," you reply, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him down again. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back on you, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

But you don’t want control. You want to lose yourself in this moment, to forget everything you've been through and just feel. Live a little and forget about your problems.

Rafe seems to sense it, his hands becoming more insistent, his touch more possessive. He lifts you slightly, positioning you better on the table, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. The friction is exquisite, a delicious tease that leaves you wanting even more.

"Rafe," you breathe, and he almost falls to his knees at the soft whimper that leaves your lips, unable to stop the jerk of his hips forward.

He responds instantly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he kisses you with a fervor that leaves you dizzy. The table creakes under your combined weight, but neither of you care. Your hand grab his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin exposed.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, your eyes locking with his. There’s a wildness there, and for the first time in your life, you like it.

You reach up, tracing his jaw with your fingers, feeling the grown out stubble beneath your touch as his mouth, hot and demanding, leaves a trail of fire in its wake on your neck. A noise of pleasure slips from your mouth as he palms at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as his teeth graze your collarbone, kissing down, littering your skin bite marks.

"I hate you," you pants, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tighten around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. 

“Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat.

“Fucking asshole.”

“Fucking brat.”

You open your mouth to hiss something at him, to fight back, show him that you are the one in charge, but the intention dies the moment Rafe cups you through your shorts.

A pathetic excuse of shorts due to the heat.

Heat blooms in your stomach, melting into a torrent want that floods your skin and leaves you breathless. His determined blue eyes pierce into yours, watching as he presses the heel of his palm against the apex of your thighs, his middle finger tracing your pussy and applying light pressure to the sensitive dip between your legs.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asks, lips brushing over your mouth, loose bangs brushing against your brow “Thought you had more fire in you.”

He moves your shorts and underwear out of the way and your lips part on a sharp inhale as you feel him touch you for the first time. You can't think properly while he's doing this. Your brain feels to mushy to form a proper sentence.

“Yeah, thought so.” 

All that matters is the man in front of you, his relentless grip on your senses, his control over your body.

"God, I hate you," you whisper again, the words almost a prayer, a futile attempt to cling to the anger that has fueled you for so long.

But even as you say it, you know it’s was a lie. Partly.

You hate how much you need him right now, how much you crave his touch, his dominance. Perhaps you’ve been locked away from society for too long. That’s the only plausible reason for you to let Rafe Cameron touch you.

Rafe smirks, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"No, you don’t.” 

You do. At least you used to, everything is confusing now.

He teases you, his touch light and teasing, drawing out your frustration, your need. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a seductive growl that makes your heart race.

You bite back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But the need is so overwhelming, you nearly give in.

“Fuck you," you spit out, your defiance crumbling under the weight of your desire.

He chuckles darkly, his fingers finally slipping inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes your hips buck against his hand. Oh, he was going to ruin you.

"That's right," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you."

A broken moan escapes your lips, and you arch into his touch, your body writhing with need. His fingers move expertly, finding all the right spots, driving you near the edge with a skill that makes you breathless. Every touch, every stroke is designed to push you closer to the brink, to break you down until you are nothing but a trembling, pleading mess. You hate that he's so good.

"Rafe, please," you finally gasp, the words ripped from your throat by the overwhelming pleasure. "P-Please, I need you."

You'd be embarrassed later.

His smirk widens, and he pulls his fingers away, making you whimper in frustration. He doesn’t make you wait long, though. With swift, practiced movements, he frees himself from his pants, the sight of him hard and ready making your mouth water. 

Without a word, he positions himself between your legs, the head of his pretty cock teasing your entrance.

"You ready for me?"

You nod, your eyes locking with his, "Please.”

He doesn’t need any further encouragement. With a single, powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. The sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that makes you cry out. Your back arches involuntarily, your lips parting as he enters you, filling you completely in a way you have never imagined.

He rolls his hips firmly against yours, and your head tips back as his cock rubs perfectly against you. You never felt so full. He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath, giving you another firm roll of his hips, testing you out, figuring out his rhythm.

His movements are hard and relentless, pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs with each forceful thrust, barely giving you time to adjust. Not that you want slow.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his muscular back, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The table creaks and groans beneath you, but you don’t care.

All that matters is the man above you, his relentless drive, his unwavering hips. His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You can feel him losing control, his need matching your own. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, blocking him out so you can pretend you aren’t stupid enough to let the man that ruined your life fuck the living hell out of you.

"Eyes on me,” he growls, his voice all rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

Even though you really want to shut him out, you just can’t fight the crazy pull he has over you. His voice is like a force of nature. You open your eyes against your better judgment.

Seeing him above you, his face twisting with raw need and determination sends chills down your spine. His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with this unyielding intensity you never seen before and that leaves you breathless. No one had ever looked at you like that during sex.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. It makes you want to run for the hills, "Fucki—Oh, fuck. Y-You're sucking me in so nicely, huh?"

With each thrust, he drives you closer to your orgasm, your body responding to him in ways you can’t hold back. The pleasure is overwhelming, it leaves you gasping, moaning, begging for more. You don't even know what you're doing anymore. His name slips from your lips in a broken, desperate plea, and he answers with a renewed vigor, his movements becoming more frenzied.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice rough and strained. "You're so tight... feels so fucking good."

You can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your entire world has narrowed to this moment, to the feel of him inside you, to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

"Rafe," you whimper, the sound barely more than a breath. "I'm—I can't..."

He understands.

His pace quickens even more, his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "Come for me," he commands his voice a whisper against your earlobe that sends shivers down your spine. "Let go."

His words push you over the edge, and you come with a scream, your body convulsing around him. The intensity of your release is like nothing you ever felt before, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that makes you lose it. So this was what great sex felt like?

Rafe follows you over the edge, his own release crashing through him with a force that leaves him shaking on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rides out his orgasm, groaning as his movements slow down, until he finally stills, still buried deep inside you.

For a moment, everything is still, the only sound the ragged breaths but then he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there is something almost tender about him.

“Y-You—“ He sighs, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay? 

“Rafe...“

Before you can process his words, before you can question or argue, his lips are on yours again. Differently this time. Gentle. 

Devastating almost. 

“You’re still bleeding Maybank.”

Right. He'd fucked you good enough to forget about the pain. The moment of vulnerability between you evaporates, leaving you with the realization of your situation.

You just fucked Rafe Cameron. On a table. After being shot.

You push at his chest, forcing him to back off slightly, and hiss through clenched teeth, “Then do something about it."

He just stands there, staring at you as if he has never seen you before. As if he’s truly seeing you for the first time despite having known you since you were seven, despite all the moments marked by violence and terror. And you hate every second of it because your heart is practically leaping out of your chest.

No one has ever looked at you like that before.

And then he simply shakes his head, coming closer again, resting his forehead against yours, hands back on your thighs, fingers pressing as if he needs to ensure that you are real, that everything’s real.

“We’re getting out.”

You want to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it’s the only thing that matters. Even if it sounds stupid. You need it, at least for now.

“Yeah?"

“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

[losersiren]

𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k 

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots. 

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.”  The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath. 

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.” 

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.” 

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough. 

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession. 

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable. 

 “Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that? 

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them. 

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.  

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires 

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that 

“Ambrose…” 

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.”  The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with. 

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.” 

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”  

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed. 

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh. 

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord. 

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible. 

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun  Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”  

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad. 

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

 “Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it. 

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to. 

 Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?  

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!! 

[toytle]

everything abt this is outdated but ykw. tag yourself anyway, i’m jean and fred

text ID under cut:

lasik (scott): 1) gifted kid burnout + eldest sibling syndrome 2) leader by choice(..?) 3) “this is fine.”

mom jeans (jean): 1) leader but not by choice 2) never forgets a birthday 3) gets away with things due to her reputation

fuzzy elf (kurt): 1) tries to be hip with the kids (is a kid) 2) honorary catboy 3) fingerguns his way out of situations

:3 (kitty): 1) impulsive shopper 2) livetweets everything 3) says ‘omg’ and ‘ttyl’ outloud 4) bakes muffins for her friends! they are inedible!

skater boi (evan): 1) cool guy syndrome 😎 (undiagnosed adhd) 2) steals food off his friends' plates 3) PARKOUR!

e-girl blueprint (rogue): 1) hopeless romantic 2) only child AND middle child energy 3) knows the best thrifting spots

“””team leader””” (lance): 1) tries a lot, fails a lot 2) anger is default emotion 3) probably named his car betty or smth

actual team leader (pietro). 1) cool guy syndrome 😎 (unmedicated adhd) 2) causes problems on purpose 3) motivated by attention

toad (todd): 1) thinks he's just soo funny. well, he is. 2) hasn't showered in a month 3) stays out of drama but Will grab the popcorn

bombshell blonde (tabitha): 1) self-loathing vs superiority complex: fight! 2) flirts with friends 3) parties to avoid being alone with her thoughts

scarlet bitch (wanda): 1) hates authority figures 2) cuts her own hair. and clothes. 3) in a constant state of overstimulation 4) deserves to snap tbh

hey it’s (fred)!: 1) cries easily 2) would literally murder for friends 3) treats plushies like living creatures

professor clean (xavier): 1) “hello el gee bee tee que community" 2) adopts every child he sees 3) knows everything and yet nothing at all

grrrr (logan): 1) that sounds like a you problem." 2) acts like he hates kids but tacks their drawings to the fridge 3) believes that violence is the answer

weather report (ororo): 1) everyone's bisexual awakening 2) has high expectations for everyone, including herself 3) live laugh love 😊😊😊 or else

mr beast but like actually (hank): 1) god, i could really use a drink." *makes chamomile tea* 2) longs to be a smooth rock basking in the sun 3) gives unwarranted life lessons

another blue one (mystique): 1) #girlboss 2) “gay rights but only for me" 3) loves her son but will dropkick other children

magnum dong (magneto): 1) heterophobic 2) "you have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair" 3) does not love his son AND will dropkick other children

[lady-ashfade]

A Son For A Son

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Deamons Bastard!Reader x Yan!Team black. Pt.2

╰･ﾟ✧☽ first fic here.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summary: the queen has given a order, and craving revenge you expect.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 1k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: blood & gore, murder and death, reader killing, reader being her father, uncanon events, poison, I just needed to make this.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ DONT READ IF YOU WANNA BE SPOILED: reader does in fact kill aemond in this and idk if you are happy about it, I want his head to take to my queen.

“I want Aemond Targaryen.” she stood before the council covered in dirt and who knows what.

It had been two weeks since the letter about the death of Lucaerys had arrived and you all had been the worst for it. and ever since she searched and searched for a sign of truth, desperate to be wrong. that her sweet boy was alive. you knew he was dead and you wanted everyone to pay for taking luke. you wanted aemond targaryen to pay. you took anger out on the ones you could, or roamed the sky’s to get your mind off of things. you would not act without her orders.

The resemblance you shared to daemon was close and terrifying for your foes. just as you had the idea to fulfill her wishes, your father did too.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” the sound of your voice made his shoulders fall and a smirk appear on his face, one you couldn’t see. a dark cloak draped over his shoulders and matched the same one across your frame. “but I have a better one.”

“No.” you glare at the back of his head. again denied something worth your talents.

“You can’t tell me what do to this time father.” standing your ground as his eyes turn around, a look he uses when he’s serious. and for him it was like looking into a mirror, you carved blood just like he did and loved getting to spill it. even for no reason at all.

“I have waited around for a task, and she has said she wants Aemond. I mourn the loss of my brother too, and you can not keep me from whatever it is that you think you’re protecting me from.”

Hundreds of men died at the end of your blade at night as you slip throughout the shadows. you were a slayer, a assassin who followed your own roles but loved coin and the game. a story to tell children to make them weep and fear the dark. so how could he still think you are not ready.

“I have let you do what you needed, patrol the blockade against my wishes. or fly alone when our enemies wait to make us weaker” he lectures, “and I will not let them take you.” for a moment you saw a regular father begging for his daughter to stay safe. you aren’t just a daughter now but a soldier in war.

“I would never let them take me,” you step closer and give him a smug look, “I am your daughter after all.”

Instead of going himself, daemon sends you, for the head of the copycat prince.

the castle gates are easy to slip passed with the help of a guard who shares your hatred for the hightowers. and many times, you slip into the keep without getting caught.

“Something told me you’d be here,” his eye glanced at you amused from the cough as his fingertips spin a coin. “It’s as if the gods made me stay here.” aemond unfolded his legs and leaned forward on his knees. many years you hated the way he spoke to you like a interest of his to be claimed like his bitch dragon.

“Then the gods agree you’ll die tonight.”

aemond waited for this moment to finally fight you. he wanted to win and keep you forever as a trophy, a wife who was like him and everyone feared without a doubt. he wasn’t a fool, you are a skilled killer and he needed to bring his all. and some skills stayed in the dark.

a slice in his chest, in his leg and cheek aren’t as bad as he thought when he had you pinned down onto the table. the cold feeling of metal as his hands wrapped around your throat was refreshing. you didn’t try and fight back as he took your breath because the fight was won as soon as it started.

And he should have known you couldn’t be this sloppy.

curling lips up into a devil’s smirk, looking into his eye he feels himself weakened and his grip loosen. the power of letting a man win and wiping all power from beneath their feet was riveting and a hobby. Aemond leaned back and placed his weight onto the couch while trying to keep composure. “You honestly think i wouldn’t have a plan? Make my own rules?” you raise a brow and rub the sore skin of your neck, inching closer while standing up yourself.

“Silent reaper is the name they whisper about me, come in quickly without notice. I always kill my enemies without them awake, but you,” you point and lean down as his eyes become bloodshot, “I want to feel the most pain. And I will enjoy it.” within a few minutes his body starts to leak its own blood. he was quickly taken to death of course, you couldn’t hear his pleads but you’ll satisfy with his death.

guards fall silent when they watch you walk through the halls they don’t even announce your name. white locks lace your fingers and the weight of his head was little and you look like your father with the proud eyes of what you did. the sounds of your footsteps cause the council to glance over but stay with shock. non of them expected to see that and much less out of no where. though, your father seemed pleased and chuckled at the sight.

“The head of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your Grace.” Walking past Jace you set the bloody head on the table as people gawk and flinch. “the poison was my idea, hope you don’t mind.” a second later you yawn of exhaustion and boredom. you look at rhaenrya as her eyes glossed with the revenge you took for her.

“If you’ll excuse me, the ride back was tiring and I wish to get back to my book.” bowing down you flash a “polite” smile and walk away to your chambers with pride and a hand rested on your blade. with everyone wondering what else you would do for the queen,

Your mother.

[blackypanther9]

Boys ask you out – Demon!Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor

A/N: A version where you and Alastor are in Hell and Demons, because it was asked ! If anyone wants to be tagged, tell me and tell me if you only want to be tagged for the Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor, Son!Reader x Father!Alastor, or both series ! ^^ (Picture belongs to rightful owner!)

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1

WARNING!: Blood & Gore, Demon!Alastor, threats, cursing, insults AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! THIS IS NOT ROMANTIC !!

Alastor and you were in a Café that suited your on and off tastes. Your Dad was very balanced with his diet, even if not many knew that, he ate venison a lot and sometimes other Demons too, but he also ate normal food.

You were the cause of that. You had certain swings in your appetite. Sometimes you wanted Venison, but other times you just wanted normal food and something sweet for dessert.

Your Father, curse (bless but it’s Hell so “Bless” would be an insult) his soul, loved you too much to not indulge you in that simple wish of yours. So here you were. In a small Café.

He had a cup of coffee and a plate of spaghetti Bolognese, while you had a cup of your favorite hot drink and your favorite dish. You were just happily eating and talking with each other in between bites, as a Demon approached your table.

“Hello there, Cutie~”, the Demon purred and was way too close to you, to your liking.

He must have been new to be so bold and approach you, in front of your Father, the Radio Demon. Your Deer ears started to lie back, showing you were a bit on edge.

“First off: I am not ‘Cutie’ and second off: Back off won’t ya ? Never heard of personal space before ?”, you huffed, irritated.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be like that~”

The man started to touch your cheek and you could hear a static screech. You looked at your Father and he was...pissed. His smile was still present, yet sinister, and his eye twitched showing the raw urge to murder this pest.

The Demon gave you a smug look.

“C’mon, I am way better than this guy~”, he purred.

“I doubt that very much.”, you growled out slightly.

“How about I show you a good time, hmm ? A better one than this stick has to offer~? I promise it will be worth it, Baby~”, he tried to seduce you and started to let his hand travel down to your woman zone.

Almost instantly did you grab his wrist, with his wandering hand, and scratched it deeply. The man hissed and tore his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me, perverted pig !”, you snarled.

“What the FUCK ?! YOU LITTLE BITCH !!”

The man snatched your left wrist and tried to tear you away.

“YOU WILL TAKE WHAT I GIVE YOU, BITCH ! WHEN I SAY ‘LET’S FUCK’, YOU SAY ‘YES’, YOU DUMB BIMBO !!”

Suddenly there was a clawed hand on your offender’s wrist, that owned the hand that held your left wrist. The static was loud and all the Demons in the Café started to cower away. The hand was black, the sleeve red and the claws red. Your Father’s hand.

“Who do you think you are, to treat my DAUGHTER like that, my good man ?”, Alastor asked dangerously calm.

You could see your Papa’s rage in his eyes. He was ready to eat that Sinner in one bite. Your offender’s grip tightened and you winced, looking at your Dad. He could SMELL it, the lowlife made you BLEED.

“What’s it to you, Loser ? She is nothing special, just because she is your daughter, just another common whore.”, the Sinner scoffed, not even looking at Alastor.

 Alastor’s eyes turned into Radio dials, as you started to get small tears in your eyes. You didn’t like being mistreated and called a slut. It was a memory trigger of a few things that happened to you in your living times, after your Papa was killed and long gone. Without his protection, you got into a very dark time, all because you trusted a family friend and they betrayed you both.

The Demon gave a chuckle of amusement.

“I bet you are fucking your own daughter too. How does she feel, hm ? I bet you would love to share her.”

That was it ! You let out a sound of retching and Alastor snapped. No one is allowed to make his fawn vomit her food back out ! No one is allowed to make his Baby CRY ! No one is allowed to VIOLATE his darling child !

Alastor fully transformed and ripped the Sinner’s arm off, that left its filthy touch on you. The Sinner screamed in agony. Instantly Alastor made a live Radio Broadcast.

“A reminder to all of you, to not touch the Radio Demon’s child ! Whoever violates these terms and I find out about it, will PAY. WITH. THEIR. LIFE. HAHAHAHAHAHA !!!”

The Demon was screaming in agony, crying and begging for mercy, promising he will never do it again. He sure won’t. Alastor will take care of that after all.

After a long torture session he killed the Demon, then he looked at you, his beloved daughter, and he rushed to your side.

“My Dear, are you alright ? Do you want to go home ? Here let me heal that for you, my Fawn.”, Alastor fussed over you.

He gently took your injured wrist and started to heal your injury, while you tried to calm down and get your retching under control. You didn’t want to throw up your food. Your anxiety got the best of you and now you have to battle your urge to vomit.

Alastor quickly caught up and started to pull you close to his chest, gently petting your head and ears, rubbing his other hand up and down your back.

“Calme-toi, ma chérie, je suis là. Je suis là...Shhh... (Calm down, my dear, I’m here. I’m here...Shhh...)”, Alastor said in a soothing, gently voice.

After a while, you calmed down, but lost your appetite. You looked at your Papa.

“Pa ?”

“Yes, Cher ?”

“Mwen vle ale lakay mwen. (I want to go home.)“

Alastor took a deep breath, outraged that this vile creature ruined his and his daughter’s good day.

“Oke, mwen Chè. (Alright, my dear)”, he replied gently.

He left some money on the table and then left with you in his arms for home. He held you to his chest, comforting you at home and watching over you.

Another day

Another time the two of you took a stroll through a small park, that Alastor loved to walk through. It had a few bushes of red roses too and you liked it there. Usually you walked through forests together, but a park was nice too, you didn’t mind it.

Then suddenly a Demon came up to you, ignoring your Father entirely.

“Hey there, hot stuff~ Wanna go out and hook up tonight~?”, the Demon asked.

He sounded young, maybe twenty years old. Your Father’s eye twitched in irritation, while you just stared at him, thinking he was a total idiot for asking you in front of your Dad.

“No thank you. I have to decline. I am not interested.”, you kindly rejected him.

“Oh, please reconsider. I promise I will make it worth your while~”, the Demon insisted.

“Didn’t you hear her ? She said ‘no’, so kindly leave, my good man, before I make you leave. P e r m a n e n t l y.“, Alastor threatened.

The Demon froze and looked over to the Radio Demon.

“H-hey man...I-I didn’t kn-know she was y-your sw-sweetheart.”, the Demon stuttered, all confidence gone.

You groaned loudly.

“Seriously ?! Why is everyone thinking all the time that we are Lovers ?! Gross !”, you yelled in disgust and looked at your Papa.

“I do not know, my Dear.”, Alastor replied.

He was breathing raggedly, trying to stay calm.

“Wait...then what are you ?”, the Demon asked you both confused.

You gave the Demon a deadpan look.

“He is my Father and I am his daughter.”

“O-oh...M-may I take y-your d-daughter out o-on a d-date, Mr. Radio D-Demon ?”

Alastor’s static came to a screeching halt.

“HA ! No.”, he deadpanned.

“P-please ? I-I will take good c-care of her !”, the Demon pleaded.

“HA ! Never going to happen.”, he replied annoyed.

You looked at your Father who was deeply annoyed, like Susan was around. You looked at the Demon and shrugged your shoulders.

“Sorry, Sir. But my Dad will NOT be swayed today.”, you said.

“A-and you ?”

Your Father snapped and gave the Demon his Radio dial pupils.

“If you value your life, you best get out of my sight NOW !”, Alastor said with his glitching voice.

The Demon quickly turned tail and ran for dear life. Alastor snapped out of his murderous state and smiled gently at you again.

“Shall we go home, my Dear ?”

“We shall, Papa.”

With that you both walked back home together, chatting and laughing.

If a Demon asks you out and Alastor is near you, he will intervene.

He doesn’t think that any of these loathsome Sinners are worthy enough to even talk to you. You were his Fawn and he will NEVER leave you alone again. He will NEVER let you go anywhere unprotected EVER again.

He always studies the Demons that approach you and he always saw the same thing. The desire to deflower you, to mark you, to kidnap you and hold you against him, the want to kill you just to get him to go after you, the want to hurt you, just to get under his skin.

Absolutely not. He will never let any of these vile nasty creatures touch you. NEVER.

He sees someone approach you, he will instantly appear on your side and make sure you will be okay...or even scare them off.

Wherever you go, he will send his shadow after you, to keep an eye out, in case you get in trouble, he can quickly teleport to you.

Rosie is the only one who is allowed to touch you and he trusts only her to not harm you.

When he is near his...unfortunate time of the year...(mating season), he will get overprotective and overly possessive of you. It is usually always a whole week before his rut. He will spend all the time with you he can get, before he gets into that season, then he will lock himself up in his own room.

No, his rut isn’t as terrible as anyone might think. He is immune to you and you are immune to him. He would NEVER touch you like that and neither would you. You just bring him food and drinks, and if he needs it, you cuddle with him. You are the ONLY ONE that is allowed to enter his room when he gets like that, because nothing will ever happen to you. He loves and values you too much as his daughter to let anything happen to you.

He will kill anyone that dares to be near you.

There was a time where Valentino touched you and tried to force you to make a deal with him, knowing you were the Radio Demons daughter. Let us just say...Alastor roughened him up so good, that Valentino almost died.

There was also a time where Vox tried to woo you, as that didn’t work he tried to force you to be with him, so he can have leverage over your Father.

....Let’s just say....Alastor nearly tore Vox to shreds that not even Lucifer himself would have been able to put that Flat screened Bastard back together, EVER again.

He still growls when you are near Odette, Clara, Carmilla and Zestial, but he is not attacking them. They were your friends. Still he sometimes gets in their way when they try to touch you, or initiate touch.

The four of them were calm about it and understanding. It got annoying from time to time that Alastor was so overprotective and possessive of you, but they understood why. After all you told them why he was acting the way he was. It made sense.

He couldn’t protect you in your human life. As soon as he died, you got hurt, used and abused, forced to do let things happen to you, that you didn’t want. You told him everything when you met him in Hell again and since then, he never left your side. There was always something from him near you, either one of his minions, one of the souls he owned, his shadows or he himself was near you.

You didn’t mind it much. You had nothing to hide from your Father after all. You loved spending time with him and if you needed him to give you some space, all you had to do was tell him and go to your room.

Best Dad in Hell, really.

I hope you like it and it is passable ! ^^'

(Words: 2 247)

Masterlist HERE !

[khattikeri]

3zun is just so funny to me. it's so tasty.

you canonically have A Guy who got murdered barely at his mid-20s bc he shoved his ex down a flight of stairs and called him a son of a whore in a fit of anger and the ex got paranoid enough to go "alright that's fucking it he HAS to die". he's right to scream about his ex obviously planning on killing him, he's just wrong to assume his ex was always a crazy evil bitch and not, y'know, paranoid and upset at being shoved down a flight of stairs. c'est la vie.

you have Other Guy, the ex in question who got het married to his own half-sister because "too little too late the wedding's tomorrow and we already have a kid on the way, shit, her reputation will be ruined forever if i abandon her now and don't publicly explain why, fuck, guess i'll lie to her the rest of our lives" and that's not even the tip of the iceberg of crimes and other unfortunate follies he's willing to commit in the name of status and personal safety. he murders and dismembers the First Guy and keeps the body's head in his fun little mirror closet. he talks to it now and then. just girly things.

you have The Final Guy, who happens to love both of these batshit individuals and refuses to 100% side with or denounce either of them, or even really investigate the shit they're claiming about each other, which pisses them both off and leaves everyone in varying levels of unhappiness and distress. he recognizes the First Guy's disembodied chest by musculature alone. he and Other Guy lovingly eye-fuck for nearly two full decades before he realizes Other Guy murdered First Guy and lied about it. he is tricked into stabbing Other Guy and goes into self-imposed indefinite solitary confinement over it while his two partners' souls and zombified bodies are trapped together in a coffin doomed to torment each other for over a century.

amazing and quirky of them, you have to admit.

[watsittoyah]

The Devil's Playpen

A Obsessive!QIMIR X BLACK!FEMALE OC STAR WARS SMUT FIC

This is complete fiction, I do not own any characters of the star wars franchise however I own all characters of my own creation, as well as plot.

That being said, the themes will be dark, Qimir will have obsessive and possessive qualities. This story will be borderline grey morals, there will be trigger warnings in the beginning of every chapter that will be gruesome/sexual.

You’ve been warned little flower if you’d like to continue, please read forward, if not put this work of fiction down and go read the holy word…welcome to the Devils playpen…

Chapter 2) Fear Is Only A Four Letter Word

(Song: All Mine By Plaza)

Warning: Mutual masturbation, Mentions of suicide, Rough oral sex (male receiving), Self pleasure, back door eating (HE EATING GOOD TONIGHT LADIES!)

Previous

I can feel my mothers tears on my face as she hugs me.

“Mother I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” I smell her burning flesh instantly and I want to vomit. When her now lifeless body falls against me, I see the figure who took her from me.

The figure was always Zen, but this time it’s…

“Qimir.” I wake up with a jolt and I’m no longer tied up in ropes. Instead I’m in a bed under a soft quilt.

I mentally curse my body because that means Qimir had to had touch me to get me into this bed.

A missed kill opportunity.

I go to get up, but I pause because I feel eyes on me.

I think fast about a weapon and he must’ve known what I was thinking because he says something that makes my skin crawl.

“You know looking for weapons won’t help you. I can always take it from you.” I cut my eyes at him. “So you want to come close to me or should I just come to you? Because the moment I get a weapon I’m going to-” He raises his hand to me and I become lifted in the air.

My throat is now in his hand and he looks me deep into my eyes. “Such a deadly little flower.” I can’t move. I can barely move my fingers and toes.

Of course he’s a force user.

“I hate you.” I hiss at him. “You hate me now, but you’ll learn to think otherwise, little flower…you know you talk in your sleep. Did your mother-”

“DON’T TALK ABOUT HER! SHUT UP!” I scream as I try to force my body to move. He looks at me with a smile crawling across his lips.

“You see you have this…” He squeezes my throat tighter, cutting off my air a bit. “…look in your eyes. It says you want to murder me. But that’s going to be difficult since I have the upper hand here.”

I start to feel my left side and before he can notice I bring my hand up and rake my nails across his face. He drops me instantly and I take a deep breathe.

I then take off running.

I’ll kill him and then I’ll get out of here.

First I need to find an exit, then maybe I can lure him out and then handle him.

I take a left and I can smell him not too far behind me.

He’s fucking gaining on me.

I take a right and halt around a corner. I press myself firmly against the wall and listen out for him. “You can’t run far, Akasha. I won’t let you leave this place. You’re not leaving me….” I heard him say as he stalks down the hall looking for me.

Once the coast is clear I take off down the hall in the opposite direction. I feel cold air drifting in from a room so I run inside and I see the light from outside.

I run faster and just when I feel like I have my freedom…

…I see that we’re on a high cliff.

I stop short and I see nothing but rocks and water as far as I could see. My legs give up from under me and I fall to my knees. I don’t even care that they’ll bruise.

I…I can’t stay here. I need to escape, I need to get my freedom back.

Before I know it, I’m walking down the halls, thinking about what I can do. How I can get off this fucking island.

How do I get this crazy son of a bitch to let me go?

You play the role he wants, tell him all he needs to hear and when the coast is clear, find a safe exit and slit his throat from ear to ear.

I smile to myself as I walk back to the bedroom and I make sure I play my roll well.

Don’t give in too easily, he will be suspicious. Be the cat in this mouse trap, Akasha.

I kneel in the middle of the room with my eyes closed listening for his panicked footsteps. His scent makes it to me before his presence does. I then hear him enter the room and I remain still.

“Look at my little flower, rooted where she belongs.” He says standing in front of me. I open my eyes and look at him, pretending I’m bored.

“Oh, you’re back?” He narrows his eyes at me and he grabs me by my upper arm. “Ouch!” I fake to him. He seems to like my plea because he squeezes harder. “I need to show you something. But you need to promise me you won’t try to run off again. Because if you do, I will leave you with a permanent scar on this intoxicating body of yours.” He says as he drags me off.

I give just enough resistance to make him think I’m going to fight him, but I follow along side him.

••••

Once we’re outside, I take in my surroundings and Qimir’s grip on my arm loosens but only by a fraction. “I am going to teach you how to concur your fear. But first you must address it.”

He lets me go and while he keeps his eyes on me, he goes into a bag that was outside and he pulls out a different light saber. I take a step back from him and he stands in front of me.

He points the handle my direction, motioning me to take it. But I don’t move a muscle. “Akasha, take it.” I shake my head. “No.” I tell him, not looking away from the light saber.

Suddenly I’m back into the bad place. I’m watching as the Jedi slaughter everyone and I’m trying my best to help mother escape.

Children’s lives were being snuffed out. Men are being brought to their knees. The few women we had left…all begging for mercy.

And what breaks my people apart is the slash and stabs of light sabers brought on by monsters who say they are the good guys.

When I blink, I’m not there. I have to remind myself that I am in the present and that I can’t get hurt. I live on for my people. I live on so I can get revenge for them.

Qimir, takes the Saber and puts it in my hand but I jerk away and snatch my hands back. “No! What are you trying to prove? I’m weak because of this stupid weapon? You win!” I yell at him.

“No, I’m showing you that you’re stronger than your demons. This fear? It hold you back from your full potential. Now take it!” He thrusts the saber into my hands and in an angered rush I snap on him.

I point the saber to his chest, in hopes that it will light up and kill him. But when I see his eyes soften, I get frustrated. I can’t help but go to hit him with my bare hands. He moves quick as he sees what I’m about to do.

He keeps my hands on the saber handle and he looks me in my eyes, with sadness.

I want to scratch his eyes out, how dare he look at me like that?

“Do you feel that, Akasha?” He squeezes my hands tightly and I want to scream. I want to throw a tantrum. He’s looking at me with pity. I’ll show him pity.

“Below the surface of consciousness are powerful emotions. Anger…fear, loss…desire.” When he says desire he looks down at my lips and then back up into my eyes. “T…that’s the path to the dark side.” I tell him, smelling his want and need.

Don’t lost focus, keep the anger. Keep the hate and make sure you attack. I tell myself.

He’s pitying you.

Don’t let him win.

“Semantics.” He says in a whisper. “What do you desire in this very moment, Akasha? Revenge for your people? Taking my life? Or deep down you have the desire to unlock your potential, in a way that I know is a guarantee?”

He flicks the saber from my grasp and it clatters to the ground.

His arousal is unmistakable as it’s starting to suffocate me.

The urge to bite him is strong.

I look away from his eyes and I stare at his lips, his tongue emerges and licks. I remember those lips suckling my clit, I remember his tongue worshiping my pussy.

My thighs clench with desire and I try to pull away but he pins me still with his hungered stare. He leans in close to my ear and he rubs his nose against my skin.

“I can smell how wet you are, Akasha. My desire, in this very moment is to bury my face between those delicious thick thighs of your and partake of that sweet pussy just like I did yesterday. Will you let me do that? Will you let me taste you again?”

A chill runs down my spine as I feel his cock pressed against my stomach. I choke back a moan as my clit throbs.

I want him to touch me.

Taste me.

I want him to lick me till my juices drip down his handsome face.

He flicks his tongue against my earlobe and I let out a small gasp. “Come with me, you haven’t bathed since yesterday and I’m sure you’d like that.” I’d like to sit on this man’s face, but before I could protest he tugs me along by my hands and makes me follow him.

We get to a calm little pond and he lets my hands go and starts walking towards the water.

I watch him pull off his shirt and on his back, I see an ugly scar. It practically took over seventy-five percent of his back. Curiosity bites and I want to know how he got it.

He looks back at me and his eyes travel up and down my body. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

That question, stalls all of my logical thinking and I start pulling off articles of clothing and I follow him into the water.

We’re both completely naked and the cool feeling of the water on my skin feels good to my tense muscles. I watch as he dunks his entire body into the water and I watch for him to break the surface.

Instead I feel his hands on my body and I almost jerk away from surprise, but I still my movements. “You have such pretty brown skin, little flower.” Qimir says as he holds me from behind.

He dips his head low and I feel his teeth graze against my neck. I feel his very erect cock brushing against my lower back and I bite my bottom lip as I reach around and grab a hold of him. He lets out a hiss as I stroke him slowly.

“Is this part of my training, Master?” I feel his muscles tense as I call him that and I know it pleases him by the way he leaves kisses against my neck.

“It’s definitely part of your training. Though I should punish you for running away from me.”

“But I did come back.” I challenge as I rub my thumb against the head of his cock. I hear a groan in his throat and I feel my clit throb. “You did come back to me, like a good girl. So I guess I can reward you a little and make this a lesson at the same time.”

He then cups my breasts and I let out a moan as he rolls my nipples between his fingers. I lean my head back against his chest and he takes the opportunity and sucks my neck. I feel a slight pinch and I know he’s left a mark. “You know one of the many reasons why I chose to keep you, little flower is because you’ve suffered loss. And you’re free from so many things…”

He pulls me back gently towards a large rock in the water and I follow. The water is now only covering up to his lower thigh and my higher thighs. He then leans me against the rock and cages me in with his arms.

I look from his eyes and down to his bare chest. My split tongue makes an appearance which causes him to suck in his breath. My eyes go further down and they widen.

I know what I was touching in the water but holy mother of Venus he’s huge. I look away but he stops me by holding me by my chin. “You were just touching it seconds ago, don’t be afraid of it now…this will be your reward amongst other things, little flower.” He guides my hand down to his hard cock and when I grip it he bites his bottom lip.

“I know I don’t need to teach you on how to pleasure someone, but I want to see how you pleasure yourself, show me what you do on those lonely nights.”

It’s like I’m under his spell, because I then guide my own hand down to my pussy. I rub my lips together and my eyes flutter closed. “No, no, no. I want to watch those pretty grey eyes while you pleasure the both of us.” He growls as he guides my hand up and down on his thick cock.

My eyes open wide when I see him hike up my legs so that I’m in front of him but spread more apart. As I pleasure myself I stroke him with a more firm grasp. “Just like that. Stroke me as if I’m inside of that pretty pussy of yours.” He moans as he watches my fingers rub my clit. I was watching myself stroke him and I see the bead of precum ball at the tip. I had the urge to use my tongues to lick it up and twirl it around the head.

When we both look up at each other he presses his full lips against mine and it gave me a chill. Because it felt like we were meant to kiss…to touch…to be intimate.

I’m as crazy as he is.

I twirl my tongues against his and he rocks his hips faster, as he stokes himself in my hand. I stop focusing on myself and I just use both of my hands to stoke him while rubbing the head against my pulsating clit.

He sucks my tongues and bites my bottom lip. I hear a suck when he releases my lips and I know they’re swollen from the assault.

Qimir’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels the tip slide inside of me. I start to go further but he stops me. “No, you ran from me earlier. You don’t get to feel my cock inside of you just yet. But don’t worry, I’ll let you cum this time. Now make yourself cum with just the tip of my cock. I want your juices dripping against this rock.” He holds my legs further apart and I let out a moan with some gibberish of my native tongue from the added pleasure.

I stroke him against my clit and I bite my lips, moaning, and internally wanting him inside of me. “Master…please just let me slide it in. I want your cock inside of my pussy. I want to make you feel good too.”

He allows only the head to go in again and then he stops. “If you hadn’t ran, Akasha I’d be balls deep inside of you. But you have to learn the consequences of your actions. Now let me watch you cum with just the tip.” He groans as he leans in and bites the same spot he had earlier on my neck.

“Fuck…” I moan as I stroke him faster between my pussy lips. “Mmm, that colorful language. I really like when you use your words to let me know you’re enjoying yourself….I might not have my cock inside of you right now. But it will be inside of you soon.” He licks my bottom lip and I rock my hips now, just to feel more friction.

I move my face and moan that I’m gonna come soon, which only makes him stoke against me faster. “Cum on the head of this cock, little flower. I need to watch you cum.” He moans against my open mouth.

I groan and whimper as I feel my lips clutch on the head of his cock. I stop and feel my juices drip down my lips and onto the shaft of his cock.

I try to catch my breath but he doesn’t give me a second of rest. He moves me up on the rock and flips me over so that my stomach was lying on the cold hard rock.

“Now I get my release.” The snakes in my stomach were tumbling and toiling around as I wait with anticipation of him, fucking me from behind. But instead I feel him move me to my knees and I feel his tongue lap up at my already sensitive clit.

“Ah…t…too much, master.” I moan as I claw at the rock. He gives a firm slap to my ass, before he parts it. “You can take it. I know you can.” He assaults me with his tongue on my clit and my back arches as I squirm trying to get away.

“There you go, running again. Now stay still.” He gives a firm order and my body, does what it’s told.

He slides his tongue inside of me and I feel his nose graze the bud of my ass, which causes me to groan in pleasure.

This bastard is going to ruin me before I can even slit his throat.

I move my hips but he slaps my parted ass, more firmly. “Don’t…move.” He says between licks. I let out a moan in response and feel him slurp and suck my lips.

Just when I think he’s about to let up, he grips my ass and he licks from the tip of my clit all the way to the bud of my ass.

The noise coming from my throat sounded animalistic.

He slips his tongue in and I look back at him. He had his eyes shut but I can tell he was in utter bliss. I feel his fingers stroking my inner walls and I jerk close to an orgasm.

If my nails could dig deeper into the rock I’m sure I would’ve broke chunks of it off.

“Master, Massssster I’m gonna come. I’m gonna-” He spits and slurps it up and I lose it.

I feel myself squirm and squirt all at the same time.

I don’t care that he said don’t move. I move my hips and I rub my ass and pussy in his face so I can ride out the orgasm.

He then holds me firmly still and he gives a hard suck to my aching clit. I jerk one more time and in an embarrassing motion, I hit my head on the rock and I pass out…

••••

I wake up to the smell of something in the air and I’m back in the bed when I open my eyes. The gears in my head start to spin when I realize, Qimir is either sleeping on some floor or chair. Or he’s sleeping in the very bed I’m in.

I quickly get out of the bed and I see I’m wearing one of his t-shirts. It comes just past my knees and yet I still feel exposed. I follow the smell and find him shirtless in what looks like a kitchen.

I look at the scar on his back and the curiosity comes back to my mind. How did he get that scar?

Who hurt him?

For a split second I feel anger in my stomach knowing someone had hurt him.

No, stop.

I don’t care that someone had hurt him. Right, I don’t care.

Yet, I walk a bit further and I reach out, letting my finger tips brush against him. His body tenses and when he turns, I see something menacing in his eyes. I snatch my hand back and he quickly switches.

“Someone’s finally awake. Are you hungry?” Before I can protest, my stomach gives me away. He gives a smirk at the sound motions for me to sit at the table. I hesitate slightly and he stares me down. “Akasha, sit.” He says in a gentle yet steady voice.

I go sit down and he brings over to me, a bowl of some sort of broth. I look at it questioning if I should eat it.

“It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Qimir says as he pulls up a chair. “Are you sure?”

“If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve been when I had you in the alleyway.” Fair point.

I stir the broth with the spoon provided and I bring it to my lips. I sniff the air and the broth doesn’t have any off odors. But you can mask a poison with other ingredients.

I bring the spoon to my lips and from the corner of my eye I see him, watching me. Waiting for me to taste. I let the liquid hit my tongues and I glance at him.

“It’s good.” I tell him as I take another spoon fool. The broth had chunks of meat in it as well as some grains.

He seems to relax after watching me eat and he begins to eat his meal as well.

We eat in silence for a while. The only sound you hear is just spoons scraping bowls and slurping from lips.

I glance at Qimir and I see him licking his spoon and lips. My brain stutters as I remember what those lips and tongue has done to me in the last twenty-four hours and the broth goes down the wrong way.

I choke on the broth and he gets up to help me. But I jerk away from him and I fall out my chair. I manage to choke down the broth and he was crouched down in front of me.

“Even after the intimate moments we had, and you’re still not willing to let me touch you.” He says with a hint of hurt in his voice. “I don’t trust you, Quimir. Is that even your real name?”

He nods and clenched his jaw. “You don’t trust me yet hours ago you trusted me enough to have my face buried in placed on your body intimately. This flower just gets more and more interesting. And as far as my name, I chose it so it’s my name.”

He cocks his head to the side as he stares at my neck. He gives a smirk and I raise my hands to the tender spot. “That mark I left…there’s no mistake that you belong to me. But I’m sure you’ll learn when I leave more marks on you.” He stands up and offers his hand to me but I ignore it and stand on my own.

I walk past him and sit down at the table, no longer hungry. Just feeling licked with anger.

“If you’re done eating then let’s get started on your first lesson. The lesson at hand is admitting your fear.” I feel as if ice cold water was poured over me and I feel exposed.

My eyes look around before anything else and I see he has a saber in his hand. I go to get up but he stops me with a look. “Sit still and don’t you fucking move.”

I don’t even look at him. My eyes on trained on the saber. “Why are you afraid of an object that has no power unless wielded? Why does fear have you by the throat like this, Akasha?”

Qimir walks around the table towards me but again I only stare at the saber. “If you want to kill me with the saber. Just do it. Stop taunting me.” I finally look up at him and he was gazing at me.

“The fight in your eyes lets me know you’re not hopeless. Now why are you afraid or a light saber? Did a Jedi do something to you?” I stare him, unanswering. “Your people?” My eye twitches and he gives a chuckle.

“Genocide is funny to you?” I narrow my eyes accusing him. “No, what’s funny is your anger gives you away. Clearly the Jedi have wronged you but they left such a deep scar on your life that fear has you by a choke hold. I want to help you break that fear.”

“Why? Why is this important to you?”

“Because, what I desire is a partner of equal standing. And I’ve looked for many years. You…you have the potential. But this fear is holding you back and I want to help. Will you let me?” He asks as he towers over me.

I swallow hard and I look down at the saber. “How can you help me? How can you help me heal these scars?” He lifts my chin so that I’m looking up at him. “Not heal them, embrace those scars. Come with me.” He tugs me up from my seat and he leads me to another room.

When we get to this room, I notice the walls have many scratch marks all over them. Qimir stops which makes me do the same as well. “You seem to fear the saber because you see it as a reminder of the terrible events in your life. But instead of freezing with fear, you should concentrate on using that fear to paralyze your enemies.”

I watch as he walks over to a metal box. My first thought is that he’s going to grab another saber, but instead he takes out a metal helmet. It looked homemade and had a creepy smile adoring it. “This is made of Cortosis. It destabilizes light sabers and…it’s also a device they would use on younglings.”

My eyes cut to him. “You were a Jedi?” He nods and I bare my teeth at him. “I knew something was wrong with you! You’re like them! You’re a murderer! Just like them!” I yell as I back away from him. He raises his hand and I get yanked over to him.

“I was a Jedi, and as far as a murderer, I only killed the people who wronged me. I was never on your planet when the erasing happened. I…am what they call, a Sith. I’m telling you all of this because I need you to trust me in order for this training to be a success, Akasha.”

He hands me the helmet and it has some weight to it.

I could smash him across his face, hit him over and over until his skull is caved in and I could be rid of him. But I can’t do that. I don’t even have a way off this island…which means he had to had brought me here on a ship.

But where is the ship?

“What do you want me to do with this? Eat it?” I ask in a sarcastic manner. He rolls his eyes at me and clears his throat. “Put it on, you need to refocus your mind and let yourself be one with the force.” I give him a scowl. “But I’m not force sensitive.”

He shakes his head. “Yes you are, Akasha. I had you under my control earlier but you had managed to get out of my hold. You were most likely force sensitive as a child but no one trained you. Now put the helmet on.”

“After I do, what will you do to me?” I ask as I look down at the frozen smiling face. “I won’t do anything that you won’t like. I promise.” I don’t trust him, but in order to get my way I need to play along. So I put the helmet on and it’s a bit claustrophobic. All I can really hear is my own breathing. “What now…Master?”

I can feel him behind me. Holding my hips in place as he presses his front to my back. “Now close your eyes. Your eyes can deceive you. You must not trust them. Breathe….connect with the force, Akasha. Think of those moments where you’ve had peace. Grasp those moments and use that to connect you.”

A thought bubbles up in my head. A thought I haven’t had since I was a little girl. It was the day my mother had gave me my youth marks.

I remember the day. I was both excited and anxious. I had asked the great grandmother about how the process is done. And she told me that I was suppose to drink a warm liquid that would have me in a limbo state, and then the great grandmother would take red ink, a poking stick and a stone and give me my youth marks.

I still remember my mother holding my hand when the first poke pierced my skin. I winced in pain and my mother said, I must be strong like our people. I need to be brave like my father and cunning like my ancestors.

“Look at you…” I hear Qimir’s voice and that’s when the memory fades. When I come back to the present, I see that I’m holding the saber, but not only that, everything in the room is floating in the air.

I gasp and that’s when everything falls to the floor. I toss the saber down and I take the helmet off. “What are you doing? You were doing amazing, Akasha.”

“I feel sic-” I feel a slight pound to my head and I drop down. But before I can fall completely, Qimir scoops me up in his arms. “Sorry there little flower, I should’ve warned you that you’d feel a bit nauseous after your first time. But you made me proud. Which means you get rewarded greatly.” He leans down and he kisses my temple. He carried me in his outs and walks out of the room, I look back at the saber and helmet and feel…a warm sensation.

Is it because I don’t feel well?

Because he said he was proud of me?

Or because I was able to tap into the force?

Yeah, I don’t feel well. I’ll go with that logic.

••••

After much rest and odd dreams about the force, I was woken up feeling this empty feeling in my gut. I haven’t felt that in a long time.

I crawl out of bed and feel that the side next to me was cold.

Where is he?

I feel my bare feet patting against the cold floor and I hear drilling. I follow the sound and when I find where it’s coming from I see Qimir drilling something onto the helmet.

He senses me because he stops and looks over at me. “Did I wake you?” He asks as he sets his drill down. “No, I was just wondering what you were doing since you weren’t lying next to me.”

He looks down at my bare thighs and the back at me. “I couldn’t sleep, and even if I could, I wouldn’t sleep in the same room as you…you’re too much of a distraction.”

“So where do you sleep? If not in the bed with me?” I ask out of pure curiosity. He looks around and then back at me.

“In here. I have a cot in the corner.” He motions with his chin and I look over to see the cot. It looks uncomfortable and old.

I make a face.

“That can’t be good for your back.” I look back at him and he’s just staring at me like he wants to eat me…out.

“Careful little flower, you sound like you care about me.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms, which causes my chest to push up. His eyes, go right to there and I feel…hot.

“I’m just saying, that can’t be good for your back…speaking of that. How did you get that scar?”

The moment I mention the scar he seems to give off a dark murderous aura. Even I take a small step back.

“…My…Master, gave this to me after she threw me away.” His jaw was clench but I see it in his eyes. The anger and hurt. “So she stabbed you in the back.” I say remembering how big and ugly the scar looks.

I get a slight irritation in my chest hearing that a woman had hurt him.

“Among other things. Yes.” He then goes silent and the room just seems suffocating. So I speak.

“These…scars.” I touch my face and give a sad smile. “Are my youth scars as well as my warrior scars. They were painful, but I adore them.”

“Are you saying I should adore this scar on my back?” He snaps at me. “No, I’m saying my scars have a story. And so does yours. I have plenty of scars you haven’t seen that shows I’ve tried to take my own life….” I pull down the shirt and point to the faint scar on my neck.

“When my people were slaughtered and I was left. I got scared. I got scared and lonely and I remember…I grabbed a chair. I grabbed a chair and I grabbed my old baby blanket. I had cut it up finely and I just kept tying the pieces together until the knots were tight enough. I remember praying to whatever god or entity out there that I could join my people after taking my life. And when I kicked the chair from under me-”

Qimir was up in an instant. I flinch thinking he was going to hit me but instead he pulls me into a hug. “Stop-stop talking about that memory. When you talk about it, you look helpless and that makes my chest hurt, because I can’t stop that for you. I can’t protect you.” He looks down at me and he looks at my neck. He leans down and he kisses the faint scar.

“Don’t ever do this again. I’ll lose my mind if you took yourself away from this planet…from this time period…from me.” He embraces me again, and I feel…warm.

This feeling is foreign to me and I don’t want it to stop. But I can’t allow him to get to me. I can’t allow him to win.

I shrug him off and back up a bit. “What are you working on?” I ask, just to change the subject. He looks back over towards the helmet.

“I’m just adding some new additions to the helmet. It’ll help when you’re wearing it and keep the force in you stable.”

He’s thinking about me.

He’s considering how I felt sick after using the force in that magnitude.

This, this is too much. I need to leave this room or something. I feel like I’m suffocating.

“Oh! I’m…I’m just gonna go back to bed. Sorry to bother you.” I go to leave but he keeps me still by getting a grip of my shirt. “You’re never a bother to me, Akasha. Actually, how are you feeling? I meant to ask you that.”

He gently pulls me closer to him and I swallow hard because he’s giving me a look that tells me, I’m going to be on my back with my legs spread wide open.

“I’m fine. I got plenty of sleep so, I’m fine now.” He looks at my lips and then he trails his thumb against my bottom lip. “So, if you’re fine and you had plenty of sleep, then why do you need to get back to bed?”

“I…uh.”

He walks forward which makes me walk backwards. Until my legs bump against something cool.

My hand touches it and it feels smooth to the touch, like metal or a mirror.

“Little flower, you aren’t trying to avoid me are you?” I shake my head. “No, I figured you didn’t want a distraction so I would just leave you alone.”

“It’s too late for that now isn’t it. You come in here, with this shirt on and your thighs out for display. Imagine if we had company. I’d have to kill them for looking at you. For looking at what’s mine.” He leans me against the metal like wall and he brushes his lips against my neck. This time with lust behind it.

“A…are you sure you don’t want to finish up on the helmet?” I ask, knowing he sure as fuck doesn’t want to do that.

“Why would I do that, when I have a delicious snack in front of me? I think I deserve a break, and I do recall saying I’d give you a reward…”

To watch this man get on his knees and push my legs apart, should be illegal. But he does just that and he lifts my left leg and place it on his shoulders. He looks up at me and while we keep eye contact, he bites and sucks my inner thigh, causing me to hiss in pleasure.

“Now I’ll leave marks that no one but you and I can see.” He says as he trails his tongue against the now bruised mark.

“Lean against the wall for balance, little flower.” I do as I’m told and he hikes me up so that both of my legs are on his shoulders.

I hear him lick and my hands go to his hair. I throw my head back against the mirror, I buck my hips as I feel his tongue does circles around my clit.

His hand then reaches under the shirt I’m wearing and he gets a hold of my right breast. My nipples feel as hard as rocks as I feel him pinch one.

“Qimir…Master, please don’t stop…” I moan out as rock my hips and rub my pussy deep in his face.

I hear him slurp and lap up my pussy and when I finally look down, he was flicking his tongue quickly up and down my slit.

“Mmmm, you’re…such a lovely distraction. Especially with this fucking sweet little pussy. I feel him insert two fingers inside of me and when he does a come here motion, I start stuttering like a madwoman.

He continues to do the come here motion as well as sucking and licking my clit and I quickly without warning cream on his face.

I watch his eyes roll back as he deeply licks me out. I was practically gripping his hair when I came and when I finally catch my breathe, I let go and he has beautiful just fucked hair.

Has be always been this…pretty?

He kisses my left then right inner thigh and then he kisses my pussy lips before letting me down on wobbly legs.

As he stands up, I see the erection he has poking in his pants. I lean in without thinking and I stand on tippy toe, kissing him, tasting myself on his tongue and I twirl with his.

He pulls back but only after I bite and pull his bottom lip. “Mmm where are my manners. A lady as tired as you are shouldn’t be on their feet like this. I think you should rest off of those pretty feet and kneel for me.” He says as I see him rubbing his cock in his pants.

I lower myself on my knees, but he stops me and moves so I mirror him. I look up at him and he leans down and rubs this thumb on my bottom lip. I open my mouth and I suck his thumb, causing a groan to come from him.

“You are so beautiful, Akasha. Such beauty as yours, would make anyone do whatever to make you happy. I would kill for you if it put a smile on your face. I would break someone’s neck for you, it it meant I could have you look at me like this all the time. I’d slit their throat for you. I would cut them open and offer their heart to you just to show you how dedicated I am for your happiness.”

My stomach flutters hearing him say that and I watched as he pulls his pants down. I bite my bottom lip looking at his cock and he strokes it while looking at me.

“You know from the moment I met you, and seen your tongues, I’ve wanted my cock in your mouth. I want to know how that feels, little flower. Can you do that for me? Show me what those pretty tongues can do.” He steps out of his pants and steps closer to me.

I inhale his scent and it makes me moan as I lean forward. I flick my tongues on the head of his cock and he lets a hiss escape his lips. I take the head into my mouth and Qimir lets out a soft moan, while holding the back of my head.

“You’re so good to me, little flower. So, so good.” He does slow and deep thrusts and I feel a tingle in the back of my throat.

“You know why…I’m standing like-oh fuck don’t stop sucking…just like that….You know why I’m standing right here, lit…little flower? So you can watch yourself in the mirror, while you take my cock down your throat.”

I glance over and sure enough we’re facing the mirror. It was a great turn on to see myself on my knees, taking him. I look back up and he slides out of my mouth.

“I’m going to go faster, but I just wanted to warn you, okay little flower?” He asks permission. I grant him that and he smiles. “Good girl, now open.” I open my mouth and he spits in it then slides his cock back in my mouth.

He starts thrusting deeper and faster which tickles my gag reflex. I try to push back but he takes my arms and keeps them up with on of his hands.

“No…hands, little flower. Fuck. Your mouth feels so good.” I start to choke a little but he doesn’t stop. He grips my hair and he fucks my throat deeper. I feel tears welling up in my eyes and he smirks.

“I know you can take this. I know you can take all of it down this pretty little throat of yours. And if not, then I’ll train your throat so…so it can only take my cock. F..fuck. Just like that. Swallow this cock like your life depends on it, Akasha.” He moans as he bucks his hips.

I try my best not to gag, so that he will be happy. Pleasing him seems to be my main focus and I want to make him happy.

When he finally pulls out, a trail of drool and precum drips from my lips. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks while stroking himself faster as he whimpers. “No, master. Keep go-” He doesn’t even let me finish my sentence as he enter my mouth once again.

This time I relax my throat as he face fucks me. I look in the mirror and what I see makes my juices drip onto the floor. Qimir’s muscles were flexed, his veins were pulsing and his facial expressions were blissful.

“My cock….belongs in your throat, Akasha. Don’t you think so?” He asks as he looks at me, thrusting and fucking. I nod, and I gag causing his cock to jump. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.”

No sooner, I feel his thick cum shoot down my throat. He groans for me to swallow every last drop and just like his good little flower, I obey.

I milk him and he bites his bottom lip looking down at me. He lets my hair and hands go and he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him

and we kiss, tasting each other in each others mouths.

“You did so good, Akasha. Keep that up and I’ll become addicted to you.” He whispers sleepily. I begin to reply but a yawn cuts me off.

“How about, we get to bed.” I nod and look over at the cot but he shakes his head. “I think we both deserve to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight. And besides, I want you close.”

Hearing him say that makes my heart flutter.

Wait, no. I don’t want it to flutter.

What is Qimir doing to me?

NEXT

[lookingformoondrop]

ok but Can you image the total shit show it’d be if reader somehow rizzed up BOTH Andrew and Ashley?? 😨 literally preying. Like imagine reader is not necessarily popular, but they definetly are one of the most attractive people in the class if not the most

Andrew Graves x Reader x Ashley Graves

TW: Some nasty cat fights between the Graves siblings, everyone has a potty mouth, mentions of unaliving eachother, not proofread, reader just wanted a cookie.

♥︎Notes: This was actually so fun to write. I always love writing arguments between my two favorite assholes and watching it burn from there. Enjoy this messy headcannon and sorry it took so long<3.♥︎

Someone call the police, ain't no one coming out of this alive.

First, we gotta start with how you rizzed up the siblings. Starting with Andrew,

I can already see that to get through Andrew's heart, you gotta be funny.

Yes I know that this brooding son of a bitch is dressed in only dark colors, but he values some humor and I feel like the way through his heart is that.

You were in class chatting with a classmate near Andrew's desk when the classmate brought up your history teacher. Uptight, strict, and a prick, you said, "If he berates me anymore for my red pen, his head will go so far up his ass he'll find his own bullshit."

Unexpectedly, both of you heard a snort. Searching for the source, you saw Andrew covering his mouth with his hand, horrified by the sound he had just made.

You smiled at him and brushed off the snort to the classmate, "I think we're hearing things."

That truly made his heart flutter.

He had started sitting closer to you after that. Whenever he got ready in the mornings for school, an extra step in his routine was to hope that you were coming too.

"Hey Andrew," you walked by Andrew's desk.

"Y -Y/N! Hi..." Andrew mentally cussed himself our for the stutter.

It was dumb...really dumb.

But it made Andrew smile and feel giddy when he walked home.

I feel like Andrew would be very tame when it came to his feelings for the reader.

He'd blush when you're around and check in with you to make sure you're okay. He'd be too embarrassed to actually ask you out, but he would definitely try to find excuses to hang around you.

Now, the only natural explanation for Ashley's involvement with you would be that she saw her brother with a dumbass grin one day and HAD to investigate.

So, how did you rizz up Ashley?

Well, it's simple, really,

She went to your house to get a clear look at you and saw you dancing through the window,

You were fun and disgustingly too kind.

("Idiot")

But somehow, that fun energy intrigued Ashley. You would smile at her randomly when she corssed the street. You had no idea who she was, and yet that smile irked Ashley (in a somehow pleasant way).

"Hey guys!" She cheerfully entered the classroom doorway, a spring in her step.

Andrew turned to look at the voice and immediately felt a muscle in his forehead twitch. "Great," he thought, "another one of Ashley's ploys so that she can harass any woman out of my life."

You, of course, were baffled at seeing this girl suddenly love up on you, but judging by Andrew's murderous smile towards her, you figured they were related somehow.

But instead of Ashley being an ass towards the reader, she began to cling to their arm.

This began a looooong sequence of events where it would go one of the following ways,

You'd go to a spot around town, invite one of the Graves siblings, and no matter how secluded, isolated, unknown, or illegal said spot was, the other Graves sibling would find and join you.

This definitely opens the possibility of more intense sibling fights.

I say intense, but it's more like,

"SAY HER NAME ONE MORE TIME ASHLEY AND I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"DO IT ANDY, DO IT, I DARE YOU. WHAT WOULD MY Y/N THINK ABOUT A MURDERER, YOU FUCKFACE!"

The fights would get so loud that the neighbors would call the police

By the time the police came to knock at the door, Ashley was pulling Andrew's hair and trying to put him in the washing machine, while Andrew was clawing at Ashley's face and trying to smack her head against said machine.

When Andrew (and for some reason) Ashley came to school, you were startled by how banged up both of them became. Still, when you asked about it, all they did was brush you off (and stomp on each other's toes when you weren't looking).

While they did loath each other for trying to steal Y/N from one another, they never doubted the protection they felt they owed to Y/N.

Some random classmate decided to hit on you and make you verryyyy uncomfy. When you recounted the tale to Andrew, he refused to leave you alone for weeks, constantly fantasizing about bashing the guys face in.

ASHLEY ON THE OTHER HAND would absolutely demolish any shithead who tried hitting on you. "They needed to be punished!" Is the last thing she said, and the last time you ever saw that classmate.

Was it risky? Yes. Did Andrew scold her for it? Yes. Did either one of them regret it? Hell no.

Overall, the entire relationship is a complete shit show. And even if you begged them to play nice, they'd still fight over you.

"Ashley, can you help me? I can't reach that cookie jar."

Ashley sprung up from her seat. "Sure thing, N/M~" But just as Ashley was going to reach for the jar, Andrew pushed her into a pile of trash bags in the kitchen and proceeded to grab the jar for you.

"Here you go, Y/N," Andrew smiled at you while you panicked on who to check in with first.

Suddenly, from the pile of trashbags came, "Andrew, you ass!"

Fight or flight kicked in, and you immediately bolted out of their kitchen. Having remembered plenty of their fights, you decided that for today, you were perfect content with just going home. That was enough Graves for today...

"ASS-KISSER!"

"BROWN-NOSER!"

Yeah, that was plenty of Graves for today.

Thank you for the ask!<3

[fxtalitygod]

Survival. IX

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentions of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint)

Word Count: 3.4k

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

You remembered the most content morning you had ever had. It was a relatively beautiful and tranquil day in the garden. The sky was clear, and the sun was beaming brightly, yet the weather was pleasant. It was the most satisfying day you had ever had within the temple.

It was also the day your twins spoke their first word.

You had been spending quality time with your twins, your attendant joining the activities as you both basked in their childish nature. She had grown as close as family and acted like an aunt to your kids, and if you were being honest, she felt like a sister to you in some sense. You truly appreciated her company and assistance throughout the time you had known her— especially when sharing this memorable moment.

It felt like it was out of a dream when the word effortlessly slipped from your daughter’s mouth. Moments ago, she was a child who only knew how to babble, laugh, and cry, but now she was a little girl capable of speaking. And if your daughter hadn’t surprised you enough, your son letting the same word slip next had left you paralyzed with shock.

“Mama.”

Yes, it was a standard word for a child to speak first other than Dada or Papa— a cliché, as most would say, but that was the last thing on your mind. To hear your child acknowledge you for the first time and know they recognize you as their mother was a pleasure that could not compare to the joys of sex, alcohol, or money– it is a pleasantry of its own. You swore you would do anything to hear them call you their "Mama" for as long as possible.

And if anyone took that away from you, they would be damned to hell.

The screams of a woman echoed through the temple. The shrieks were ear-splitting and could cause anybody's ears to bleed upon walking into the hearing radius. You could only listen as the screams continued, the sound muffling out as your ears began to ring again.

Why was she screaming? The woman in question should have been thrilled that your children were deceased– they would have been a threat to her. She was probably trying to win Sukuna's favor in some fucked up way. The bitch had no right to grieve in your presence nor in solitude. You had every want to strangle her soundless; however, something stopped you from that impulse.

Your throat began to burn.

At that moment, you realized the screams of grief and agony were those of your own. Nobody was present in that room, just you and Sukuna, as your cries echoed in the room and nearby halls. You were blinded by your own tears as you stared at the now-blurry image of your twin's hanging corpses, choking on your own sobs as you collapsed to the ground, holding your midriff with the painful thought that the life you had cultivated within you for nine months and raised for six years was now reduced to carcasses hanging from a wall.

Your blessings had been snatched from you, from right under your nose.

You should have known things would have not been so simple. You should have never let your guard down for even a second. This was your punishment for being so blissfully ignorant when you should have analyzed all the possible faults in your plan and anticipated any threats that remained to perform a clean escape.

You stood on weak legs, shuffling to the wall that was covered in blood. In your mind, you always thought that the blankness of those walls would drive you mad– you never anticipated that the splash of color would be the thing that forced you to insanity. The crimson dripping down the wall proved you wrong.

Your hands shook as your fingers hovered over the pins that were holding your children in place, flinching back as you swallowed the bile rising up your throat before reaching for one of the pins again. You made an attempt to hold back your sobs but with little success. Huffs, spittles, and gurgles continued to resonate from you as you held back your cries– you looked pathetic.

Your hands felt weak as you pulled the pin, the audible squelching sound of the flesh rubbing against the item sickening you to the core, yet you persisted. You pulled the lower pins that you could reach from your son and daughter, tears gushing out of your eyes as you did so. No torture was as great as this, especially when you went to reach the higher ones. You stood on your toes, stretching for the pins that were sunk into your twin's hands, but it was futile. Under normal circumstances, you could have reached that high; you would have improvised a way to do it, but your mind was numb, and your body felt weak.

"Help me," you choked as you continued to reach.

The only response you got was silence.

"Please," you weakly whispered, "Please, help me."

Silence lingered again, but before you could plea a second time– your husband spoke.

"Why?"

You paused in your movement, your breath hitching as the simple word echoed in your head.

"Why?" you repeated, bewilderment found in your whisper, "Why?"

Your head slowly turned to look over your shoulder, your eyes gleaming with fury as you looked at Sukuna.

"I'll tell you why," you seethed, "For eight years, I have lived in this temple with you and your sickened whores and bastards– lived in your residence with little to no complaint. I have endured everything bestowed upon me and have managed to keep my spine straight with my head held high– and when in your presence, I have given you nothing but the lowest bows of respect despite the falsities of that action; I sacrificed my pride!" you paused to breathe before continuing, "I bore you children and dealt the blunt trauma of my impossible pregnancy and labor without complaint or ask of favor because you and I both know I would have gladly died in the process. In my life here, I have asked you for ONE SINGULAR FAVOR that would benefit both of us!"

Another pause as you caught your breath.

"The very least you could do," your voice shook with exasperation, "is grant me this one selfish wish."

"Do you understand the line you are crossing, Little Flower," Sukuna threatened as he took a few steps forward.

"Well aware," you answered without hesitation, "but at least if you killed me now, I would reunite with my children and be rid of you," you grinned mockingly at your partner.

You watched as the menacing man raised a hand, keeping eye contact with you as he did so. Normally you would have feared that this was the end of the line, but that was before your worst nightmare had already came true. Some part of you wished that he would hit you, hoping that once he did, he would snap you out of what you hoped what was an illusion of some sort, a night terror, a cursed technique, possibly a hallucination— all three were very much possibilities, but deep down you knew you were in denial, however, you did not want to accept it.

The slap never came.

Instead, your companion reached his arm above you, removing the pins that held your twins hostage against the wall. Sukuna took his time, clearly in no rush, leaving you antsy as you began to wriggle in impatience. You just wanted to hold them and look upon their innocent face. Maybe they were not dead, maybe there was still a breath of life in them, and you could somehow convince your husband to use his curse reversal technique on them due to the terms of your contract.

Maybe, just maybe…

Once the last pins restraining your children were removed, you were quick to cradle your twins, holding them close to your chest as more sobs escaped from your quivering lips. Your fingers lightly touched their skin as you caressed their faces with motherly gentleness. After moments, your cries subsided into a quiet lament as you continued to hold your little boy and girl.

You would have done anything to prevent this fate.

"Mama..." a voice spoke, but excessively strained and quiet.

You jumped up to see your little boy's eyes open no more than a slit. Without hesitation, you rushed to grab his face, babbling words of encouragement for him to stay awake. You were eager as you prepared to attempt to perform reverse cursed technique, but before you could, another strained voice sounded.

"Ma-Mama."

You panicked once more, moving to face your daughter as her condition was nearly the same. You were torn on what to do and had almost turned to Sukuna for his assistance, but it was useless. As quickly as those words were spoken were as fast as they faded back into eternal sleep.

What was this? You had to ask again, but what had you done to deserve this? To be worthy of this torture? Was there not a more deserving candidate for this cruelty you were enduring? Had you just been born to be cursed like this?

Questions raveled your mind, and thoughts ate at you alive– you were beginning to spiral. Your voice, along with many of the other voices from your past, flooded your head, screaming at you all at once as the memories began to invade your consciousness. Your head was starting to hurt from lingering in your mind, far away from reality. If anyone were to look upon your form, you would seem like the hollow husk of a woman based on how you sat there unmoving and totally silent as you stared blankly at the bloody wall– it seemed like you were looking through it like a piece of glass, that is how lost you were, until...

Everything went silent.

The voices in your head had settled, and all you could hear was Sukuna's breathing and your own echoing throughout the room. It was eerily quiet as the two of you remained.

"Their first words were their last."

You spoke without thought; the words had just slipped as you turned back to the father of your children, being met with his expressionless stare. You did not expect a response, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was no happier about this situation than you were; however, Sukuna was not grieving like you were. Your reasons for your dour moods were different, but that did not matter– you both were upset about what occurred.

As you held your husband's stare, it was almost as if you had some sort of understanding with one another, communicating without speaking before turning your attention back to your twins. With caution, you gently lifted your children into your arms, slowly standing as you managed to balance their limp bodies in your hold as you walked toward the door.

Your feet moved without command as you walked through the corridor, Sukuna walking at your side as you ventured in silence. The experience was almost that of your arrival at the temple– all eyes were on you; however, there were no whispers of gossip or vial comments and disgusting displays of arousal as you departed. The tension radiating from your aura was too great for such ill manners to be publicly displayed.

You had no clue where you were going and were hardly thinking about it. Your mind was void of consciousness as you reached the grand doors of the temple, stepping out into the cool night air. A part of you wishes you could have enjoyed it, to relish your first time outside the temple walls since your marriage, but the feeling was bitter and dull, especially as you looked upon the lights illuminating from your village.

Trekking through the terrain, you watched the lights grow brighter and more prominent, similar to the unknown feeling festering in your chest. You could hear their voices, their chanting of uprising as you approached the crowd, stopping just at the border of your village. One of the village elders was the first to notice you and Sukuna's approaching figures before ceasing the noise, focusing on your arrival.

"Y/n L/n, you have finally come home. Your family will be happy to know that you have finally returned," pausing to look at Sukuna before bringing his attention back to you, "It was wise of this monster to return you as requested. Come now child, we shall reunite you with your family."

You could hear him speak and understand his meaning and indirect stab at Sukuna's pride, but the words flowed from one ear to the other as your body remained rooted at the barrier.

"Come now, child, you are free!" the elder insisted as he motioned to you, confused and seemingly irritated at your lack of response.

"No."

The word slipped out seamlessly as you blankly stared at the man, watching his expression turn into shock.

"What do you mean, 'No'?"

"It means what I said," you simply responded before continuing, "Why would I come back to a home that sent me away like a lamb to the slaughter. You presented me like a slab of meat to the man you call a monster as if he were some valued patron, but suddenly, I have become worthy of retrieval after how many years? Why is that?"

"You ungrateful woman! We have pursued you for some time due to your parents' request. They paid handsomely to bring you back home, paid enough to fund our cause."

"And what cause was that?!" you retaliated.

"To kill that vile creature who stole you from us, my dear daughter!"

"...Mother," you whispered to yourself as your mom came into view, your father following her as they made their presence known.

"But it seems his influence has already tainted your mind," your mother spoke with a solemn look in her eyes, "But we can fix that if you just come home." the woman persisted as she held her arms out for a welcoming embrace.

Her comfort was tempting, but there was a lingering feeling of hesitance the longer you looked at the picture. This was something you wished for a long time, to be welcomed home with open arms, but the dream seemed stale as you stood there unmoving.

"Then why were harmless children slaughtered in his place?" you questioned.

"Harmless?" your parents uttered, baffled by your statement, "Those children were born to become monsters along with their father! They were far from harmless! That is why we had to cut them out of the picture!" your father yelled.

"...You did it?" you softly asked.

You could see your father's mouth open before closing, moving his gaze from your eyes to the motionless bodies in your arms. The disgusted faces your parents held were replaced with one of bewilderment and fear. They could finally understand your reluctance.

"Y/n..."

"They were harmless..." you started in a mutter, "They were not monsters! They were innocent! And you accused them of crimes they have never committed!"

"With their upbringing, it would have been inevitable! They were their father's children, after all!" the village elder interrupted, disdain laced in his voice.

"They were not guilty of Sukuna's crimes! They were innocent children!" you voiced, outraged with the small-minded thinking.

You looked to your parents for support but were only met by them avoiding your stare. They believed their actions were reasonable and considered them valid. You were not the one who was influenced... they were.

"Damn you all," you muttered, turning your back to the villagers.

"We did this for you to survive, Y/n! And here you are, well and alive. You kept your promise, so please come home!"

"Survived...survived..." Your chest heaved as you began to laugh hysterically. You placed your children down before rising, "Is this what survival is, just staying alive? Well, if that is the case, then yes, I have survived just like I promised, but with the cost of my life! I may have survived, but I will never live...not without them."

"There will be other opportunities to have children, my dear, with a far better suitor," your mother attempted to persuade, her arms still held open.

"Excuse me?"

That had done it.

"The man you practically sold me to was far from my first choice of significant other, but at least he managed to give my life some meaning, something to live for...and you took it from me, the last crowd of people I thought would do such a thing...how naive of me."

"Y/n, if we-"

"If you what?! Tell me, if you had known those children were mine, would you have spared them, given them mercy?"

No response.

"That's what I thought. You know I had hoped to come home with open arms, and shown by tonight, my wish came true; however, that was before I had the twins– the dream expanded to have all three of us welcomed with warmth...how pitifully optimistic of me."

"Y/n, I cannot tell you those events you hoped for would have come to fruition, but I can tell you this: you can start over, have a family you have always dreamed of... pure children."

Silence.

"They. Were. PURE!"

And just like that, the extent of that unusual feeling lingering in your chest had unleashed. The full extent of your furry had combusted in the form of your cursed energy and technique. Within the blink of an eye, what was once a bustling village full of chatter and laughter was now a blazing inferno filled with screams and cries.

You could see the fire, smell the blood, and hear their screams as they begged for mercy. They cried out for their children and loved ones whose bodies were now burning in the roaring flames, reduced to cinders and ashes. Those who threatened to charge were killed before they could make contact, their bodies contorting in ways the human form was incapable of, causing cries of pure agony as they were left to bleed out in their mangled state– they were retired to suffer in their pain as the life slowly drained out of them. If a suffering soul was fortunate, the fire would catch them aflame and kill them faster, or debris would land in a fatal spot or crush them whole to end their misery.

Viewing the demolished structures and flaming bodies, both dead and alive, was a petrifying view– yet you felt nothing. Your breath was methodical, your expression blank, your body unmoving. Pity and remorse were thrown out the window– fear and anguish had long vanished; however, anger and resentment lingered like a tiny flickering flame that continued to grow with each crumble and cry that could be heard.

Although your exterior appearance seemed calm and collected, your heartbeat said otherwise as it accelerated, pounding against your chest so hard you could eventually drown out the hollers of distress with its rapid thumping.

They were now suffering the pain and torture you had suffered for years to its full extent...

Unlike you, it was the kind of punishment they deserved.

You allowed yourself to view the sight for a few seconds longer before picking up your son and daughter, balancing them in your embrace again, and turning your back towards the village. You began to walk toward the temple, knowing better than to run off, but it was not like you had a reason to go anywhere else. There was no life for you. You were to remain by Sukuna's side until you died, and you were content with that.

"Y/n."

With all the heightened emotions and events that occurred only moments ago, you had forgotten Sukuna was there. The curse user had not muttered a word nor made a movement. He idly watched your wrath unfold, watched as you burnt your home to the ground.

You paused for a minute, looking blankly ahead as you thought of the past and reflected on your choices. Out of every action you committed, there was one you regretted most.

"I should have killed myself that morning, the morning after the ceremony. It would have saved me a lot of trouble and heartache."

With that, you walked off into the night, letting that thought of regret linger in your mind.

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya@pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one@rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Sunshine [Joel Miller]

this is my entry to Summer Loving Challenge by @pedgito. Thank you so much for creating it and letting me be part of it. You're a star! Or shall I say, sunshine??

pairing: no outbreak joel miller x f!reader

wordcount: 1.7K

warnings: reader is she/her, sexual content/mild sexual themes (implied only), mild language, mentions of violence, overall safe to read.

prompt: ROADTRIP #2

She smiles too much, he thinks. 

And Joel ain’t too fond of folks who smile all the damn time. Reckons they must be hiding something behind those shiny white teeth. 

Thing is, he ain't even sure how Tommy managed to rope him into this foolishness. He’d stopped by his brother’s place for a cold one and somehow left having agreed to ferry his obnoxiously cheerful sidekick across the state to some new job she landed in Joel’s neck of the woods. Must have been the quiet begging in Tommy’s eyes that did it, he supposes. Joel may be a surly son of a bitch, but he ain’t heartless.

So here he is, with the sun barely up and her sitting pretty beside him. Sneakers-clad feet up on the dash like she owns the place, skirt of that yellow sundress riding up her tights.

Tommy’s friend. The motormouth. The endless goddamn ray of sunshine that Joel just knows is gonna make his jaw ache from clenching before they even cross county lines.

“Mind if I turn this thing on?” she breaks the silence, stretching a little to fiddle with the radio dials. 

He fucking does. He’d rather drive in silence. But just shrugs instead.

Figures out it’s not worth the argument.

And as expected, her taste in music is as saccharine as the rest of her, all twangy guitars and lyrics about truck beds and tan lines. When she starts humming along off-key, he has to work very hard not to grind his teeth to dust. 

It's going to be a long drive.

Joel sighs and glances over at her. Shifts a bit in his seat and admits, albeit grudgingly, that she's easy on the eyes. Has been ever since he's known her.

But the problem is, she’s just so… much. Never still for a minute, fingers tapping, foot bouncing, mouth running a mile a minute. He can practically feel all that restless energy buzzing under her skin, setting his own nerves alight. Makes him wonder if she even knows she's doing it, all them little twitches and squirms. If she's got any idea how it gets him all riled up without even trying. Joel ain't sure quite what to do with her.

And sweet Jesus can she talk. About this, about that. Everything and not a damn thing. About the weather and politics. The heat and some harvest festivals she’s helping throw. A whole slew of crappy dates, some dog she’s thinking of adopting. The gossip about people Joel barely knows and could care less about. So, he tunes most of it out, just grunts now and then so she thinks he's listening.

But at some point, whether because he’s getting bored or because of the heat, Joel catches himself actually paying attention. Learns she's a teacher, spending her days trying to cram knowledge into the heads of a pack of rowdy kids. 

"It's thankless work," she laughs, "but I guess somebody's gotta do it."

Joel thinks it's pretty admirable, choosing a job like that. Lord knows he's had his share of crap gigs. Brings to mind those long, hot days pouring concrete under that merciless Texas sun. The way heat would shimmer up off the fresh pavement and make him feel like he's in some kind of fever dream.

“Look, I didn’t expect you’d want to give me a ride,” she pipes up after a bit. “I appreciate it.”

"Mm," he grunts, committing to nothing.

“I mean it, Miller. I was really close to sticking out my thumb and hitching.”

Joel's hands tighten on the wheel at the thought. "That's a good way to get yourself murdered."

She cuts her eyes over at him. "How do I know you're not some kind of murderer?"

He snorts. "Do I look like a murderer to you?"

"I don't know. What's a murderer look like?"

"Not like me."

"Hm. That's exactly what a murderer would say, I reckon."

He shakes his head, more than a little annoyed now.

This damn woman.

When they pull over for gas and to stretch their legs, Joel finds himself watching her as she arches her back like a cat in the sun, that sundress pulling taut across her chest; the skirt riding up even higher. Makes him look away real quick.

“I’m going inside to pay,” she chirps. “Want anything? Coke maybe? A three-day old sandwich?”

Joel peers at her. Mutters, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself, Grumpy.”

Grumpy. 

It's hardly the worst thing he's been called, but it chafes at him for some reason. For a second, he wonders what it would be like to be someone different. Someone who said yes to Cokes and gas-station sandwiches. To yellow dresses and sunshine smiles.

"You ever think about how weird it is that we can just go anywhere these days?" She starts in again before he even gets back on the road.

He squints over at her. "How do you mean?"

"I don't know. Cars and planes and those talking maps on phones. World's gotten real small. Used to be folks who didn't stray more than a few miles from where they were born. And now here we are, two random people rolling down the road in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere. Just 'cause we felt like it."

Joel's not sure he'd say he felt like it, exactly. But he gets her point. "I guess," he allows. "Makes you wonder what it musta been like. Back then."

"Doesn't it? No AC, no snacks, no radio to bicker over." She grins at him, teasing. "Though I suppose you would've done just fine without that last one, huh?"

He huffs, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “They wouldn’t need a radio with you doing all the talking. Probably would've driven the whole wagon train up the wall with your yammering."

“You mean, I would’ve livened things up?”

"Livened," he repeats, dry as dust, and she laughs. It's a good one, Joel thinks. Bright and uninhibited in a way he hasn't heard often in this life.

Suddenly gets the strangest urge to reach out and touch her. Trail his knuckles down the line of her throat, feel the vibration of it under his fingers.

Wraps his hands around the wheel instead, wondering where the hell that came from. If she notices his odd moment, she doesn't let on. Just keeps rambling on about dysentery and fording rivers and how she definitely would've been the first to die of cholera. Joel lets those honeyed tones wash over him and tries not to dwell on the tight, hot feeling in his chest.

By the time they pull up at the little house Tommy helped her get settled in, it's pitch black out. He can just make out her face in the glow of the dome light, those big eyes soft and serious for once as she gathers up her bags.

"Thanks again for the lift," she says, real quiet. "I know I'm not exactly your favourite person to be stuck with."

"Wasn't so bad," he admits, and it's almost not a lie. "Glad I could help."

She hesitates with her hand on the door handle, worrying that plump bottom lip with her teeth. "I'd invite you in for a beer but I know you probably want to get home."

He does. He should. But maybe it's that little waver in her voice, the uncertain set of her shoulders. Maybe it's knowing that the second she steps out of this truck, the strange little bubble they've been floating in is going to pop. Things will snap back to how they've always been, her grating on his last nerve from a nice safe distance and him avoiding her as best he can.

And maybe he's just not quite ready for that.

"Well..." he drawls, "I reckon I could come in for a cold one."

The smile she gives him could put the sun to shame, all dimples and crinkly eyes. Makes that tugging feeling in his chest pull so sharp it steals his breath. 

He follows her up the porch steps and into the cosy hallway, his chest tight and his palms clammy like some nervous teenager. As she putters in the kitchen, fetching beers and clinking glasses, he stands in her living room and looks around at the organised clutter, the artfully arranged photographs, the bunches of wildflowers stuck in mason jars.

The whole place is so absolutely, utterly her it makes something behind his ribs ache fiercely.

When she comes back with two frosty beers, pressing one into his hand, they just stand there for a minute. Look at each other with the heavy weight of something hanging in the air between them. She takes a pull off her bottle, throat working as she swallows and it's more than he can take. The urge to put his mouth right there, to lick the sharp tang of hops right off her skin.

“So…,” she murmurs softly as she places her beer on the counter behind her and looks back at him. Her eyelashes flutter, and her gaze latches on his mouth. It’s a split of a second but Joel decides that he’s had enough. 

He sets his own bottle down carefully. Cradles her face in his rough hands and leans in slow, so slow, until he can taste her shaky breath. She meets him halfway, arms winding around his neck as she opens up for him, soft and sweet as summer rain. He tips his head to kiss her deeper and she mewls into his mouth, hands flexing against his shoulders, and Joel is lost. 

It doesn’t take long before they are stumbling back to her bedroom, all tangled up in each other. When he rids himself of his shirt and hovers above her, she is smiling, her fingers moving slowly to graze the warm skin of his back, and it’s so good Joel feels drunk on it. 

Later, after, with her curled up asleep on his chest, Joel stares up at the lazy spin of the ceiling fan. Marvels at the strange turns a life can take. How somebody can get under your skin until one day you wake up and realise you forgot how to breathe without them.

He runs his fingers through the wild tangle of her hair, feels her sigh contentedly against him. Lets himself imagine, just for a minute, that this could be his life. That he could have something this soft, this sweet, and keep it.

Joel blows out a long breath.

Drops a kiss to the top of her head and lets his eyes slip closed.

Maybe there's something to be said for all that sunshine after all.

[theemissuniverse]

DEAF! LESBIANFEM!READER WITH MK 11 CHARACTER INTROS

SUMMARY : You’re a deaf kombatant that can read lips extremely well. Your power is all knowing. You are half Earthrealmer and half Outworlder. (You mainly grew up in Earthrealm though) Everyone in Outworld knows sign language. Some Earthrealmers also know sign language or at least a little bit.

This is more an x reader with Cassie Cage, Kitana, Jacqui Briggs, Mileena, and Skarlet but with funny intros with other characters

Also love friendship between Kano and (Y/N) in this

WARNINGS : suggestive

MASTERLIST 1 , MASTERLIST 2

Italics mean the reader is signing. Not speaking

Cassie Cage : You know, I just got the perfect man for you

(Y/N) : If you say Kenshi I will strangle you

Cassie Cage : Sheesh. Nevermind

Cassie Cage : So tell me why you and Kenshi won’t work again?

(Y/N) : I am deaf…he is blind…how will he be able to see me sign to him?

Cassie Cage : Well now that you mention it…

(Y/N) : Why are you so persistent to set me up with someone?

Cassie Cage : Okay, I know the Kenshi thing was stupid but Takeda? He’s right for you

(Y/N) : His son?!

Cassie Cage : Um, why didn’t you tell me you liked girls?!

(Y/N) : You didn’t ask me

Cassie Cage : We’ll, guess I gotta call off the date I set up with you and Takeda

Cassie Cage : Wait. If you’re all knowing then does that mean you know-

(Y/N) : That you have a crush on me? Yes. Very much so

Cassie Cage : Goddamn it!

Cassie Cage : If you’re all knowing then does that mean you’ve seen me naked?

(Y/N) : It does not work like that but you can give me a demo if you want

Cassie Cage : *nervous laugh* Is it getting hot in here?

(Y/N) : I’ll whip you with your own pistol

Erron Black : If you’re doing it then I’m into it

(Y/N) : I gotta start off conversation saying ‘I like girls’ when I battle you people

Jacqui Briggs : If you’re all knowing then who’s gonna win the fight?

(Y/N) : Me. Obviously

Jacqui Briggs : Are you just saying that because you’re a bitch or are you serious?

Jacqui Briggs : Takeda is mine, (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I’m more interested in you

Jacqui Briggs : Oh shit-

Jacqui Briggs : I’m taking you out, (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I’m flattered but Cassie will be crushed

Jacqui Briggs : What? That’s not what I meant -

Jax : If you knew about other timelines, why didn’t you say anything?

(Y/N) : Nobody asked me

Jax : That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard

Johnny Cage : So why do you gotta be mute and deaf?

(Y/N) : You are a fucking idiot

Johnny Cage : I’m a fucking idiot? Well-can’t argue with you there

Johnny Cage : If you’re deaf then how come you can read my lips?

(Y/N) : I’m deaf. Not blind you idiot.

Johnny Cage : All I got from that is you calling me an idiot.

Johnny Cage : Okay, this sign language thing is hard

(Y/N) : How did your daughter pick up on it and you didn’t?

Johnny Cage : Yeah. I didn’t understand a word you just signed

Johnny Cage : Stop flirting with my daughter

(Y/N) : Trust me, a Cage is not my type

Johnny Cage : I don’t know if I should be offended by that

Kabal : Kano’s gotta soft spot for you

(Y/N) : Of course he does. Have you seen me?

Kabal : I don’t see the hype

(Y/N) : I am surprised you of all people know sign language.

Kano : You think I don’t do my work with deaf people? I’m not an ableist. Murderer yes but not that

(Y/N) : Dear God…

Kano : How can you tell I have an accent?

(Y/N) : Your mouth moves different than an American

Kano : That’s fucking cool

Kano : Come join the Black Dragaon, love

(Y/N) : So I can run from an ugly blonde with a gun? No thanks

Kano : She is ugly isn’t she?

Kitana : You know that I’m with Liu Kang, (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Ugh. Mr. Chosen one. Come be with a real woman

Kitana : Find her and I’ll be with her

(Y/N) : Liu Kang can’t handle all of that.

Kitana : *laughs* And you can?

(Y/N) : Very simple. Yes.

(Y/N) : I’m standing in front of the embodiment of beauty

Kitana : Flattery will not save you in this fight

(Y/N) : Well I tried

(Y/N) : He can’t give you what I can give you

Kitana : You know if you’d just asked me out before him then I would’ve been with you

(Y/N) : Wait…I actually had a chance??

Kitana : Skarlet is bad news, (Y/N)

(Y/N) : At least she actually likes me

Kitana : I did like you

(Y/N) : Your sister is obsessed with me

Kitana : She is hardly my sister

(Y/N) : Mileena was right. You are annoying

Kung Lao : You know you like me

(Y/N) : I tolerate you

Kung Lao : In my world, that’s the same thing

(Y/N) : I’m not interested, Kung Lao

Kung Lao : Kitana will never go for you

(Y/N) : I don’t need second rate monk to tell me that

Kung Lao : Why didn’t you just say you liked girls?!

(Y/N) : Even if I did like men-you would not be my type

Kung Lao : I’m everyone’s type

Kung Lao : So say if you did like men…who are you picking? Me or Liu Kang?

(Y/N) : You really want me to answer that?

Kung Lao : *sighs*

(Y/N) : Your friend may not pick up on my signing but tell him I am not interested

Liu Kang : Oh he knows but that won’t stop him

(Y/N) : Let’s see if a grave does

Liu Kang : I heard you have affections for Kitana

(Y/N) : Does that bother you, monk?

Liu Kang : I mean this in the humblest way possible, I am not threatened by you

(Y/N) : Mr. Chosen One

Liu Kang : You were always jealous of me, (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I wouldn’t be jealous of you if it bit me on the ass

Mileena : I can treat you better than my sister

(Y/N) : What are you gonna do? Eat me?

Mileena : Isn’t that what you’re interested in?

(Y/N) : Tell your father that I’m not joining his concubines

Mileena : None sense. You will be mine

(Y/N) : Holy shit

Mileena : My sister is missing out on you

(Y/N) : You’re implying that you have me

Mileena : Soon I will

Mileena : If I were Kitana, I would’ve picked you

(Y/N) : Smart and…a little freaky looking. I like it

Mileena : You will like more

Noob Saibot : We admire your skills in kombat

(Y/N) : Thanks dark shadow thing

Noob Saibot : But they will not save you from me

(Y/N) : People doubt me because I am deaf

Raiden : That is the advantage you have

(Y/N) : They won’t ever see me coming

(Y/N) : How come I wasn’t the chosen one?

Raiden : Are you prepared for-

(Y/N) : That sounds like too much work

Shao Kahn : You will join my concubines

(Y/N) : Read my hands. Hell no.

Shao Kahn : I wouldn’t be so convinced

Skarlet : You have infinite knowledge

(Y/N) : A blessing and a curse

Skarlet : Feed it to me

Skarlet : Your affections for Kitana are ridiculous

(Y/N) : Enlighten me

Skarlet : There are far better women in front of you

Skarlet : Your skills are far greater than a regular warrior

(Y/N) : Aw. You flirting with me, Skarlet?

Skarlet : I cannot resist

(Y/N) : Not gonna lie, you do look good in red

Skarlet : I am flattered, Psychic

(Y/N) : Baby, I can give you more than flattery

(Y/N) : Keep your boyfriend in check, Blade

Sonya : Keep your ego in check, deafie

(Y/N) : You did not just call me that

Sonya : Stay away from my daughter, (Y/N)

(Y/N) : She’s the one glued to me, moron

Sonya : I don’t know what you just said but I’m gonna kick your ass anyway

[thewulf]

Murder at the Motel || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - hiii !! can you write a hotch fic where him and reader (fem or gn) is in a rs and he suprise visits her and she was playing the hunt a killer game (which is like this game where you subscribe and you get a box every 6 months that's filled with details and clues and u solve the mystery case), or just any game like that... Read Rest Here

A/N: SUPER fluffy and sweet. Wrote this pretty quick for you guys! Let me know if you like :) As always, thank you for your requests!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 2.2k

“Son of a bitch.” You grumbled after attempting the code you thought you cracked for the fourth time to no avail. Setting down the wine glass that was far too empty you looked up at the clock on the wall sighing seeing as it was already 9 PM. You’d just gotten your latest murder mystery game in the mail and dove in after work. It was a Friday night and Aaron was off hunting another serial killer. Of course, you’d hidden it from him, you weren’t sure how. The man had picked up on everything that you did. But you’d been able to hide it away.

Not being completely sure why you’d hidden it from him you got up from the couch getting ready to pout yourself another glass of Pinot Grigio while you attempted to figure out the damn code that the lockbox was hiding away. This box was challenging you. Murder at the motel. You were usually able to fly through them, but this puzzle was stumping you. By now you’d usually be on your fifth clue, but you were sitting here stuck on the second without a clue on how you were going to figure it out.

Once the glass was poured you dove right back in trying your best to pick up on something you may have missed. Being so enraptured by the fluidity of the game you were completely clueless to you phone silently buzzing off to the side.

Little did you know your loving boyfriend of just over a year was trying to get ahold of you. The team had figured out the case and made it home much earlier than expected. Aaron decided to give the team the weekend off to relax and recover as he had ulterior motives in mind, spending the entire weekend with you.

After the passing of Haley, he was in a dark place. But then you popped up. You were walking your neighbors dog through the park when a sweet boy ran up to you asking to pet the small Pomeranian that had far too much attitude. You nodded happily letting the sweet boy pet and talk to the small dog who was loving all of the attention. You hadn’t a clue at the time you were meeting the child of the man you were going to love. One thing led to another, and you and Aaron were inseparable. He found peace in the slowness that you adored, and you found chaos in the life he lived. The two of you clicked like peas in a pod. Two happy little clams that were meant to be.

So, when you didn’t answer your phone for the fourth time Aaron freaked, naturally. Were you alright? Did somebody get to you like they did Haley? What if you were laying in a puddle of your own blood and it was his fault? He couldn’t do that again. Not to you. God, that would actually destroy him this time.

Using the sirens on his vehicle, which he knew was wrong, but he didn’t really give a damn, he flew on over to your house. His heart rate dropped a little when he saw your house lights on, but it didn’t slow him down as he ran to your front door banging on it a little too hard, “Sweetheart? Are you alright?” He called not wanting to freak you out if you were just being careless about your phone.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the banging on your front door started. You scurried to the front door once you heard his voice. What was he doing home so early?

Unlocking the door in a hurry you spotted the overly stressed out man standing there in his signature suit that looked far too good on him to have completely pure thoughts, “Aaron!” You grinned, “What are you doing home so early?”

He let out a breath of air he’d clearly been holding in. You watched as he placed an arm on the door frame trying to steady himself. Was he shaking?

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He answered your question with one of his own.

You moved to the side so he could come in giving yourself a second to think. You didn’t really want to admit that you were far to engrossed in your fake killer game to look at your phone, that was too embarrassing to admit, “I was uh, busy?” You didn’t sound the most confident. You wanted to curse under your breath for sounding so unsure.

He cocked his head once he walked in, looking right at you with those damn profiler eyes, “Busy?” He questioned.

“Mhmm.” You hummed shutting the door behind you, “Crazy Friday night in.” You grinned pushing him towards the kitchen, away from the mess of a game you had sprawled out in the living room.

“Doing what sweetheart?” He was more curious now, nothing accusatory in his voice. This was just Aaron checking in.

He was going to find out, you just knew it. You’d been successful hiding the little side hobby from him for over a year. You weren’t going to get so lucky tonight, “Oh, you know. Doing things.”

His eyes scrunched together involuntarily as he studied you, profiled you. You knew it was just a habit but being under the gaze of the man who was profiling was much different than the soft Aaron you usually got. You shouldn’t have been surprised though. You were acting incredibly weird. Why couldn’t you just play it cool?

He smirked this time almost as if he knew he caught you doing something, “What kind of things love?” Pressing further he walked towards you giving you a quick kiss on the head before heading towards your living room.

Following him like a lost puppy dog you tried your best to walk around him. But his larger frame didn’t let you, “You know! Games and things!” In your futile attempt to push the papers away from the coffee table he grabbed you by the waist stopping you from clearing anything else. You would’ve protested but he pulled you right into him.

“Murder at the Motel?” His eyebrows raised seeing the box sitting right out in the open.

You sighed knowing you were caught, “Busted.”

His smirk grew further, “Hunt a Killer?”

You nodded, cheeks aflame with embarrassment, “Like I said, games and things.” Burying your head in his chest you hid yourself from the stupid feeling in your chest.

You felt his chest rumble into a fit of chuckles clearly finding the situation all too funny, “This says box number 23?”

You nodded still hiding away, “I’ve been subscribed for a while.” You had to admit to him. It’s not like you could lie to him. He was too damn good at calling you out on that bullshit. And truthfully, you were an awful liar. Far too many tells to try and get away with it.

He begrudgingly pulled you out of his chest. As much as he liked you cuddled up he wanted to actually speak to you, “No need to be embarrassed love.” He brushed your messed up hair away from your face, “Let’s play, yeah?” He sat down before reading the premise of the box.

“That wouldn’t be fair.” You huffed sitting down next to him.

He pulled you into his lap with ease, “And why’s that?”

You turned to him with that look on your face, “It’s not meant for profilers Aaron. You’ll figure it out in half a second.”

He shrugged, “I won’t say a word then.” Placing his hands up in defense he gave you a quick squeeze trying to get you to relax.

But you shook your head quickly, “We can watch a movie or something…”

“You don’t want to play?” He pressed knowing why you were likely uncomfortable with it. He was intimidating when it came to his job. The two of you rarely discussed it. He made sure to leave work at work and promised you he was just Aaron when he got home. He knew you probably felt insecure about the whole thing, he wasn’t dumb. He was a profiler. He sensed your rigidity the second he walked into your cozy home.

This time it was your turn to shrug, “It’s not that. I just… I just want you to relax?” God, why were you so embarrassing? Why couldn’t you just communicate to your partner of over a year?

He ran his hand gently down your back trying his best to get you eased, “This is relaxing. Being with you is relaxing sweetheart.” He leaned down giving the top of your head a quick kiss, “I’d love to play with you. But if you don’t want to that’s also completely fine. I just want to spend some time with you. This week has been tiring.” He admitted with a sad smile on his face, “Jack is at my moms for the rest of the weekend too.”

You peaked an eye up at him, “Promise you won’t judge if I mess up?”

He shook his head quickly. “I would never my sweet girl.” Finally, you relaxed into his touch admitting defeat to yourself. Fuck it? Why not play with Aaron. You needed help and here he was coming in to save the day.

“Alright Hotchner.” You sat up, “I’m trying to figure out the code for this lockbox.” You held the damn thing up dramatically, “I’ve already figured out that Rose is an absolute piece of shit liar, read her card. Doesn’t she just seem suspicious?” You tossed him the card of who you thought seemed to be the most suspicious.

He chuckled grabbing the card from you reading it over quickly. He nodded in agreement with you, “She does seem suspicious.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Are you being serious or are you being supportive right now?”

His smile finally reached his eyes seeing how seriously you really were treating the game, “Absolutely serious. There’s… inconsistencies in her story.”

“I knew it!” You grinned looking back at all the papers, “Which means we need to look into her fake ass alibi.”

Aaron couldn’t help but to watch in amazement as you worked through the puzzle with him. He knew how freaking smart you were, but he didn’t know how clever you were on top of it. He hardly made a sound as you worked through the second clue and finally pieced together the missing code. He watched in awe as you ripped through the third, fourth and fifth clues in no time at all. He had to question if you’d picked up on his profiling while he was with you for how well you were getting through the game without even a mere clue from him. While he wasn’t actively playing the game you were picking up on clues that went right over his head. If he wasn’t already madly in love his heart went into overdrive watching your brain work its magic.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when you spoke to him directly, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

His eyes glazed over your face once more. He loved the way your cheeks got a little rosy when you got excited about something. He adored the way you got animated when you asked questions or observed the world around you. He couldn’t get enough of your expressions that made him question everything. God, he was a sucker for you and only you.

He shook his head, “No reason love. You’re amazing is all.” In all your commotion you’d moved out of his lap and onto the floor spread out trying to piece together everything.

That stupid blush that always gave you away coated your cheeks once more as he watched you in awe, “Shush. It’s not that impressive Aaron.”

“Quite the contraire sweetheart. You’re remarkable. What can’t you do?” He joined you on the floor wanting to be close to you. Only you.

Looking away from him you didn’t try and stop the creeping smile that came from his continuous compliments, “Flatterer.”

“Not when it’s the truth.” He shot right back.

Ignoring his comment you continued, “You going to help me now or just continue to stare?” You pushed his shoulder lightly while shooting him a wink.

“Oh, I’m planning on staring at you love.” He threw the wink right back feeling all of the love in the moment. For the life of him he never could comprehend how he got so damn lucky with you, his girl. His forever. The best person to help raise Jack. The kindest woman he’s ever known. The full package was sitting right there in front of him and true to his word, he was planning on simply staring at you in absolute awe.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You stuck your tongue out at him before turning back to the papers trying to figure out the last clue.

“You know what’ll last even longer?” He asked.

You shook your head turning your body to look back over to him, “What’s that A?”

“Marriage.”

You nearly choked on your own spit trying to comprehend what the hell he was trying to put down, “What?”

“Marry me Y/N.” He said as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Like he had all the confidence he could ever need.

“You want to marry me?” Your heart started racing faster. Sure, you’d talked about it, but nothing ever really came from it. You weren’t expecting this. Not in the slightest.

He nodded, “Fuck baby. I want to spend every single waking moment with you. You’re it. You’re the one. I can’t do this life without you.”

You grinned scooting yourself right back into his lap, “Yeah?”

He nuzzled his head into your neck peppering soft kisses up it along your jaw line, “And I’m an ass for not having the ring ready. But we’ll go and get one tomorrow?”

Your grin gave him the answer he was looking for, “You know I don’t care about a ring Aaron. I’d marry you without a single thing.”

He gave you a massive squeeze holding you close in his lap, “Is that a yes then?”

Nodding your head quickly your eyes found his once more, “It’s a hell yes Aaron Hotchner.”

He let out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding at your enthusiastic response, “Baby, you just made me the happiest man in the world.”

“Same.” You gave his cheek a quick kiss, “Now, will you help me solve this damn game?”

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891

[moonstruckme]

In a week-

I saw you did royal Bodyguard poly!marauders to sunshine!reader, ans I was wondering if we could get something like that but instead reader is a little sneakt bitch who uses escaping her bodyguards as a fun pastime?????

Thanks for requesting!!

join the party

bodyguard!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 979 words

You’re about to take a sip from your cup when your wrist is gripped by a strong hand, stopping it from reaching your mouth. 

“You have no idea what’s in there.” 

“Hi, Jamie,” you shoot him a smile, warm and loose all over from the drinks you’ve already had. “Sure I do. It’s a rum and coke. Pretty straightforward, actually.” 

“He means,” Remus says, prying your fingers from around the cup and setting it on the bar, “that you probably weren’t watching to see if anyone slipped something into it, and unfortunately for you, we weren’t here to do it for you.” 

You don’t have to look around to know Sirius will be here as well, your three bodyguards relentless and nearly impossible to shake. Still, you’re a bit proud you’d managed to get free for a little over an hour tonight. That’s not an easy task. 

“No one here is going to drug me,” you say, though you know that’s not strictly true, and you go on before one of them can contradict you. “How’d you find me anyway?” 

James gives you a deadpan look, the closest thing you ever get to anger from him. “If we told you, you’d just figure out how to get around it next time.” He sets a hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently away from the bar. “Come on, let’s go home.” 

“I don’t want to go home,” you say, and despite your best intentions, your voice comes out with a petulant edge. “Why can’t we stay here?”

“You know very well you’re allowed to go out,” Remus says as he and James steer you towards the exit. “But we haven’t had time to look around this place, and you’re supposed to be studying at Kate’s.” 

“So this is a punishment.” It’s not a question, but Sirius answers you anyway, draping an arm around your shoulders as you meet him by the door. 

“Yes, it is,” he says lightly. “You almost killed Remus tonight, doll, and attempted murder deserves a time-out at the very least.” 

Even whilst scolding you, Sirius’ voice is teasing. Between the three of them, you know he’s the least upset with you. He might be a bit frustrated, sure, but he seems to also harbor a tiny bit of respect or understanding for what he calls your ill-timed rebellious phase. Though to be fair, you’d never had much cause for rebellion before your mom had forced a security detail upon you. You were used to doing whatever you wanted, and what you wanted had never seemed so wild until one day you needed permission to go outside and your privacy was blown to smithereens. 

You step out into the cool night air, and Sirius rubs your upper arm when you shiver. Remus leads you all towards the parking lot, and you’re secretly glad to be able to get into a warm car even if you’re still stubbornly yearning for the mundanity of the bus. 

“I know you think of running off as trying to get back some sort of freedom,” James says, and his voice is gentler now if not quite friendly, “but it’s not going to feel like freedom if while you’re off by yourself one of your mom’s…critics,” he decides, using the most delicate term possible, “takes the opportunity to kidnap you.” 

“Or kill you.” Remus says gruffly, his posture extra-stiff as he scans the parking lot, eyes skimming over every dark corner and potentially occupied vehicle. 

“Their issue is with her, not me,” you sigh, somewhere between frustrated and resigned. “You should be protecting her.” 

“She’s got her own detail,” Remus reminds you. “And it wouldn’t be the first time extremists have targeted a politician’s family to get at them.” 

You’re silent at that, and the boys let you stew in it, the memory of your mother’s face when she’s gotten the news that her coworker’s son had been killed in their home. She’d grieved for her friend that day, but her panic had been for herself. For you. 

“We’ve got to find a way around this need to escape, angel,” James says, opening the door to the backseat and offering you a hand in. You nod hello to Marcus, your mom’s driver, whose duties have apparently been extended to picking you up when you go “missing” for an hour or two. Sirius gets in on your other side, Remus taking the passenger seat. “Are we really so awful to be around?”

“No,” you say, though you know the question was meant in jest. They deserve to know anyway. “You guys are great. It’s your job that’s the problem.” 

“Unfortunately, it’s still our job,” Remus says, turning around to fix you with a look. It works, and you shrink in your seat. Remus is such a kind, gentle soul, especially considering his profession, so when he focuses his disapproval like this, it always leaves you feeling thoroughly shamed. “Every time you slip off, we have to act as if you’ve been kidnapped, even if we know better. And you very well could be kidnapped. You just—” He shakes his head, and guilt sprouts, winding and thorny, in your gut. “—I don’t think you understand the danger you’re putting yourself in when you do this.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look him in the eye so he knows you’re really listening. “I’m sorry. I’ll…” you sigh, indignation eating at you even as you give in. “I’ll try to work with you guys more.”

“That’s all we’re asking, sweetheart,” James says, bumping your shoulder with his lightly, and you know you’re at least mostly forgiven. 

“For tonight,” Sirius drawls, “are you going to actually stay in your room, or is one of us going to have to tie you to the bed?” He winks. “Because if you need me to, I can totally do that, dollface.”

[miryum]

"The Box"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“I'm Lex Luthor.” A man strode into the precinct and rapped a fist on Damian’s desk. He was wearing a crisp suit and his bald head had been shined. “Detective L/n asked me to drop by.”

Damian’s eyes flickered up to the man before going back to his origami knives. He had found a new tutorial on YouTube that promised sharper cuts. “Mm, yes. The CEO who murdered someone. Spoiler alert: they think you did it.” He flagged down another officer. “Duke, can you show him to interrogation room C, please?” He waved to Lex and snickered. “Have fun in there.”

“Thank you.” Luthor drew his lips into a thin line.

A couple minutes later, Captain Wayne stood by Y/n as they watched Lex Luthor behind a two-way mirror. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

“How uncomfortable this guy is,” Y/n replied. “I jacked up the thermostat, got the table all sticky, made one of the chair legs too short, and worst of all, I had Damian greet him.”

“What did you have him do?”

“I told him to be himself.”

Wayne shook his head. “Poor son of a bitch.”

Y/n glanced at her capitan before asking, “Why are you wearing a tuxedo? You look like Fred Astaire.”

“I take that as a high compliment, but I’m not off to sing the number one song of 1935, Cheek to Cheek, which was top of the charts for fifteen weeks and the following year was nominated for the Best Song Academy Award to The Way You Look Tonight.”

Y/n stared at him until she muttered, “I’m not even surprised anymore.”

“Clark and I are attending the opera,” Wayne explained simply.

“Ooh, the opera. Is it the one Bugs Bunny sings?”

“Yes.” Wayne turned away from Y/n and asked, “So, who's this?”

“Lex Luthor,” Y/n said proudly. “We have a clear motive, clear means, a nonexistent alibi, but the DA won't bring a charge because it's all circumstantial. If we wanna bring this guy down, we have to get him to confess right here, right now.”

Wayne raised a brow. “An interrogation with a ticking clock and everything on the line? I better call Clark and tell him I won't be attending the opera.” He pulled out his phone and began dialling. “There's someone else I'd rather hear sing.”

“Oh, damn!” Y/n covered her mouth appreciatively.

“Hello, Clark. I won't be joining you at the opera tonight-”

“Oh, sorry,” Y/n shushed herself. “I didn't know-” 

Wayne cut her off, saying, “it's under my name, W-A-Y-N…”

Y/n squinted at him and finished her sentence, “you were on the phone already….”

Wayne poured over the case file which stated facts, showed pictures, and other minute details. “You're right.” Wayne nodded. “He did it. But we have no murder weapon, no witnesses, and you really didn't find any usable forensic evidence?” He was doubtful that his best detective found nothing.

“The body was discovered rotting in Ocean View. It'd been rained on for weeks and chewed up by coyotes,” Y/n explained. ”The only other DNA other than the victim’s was some bear semen found in the hair.”

“Right. Who found the body?”

“Hikers,” Y/n replied. ”You're really just gonna blow past the bear semen detail?”

“I imagine a bear mistook the rotting corpse for a female of its species and had intercourse with it.” He waved her away. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“It isn't?” Y/n stared at him, aghast. “I am fascinated by your life,” she whispered.

“Let's get in here.” Wayne cracked his knuckles. “Start working this guy.”

“Oh.” Y/n clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “You're gonna come in with me? I just thought maybe you'd watch from out here, you know, pull me out when I'm getting a little too hot, possibly?” She waved her hands around. “Call me a loose cannon. You know, classic captain stuff.”

“L/n, do you know what I miss about being a detective?” He answered his own question, “a good interrogation.” He clapped a fist into his open palm. “Breaking suspects down.” He lowered his voice. “Talking quietly and then talking real loud! Looking away and then looking right in their eyes.” His eyes flared at Y/n and then he leaned casually on the desk. “Leaning.”

“That was amazing,” Y/n gaped.

“So, can I join you?” Wayne straightened his cufflinks.

“Well, a lot of these techniques do work better with two people: you know, good cop-bad cop, crazy cop-sane cop, chill cop-ADHD cop. Wanna be ADHD cop?”

Capitan Wayne deadpanned, “I think you have that covered.” He turned away and said, “let's do this!”

Y/n strode into the interrogation room where Lex stopped fidgeting with his uneven seat. “Hello, Luthor.”

Lex hummed and greeted, “detective.”

“This is Captain Bruce Wayne,” Y/n gestured to Wayne who was brooding in the corner like a vigilante watching over their city. “He's a bit of a legend in interrogation circles. Hey, Cap-i-tan, who's the scariest person you've ever gotten a confession out of?”

“Abner Krill,” Wayne said. “He was known as Polka-Dot Man.”

Y/n’s nose scrunched up. “Okay, I thought it was gonna sound a little cooler, but whatever.” She clapped her hands together and sat down across from Lex. “So, shall we recap the night that Axel Granite was murdered? Friday the twenty second? I believe you were the last person to see him alive, correct?”

“No.” Lex raised a brow. “I'd imagine whoever killed him saw him after I did.”

“Ooh, nice dodge,” Y/n complimented and  leaned back in her chair. Finally; a challenge. “Tell us about Friday.”

“I had a late afternoon meeting.” Lex matched her stance, leaning back as well. He seemed relaxed- one leg was propped on the other, hands were loosely clasped on his lap, and eyes smiling. “A simple board meeting. It wrapped up around six o’clock, and Axel and I talked after. He had just wrapped up his last appointment.”

“And why do you have a doctor on sight?” Y/n asked.

“In case of any emergencies,” Lex answered easily. “We also take blood samples for some of the experiments we conduct at LexCorp, so we need him handy.”

“And who else was in the office?”

“My secretary and driver had gone home, and Cheryl, who‘s usually one of the last to leave, left early because her niece had a school play,” he explained.

“So it was just you and Axel? No witnesses?” Y/n hummed. “That's lucky.”

He shook his head. “Not lucky at all. There was nothing to witness. Axel just wanted to talk about firing one of our employees, Gretchen.”

“And that's all you discussed?” Y/n clarified.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nah.”

“Zero other subjects were mentioned?”

“None. We just talked about Gretchen.”

“Right.” Y/n squinted at him. “And, of course, there's no way for me to check if that's true, because whoever took Axel’s phone wiped all of his calendars. Except…” She flipped open her notepad and sucked a breath through her teeth. “It was all backed up on his home laptop. Would you like to hear what he said the meeting was about?” She cleared her throat and read aloud, “Seven P.M. talked with Lex about-" 

“Missing equipment,” Luthor finished. Once again, he mimicked Y/n and sucked in a breath. “Ooh. Did I get that right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Y/n closed her notebook and said, “But ‘missing equipment’ hardly sounds like ‘firing Gretchen.’ So maybe you want to explain…”

“He thought Gretchen was stealing lab equipment. That's why he wanted to fire her.” He inspected his nails. “Any other questions?”

Wayne suddenly started chuckling. Honestly, Y/n had forgotten that he was there. “Boy, you really thought you had him with that one, huh?”

“Well, I…” Y/n’s mouth dropped open.

“And you got so excited for it… Let me guess, you, ah, practised the notebook flip?” 

“Uh, Captain, something's come up in the case. Can I talk to you outside for a sec?” Y/n interrupted. Once they were outside, she cried, “What the hell are you doing in there? You totally undermined me.”

“I know, and I apologise.” Wayne held up a hand. “But I'm executing a strategy.”

“Oh, really, and what strategy might that be?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Make Y/n feel like an idiot?”

“No, I want Luthor to underestimate you and fear me. I'll badger him with my superior intellect, while simultaneously belittling you. Once Luthor dismisses you as a threat, I'll leave you alone with him, and he'll let his guard down.”

Y/n glared at him and mumbled, “ If I didn't know any better, I would say you're describing smart cop-dumb cop.”

“Look, I thought you had him on the calendar reveal,” Wayne conceded. “But he was a step ahead. You got flustered, and I realised in the moment we could use this to our advantage.”

“So what do you want me to do, ask stupid questions?” Y/n shrugged dramatically.

“Stupid questions, grammatical errors, lose your train of thought, just ask him to confess.” Wayne listed on his fingers. “This is not a comment on you, L/n. You’re a brilliant detective. I only want to bring this guy down.”

“Yeah, that's all I want too.”

“So, the night of the murder, you met with Robert in his doctor's office,” Y/n reiterated. “Why there? Why not your office which is much better suited for business meetings?”

“He was preparing for the next day's appointments. By taking the meeting in his office, we saved time. And time is money.” He mimicked tapping a watch.

“Right, and did…” Y/n trailed off. “Nevermind. I forgot what I was saying. Come back to me.”

Wayne swept in easily, “now, we did a sweep of the room where you and Axel fought-”

“Talked,” Lex corrected.

“Right. ‘Talked.’ The entire room had been scrubbed. It had undergone industrial sterilisation to remove all traces of blood and DNA.” Wayne crossed his arms.

“It's a doctor’s office,” Lex reminded them. “Blood draws happen every day. Per law, we have to sanitise it.”

“Ooh!” Y/n butt in. “I remembered what I was gonna ask. Did you kill him?”

“No,” Lex answered calmly.

Wayne redirected the conversation back on track. “So, after you and Robert fought-”

“Talked.”

“You left the office, but you didn't take your car?” Wayne asked.

“I went to a bar, The Scotchman,” Lex said. “I didn't want to drive drunk, so I took a cab. You know, like a responsible person.”

“And you didn't have your phone?” Clearly, Wayne didn’t believe this story.

“I left it charging in my office and I didn't realise till I was already out of the building,” Lex offered easily.

“Oh, man, if I go ten minutes without looking at my phone, my pumpkin crop dies on my little farm.” Y/n shook her head sadly.

“This is not the time for stories about your digital squash, L/n,” Wayne said sharply.

“What does it matter that I forgot my phone?” Luthor completely disregarded Y/n’s comments. A look of realisation dawned on his face and he chuckled, “I had it on me, you could've seen it pinging off the cell tower.”

“So you took a cab to this bar,” Wayne narrated. “However, we talked to the employees of The Scotchman. Nobody saw you there.”

“Nobody remembers seeing me,” Luthor pointed out. “It's not surprising nobody remembers seeing me. The bar was extremely crowded that night and I spent my whole time in the corner talking to this woman, Helen.”

Wayne hummed. “Oh, so you say. But when we ran all the credit card receipts, nobody named Helen bought any drinks that night.”

Lex chuckled and held up a hand. “Trust me, Helen wasn't buying her own drinks.”

Suddenly, Wayne’s phone rang and he said, “I need to deal with this. Let's take a five.”

“Or…” Y/n suggested slowly, “I could keep this interview going solo.”

“Yes,” Captain Wayne said after a moment. Luthor regarded their interaction closely. “I'm sure that'll be, um… pretty helpful.”

Once Wayne had left the interrogation room, Y/n sat herself down at the table and smiled broadly. “I have some questions,” she said brightly. “What kind of car did Robert drive?” She flipped open her notebook and suddenly rattled off, “also, what colour was Helen’s hair, which night does the cleaning crew sterilise your office, have you ever been to where the body was found, when you left your phone at the office was it plugged into your computer or an outlet, did you kill him, and what did your cab driver look like?”

Lex rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “This is a huge waste of time. But, here you go: Robert drove a Saab, Helen’s hair was brown, they sterilise on Wednesdays and Saturdays, I haven't been to Ocean View in twenty years, the phone was plugged into the wall, I did not kill him, and the cab driver had a beard and an earring… I'm sorry I didn't get his licence number.”

Y/n clicked her tongue and smirked. “Wow. Very impressive. You didn't even fall for my ‘did you kill him’ gambit.”

“Nope,” Lex grinned.

“Although,” Y/n tapped her chin. “It is interesting that you knew the body was found in Ocean View, New Jersey, when that information hasn't been released to the public yet.” When Luthor’s gaze flickered to her, Y/n muttered, “Got ya.” She laughed and said, “I can't believe you thought I was the dumb cop. I mean, Tim made me watch Planet Earth with the British narrator. I can tell you anything you want to know about three-toed slow-ths,” she said in a farcical manner. “I totally got you to say where the body was found, which kinda seems like something only the murderer would know.”

“Actually,” Luthor’ jaw twitched and he sat back. “Axel’s wife told me. I've been comforting her a lot lately. To help her through the pain.”

Y/n growled, “we asked her not to share that info, and she promised us she didn't.”

“Well, she's been distraught,” Lex said. “She might not remember.”

“Flimsy.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “So what did you mean when you said you hadn't been to Ocean View in twenty years?”

“My uncle has a cabin there. I would visit him as a kid.”

“So your uncle owns a cabin in the town where the bear-semened body was found. That is quite a coincidence,” Y/n commented.

“I haven't been there for twenty years. You can call my uncle if you want,” Lex waved his hand.

“Oh, we are.” Y/n nodded reassuringly. “So you might as well just confess now, or we can take our sweet time like the mer-jestic slow-th.” Her British accent came out once again. “Either way, we've got you.”

“We don't have him,” Y/n sighed behind the two-way glass. 

“Luthor’s uncle said he hasn't been to the cabin in months and he hasn't spoken to Luthor in over a year,” Wayne said, tapping on his phone.

“What about the neighbours?” Y/n asked.

“There's only one other house on that road and we haven't been able to contact the owner.”

Y/n poked her tongue in her cheek. “Yeah, but Lex doesn't know that. If we tell him the neighbour saw him that night, he'll crack for sure.”

Wayne glared at her. “You want us to lie?”

“No,” Y/n sassed. “I want me to lie and you to stand behind me and say, three ‘oh damns’ when I defeat him.”

“There will be no ‘oh damns.’” Wayne said, “we're not lying.”

“The Supreme Court said that we're allowed to lie in an interrogation,” Y/n argued. “Couple of days ago I told a perp I knew Selena Gomez. It had absolutely nothing to do with the case, but I can say it.”

Wayne shook his head. “What if Luthor never went to the cabin? Suppose you're wrong. Then Luthor knows we have nothing. There goes our credibility and our leverage.” He scratched his nose. “No, we need a different strategy. Admittedly, all this dental talk has given me an idea.”

Y/n barged into the room and announced, “We have a few more questions for you, genius.”

Wayne snickered. “Genius.” Luthor slowly turned to look at him. “It's funny when people call businessmen ‘geniuses.’ Especially male CEO’s.”

“I had to build my company from the ground up,” Lex said.

“That doesn’t make you a genius,” Wayne retorted.

“I have an IQ of two hundred twenty four.” Luthor smirked. “Does that qualify?”

Wayne’s jaw ticked. “Have you made any notable contributions to science? Have you discovered a new element? Building up a business hardly qualifies you.”

“My company has contributed to many scientific endeavours, thank you very much.” Luthor’s voice was tense and Y/n’s eyes flickered between the two men. 

“But were you the one actually experimenting?” Wayne pounded a fist on the table and it rattled. “We live in a society where CEOs take credit for the things-” A few moments later, Wayne was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” His cufflinks were undone and his tie was loosened.

“Yeah, apparently.” Y/n handed him a glass of water. “So… now can we lie?”

“No. But you know what works? Making him confront his victim.”

“Look your dead friend in the eyes and say his name,” Y/n demanded, holding up a picture of Axel Granite.

Luthor looked at the picture. “Axel.”

“Okay, maybe say his full name,” Y/n suggested.

“Axel Granite.”

“His middle name's Holt.”

“Axel Holt Granite.”

“His wife called him Axe. Work that in.”

“Axe Granite.”

“Work it into the full name.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Now say it with a frown on your face.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Don’t blink so tears come to your eyes.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Man, this guy is a good murderer!” Y/n cried once she and Wayne were back behind the two-way glass.

“There's got to be some way to break him.” Wayne rubbed at his temples.

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “Wait a minute. I just had an idea.”

Y/n held a guitar and chanted, “two, three, four!” She strummed the guitar haphazardly and started screaming loudly. 

“Yeah, I really gotta stop trying that.” In the viewing room, Y/n set the guitar aside, huffing out a breath. “It never works.”

“Tell us more about your relationship with Axel.”

Lex exhaled. “We've been over this a thousand times,” he said. “We got along well. I mean, we disagreed sometimes, but we had a good partnership.” Luthor smirked and muttered, “he never, for instance, skipped a party so he could micromanage me as I tried to do my job. That's what's happening here, right?” He pointed towards the two officers. “That's why you're wearing the tuxedo?”

“I skipped the opera, not a party,” Bruce said. ”It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it's the Bugs Bunny one!” Y/n piped up.

“And I'm not here to micromanage anyone,” Wayne frowned. “I'm here because I enjoy interrogating scum.”

“You don't think the fact that he skipped the opera has anything to do with him not believing in you?” Lex asked slowly.

“He believes in me!” Y/n defended before pointing an accusing finger at the CEO. “You're not interrogating us. We're interrogating you. Tell us about the missing equipment! If Gretchen didn't take it, then who did? Because we're pretty sure it was you. Honestly, it could have been any of your employees. They all have access to the storage room.”

“You know, it's silly, but, uh…” Luther glanced up at them knowingly. “I trust the people who work for me.”

“Captain Wayne is only here because I want him here,” Y/n said.

“Really?” He pointed at Y/n. “So you're in charge? And all these strategies have been your ideas?”

Y/n stuttered and then said after a moment, “the guitar thing was mine.”

“And you signed off on that?” He then pointed at Wayne.

When Bruce didn’t say anything, Y/n turned towards him and scoffed, “seriously?”

“I just feel bad for you,” Luther shook his head. “Your boss thinks you're an idiot; that can't feel good.”

“Alright, listen,” Y/n snarled. “You son of a bitch, you think you're smarter than us? You think you've gotten away with it? You haven't.” She wagged her finger. “Imma find something. One skin cell, one eyelash, one tiny inconsistency in your story, and you're gonna spend the rest of your life in prison. Everyone who loves you will leave, and you will die alone! And at that time, it will be your head that a bear has sex with!” A few moments later, Y/n was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” Her sleeves were rolled up and she tugged at her collar.

“Yeah, apparently.” Wayne handed her a glass of water. 

“He just gets us so riled up!” Y/n complained. She furrowed her brows and stared at nothing for a minute before murmuring, “I got it. I got it!”

“He's not answering any questions,” Luther’s lawyer, who had just joined him, said firmly as Y/n burst into the room.

“That's okay.” Y/n grinned. “I have no questions. That's right. I'm about to monologue, son!” She snapped her fingers theatrically.

“You better make it quick,” the lawyer said. “You have eight minutes until I file a harassment claim.”

“Alright, let me paint you a picture.” Wayne strode into the room and stood in the corner, arms crossed, listening to Y/n. “Lex Luthor, CEO of LexCorp, has been stealing equipment from his own labs.”

“Why would I steal from my own labs?” Luthor asked incredulously.

“What’s the point of this?” His lawyer demanded.

”I'll get there,” Y/n held a finger up. “One day, I'm working late when my colleague, Axel Granite, surprised me. He found out I was stealing equipment and said he's gonna file a police report. My reputation could be ruined. We fight, and something in me just snaps, so I grab the first thing I can find and I hit him with it.”

“You still have no murder weapon,” the lawyer reminded her.

“I do now.” Y/n slammed a picture down on the table. “I found a picture on Yelp of the doctor’s office six months ago, and here is a shot that our crime scene photographer took of the same room two weeks after the murder.” She slammed down another photo. “Notice any differences?” she asked.

“We're not answering that,” the lawyer said.

“That's all right, I can just tell you myself.” Y/n shrugged before continuing, “the Yelp picture has six of these glass awards in the background, whereas this shot only has five. What happened to number six?” Y/n asked rhetorically. “Murdered Axel with it!”

“I didn't,” Lex glared.

“You lost all control and you bludgeoned him to death,” Y/n, true to her word, kept monologuing. “There must have been blood everywhere, but you got lucky. You never would have gotten away with it in your carpeted office!”

“That's not what happened.” Luthor’s hands curled into fists.

“Don't say anything, Lex,” his lawyer reminded him.

“And Cheryl would’ve heard all of the screaming but she was at her niece's play. Lucky again.”

“You're wrong.”

“You put Axel’s body onto a dolly and shoved it in the elevator. It's a miracle there wasn't blood everywhere.”

“That's not true!” Luther insisted.

“Now you're in the garage with a corpse. You panicked and left your phone in your office and you don't have your car keys, but Axel’s are in his pocket so you put him in his car and take off.”

“No.”

“You simply can't believe what you've done.” She fans her face dramatically. 

“No.”

“Luthor,” his lawyer placed a hand on his forearm.

“You're flustered,” Y/n placed a hand on her forehead, faux swooning. “You have no GPS, so you just start driving.”

“No!” Lex pounded the table.

“Lex! Stop!” his lawyer cried.

“Next thing you know, you're in Ocean Views, and it hits you: your uncle's cabin! He has a place there. You're the luckiest son of a bitch ever.”

“It wasn't luck!” Luthor shouted and Y/n’s jaw twitched.

“Yes, it was,” she laughed. “You got lucky at every turn!”

“No!” Luthor fumed, slowly rising from his seat. ”I knew exactly where I was driving, I left my phone in the office on purpose, I was in the doctor’s office by design, and I didn't use some glass award that any idiot would clearly see was missing. In fact, a cleaner had broken it a week before!” He leaned forward on his fists, rings shining fully in the dim light. “I made a rod out of lab glass, killed him with it, then melted it back down. It's already another test tube, son!” His face morphed into one of shock and he fell back into his seat. His lawyer’s eyes widened before rubbing him sympathetically on the back.

Wayne’s mouth dropped open and he mumbled, “oh, damn.” In a louder voice he repeated, “oh, damn.” Shocked, the police captain cried out, “oh, damn!”

Y/n spun her finger in the air victoriously. “And that is three oh damns!” she shouted out. In a whisper, she said, “I feel so cool right now. Like I’m in a fanfic.”