#if i have to make Another back up i’m killing

[moonstruckme]

oooooo can i request reader getting jealous about spencer having to seduce the cinderella killer in 10x6 but being in complete denial and rossi, derek, etc are all like mmmmhmmmm sure ok 👀😏

At long last!! Thanks for requesting and for weathering the wait baby <3

cw: mention of weapons/guns (also I know she drops her shears in the actual episode but shhh) 

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 704 words

“Keep sucking your teeth like that, you’re gonna need braces,” Morgan teases. 

You roll your eyes but stop. “That’s not how that happens,” you say. 

(You don’t actually know how it happens, but neither does Morgan. You know from photo evidence Penelope had somehow gotten her hands on that he’s been genetically perfect since he tucked-and-rolled out of the womb.)

Reid’s hair has grown long enough to tuck behind his ears again, and he does it now, looking every inch the nervous admirer as he advances slowly, almost dazedly, toward the girl. 

“May I?” he asks, voice breathy and expression wide open. 

The girl—your unsub—looks just as smitten. She walks towards him as if in a dream, and you really wish Spencer had his gun out. You know JJ is covering him with her finger on the trigger, and Spencer has a knack for getting out of scrapes, but now he’s kneeling before a girl who’s killed several men, bending his head down as he slips a shoe onto her foot, and she has a pair of shears in her hand that she was just about to use to slit another man’s throat. 

You’re scared for him. That’s what this is. This is fear, just like you’d have for anyone else on your team. 

“What’re you so sour about?” Rossi asks, his tone lilting with intrigue. He looks away from the scene, the three of you leaned against the SUV while you wait for Spencer to bring her in, and studies your face. “Is there something about Spencer’s performance you don’t like?” 

Trust him to chip in. You swear, he and Morgan have to be the worst busybodies in the department. You start to kiss your teeth again, but stop when you catch Morgan smirking. 

“I just didn’t realize he was such a good actor,” you reply. 

And it’s true. Spencer’s performance is kind of astounding. There’s an indomitable sincerity about him that shines through even now, in the gentle way he looks up at the girl when the shoe fits. It makes your chest tighten slightly, and then something foul and warmish curdles in your gut when he takes her hand and presses his lips to it. 

Spencer’s a kind soul. He’s got a sweet voice to go with his sweet face, and the unsub trusts it just like you would, dropping the shears and following him towards where the rest of your team waits. He’s not afraid to touch her, brushing a guiding hand along her back to help her into the SUV. To maintain the ruse, you know. Still, knowing doesn’t help the irritated prickle that goes over your skin. 

Wordlessly (though not without communication, if you count Morgan’s smug look and your answering glare), the three of you peel off from the van, getting into your vehicles to drive back to the police station.

Spencer shuts the door behind the unsub, and you expect him to get in the front seat to help keep her calm on the way to the station, but to your surprise he walks in your direction, getting into the passenger seat of the SUV you’re driving. 

“Hey,” he says casually, like this is something he does every day. And this is a regular part of your job, but it’s not every day one of you pretends to be blindly in love with a violent serial killer while she holds garden shears over your head. 

“Hey.” You give him a little smile, putting the van in drive. “Nice job. She looked really enchanted with you.”

“Thanks, I’m glad Hotch thought to bring the shoe to complete the fantasy.” Spencer brushes off the compliment easily, more than used to excelling. “It’ll be good for her to finally get the help she needs.” 

“Well, you were awesome.” You glance at him in the passenger seat, and he’s got his head propped on his elbow, looking out at the rolling hills and vast greenery of Montana. You look back to the road. “You make a great prince charming.” 

Spencer turns his face towards you. “Thanks,” he says again, this time with more feeling, and that sweetness is in his voice again. You like it best when it’s for you. 

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Love Drunk

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: being drunk, fluff

Summary: Spencer takes you back home after you drank half the bar.

Square Filled: “do you think we were going to have sex?” (2021) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You're normally not the girl that goes to bars and gets wasted but this has been a really hard week for you. You almost got an innocent person killed when Hotch allowed you to take point, your debit card got stolen on Monday so you had to freeze your account while you wait for a new card to come in, your car got a flat tire, and your mother keeps calling to visit you. You love her but she is truly a bitch. She only wants to meet to pinpoint everything you’re doing wrong and you don’t have the energy for that. 

JJ, Emily, and Penelope offered to take you out to let some steam off but they didn’t know you were going to go as far as to drink half the bar.

“Should we do something?” JJ asks.

You’re practically on top of the bar counter, shaking your ass and reaching for another bottle of alcohol. They have never seen you like this so they don’t know what to do.

“We created a monster,” Penelope says.

“The next round is on me!” you yell and a cheer sounds from the barn counter. “Bartender, another round!”

“Okay, I’m doing something. JJ, call Spencer and have him come down here,” Emily says. She walks over to you and you grin widely when you see her. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Emily! You’re so pretty. Guys, look how pretty she is! And she’s single!”

“Okay, you’re done. Come on, let’s get some water in you.”

She grabs you by your waist and drags you off the bar counter. You fall into her with a giggle and she gestures for Penelope to help her. JJ is off to the side calling Spencer so Penelope rushes over and the two of them hold you up.

“We’re never doing this again,” Penelope says.

“He’s on his way,” JJ says and walks over. “Did you get water in her?”

“No water! More alcohol!” you giggle.

All three of your friends support you and bring you to the front of the bar where your jacket is. You drove here but JJ will take your car and bring it to you tomorrow. She takes the keys out of your pocket and grabs your jacket as Penelope and Emily bring you outside.

“Where are we going next? We should go to the Space Needle!” you gasp.

“That’s in Seattle.”

“Yeah, let’s hop on a plan right now and go there.” You gasp again. “No, we should go to Niagara Falls. We could take a train right now to New York!”

“We’re never letting you drink this much again.”

“What? I’m a hoot to be around. I’m pretty fucking fantastic,” you pout. You look up and see Derek’s car pull up in front of the bar. “What’s Derek doing here?” Spencer steps out from behind the wheel and a big smile returns to your face. “Spencer! Baby!”

“I’ll put her things in the car,” JJ says.

“You let her drink the whole bar?”

Emily passes you off to Spencer who has to practically carry you.

“Our mistake. She kept crying about her week and before we knew it, she was doing shots with everyone inside. Don’t worry, we covered the bill for her,” Emily says.

“Thanks.” Spencer picks you up bridal style and brings you to the car. JJ opens the passenger door and Spencer gently sets you inside. He makes sure you’re buckled up before closing the door. “Thank you for calling me.”

“Anytime. I have her car. I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

Spencer departs from his friends and gets behind the wheel. You’re playing with the settings of the air conditioning.

“You are trouble.”

“You love me,” you grin.

Spencer starts the drive home while you continue playing with the settings of the car. You start babbling about work and why you were drinking so much, and Spencer stays silent and listens to you. Drunk!You is so cute and amusing. He looks at you to see your eyes wide and arms failing as you explain your story and he can’t believe that you’re all his. Youmarried him. He’s so lucky.

The second Spencer gets you into the house, your entire attitude changes. Maybe it’s because you know you’re alone or maybe it’s because you feel safe inside your own home but you pounce on Spencer as soon as the door is closed. You press kisses to his neck but he tries to get you off him.

“No, we can’t,” he groans.

You hop off him and stumble into the kitchen. You open the cabinet where you know the alcohol is but Spencer immediately pulls you back before you can grab a bottle.

“No, Spencer, we need a drink.”

“No, it’s time for bed. Come on.” You don’t move from your spot so Spencer steps into your space, and you smirk thinking he wants something more from you.  “Are we going to do it right here? I’m always ready for you. Bend me over right here.”

“No.” Spencer’s brow furrows. “Do you think we were going to have sex?”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

Spencer leans down and picks you up by your thighs, causing you to bend over his shoulder.

“Whoa!” You giggle. “You’re so strong.” Spencer takes you to the bedroom and lays you on the bed. You claw at his shirt to keep him close to you.b “Are we going to have--”

“No.”

“Why not?” you whine.

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.”

Spencer holds up three fingers.

“Darling, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Seven.”

“Okay. I need you to stay here. I will get you some water and some medicine because you’re going to hate yourself in the morning.”

Spencer goes to leave but you pull him back down and kiss his neck. He angles his head so you can’t kiss his lips. You slide your hands under his shirt but he grabs your wrists before you can go any further. He pins your hands above you and pulls his body away so you can’t touch him. In your state, you can’t fight him off.

“I said no.” He leans down and kisses your nose. “Goodnight.”

The struggle leaves you exhausted and you relax into the comfortable bed. Spencer leaves you in your club clothes and walks to the kitchen to get medicine and water for you in the morning. Where you can’t, he will always take care of you.

x

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[bledmouth]

boothill brain rot ! cw for injury.

“aw heck..not you.” boothill cringes- his body squeaks and scrapes as he limps toward the operating table.

you shrug a carefree shoulder, “be glad i’m the one treating you, if it were somebody else..they'd be happy to scrap your ass till you're out of order.”

boothill tries to remain calm, one of his fist clenches as he directly looks at you with narrowed eyes.

you were highly aware of the fact that his synesthesia beacon was indeed tampered with, so you entertained yourself by saying a few cuss words here and there, making sure he heard it all.

“you keep yourself safe..” (kill yourself) his voice is low with irritation- and you find it funny how his threats almost sound empty because you know that he knows you're right.

“go on, sit.” you gesture to the flat space of the operating table, boothill grunting as he struggles to sit on the table.

“those vermin.. i coulda beaten ‘em,” boothill seethes under his breath, you could feel the tension in the air as he talks about the incident.

“left me no choice, my arm disconnected- dumb thing, it wouldn't move even though i budged-” he sighs, long and tired as he slumps in defeat.

your gloved fingers touched the apple of his cheek and he grunts when you graze at a particularly deep cut.

the ‘blood’ was blue, it emmited a slightly foul smell but it wasn't anything you weren't used to already.

“it's amazing how you can feel like an actual person,” you say automatically, “no offense.” boothill just chuckled, low and mocking, “no comment.”

“a relief they didn't damage your brain, it would've been such a problem to put you back together hm?” you clean the wound on his cheek, as it begins to look smaller now.

after the clean up, you move to his right arm- it was limp and damaged, almost as if it was hit with a sledgehammer repeatedly.

“this arm needs replacing,” you grab one of the chargers that's compatible for his other arm and plug it in its port- and you pay your attention back to his right one.

“body makeover! i’m gonna need your consent so i can shut you down for…uh..” a finger on your chin, “an hour or two?”

boothill gives you a look you've never seen before, although it was gone instantly and he feigns nonchalance.

“yeah, yeah. just be quick with it,” his brows furrow with his eyes on the ground, “i still have a job to finish.”

you nod, understanding, “don't worry, this is only protocol for ‘humane’ tampering, i don't want you to experience any type of ‘pain’.”

he scoffs at your obvious choice of words, beating around the bush to even call him anything remotely human. nonetheless he nods and that gives you all the confirmation you need before you lower the operating table so you could plug the large charger that's gonna be attached to his back.

“hang tight cyborg, you'll be awake in a few.”

-

"testing, testing-" you say aloud as you wait for boothill to respond. his eyes open first, then he twitches his fingers- the mechanic whirring of his body was steadily optimizing as you wait for an open response.

"a..am i fixed?" boothill groans as he suddenly feels his head spinning, his mind blank as he tries to look around with his eyeballs- although he feels as if they've been ripped from their sockets.

"welcome back to the human world!" you say with enthusiasm- and boothill feels like ripping his ears from his head.

"get me outta this thing," he tries to sit up, but the heavy charger plug prevents him from moving, and his back stays flat on the table.

he picks up another voice in the room- his ears alert as he hears you talk to someone, "quite the specimen.." incoherent mumbling in the distance that he couldn't make into a full sentence.

"don't move," boothill hears you shuffling toward him now, your white coat finally in his peripheral vision as you remove the holter monitor that stuck on his face, "you're immobilized," your face is now in front of his, your body blocking out the blinding light of the artificial lamp. "for now at least."

"when are you gonna release me." boothill demands, the crack in his voice goes noticable by you- but you remain stoic, or rather, professional.

"shh..m’ busy with an invigilator right now, i'll release you once he leaves. he's kind of a big shot, so it'll take a while. you finally show some emotion with a small, genuine frown. "trust me, it'll be over soon."

"oh fuck you. didn't i say i had somewhere to be?" he whisper-yelled at you, the computers behind him that recorded his current emotion state has increased.

you were taken aback by his sudden change of demeanor, but it didn't phase you as you gave him a knowing look.

"feel different yet?" the question made his eyebrow raise, although he seemed to realize it a second later as he gasps in shock.

"d-did i just.. CUSS? OUT LOUD? DID I JUST SAY FUCK- OH MY FUCK- SON OF A BITCH! THAT WAS ME WASN'T IT?" boothill laughs in disbelief, his grumble echoes in the laboratory.

you smile proud, "oh yeah," you pretend to think thoughtfully, "i fixed your synesthesia beacon just ‘cause." you shrug.

"yer not so useless after all." boothill praises, sending a once in a lifetime smile your way.

you roll your eyes- "maybe..shut up?" it was heartfelt though.

[rrei1]

❥# — 𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘰 fluff, softie!bakugo, cursing

☆ — 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 he shows you his soft side ☹️

❣︎ — 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 I got this idea from listening to a song ☹️ I’m so lonely that i had to write this because I need comfort in my life. it’s bad. anyways enjoy!

the song in question

“ 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾 “ － 𝖪𝖠𝖳𝖲𝖴𝖪𝖨 𝖡𝖠𝖪𝖴𝖦𝖮 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍

weird as it is, katsuki had a habit of showing you his soft side. one being he can’t keep his hands off you. he’s clingy, real clingy. It was shocking of how much he would touch you, and on top of that he was protective too. overprotective you would say. whenever you guys were doing practice missions and one of the guys (kaminari or mineta) would look at you with heart eyes, he would always stand behind you glaring at them. by the aura that flamed around him, they would end up getting scared or nervously laughing looking away from you. sighing with your eyebrows frowning, you turn around to spot katsuki looking away with a scoff, “don’t look at me like that.” you raised a brow placing a hand on your hip not even willing to argue with him, only shaking your head with a smile walking up to him. “you need to stop.” pecking his cheek as he grinned with a shrug. “not my fault. those damn idiots keep staring at you.” l you shake your head watching him walk past you with a chuckle but gasp feeling him pull you by your waist as he did.

what else is weird that ever since he started to have that change in his attitude, he’s been showing affection with hou around everyone but it would be minor things. like holding your hand, whenever you guys are watching a movie or sitting on the couch he or you would put his arm over your shoulder, or whenever it’s just you two out in the dorms he would always back hug you enjoying the comfort he got from your warmth, giggling each time. “kat, what’s goin on?.” he would hum holding you tighter, “shut up loser..I just had a long day.” smiling everytime using your hand to ruffle his hair. he would do this so everyone knows who you’re with, thought he didn’t like the constant teasing mina and kirishima did he still does it so no one gets any smart ideas with you. you even knew he did it to remind everyone that you’re dating him, but in reality.. he only makes that excuse so he can hold you 🤫.

he also loves touching you. like really much. though it was not a common thing he would tell everyone, touching is his love language. you thought it was cute teasing him everytime but he thought it was stupid pushing you away each time, but couldn’t help but have that cute grin on his face. the relationship was cheesy— according to kaminari and mineta probably due to jealously that bakugo out of all people got to pull you, but in reality it was cute and everyone thinks you guys look adorable together. bakugo would always yell at them feeling flustered but you would always laugh saying thank you to everyone, “awww look at them!.” mina cooed as she saw you both on the couch, katsuki’s arm wrapped around you as you were cuddled to his side eating. “they look like a married couple.” kirishima added on with a smile but his smile dropped eyes going wide as he saw bakugo’s eyes on them glaring at em both. mina and kirishima looked away from them pretending they were doing something as you heard katsuki scoff. “what’s wrong?.” you asked taking another bite from your plate looking up at him who looked at you with a frown, “pinky and shitty hair fan girling again.” he rolled his eyes as you laughed shaking your head. “let em. there’s nothing wrong with that.” you muttered, leaning up to peck his lips hearing them “awww!!” again giggling pulling back. katsuki groaned glaring at you as you laughed, “you did that on purpose didn’t you?!.” you poked your tongue out shrugging, “I don’t know..did I?.” before you knew it, he pushed you off the couch with a smug grin feeling your glare on him. “I’ll kill you!.” — “If you can catch me nerd!”

“they’re so cute together.”

“couldn’t agree more.”

[jisunghannie]

Save Me Now

PAIRING: Hyunjin x fem!reader

WARNINGS: Hyunjin being “toxic”, sweet apologies, pet names, unprotected sex, mentions of cheating Hyunjin, Felix is your cousin!, confessions

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend of 1 and a half years has been acting differently lately and you aren't sure why. But you know it's definitely due to a weird reason. When you found what it was, you were heartbroken only for him to pick back up the pieces. Or does he?

WORD COUNT: 3,087

A/N:

Gahh, sorry this took so long!! I was on the heaviest writer's block along with getting sick back to back. Hopefully, this will make up for it!

This is not proofread! You can get sneak peeks of that piece and other pieces of my works on @mr-hanjisung ! Also, apologies if there are grammar mistakes or anything, I hope you guys enjoy this piece!

“Did you ever get the girl who owed you debt?” You asked as he shook his head. “Funny story, Chan covered her expenses because that's his new fiancée.” He said as you laughed. “Imagine having your client as your boss's wife. That's actually so funny.” You laughed as Hyunjin nodded. “So funny indeed.” He said sarcastically as you kissed his cheek.

“I'm gonna go see if anyone else needs help, okay Jin?” You said as he just nodded. “Okay, love you.” You told him, giggling. “Me too.” He said, waving his hand to you as you left.

You felt, awkward. You and Hyunjin had been dating for 1 and a half years already. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to say, ‘I love you’ back. You didn't feel hurt by it, just wishing that he would return the words.

As you left for your work which was more “civilized”. He continued doing his own thing. You were working as your best friend walked in and gave you a big squeeze. She knew about Hyunjin, well, she knew about your boyfriend, but you never told her his name or what he did. That’s why she is skeptical but she trusts you.

“So when can I meet your mystery man?” She asked as you laughed. “We’ve been dating for a year and a half already, you know?” You reminded her as she pouted, “Exactly, a year and half and I’ve never even met the guy. I hardly know anything about him.” She said as she then gave you a serious look. “Have you guys even said the, you know, the L word?” She asked as you shook your head. “I have but him, not yet, but then again I’m his first girlfriend.” You told her as your best friend frowned. “He’s your first boyfriend too, don't forget.” She reminded you as you nodded. “I know don’t worry.” You told her as a couple came in and you served them.

You were a server and or waitress at a famous restaurant. Unfortunately, you then saw that, that couple was none other than your boyfriend and another woman.

You frowned but shook your head then immediately smiled. “Hi, welcome in. My name is y/n and I’ll be your server today.” You told them, giving your boyfriend a dirty look as he blew you a kiss. The woman he was with smacked his arm as he jerked lightly. “Yes, we'll take a table for two.” She said, her voice delicate and sweet. You nodded and led them to a table as you handed them menus. “Let me know what I can get you and call me over when you are ready.” You said as he chuckled.

You walked back as you didn't understand what was going on. You were so gonna-

“-kill him! I'm gonna kill him when we get home!” You shouted in the worker's lounge with your best friend as you sat on the couch, huffing and puffing. You were angry, which was normal. Your friend, Lily, walked over and patted you on the back. “There, there, it's okay.” She told you, “He's nothing but a lying cheat. I knew he was no good.” She said, sounding like your mother. “What's his name?” She asked as you shook your head, “It doesn't matter.” You told her as she insisted. “Are you gonna break up with him?” She asked, but before you could answer, she bombarded you with questions.

“Where are you gonna live?”

“I-”

“Are you still going to be able to work here?”

“Lily-”

“What does he do for a living?”

“Lily I-”

“How are you going to break up with him? Maybe-”

“Yang Dahee!” You shouted.

That shut her up. She knows you only use her Korean name when you are really upset. “Yes, I'm listening eomma.” She teased. “I'll deal with it.” You replied as she nodded. “If you guys end up breaking up and need somewhere to stay, call me.” She said as you nodded, walking back out to serve Hyunjin and the mysterious lady.

“Are you ready to order?” You asked as the lady giggled and looked at Hyunjin as he looked up to meet your eyes. “I'll take my usual.” He said as you gave him a fake smile as you looked at his mistress. “And for the lady?” You asked as she looked up at you, “I'll have what he's having.” She replied as you nodded and walked off, your smile faltering.

Something she didn't know was that you made his usual so if she made it to perfection and handed it to them she would've lost. But she knew better to deny service to an innocent woman when it was Hyunjin at fault. As you went into the break room, you were on your phone as you got a text from Hyunjin.

Jinnie <3: Are you jealous?

y/nnie: Of course I am!

Jinnie <3: Sorry, I had no choice. I'm marrying her due to business contracts.

y/nnie: What about me?

Jinnie <3: You are and always will be my girlfriend. My lover. My number 1.

y/nnie: Then why are you marrying her?

Jinnie <3: I'll explain when we both are home okay?

y/nnie: Why not now Hyunjin?

You were crying now for sure. Tears ran down your face as you waited for his response.

Once you finished his meal, you opened your phone.

Jinnie <3: Because it's better to talk in person about this.

You left him on seen as you wiped your face and walked out to face him. “Here are your meals.” You said as he ate and fed the woman. She got all the treatment you wanted. It wasn't fair.

“I'm sorry, I need some fresh air.” The woman said as she walked outside as he motioned for you to sit but you turned your heel to walk away as he grabbed your wrist. “Why are you running away? Aren't you gonna fight for your spot?” He asked as you flicked his arm away. “Go be happy with your fiancée. I'll get my things tonight.” You told him as he gripped your wrist tighter. “I have an event I need you to attend. Once you're there you'll understand why I have to marry her. Understood?” He said, his voice laced with danger as you nodded silently. He then kissed your cheek. “Good girl.” He said as he released you.

You walked away from him, rubbing your wrist. You sighed and wondered how you even ended up liking him. But you couldn't help the fact that you would meet him one way or another. You were Felix's cousin after all. Once Felix owed debt, Han kidnapped you all for his induction. Once he succeeded you were taken to convince Felix to join. Now it made sense why he was able to buy you such an expensive gift for your birthday.

In exchange for your life being spared, Felix had to work for them. He regretted what he did but he told you that he’d be lying if he told you that he didn't enjoy doing what he does.

After your shift, Hyunjin texted you to go home and wear the dress, bag, and heels he had bought you. You frowned, still mad at him of course. You then took a deep breath in and out as you got dressed. As you did your hair and makeup. The minute you finished, Hyunjin knocked against the door frame. You glared at him as he walked over to you.

“I knew that dress would look good on you.” He said as you sighed. “Hurry up, let's go.” You said as you walked right past him, to the car. You sat next to your cousin as he chuckled. “Let me guess. Hyunjin pissed you off.” Felix assumed as you laughed, smacking his shoulder lightly. “Is it that obvious?” You asked as Felix nodded. You then laughed as you wiped the tears from your eyes. “Good. Let him know.” You said as Felix leaned in to your ear. “To be honest, I don't think you're gonna like the event we are going to.” He whispered as he continued, “It's literally Hyunjin's engagement party.” Felix finished as he pulled away.

You looked horrified as Hyunjin saw your face across from the limo. He immediately texted you.

Jinnie <3: You okay?

y/nnie: I'm fine

Jinnie <3: Are you sure? You look like Felix just told you that someone died

y/nnie: I said I'm fine Jin.

Jinnie <3: If you say you are then I believe you

y/nnie: Thank you

But it was still eating you up inside. You didn't understand why it was but when you guys walked in, Hyunjin walked over to the mysterious woman who was at the cafe with him. He then linked arms with her as they walked in. You took a deep breath and exhaled trying to calm yourself.

Felix knew what was wrong as he massaged your shoulder lightly. “I know it hurts but you should've known. He's rich behind his loan sharks business. He's only doing this so we have more connections through his family though. Once he inherits everything he'll divorce her.” Felix whispered as you wiped your teary eyes. “What if she gets pregnant by then…” You said, really thinking the worst as Felix sighed. “If you really do love him and trust him, you would believe in him.” He said as you nodded.

As you guys went through the night, you saw him feeding her and holding her dress from dragging, he was holding her close and whispering sweet nothings in her ears. Then, he kissed her. You couldn't believe your eyes. You couldn't take it anymore so you left. You just walked out of the estate and went back to your shared home with Hyunjin. You then cried on the couch.

After an hour, Hyunjin came home, his lips smeared in lipstick. You scoffed as you packed your things. He ran over to you and grabbed your wrist. “What the hell are you doing!?” He said, his voice raised. “I can't handle this Hyunjin! I can't see you with another woman even if it's not real love!” You shouted as you tried to resist, his face furrowed. “Just stop and listen to me!” He said as you stopped resisting. “You have 3 minutes.” You said blatantly as you both sat. “Listen, I know it hurts to see but I assure you that I only have space for you in my heart and nobody else.” He said as you scoffed. “Don't give me that bullshit.” You said as he stuttered, trying to find the right words. “Exactly.” You said.

You then took off your heels and grabbed your bag that he had bought for you and threw them at him. “Keep your stupid heels and bag for your fiancée. I don't need your stupid gifts.” You told him as he smirked, “That dress is a gift of mine as well.” He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't know how to respond, but before you could turn around he snaked his arms around your waist. “So take it off.” He said bluntly as your face was now flushed. “Go ahead…” He whispered in your ear. “Strip it off…” He whispered as you bit your lip.

You knew that you shouldn't give in. But with Hyunjin saying that, you felt weak to your knees. You didn't know what to think. “Jin… I-” He stopped you and hushed you as he tugged on the string of your dress lightly. “Take it off or I will for you.” He huskily said. You don't know what happened or how it even got to this point but he was on top of you, his collar shirt unbuttoned and his tie on the floor now. Your dress was completely off. Let's just say, at least now you knew his goal wasn't to get back the dress.

“You must seduce all your women with your words…” You whispered quietly as his lips barely grazed yours. His lips now smeared in your lipstick. “Don't give me that. You know you love me.” He whispered as he pulled you in for another kiss. You waited for this moment for a while. Sure, you guys had showered together before but nothing to this extent. “Hwang Hyunjin.” You spat at him as he sighed. “I'm sorry for hurting you… really… but I promise nothing will change my feelings for you… I love you and only you. That I can promise you.” He said.

Wait, were you hearing things… “What did you say Jin?” You asked. “That I can promise you?” He answered.

“No, before that…”

“Nothing can change my feelings for you?”

“No after that.”

“That I can promise you?”

“No!”

He then chuckled lightly as he kissed you again. “I love you and only you.” He repeated as you gave him a happy gentle smile, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked, wiping your tears. “I'm just really happy… I've waited so long to hear you say those words…” You said as he kissed your cheek chuckling. “I'll say it as many times as you want as long as you stay with me.” He said as you nodded, pulling him closer to you, your bodies touching, skin to skin. His breath hitched as he composed himself. “Where were we?” He asked, running his hands through his hair. You bashfully smiled as you covered yourself lightly with your hands.

He then smirked as he ran his fingers against your inner thighs. “So you've been waiting for this or I assume?” He asked as you nodded. “How cute…” He said as he kissed your inner thighs. “I'll leave my mark on you good.” He said as you stayed silent. He then moved your hand, covering your breasts. “I've seen your whole body baby… no need to hide it anymore.” He whispered against your inner thigh. “I know you get off to me seeing you naked.” He said as he chuckled.

“No I don't…” You replied, squeezing his shoulders as he kissed your clit gently. “It’s okay baby… you are so cute when you squeeze me like that…” He said as he hovered over you. “You seem wet enough.” He said rubbing his fingertips against your wet folds. You then looked away, feeling embarrassed. He then kissed and bit at your earlobe gently. “Can I put it in… please..?” He pleaded in your ear. His voice husky and low but whiny as you gave in and nodded gently. You could feel him smile against your ear.

You then felt his cock smack against your stomach. You then looked down and blushed, realizing just how big he really was. “Will it even fit?” You asked as Hyunjin shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.” He said as he aligned himself against you. Your breath hitched as you felt the tip hit your entrance. “Make sure to loosen up.” He told you, he then placed your hands on his shoulders as he looked at you reassuringly. “You ready?” He asked as you nodded. He then pushed himself inside as you just gasped, not knowing what to really say.

“You're so tight…” Hyunjin said as you dug your nails into his shoulders. “Jin…” You squirmed out as he gave a gasp. “Don't clamp…” He said, massaging small circles on your stomach. “You're doing so good…” He whispered as his long hair covered half of his face. You pushed the hair out of his face as you nodded. “I'm ready…” You whispered back as he kissed your forehead, beginning to move slowly.

“Jinnie…” You moaned out as he held onto your hips. “Shh… I know… you're doing so good…” He hushed as you kept moaning. He then began to speed up as you looked down to see how it looked. God, you didn't realize that you had been holding back on such a good feeling. “Hey, my eyes are up here.” He said squeezing your hips, causing you to look up. “There are your pretty eyes, enjoying the… hah… view..?” He groaned out as you nodded. “You're lucky that I gave you that dress… but I knew you looked better without it…” He said as you nodded.

After a while he then shifted and did deep and slow thrusts. “Jinnie…” You moaned out. With how slow he went, you felt every little part of his cock inside you. You felt how big he was and how he reached in every-

“Right there..!” You moaned out grabbing the sheets as he smirked. “What's right there hmm?” He teased. “Jinnie… stop being mean…” You whined as he chuckled. “Honest, honest, what do you need there..?” He asked, still obviously teasing. “It feels good…” You told him as he smirked. “What feels good?” He teased, still hitting your g-spot. “The way you hit that spot…” You whined as he traced his fingers on your stomach still slowly moving inside. “What spot?” He asked, feigning innocence. You whined as he just laughed at you. “Fine, how do you want it baby?” He asked as you pulled him close. “I don't care, just hurry up…” You said as he smirked, ramming into you at such speed.

“My abilities as a dancer help a lot, you know…” He groaned out. He then felt you tighten up around him as you moaned out in ecstasy that he had to kiss you to quiet you down. “Shh…” He hushed as you giggled. “God, you're cock drunk.” He said as you nodded, tracing your fingers on his chest. He chuckled as he pulled out and came on your stomach. “I swear. You are crazy for that being your first time.” He said as you nodded. “It's not that impressive.” You replied as he ruffled your hair and you pushed him. He got back up and took you to the bathroom. “Let's wash up and go to sleep.” He said as you nodded.

After a long bath together, you guys got ready for bed. “Oh please, you almost fell asleep because I was massaging the shampoo in your hair so good.” You said as he continued to deny it. “No, you were so embarrassed because I had to clean you up because you were too tired.” He said as you gasped, faking hurt feelings as he laughed and shoved you lightly. “I love you.” He said as you smiled, “I love you too.”

Taglist:

@annybah @softkisshyunjin @queenmea604 @hyunmikim @stayceebs97 @boi-bi-ahaha @lilinaskzz @cookiesandcreammy

[zepskies]

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk. 

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor. 

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

 You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.” 

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely. 

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad. 

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gathered your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

 And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

 “Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.   

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but I'm already sketching out my outline for the little series that will continue this one-shot, tentatively titled "Every Second Counts."

Stay tuned! 😘

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[mangowafflesss]

Better Luck Next Time

Warnings: 18+, Torture, Hints to cannibalism, Blood, Death, Reader is a little unhinged. If you are sensitive to any of these topics, Please DO NOT read :) If I forgot any please let me know <3

Summary: You're out to kill but get disrupted by a group of men you've never met before.

A soft hum escapes your throat as the delicate music from the record player fills the dining room. The melody weaves through your senses as you double-check the bindings on the unconscious man, ensuring they are tight and secure.

Suddenly, he jerks awake with a gasp, jolted by your ‘accidental’ step on his foot as you step back to admire your handiwork. “All those hunting trips with my dad really paid off, didn't they, Sergio?” you laugh as he struggles against the ropes, wincing when he sees what you’ve done to him.

“You’re a fucking psycho bitch. Let me go!” he yells, but you twirl the blade in your hand, ignoring his outburst. His eyes lock onto the spinning, gleaming edge, terror deepening as he realises just how sharp it is.

You step closer, a sinister smile playing on your lips. “It's your turn” you say, motioning with the blade pointed at his stomach. He shakes his head, but you grab his face roughly, forcing him to look down at himself.

“You’re going to play and not pass out this time, got that, Sergio?” You reposition his head, making him nod. “Good, I’m glad you understand. Now, where would you like to go?” you ask in a sickly sweet voice.

“T-top left” he stammers, making you smile wider. You bend down and he tenses as you get closer. 

“Shh shh shh. This’ll sting just a little” You run the sharp edge over his skin before pressing in, drawing a circle into his flesh. His screams and cries echo in the room, but they only fuel your determination. Without giving him a moment to recover, you carve an ‘X’ in the top right corner.

Blood drips down his hairy stomach, his skin blooming a bright red. As you’re about to ask his next move, the record player stops, the needle stuck in a repetitive noise. 

“I'll be right back. Don't pass out, we've got more fun to be had” you giggle, turning your back to him and heading towards the record player. As you lift the needle, a noise from somewhere else in the house catches your attention—a loud footstep in the hallway. You glance at Sergio, whose head hangs low, before sneaking through a door that leads around to the front of the house.

Your feet are light as you move through the big rooms, hugging the walls and listening intently. Your knife is gripped tightly, ready for anything. 

You freeze as you hear voices in the dining room—deep, male voices, but how many, you can’t tell.

“Hey sunshine, who did this to you?” you hear the slapping of skin and assume one of them is hitting Sergio. Suppressing a laugh you continue forwards to listen closer.

“Piece of shit isn't conscious” another voice says. Peering around the corner, you see two men. You sneak up on the one closest to the door, his back turned to you, and swiftly press your knife to his throat.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” you demand, watching as the man crouched in front of Sergio turns towards you, hands raised.

“Don't come any closer, or I'll slit his throat” you warn as the second man approaches. He nods, staying put.

“I’ll ask again. Who are you?” your tone was commanding. 

“I'm John. He’s Kyle” the man says, gesturing to himself and then to the man in your grip. You hum, considering if he’s lying, and as you’re about to release Kyle, John’s eyes flicker behind you.

A cold blade presses against your throat, and another man steps into view, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Let him go, and we won't kill you. I can assure you, you’re safe” John says. You narrow your eyes, realising you have no choice.

“Fine. I’ll let him go” you mumble, releasing Kyle. The blade at your throat is removed, and you step away, keeping your eyes on all four intruders.

“Why are you here?” you ask John, who is crouched in front of Sergio once again, admiring the marks on his stomach.

“Seems we’re here for the same reason” he says, smiling before muttering to his friends. They spread out, and you realise they intend to take your kill.

“No, no, no. He's mine. Get your own” you hiss, positioning yourself behind Sergio, a murderous glint in your eye.

“We came all this way. You won’t let us indulge a little?” John pleads, tilting his head like a puppy. But you stand your ground.

“No, but you can have the guy in the basement. He’s tied up and waiting” you lie with a smile that quickly fades when you feel someone’s presence behind you. A loud sniff near your ear makes you tense. You whip your head around to see the man with a mohawk smirking at you.

“You smell sweet. I wonder if you taste the same” he says, licking his lips. You give him a look of disgust and the grip on the knife in your hand tightens. What if you just plunged it into his abdomen now? 

A click from across the room catches your attention and you stop your murderous thoughts to look at the man named Kyle.

Kyle motions for you to come closer, which you do to get away from the mohawk creep.

“Look, we were sent here to kill him. Let us have this, and we’ll never have to see each other again” he says simply. You stare into his chocolate brown eyes, smile, and nod.

“Sure pretty boy, go ahead” you say, backing towards the dining table. 

“See, it wasn't so hard, was it princess?” John taunts, but your smile hides a plan.

In a swift motion, you draw your knife and slit Sergio’s throat. His gurgling screams fill the room, blood spraying everywhere. Grabbing your backpack from the table, you rush towards the back door, pausing to see their annoyed faces.

“Better luck next time, princess” you taunt before disappearing into the night.

[saphronethaleph]

Literary Illusions

“It’s ironic,” Palpatine said, shaking his head. “He could save others from death, but not himself.”

Anakin frowned.

“And this is something the Jedi wouldn’t have told me?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Palpatine replied. “Is it a story you’ve heard?”

“Well, yes,” Anakin said. “Just now, from you. But not before then… and that surprises me, Chancellor.”

Palpatine shrugged. “I think you’ll find, Anakin, that the Jedi have not been telling you everything.”

“Maybe not, but… honestly, that sounds like exactly the kind of thing they’d tell me,” Anakin said.

Palpatine frowned.

“...what?” he asked.

“You know,” Anakin said. “Some Sith Lord works out how to bring people back to life from the dead, but his apprentice kills him and doesn’t bring him back to life because the Sith are inherently self destructive. If the two of them had worked together and been able to trust one another, they’d have been immortal.”

He shrugged. “It’s a good illustration of the inherently self destructive nature of the Dark Side, and it’s the dichotomy of how the Dark Side leads you to seek power in order to achieve goals that you then discard as irrelevant, because they’re not directly related to gaining power… hold on a second.”

Palpatine was a little distracted by trying to avoid mentally kicking himself, so it took him somewhat more than a second to notice what Anakin was doing.

“...Anakin?” he said. “Are you getting your comlink out?”

“Yeah,” Anakin replied. “Going to text Obi-Wan, ask him what he thinks of the story. Maybe there’s some kind of detail I missed which makes it less of a good illustration of the different worldviews and mindsets of the Jedi and the Sith.”

The Knight shrugged, his thumbs tapping away at his comlink. “He probably knows it, he knows all of the old stories.”

Palpatine blinked several times.

“...don’t,” he said, then very discreetly scrambled for a reason why. “It’s the middle of a performance. We don’t want to interrupt them.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s on silent,” Anakin replied, with a shrug. “Or vibrate. Did I put it on vibrate… hang on, Chancellor, I’ll make sure it’s on silent…”

He turned the comlink over, then a loud bwing sounded.

“Oh, right, I forgot to set it to do not disturb mode,” Anakin said. “Hang on… uh… yeah, there we go, I forgot I added all these custom modes. I’ve been missing a lot of sleep lately.”

“Perhaps-” Palpatine began, but Anakin spoke over him.

“Huh,” he said. “He says he’s never heard of it either. Wants to know where I heard about it, it looks like he’s really interested… or maybe he’s trying to tell me about a death stick vendor, he’s terrible with multiglyphs and he thinks he’s good at them.”

Anakin glanced at the Chancellor, hoping for some solidarity, then visibly noticed that the Chancellor was several decades older than him and abandoned that.

“Is there a book I can get the whole story from?” he asked, instead. “Obi-Wan is better at nuances, like I say.”

“That is not the point,” Palpatine said, trying not to get visibly angry. “The point is that there is a way to save your loved ones!”

“Maybe there used to be, but not any more,” Anakin shrugged. “Like you said, this was a Sith thing and the Sith are all dead. Well, unless General Grievous is a Sith who knows how to heal people, but I doubt it given how much he got hurt, and I’m not sure Dooku knew it either… hey, if this story needs to be publicized more then maybe we could have them do a play of that instead?”

Palpatine blinked several times, as he tried to keep up with a Jedi with possible undiagnosed ADHD and found himself discovering a lack of talent for podracing.

“What?” he asked.

“You know, a play,” Anakin explained. “Dramatic betrayals, lost loved ones, it would probably do numbers. It’d be better than this, anyway.”

He waved his hand at the ongoing performance of Squid Lake.

“...what is wrong with Squid Lake?” Palpatine said, before reflecting that that had really been a stupid question for him to ask and that he should have asked a much better one.

“Well, uh,” Anakin began, looking a bit abashed. “Actually now I say it out loud this might be really culturally insensitive of me, but to me this play might as well be eighty minutes of people boasting about having enough water to swim in.”

“It’s a ballet,” Palpatine told him, now completely having lost control of the conversation.

“It’s just a less scary version of Sarlacc Pit,” Anakin went on. “Someone tried to drown me in a lake once, because they thought I couldn’t swim, but floating on sand is much harder, you barely have to do anything to escape a lake. You just float.”

Very belatedly, Anakin caught sight of Palpatine’s look of total befuddlement, and shrugged.

“Watto was a lot of things,” he said. “But he had culture.”

Palpatine’s hands twitched, as he very seriously considered the idea of abandoning literal centuries of Sith planning and decades of personal political advancement in favour of stabbing Anakin somewhere it would hurt.

It was extraordinarily tempting.

“...hold on,” Anakin said, slowly. “I guess… the thing I’d like most at the moment is for… and that means… this is literally one of those times when I could fall to the Dark Side because of it, like Darth Plagueis.”

He bestowed a grateful smile on Palpatine. “Thanks, Chancellor! I need to make a call, I guess the ballet won’t mind.”

Palpatine was so thrown by the swerve that he couldn’t think of a way to stop Anakin in the few seconds he had.

“Love?” Anakin said, into his commlink. “I… think we need to come clean, because otherwise I’ll fall to the Dark Side.”

Palpatine’s eye twitched.

[judes-hoe]

Bitter rivals, sweet love

Parrings~ Lewis Hamilton x OC

Summary~She’s gonna be in f1 for her third year and goes to a team no one expects her to. She’s always got a cold expression and only those close to her know why. Shes been close one to many times to winning a championship and this year she’s gonna get it no matter what.

Warnings~ google translated Italian, mentioned crying,

A/N~ so doing the Japanese Grand Prix and then after that skipping to the Miami Grand Prix, just because I don’t wanna write every single race or this series will be soooo long. So the I’ll write the Japanese GP cause it’ll be the first time of many of having to share a hotel!!!! Next chapter will be in Miami btw we skipping china lol but I’ll mention who wins it lol!!

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vanessa had just arrived at the hotel room she’ll be sharing with Lewis. She settled down and laid on the one bed scrolling on her phone watching edits that popped up of her. She loved when the fans made edits of her, let her know she was appreciated.

Around 20 minutes later she heard a knock and immediately rolled her eyes knowing it’s Lewis. She gets up as slow as possible before going to open the door, when she did she was met with the British man with his suitcase. She rolled her eyes and walked in the room. Lewis caught the door before it could close and walked in placing his stuff on the other bed.

“Good to see you too.” He smirked. “stai zitto.” She said to him before going back to her phone. “You know I know Italian right?” He smirked at her laying on his bed. “non me ne frega un cazzo.” She said rolling her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a couple hours later, now in the paddock for media. She just sat on the couch for the interviews. She was with max, Lando, Charles, and Carlos.

About 20 minutes in she finally got asked a question, “hello Vanessa, you have 3 races, that includes this one, till your 1st home race as you have 2 through the season, how do you feel.” The man asked. “Well I can’t wait honestly, it’s always a different feeling racing in your country, and as my fans know if I win my home race I wanna be edit to the song ‘Viva La Vida’ same song every year.” Is he said with a smile. “Why that song?” He asked. “Well there’s nothing behind it, it’s just gives me winner vibes, but to my fans again if you wanna make a more calm edit do white Ferrari by frank ocean.” I said with another smile.

They then continue with the interview and she gets a few more questions before leaving the interview. “Nessa wanna come to lunch with us?” Carlos asked standing next to Lando, Max, and Charles. “Sure, got nothing else to do.” I shrugged going with them.

When we got to the place to eat Charles leans over a whispers. “I saw Lewis going into your room about 25 minutes after you, what’s that about?” He smirked when he asked. “Toto got mad at us after what happened in Australia so he talked to our managers and we have to share a room for the rest of the season and do “couples therapy” and if we don’t fix our rival by the end of the season we both lose our seats.” Vanessa said looking at Charles with an annoyed expression. “You and Lewis have to share a room!” He said a little to loud making the other 3 men look at the 2 with a smirk. “It’s not like that.” She groaned and explained the whole story again.

“You guys can’t tell anyone though.”she said with a serious expression. “If I hear someone talk about this that isn’t any of us, I’m killing you all.” She spoke before taking a bite of her food which made the guys nod their heads quickly before also eating their food.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She walks into the hotel room after he lunch with Carlos, Charles, Lando, and max. She sees Lewis laying on his bed shirtless and his chest a little wet. “Your staring a little hard sweetheart, see something you like?” He smirks when he notices her. “No, and stop calling me sweetheart.” She said annoyed. “If you say that I’m gonna keep calling you it.” He said with a cocky smile.

Vanessa grabs her pajamas which was just a t-shirt her dad always wore, and some shorts. She then walks to the bathroom and closes the door and starts the shower. She gets in the shower and relaxes under the hot water.

Vanessa gets out the shower, and gets changed into the pajamas. She walks out back into the room, putting the dirty clothes away and sitting on her bed. “Who’s on the shirt?” Lewis asked her. “My dad’s favorite band.” She said not wanting to talk to him. “Then why are you wearing it?” He asked again. “Cause I can!” She raised her voice a little. “God you ask so many questions.” She said turning on her side so she doesn’t have to look at him.

“Didn’t have to yell was just wondering why you’re wearing the shirt and not him.” He said. Vanessa stops all her movements and just lays there, her mind going back to that night. “Because there’s a reason, now I’ll be back im going for a walk.” She said getting up and slamming the door before walking down the hallway knocking on a door.

The door opened to reveal Daniel in a shirt and shorts. “What are you doing here it’s 7pm?” He asked when he saw her. “Can I just come in.” She asked softly. He nodded and let her in and she sat on the edge of his bed. “Me and Lewis have to share a hotel room for the rest of the season as punishment by Toto and by the end of the season if our rival isn’t fixed and put aside for the team we lost our seats, and he just asked me about this shirt and I told him and he asked why am I wearing it and not my dad.” She rambles to Daniel and starts to tear up when she stops.

Daniel now knows why she came here, cause she felt herself going to cry and knows she’s only comfortable crying around him. “It’s ok, it’s ok darling.” He said pulling her in a hug and petting her hair. “He probably doesn’t know, a lot of people on the grid don’t know.” He said kissing the top of her head. “Stay with me for a little we can watch a movie and then you can go back to your room.” He said pulling her away and wiped her tears away. “Ok.” She said going to say in his bed.

He got his computer and logged in giving it to her to play a movie. Vanessa picked the first avatar movie cause it’s one of her favorites.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the movie she said by to Daniel before going back to her hotel room. She did have a key so she knocked on the door. The door opened shortly after to reveal Lewis, she rolled her eyes at him and went and laid in her bed. Plugged her phone in and laid on her side away from Lewis going to sleep.

Lewis knew something was wrong and said something to upset her which he didn’t like. He stayed up an hour after she went to sleeping try to think about it before falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vanessa woke up, not to her alarm, but to grunt like noises. She looked at her phone and saw 6am on it. She still had 45 minutes till she woke up. She turned on her side and saw Lewis on the floor doing push ups.

“It’s six in the morning why are you up?” She asked mildly angry. “Had to get my morning work out in.” Lewis said stopping a sitting back on his knees with a little shrug. “Well now you share a room respect people who trying to still sleep!” She let out a huff and got out the bed going into the bathroom.

Vanessa walks out the bathroom and now sees Lewis getting ready to take a shower. He walked into the bathroom when she walked out. When she heard the shower turn on she started to undress and get dressed for the day, because no chance she’s going back to sleep.

After she changes it’s around 8am now. She left the hotel and to her car to head to the paddock. Before she headed to the garage she walked around the paddock and ran into Charles.

“Charles.” She said with a little excitement in her voice. “Good luck this weekend I know it means something to you.” She said with a little smile giving him a hug when he leans in. “Thanks mon amor I appreciate it.” He said with a smile. “Well I’ll talk to you later need to head back to my garage.” He spoke. “Ok see ya later Charlie.” She says smiling before going to her own garage.

Vanessa walks in and sees him talking to Toto, but she walks in the opposite direction to Calvin. She talks to Calvin for a bit before getting ready for FP1.

In her drivers room she put on her fireproofs and then her suit. Grabbing her helmet and going to stand next I Calvin. “Ready?” Vanessa asked looking over his shoulder at the screen. “Yes put your helmet on!” He said patting her shoulder.

She quickly put on the balaclava, kissing the two names on her helmet. Then putting the helmet on and getting in the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~skip to race day~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vanessa had done well in all FP, and managed to get a P3 in qualifying. Lewis in P2, max in P1. She had Charles and Lando behind her which he didn’t really care about.

They all lined up on the grid and the lights slowly flickered on.

“It’s lights out and away we go!”

She had tried to overtake Lewis on the first turn my didn’t mange keeping their gap close together, but also managing to get a gap between Lando.

A couple laps in, Lewis changed his tyres. Vanessa being able to take his spot and get a good 3 seconds gap while he was in the pit. Lewis getting out just in time to be in front on Charles.

A another few laps goes by and Lewis closed the gap, catching up to Vanessa. Max boxed so now she was P1 and Lewis P2.

The 45 lap is when Lewis manages to overtake Vanessa in P1 with DRS. Now she has to watch max behind her, just want she wants. “Gap between me and max?” She asked Calvin on the radio. “2 seconds.” He replied. “Good enough.” She says back to him which made him smile.

For the rest of the race she stayed in P2 having to defend from max a few times but built the gap back up, almost overtaking Lewis a few times too but just not enough.

So here they are standing on the podium now, P1 Lewis, P2 Vanessa, and P3 max. When they took the picture she made sure her a Lewis had some(a lot) of space between them with a half fake smile on her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That next morning Vanessa left to go back to Monaco before the Chinese Grand Prix.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N ~ watch out next chapter it might be a little heart breaking and sad😭

Taglist: @happy-golden-hour @tallrock35

[thoushallnotfall]

Walkin' After Midnight

Masterlist

Pairing: Marko x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Note: *finger guns* Ehhhhh...so it’s been a minute. How ya’ll been? So completely ignoring that’s it’s been...a long time, here’s another of my ‘imagine the boys in a decade prior to the 80s’ fics--and we’re moving right along to the 50s! (and for reference every subsequent fic in this...series(?) including this one are going to be named after songs from their decade because I am incredibly unoriginal. 🙃 I started this...a very long time ago, and then I didn’t like it so I just left it in my WIPs with like 15 other ideas/half-written fics/updates. I still don’t love it, but upon further reflection after the fact I don’t totally hate it--and it was already started so I didn’t have to work as hard to finish it, so there’s that too.

That being said, I'm kind of interested in writing a part 2, so we'll see...taking babysteps here.

(I’m really having to dig deep for these gifs)

Every kid from Santa Carla grew up knowing two things: Don’t go out after dark if you ever want to make it home, and stay away from the greasers who hung around the boardwalk.

It never really occurred to you that those two points could be related.

Unlike a lot of the teenagers in Santa Carla, who’d run there with nowhere else to go, you’d lived there all your life. You’d never left the city, and the older you got the more you doubted you ever would. Your dad had been killed in Vietnam, and your mom was around so little you half expected one day she’d just stop coming back home at all. You may not be one of the runaways, but you were still alone in Santa Carla.

Still, you were young; and while you knew you’d have to find a way to live on your own sooner or later, you decided to try and enjoy what little youth you had left. One day you’d have to grow up and start providing for yourself somehow, but for now you just wanted to live your life to the fullest before that all got taken away.

With that in mind, you’d taken to going to plenty of the dances and social events in town. You didn’t have a curfew, and no one was around to care about where you were, but even so you tried not to be out too late after dark. That’s always when the people went missing--and they never came back.

That’s why it was the first rule of Santa Carla: Don’t go out after dark.

The official numbers were never right, given how many of people who disappeared were runaways, but the amount of missing people in Santa Carla had always been unusually high. The only thing they knew for sure was that they always seemed to vanish at night.

The prevalent theory among many of the local teens was aliens. They came out with their flying saucers and abducted unsuspecting people in the night. Others were more practical--they just thought there was a really good serial killer in town.

It could be anyone! They’d say.

But people have always gone missing in Santa Carla--is he an old man, still killing people in his 70s? Someone else would question.

Okay, so a family of serial killers! They’d say back.

Personally, you had no idea who or what was making people disappear. You only cared about surviving it, and the best way to do that was stay in at night.

Then, there was the second rule of Santa Carla: Stay away from the greasers.

There was a particularly nasty group of punks who usually hung around the Boardwalk at night. No one knew who they were--probably just another group of runaways--but people had grown to know they were trouble. A gang of greasers who didn’t care about the law and would sooner gut a man than say hello. That’s what people said about them, anyway.

So imagine your surprise when you broke both rules in a single night.

--

The night in question started out well enough. You and a friend had gone to the beach in the afternoon, and spent most of the day there. At one point, the two of you had attracted the attention of some boys--who ended up spending the day with you.

So when the sun got low and it was time to leave, your friend decided to accept the invitation of the boys to go get some dinner at the local diner. You however, weren’t as excited about the prospect. Not only did you not want to be out too late, you frankly just weren’t that interested in any of them. Your friend tried to get you to change your mind, but you held firm.

And so it was that your friend headed off with the guys. At least she brought you into town so you wouldn’t have so far to walk to get home. And while you weren’t jazzed about walking home alone you figured you could make it back quick enough that it’d be okay. Unfortunately, it was nearly dark before you even made it back to town--and well into the night by the time you walked past the Boardwalk.

You tried to hurry your way through the crowded streets of tourists and late-night couples walking hand in hand without any trouble. But of course that's exactly what you find.

"Hey there pretty lady, going my way?" A big guy in a varsity sweater asks. He looked like a jock--maybe home from college? You didn't know him, and you certainly didn't want to.

"Sorry, I'm in a hurry." You say, hoping to sidestep him and continue on your way. He moves to stand in front of you.

"Aw, don't be like that doll." He says, looming over you. "I just want to get to know you."

"Well I'm not interested." You say, trying to push past him. He grabs your wrist, squeezing so tight it makes you wince in pain, before he pulls you back.

"Not so fast girlie--we ain't done talking yet." He says, pulling you back.

Oh God, this is it. He's a part of that serial killer family and you're about to get murdered.

Your frantic thoughts are interrupted as the creep let's you go. He screams as he looks to his other side. You follow his gaze and see a greaser with blonde, curly hair standing next to him--them jock's wrist in his hand. He squeezes it tighter and the jock falls to one knee, yelling in pain.

"Don't like it so much on the receiving end, do yah punk?" The boy says, squeezing even tighter. Despite being smaller than the other boys, the greaser was still clearly stronger.

"What the hell man? Let me go!" The jock begs.

"You want me to let you go?" The greaser smirks. "Alright." He lets the guy go, before quickly using his now free hand to punch square in the face. The boy falls back, holding his now bloody face in his hands. The greaser grabs the bleeding boy by the collar and pulls him up, smiling at him. "Now beat it before I decide to get serious." He says, dropping his collar. The boy scrambles up and runs off, holding a hand to his bleeding nose.

You watched him run off, stunned by what had just happened.

"You okay?" The blonde asks, having turned his attention to you. You practically jump out of your shoes.

"What? Oh." You look down at your wrist. "Yeah, it's fine--I mean, um, I'm fine." You stumble through before looking back up at him. "Thank you."

"No problem. Punks like that deserve a good beating." He says, before he smirks. "And I couldn't let him hurt a pretty thing like you, now could I?"

Uh oh, you may have just gone out of the frying pan and into the fire.

"So what's your deal anyway? You know it's not safe walking around alone at night, right?" He asks, ignoring your apprehensive look.

"We'll um," You hesitated, unsure of how much you should say about yourself. "I was out with a friend, but she had other plans. She drove, so..."

"So now you're stuck walking back. I get you." He says. "Pretty uncool of your friend, ditching you like that. But hey, I'll make sure you get home safe."

"What?" You nearly shout. "Um, no really that's not necessary. I'm fine now, so--"

"No way. I already told you--you're way too cute to be out here on your own." He says, cutting off your attempt to protest. "My bike's nearby, let's go."

"I would really hate to put you out," you try once more to worm our way out of the situation, but he wasn't having it.

He smirks, "I offered didn't I? Don't worry about it." He grabs your hand and all but drags you down the block.

Soon enough, you arrive at a parking lot, and he leds you towards a row of four motorcycles lined up in the corner. He lets you go, moving to the bike at the end and throwing his leg over to sit. He looks at you, holding his hand out. You didn't imagine you could get away from him even if you tried, so you took a deep breath and accepted his outstretched hand. He helps you onto the back of the bike, smirking as gravity slide you down towards him.

"So princess, were are we going?" he asks, tilting his head back to look at you sitting behind him. You hesitated giving him your address, but at this point if he wanted to do something nefarious he didn't need to take you home to do it.

You were in too deep now.

You tell him, and he nods, "Yeah, I know the place." He starts the bike, giving you one last smirk as he revves the engine, "Better hold on tight."

Your arms instinctively wrap around his waist as the bike shoots forward. You squeeze tightly, you hear resting on his back. You squeezed your eyes shut, fear coursing through you as your heart beat raced. As much as you knew you should watch where you were heading, you were too scared to open your eyes. He was going fast--very fast--and with each bump and turn, you were sure you would crash and that would be the end of it.

But the two of you didn't crash, and before you knew it the bike slowed to a stop. You dared to open an eye, and saw you sat in front of your house. A little run down and a bit worse for wear, but still yours. You sat up, shocked you had not only survived the ride, but that he had actually brought you home.

"This it?" he asked like he already knew the answer. You turned to him,

"Oh, um--yes, it is."

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," he commented absently, and you felt your shoulders tense.

"Oh, my parents are here--they just go to bed early," you lied. Something told you he knew you weren't telling him the truth, but he didn't say anything.

You hoped off the bike, smiothing out your skirt out of habit. You took a step towards your door, then stopped. You turned, looking back at the smirking, curly-haired boy sitting lazily on his bike.

"Thank you again. For being me home, and for helping me with that other boy," you were still scared of him, but he had helped you. It would be bad manners not to at least thank him for his help.

He laughed to himself, the moonlight catching his blue eyes as he stared back at you.

"Anytime, princess," he replied. He started his bike, glancing back up at you, "I'm Marko, by the way."

"Oh, I'm y/n." You had certainly not planned to tell him your name, but at this point could it really hurt?

"Well, I'll see you around, y/n," he said, his smile wide and mischievous. Before you could say anything more, he rode off down the quiet street, disappearing into the darkness.

[sen-ya]

own terms

Summary: “We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Warnings: gender dysphoria, unplanned pregnancy

Word count: 1494

hi hello this is kinda part 6.5/7 of that comic series I’ve been posting. I have lotsa thoughts abt a lot of other points in this timeline but this is the only other one I’ve done something with oops.

“We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Luffy sighed, flopping to the foot of their bed with his head in his hands. “That’s what I’m saying,” he reasoned. “I think it’s been as long as possible.” 

Law rolled his eyes at his husband. “Well, you think wrong,” he insisted, freeing an oversized black hoodie from his dresser. He pulled it on and observed himself in the mirror. “I’m hardly showing, and I have plenty of clothes like this.” He nodded, satisfied with the way the fabric swallowed him. “Honestly I may be able to conceal the whole thing without even using my powers,” this part was muttered to himself.

”Why though?!” Luffy whined. “My crew knows!”

“And I wish they didn’t!” If looks could kill, Law would have been guilty of mariticide and, in this moment, he didn’t even think he’d regret it. “Do we have to go through this again? I don’t want my crew to know I’m pregnant. It’s bad enough that Bepo made me tell Penguin and Shachi.” 

“Why’s it bad that your brothers know we’re having a baby?” The irritation in the Pirate King’s voice was becoming increasingly familiar to Law, it’d been weeks of this conversation and he was, quite frankly, sick of it. 

“I can’t believe you keep making me have this conversation,” Law sat at his desk and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “At this point it’s just insensitive.” 

“Did you forget we’re pirates, Torao?” 

This was a new talking point. Law quirked an eyebrow. “And that means you can be insensitive?”

”I mean, kinda? – But wait, that's not the point,” Luffy sighed heavily, speaking slowly like he was explaining something to a child. “Your crew should know the kind of coverage you need.” 

Law shot to his feet. “You’ve proven my point,” he said sternly. “I don’t need additional cover. I’m just as capable as I’ve always been.”

”Torao—“ 

“I’m not having this conversation again.” He waved his hand dismissively and swiftly sent himself to the deck of his ship. 

Left behind, Luffy let himself indulge in a long, frustrated groan. 

—-

“You don’t understand,” Usopp implored. “If I were in his shoes I’d be sensitive about it too, okay?” 

Luffy crossed his legs on top of the crate he was perched on in Usopp and Franky’s workshop. “But he’s always so…I dunno…practical,” he sighed. “And not telling your crew — y’know, the ones you fight with — that you’re fucking pregnant is totally not practical!” 

“I dunno, dude,” Franky offered from his work bench. “You sure that’s why you’re so hung up on this?”

Luffy’s face scrunched up at the question. “What else would it be about?”

Franky lifted his welding mask and shared a knowing look with Usopp. They nodded back and forth and whatever nonverbal conversation they were having led to Franky sighing. “Okay, okay. Think about it. When’s the last time you ever saw anyone land a hit on Traffy?” 

That was a tough question to answer. Truthfully, most pirates wouldn’t touch the pirate king or his consort. The new World Government still required levels and levels of approvals to engage with either of them, and even then it’s not like Koby would grant that approval unless a lot of things had suddenly changed.

”Doesn’t matter,” Luffy decided. 

“Exactly,” Franky continued. “Now tell me, why else would you want the Hearts to know?”

Another tough one. What other reason could there be?

”They were the last ones to know about you two being together,” Usopp added helpfully. Franky cleared his throat, clearly he’d wanted Luffy to get to that fact on his own. Usopp shrunk into himself sheepishly in apology. 

“Yeah, I still don’t get why Torao was so embarrassed,” Luffy muttered, paying no mind to his friends' silent exchange.

”And how’d it feel knowing he was embarrassed?” Franky encouraged.

”…I…” Luffy looked down at his hands in his lap. “…Didn’t like it.”

”Bingo!” Usopp cheered. “But it wasn’t that he was embarrassed of you, was he?”

Having finally caught up to the conversation, Luffy rolled his eyes. “No,” he whined. “He’s insecure.” 

“Exactly!”

”But he’s not like that anymore!” 

“And this isn’t the same situation as before,” Usopp insisted. “You’re asking a trans guy to walk into a room full of people and say ‘hey everyone, I have a uterus!’”

”But they’re his nakama! And everyone knows Ikakku’s trans and it’s not like anyone’s ever been stupid about it,” Luffy pouted. 

“No one’s gonna be stupid about it,” the sniper agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t subconsciously change parts of how they interact with him, even if it’s only while he’s pregnant.” Usopp huffed a laugh. “Even if he weren’t a guy I’d think someone like Traffy’d want to keep it under wraps. When Kaya was pregnant tons of randos wanted to touch her belly all the time. It’s fuckin’ weird.” 

“…Torao does hate it when people touch him,” Luffy muttered. 

“And Ikakku talks about being trans, those are conversations she chose to have. I get to talk about it if I feel like it, like only when I'm comfortable enough to. I’ll bet Traffy hates not having a say in the matter,” Usopp sighed in empathy.

Luffy straightened up at that realization and a momentary silence fell over the trio. 

Franky cleared his throat. “Just keep an eye on him if anyone’s dumb enough to fight us,” he said in summation. “He’s his own captain. Let him handle his crew.” 

He hated to admit it, but Luffy knew he was right. He offered a grunt of acknowledgement and nothing else. 

—

Luffy returned to the captain’s quarters of the Polar Two greeted by the sounds of his husband emptying his stomach in the en-suite bathroom. It wasn’t an uncommon state to find him in these days, but it certainly didn’t make it any better. He made his way to the ajar door and poked his head in. Law sat on the floor, forehead resting on his arm that was slung across the toilet. Upon noticing his company, he shot his husband a glare.

”Lunch taking revenge?” Luffy offered light-heartedly. 

Law held his glare for a moment longer before allowing his face to soften slightly. “What else is new,” he grumbled, looking away. He decided his stomach was settling enough to relocate so he flushed the toilet and moved to get to his feet. Luffy was there in a flash, gently taking his arm.

”I don’t need any help,” Law sighed, pulling his arm back and reaching for his toothbrush. Luffy hovered, waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth before he spoke.

”I’m sorry,” he offered, hanging back in the doorframe of the bathroom while Law went to sit at his desk. 

“Are you now?” Law cracked open a book, pulled a few pages of loose leaf from a precarious pile on the desk, and started to scribble on them. 

“Yeah,” he replied, tentatively crossing the room to stand behind his husband. “Usopp and Franky reminded me that when you didn’t tell your crew we were together it wasn’t ‘cause you were embarrassed to be with me.”

Law placed his pen flat on his desk. “…That’s what this has been about?”

Luffy wrapped his arms around the other captain’s shoulders and nuzzled into his hair. “Maybe.”

They stayed like that in silence for a few long moments.

”I’m not embarrassed to be having your baby,” Law muttered after a while.

”I know.” 

“I’m embarrassed to be having a baby period.” 

“I know.”

“I’m certainly not embarrassed of her.”

“I know.”

”And I’m their captain,” Law continued. “I don’t want them thinking I’m less capable because…”

”They’d never think you’re not capable. They may be more protective though, and I get that you don’t want that.” 

Law nodded. “…Yes,” he agreed, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. 

“But if someone’s dumb enough to come after us, you can’t do anything stupid okay?”

That earned a hearty laugh. “Look who’s talking,” Law chuckled, looking up into Luffy’s eyes. 

“I mean it!” Luffy insisted. “You’re super strong. But…” He let his hand travel down to rest protectively on the front pocket of Law’s hoodie. 

“I know,” Law whispered. “If I’m being honest, I have been thinking about your point. It’d be…practical for them to know.” 

Luffy grinned at that. “And you do love practical.” 

Law nodded pensively. 

“Anyway, you tell ‘em when you’re ready. I’ll get off your ass about it.” In one swift motion Luffy hooked an arm under his husband’s legs and whisked him out of his chair bridal style. 

“Excuse me,” Law protested. “I have work to do!” 

“Yeah, I got stuff to do too!” the other captain laughed, turning on his heel to close the short distance to their bed.

[mochidolls]

I HAVE ANOTHER idea… grins super wide.. (could also possibly be a prologue to the mom ellie rq I Sent a few days back) but but yk how Jackson has a daycare right.. and and.. ellie meeting reader there for.. idk maybe she signed up too late for patrols so she had to take on some other duty!! And she needs reader at the daycare and at first she’s so annoyed cuz she’d much rather do patrol but seeing u be so nice and motherly makes her time there a bit less annoying n after a while she starts to genuinely enjoy spending time with reader there n having fun with Al the kids and makes jokes abt u n her having ur own kids one day (little does she know that h did) DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE. This is so long Ivy I’m sorry. Tldr ellie and reader meeting at Jackson daycare! I just think that’s so adorable

n : i’m so sorry this took so long ml but this prompt is so cute and i am eternally grateful for u for it!!<33

please read (important!!) / please read! / how you can help palestine

ellie tried to stifle the sigh that was bubbling up within her chest, ready to escape. the scene before her was almost guaranteed to give her a headache in the next few moments. the garishly bright rainbow-coloured walls, the unnecessarily loud squeals, and the chatter of sticky, snotty-nosed toddlers running amok—oh, and there we go, one just bumped into her.

“sorry,” the little girl apologised with a timid smile, revealing a gap between her teeth. ellie’s lips twitched—just smile, be nice. be. nice. like she promised. this should be a breeze. she almost managed an "it’s okay" before noticing the girl sniffle, dragging her hand over her snotty nose, leaving a trail of mucus on her hand as she walked away.

in that very moment, ellie knew she would never have kids.

she’d have to keep that thought to herself, though. she couldn’t voice her opinions and risk making a group of kids cry, followed by you giving her that disapproving look. god, she hated that look. c

all her a bit of a sap, but she’d rather face a pack of wolves than see you look at her like that.

ellie’s thoughts paused as she heard the melody of your voice, gently calling the children’s attention. your voice, so sweet and soft, captivated them, drawing them close and silencing their chatter. it never ceased to amaze ellie how you did it.

but it wasn’t as if your voice hadn’t had the same effect on her—making her stumble over her words and her stomach do somersaults like a nervous schoolgirl. embarrassing, really.

the room grew quiet as the children listened to your instructions for a colouring activity. how fun! you handed each of them paper and coloured pencils, and once they were settled, you noticed ellie leaning against the doorframe, a sight you’d grown quite familiar with since she started helping out at the daycare. not that she helped much, but having her around kept you sane.

you waved at her with your sweet smile, and she waved back, trying hard not to crumble under that smile. it got even harder when you approached her, the rose and vanilla perfume you wore (not that she noticed or anything) making her knees weak. get it together, ellie.

“hi,” you spoke softly, a gentle smile gracing your lips. god, kill her now.

“hey,” ellie replied, trying to act nonchalant, though she was struggling.

“you’re not joining in?” you teased, playfully nudging her arm.

“do i look six?” ellie huffed, meeting your gaze as a cheeky grin spread across your face.

“don’t answer that, it was rhetorical,” ellie quickly added before a chuckle escaped your lips.

“oof, looks like one of them got to you,” you pointed at the smear of snot on her jeans.

“oh, fuck me,” ellie muttered with an exasperated sigh, earning a playful punch to her arm. she looked at you with a ‘what was that for?’ expression.

“what happened to the no swearing rule?”

“that rule is dumb.” ellie grumbled in response, rubbing her arm where you’d punched her.

“i truly wonder how you’ll cope when you have your own kids.” you crossed your arms, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

“one, don’t wish that on me, and two, our kids would be well-behaved, not snotty brats running around.” ellie grumbled, then stopped herself, realising what she’d just said. our kids? really? way to make it obvious, williams.

“i meant… my, uh, my kids! not ours. not that there’s anything wrong with you! i just—” ellie stumbled over her words, a pink blush creeping up her cheeks as another chuckle escaped your lips.

“something you want to tell me, williams?” you asked with a smile. before she could respond, a little boy ran up to you, patting your leg eagerly. “look! look!”

“hm? let’s see your drawing, mason.” you crouched down to his height, looking at the colourful stick figures he’d drawn. “this one is me,” the little boy pointed at one figure kicking a ball. “this one is you, and this one is ellie.” at the mention of her name, ellie snapped her attention back to the drawing.

“why does ellie look so grumpy, mase?” you asked with a small smile, pointing at the stick figure with a comically grumpy expression.

“ellie’s always grumpy!” the boy chirped, meeting her gaze.

“i’m not always grumpy,” ellie scoffed, looking away.

“yes, you are!”

“i’m not.”

“are too!”

“am not.”

“are.too.”

“am.not.”

“all right, that’s enough. mase, you can go back to colouring, okay?” you gently patted the boy’s back before ruffling his hair.

“okay!” mason nodded with a smile and ran off.

you turned back to ellie, still smiling. “we’re arguing with kids now?”

“he started it. and look how you handled that. natural. see? our kids will be fine.” ellie emphasised ‘our’ to tease you.

“uou’re already thinking about our future kids?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, playing along. the two of you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having a family together one day. spoiler alert: you did.

“is that a problem?” ellie retorted, raising an eyebrow, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other.

“we’ll talk later.”

[mammonsrockstargf]

Can I ask for headcanons where Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub react to their shy gn s/o asking to kiss him on the lips?

Hi, love, welcome back, hope you’re doing well. <33

“Hi, treasure,” Mammon says, smiling fondly at you as you look up from your homework. You’re in the living room, sitting by the couch table on the floor.

“Hi, Mams,” you say and smile back. “You’re out of your room,” he says, and you nod. It’s true that you kept to your room your first couple of months in the Devildom, not feeling comfortable enough to use the common spaces. Recently, you’ve begun venturing out of your room, feeling safer around the seven demons you live with.

Mammon plops down next to you and looks at your homework. He groans and rests his head on your shoulder. “So boring; let’s do something fun,” he says, and you shake your head. “I think Lucifer might actually kill me this time if I don’t get this finished,” you say, and Mammon sighs. “Alright, then I’ll just sit here,” he says. You sit like that for a while before Mammon begins to sigh again. You find it hard to concentrate, so you send him a glare.

“You’re distracting,”

“I’m bored,”

You pout. Mammon pouts back. “You should reward me for being so patient,” Mammon grumbles, and you mull the thought over. You don’t have any Grimm, but you have something that he might like more. “You can get a kiss,” you say, and Mammon’s eyes twinkle yellow as he sits upright and grins widely. “Yeah?” he says, and you feel a blush creep up your neck. “Yeah,” you whisper, and Mammon wastes no time, bringing you in for a kiss.

“You’re too cute for your own good,” he murmurs against your lips, and you go to hide your face in his shoulder before he grabs your chin and claims another kiss. “I might just steal you for myself one day.”

—

Leviathan is equally as shy as you are. For a long time, all you shared were lingering looks and small touches. Hands brushing when he passes you the controller, getting overly close when he gets excited that you’ve read a certain manga. Eventually, you realize that you’re probably going to have to make the first move if you want something to happen. You figure that the best place to do this is within the safety of his room.

“Hey, Levi, have you ever kissed anyone?” You ask, your voice coming out squeakier than you intended. Leviathan’s head snaps towards you, and his eyes widen. “I– haha, what?” he stutters, and a high-pitched giggle leaves him. His ears are turning red, which makes you feel better about the burning of your cheeks.

"Well, it's been a little while, but n-not because I don't like it, I just don’t wanna k-kiss some normie–” He stutters, and a smile creeps up on your face. “What about me?” you ask, inching closer to him. Your cheeks are definitely burning by now, but you ignore it as best you can. Leviathan stares at you, his mouth shaped into a tiny o. “You?” he asks, and you nod.

“Would you kiss me, if I asked?” you softly say, and Leviathan’s brain shortcuts. He blinks once, twice. You put your hand on his. It’s a little clammy, but so is yours. “Y-yeah, I’d kiss you,” he finally says, and you smile.

You sit like that for a little while before you lean in and press your lips to his. He stiffens for a couple of seconds before something seems to wake in him, and his hand finds the back of your neck, the other still clutching yours. He moves his lips against yours slowly, softly. When you pull away, he’s completely breathless.

“I’ve been wanting that for forever.”

—

Satan doesn't mind your shyness because it means that you’re quiet whenever you’re at the library. He can find it infuriating at times, though.

“What did you think of the book you borrowed?” he asks, and you open your mouth and then close it again. “It was... good?” you say, but it comes out more like a question than a statement. Satan looks at you, unsatisfied with your answer. He’d hoped that you could have a proper discussion about it.

“Yeah? Just good?” he asks, and you nod. “You don’t have anything else to say?” he asks, and you shake your head. Satan frowns.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I can hear your heart beating.”

You close your mouth and bite back a snarky remark on how hearts usually do that. You have a feeling Satan wouldn’t like that and you can already see his fists clenching and his brows furrowing.

“Are you angry with me?” you whisper, and Satan closes his eyes and unclenches his hand. “No, I’m just confused. If you didn’t like the book, then tell me,” he says, and you frown. “It’s not that I didn’t like it, it’s just that The Great Gatsby is typically a book English teachers force you to read,” you mutter and avoid eye contact.

“I thought it was a good representation of humans,” he says. You giggle. “It’s just some rich dude who is obsessed with a girl. It’s not very representative,” you say, and the corner of Satan's lips turn upward. “Why didn’t you just say that?” he asks. You go to respond but stop. “I don’t know,” you say honestly, and Satan sighs, but he’s smiling again.

“Next time, you choose the book,” he says, and you nod. “Hey,” you say when he goes to leave. He stops and tilts his head to the side. “You’re not mad anymore?” you ask, and Satan shakes his head. “Of course not. I just wish you’d speak your mind sometimes,” he says, and you nod. Your cheeks flush.

“Can I get a kiss then?” you ask, and Satan chuckles. He walks over to you in two long strides and cups your face, giving you a tiny peck and then another. And another. You whine and grab his wrist. “A proper one, please,” you say, and he finally obliges, giving you a sweet, proper kiss.

—

Asmodeus is enamoured by your shyness. He loves poking and prodding at you, making you flustered. Despite that, ever since you got into a relationship, he doesn't do anything unless you ask him. You're so shy and gentle, and he wants to savour that, even just for a little bit.

You’re in the kitchen on cooking duty when Asmodeus decides to drop in. There’s a wide smile on his face as he hugs you from behind, arms snaking around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder. You gasp and drop the knife on the cutting board, feeling the blush creep up your neck instantly. “Asmo,” you say, voice slightly high-pitched as you put your hands on top of his arms around your waist. “You smell nice,” Asmodeus purrs, giving the crook of your neck a tiny peck before he retreats and probs himself on the counter behind you. “What are you cooking?” he asks, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking up the knife and continuing to cut carrots.

He smiles at how flustered you are. "I'm cooking curry tonight," you state, motioning to a sizzling pot next to you. "Belphie's request," you add, and Asmodeus frowns. "Why won't you cook what I requested?" he whines, and you roll your eyes. "You didn't request anything, Asmo," you say, and turn around to point your knife at him. "Don't be like that." Asmodeus shrugs and sends you an air kiss. You flush and turn back to your carrots. "Alright, then I guess I'll get going," he says, and you furrow your brows. "Where are you going?" you ask, and Asmodeus smiles. "Just to my room, honey. The cooking fumes are bad for my skin," he says, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?" you ask, a flush creeping up your neck. Asmodeus immediately stops in his tracks and turns back to look at you with a wide smile on his face. "Oh, my little human!" he exclaims, and he's behind you in a flash, spinning you around so you're pressed up against the kitchen counter. You barely have time to put the knife away and gasp in surprise. "Asmo!" you say, and he practically purrs, his lips ghosting over yours. "I love it when you say my name," he says, his voice low and sensual, only meant for your ears. You flush but smile nevertheless, and you grab his fingers to play with them.

There's barely any distance between you, but it still seems impossible to close the gap. "Kiss, please?" you whisper, and Asmodeus obliges, pressing his lips to yours.

—

"Beelzebub, wake up," you whisper, and Beel groans, turning around towards the noise. He opens one eye and is pleasantly surprised to see you there, wrapped in a blanket. Your hair is messy, and there's sleep in your eyes as you pout at him. "I couldn't sleep," you say, and Beel yawns but opens his arms. "Get in," he says, but you stay where you are, a blush creeping up your neck. You look like a lost puppy, and Beelzebub has to push away the urge to eat you right then and there.

"Come on, sweets," he says, and you finally oblige, getting in bed with him. Beelzebub thanks the devils for the fact that Belphegor fell asleep in the attic today, granting him this moment of alone time with you.

Despite the fact that you still have your blanket safely wrapped around you, Beel still puts his own blanket over you, allowing him to wrap his arms around you. "Why couldn't you sleep?" he mumbles and closes his eyes. You snuggle closer to the demon and sigh. "Had a nightmare," you say, and Beelzebub presses a kiss to the crown of your head. You look up at his peaceful face. "Hey," you whisper, and Beelzebub hums. "Can I get a kiss?" you ask, and Beel opens his eyes slowly, giving you a sleepy smile. "Would that make you feel better?" he asks, and you nod, feeling your cheeks turn pink.

He leans down to kiss you softly, and you sigh into the kiss, finally feeling the tremors of the nightmare fade away. You kiss for another few seconds, your lips moving against each other, before Beelzebub's stomach growls loudly. You giggle into the kiss, and Beelzebub groans as he parts from you. "You mind if we go to the kitchen?" he asks, and you shake your head. "Not at all. I'm kind of dying of heat as well here; two blankets are definitely too much for me."

[lurochar]

Well-Fed

It isn't wise harass Alastor's assistant. A man learns this the hard way.

Human Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Violence, unknowing cannibalism

--

What a pleasant night.

“F-fuck, please – what do you want?! I’ll… I’ll do anything!” The man pleaded, sniveling as he tried to crawl back, “J-just don’t kill me!”

What lovely begging.

Alastor hummed, eyeing the fallen man as he wondered in which way he should slaughter him that would best satisfy him and his current needs.

Should he just blow the man’s brain out? It’s not like he needed his head for anything – nothing really too edible there. It always made such a mess.

Maybe cut the man’s throat and make it a quick one? It always did give him a thrill to watch the life fade from one’s eyes and the absolute terror on their faces when there was nothing to be done. 

Possibly chop the man’s limbs off and watch him slowly bleed to death? He would probably put up too much of a fight and ruin too much of his meat and it would take far too long.

“Do you remember me?” Alastor asked, causing the man’s eyes to finally look at his face rather than the rifle in hand, “Or actually, do you remember the woman at the radio station earlier today?”

“Y-yeah, ‘course I remember you!” The man simpered, as if sucking up would actually save his life, “You’re Alastor Hartfelt, right? That radio host who’s the talk of the town right now?” His face twitched, “So, why you doing this?! Don’t fucking tell me…!” His eyes widened when he finally figured it out.

He wasn’t getting out of here alive.

“I asked, ‘do you remember the woman at the radio station earlier today’?” Alastor didn’t flinch in the least as he pulled his axe from the holster at his hip, swinging it down in a smooth motion, and easily severing the man’s hand.

He was screaming now, of course, in complete shock at the brutal action and he tried to scramble to his feet to run for his life, but Alastor already had his rifle at the ready, easily shooting him in the foot before he could do anything.

“I’d rather not repeat myself for a third time,” Alastor looked on in a bit of distaste when the man vomited, heaving and twitching around in agony. “It is why you are here, after all.”

The man didn’t answer or didn’t even hear him as he curled up into a sad little ball, causing Alastor to sigh in slight disappointment that his hunt was already over, but preparing meat took time and he had already invited you over to dinner the next night, so it was fine.

“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” Alastor knew he was talking to himself at this point as he knelt down as he reached for his knife from his belt, “I’d rather you not treat women like objects that you can use whenever you feel like it. Far too many men are like this. Imagine how Y/N felt when you cornered her in my radio station and groped her like a mindless animal? Perhaps as helpless as you are now? In any case, I do not tolerate any disrespect of such kind, especially with my lovely little assistant.”

He was rambling, he knew, he always did get like this when it came to you and your wellbeing.

“I’ve spent too much time on you,” Alastor tightened his grip on his knife, “I have a meal to prepare. I do hope you taste better than you look, my good chum.”

He hoped you liked Jambalaya.

–

“This is amazing!”

Alastor smiled, feeling absolutely pleased at your joyful expression as you took a bite of his cooking, clearly delighting in the flavour, “It’s my mother’s recipe, you see.” His eyes flashed, a dark satisfaction building up in him, “I’m glad you like it. I thought the meat might have been of too low quality.”

“No, no!” You went to reassure him, “I’m nothing fancy!” You eagerly took another bite. “You are a very good cook. Your mother must have taught you well. She must be very proud.”

“I would like to think so.” Alastor’s smile softened briefly at the thought, “I do try to be nothing less than a true gentleman. I believe my mother would have liked you very much so. I would like to share more of her recipes with you, if I may be so bold to ask?”

You flushed, looking down at your food before peering back up to Alastor with a shy smile, “I would like that too.” You did not recognize the mania behind Alastor’s eyes as you continued to eat his cooking.

“I’ll keep you well-fed, my dear.”

[invisible-pink-toast]

Is Misty a serial killer?

"I’m grateful, okay? I really am very grateful that your hobby seems to be figuring out how to be the perfect serial killer." "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Misty is such a fascinating character. We know that since they were rescued, she's become a nurse/carer at a nursing home, that she's a prominent member of the Citizen Detective group, that she loves her bird Caligula and is training him, that she's gone on a lot of unsuccessful dates, and that she's kept tabs on all the surviving Yellowjackets.

But none of this explains the murder dungeon set up in her basement...

For context, Misty's had a fascination with medicine and healing since before the crash, taking the Red Cross babysitter's first aid course twice, but it's after the crash that she realises how useful this skill is in making her needed and letting her be in control.

It gives her power over people.

Her feeling appreciated for the first time in her life and feeling like she has a position of power in the group leads to her destroying the black box when she finds it. I'm not sure if she just meant to delay the rescue to give herself more time to shine, or whether she meant to trap everyone in the middle of nowhere permanently.

Even if her plan was just to delay, Ben is in a critical state, and everyone is injured and vulnerable to infection and exposure, not to mention their lack of supplies (Misty has no knowledge of the lake or cabin at this point). Either way it shows a complete disregard for others lives right from the get go.

Misty doesn't know much about herbs and plants when they're first in the wilderness, Akilah is the most knowledgeable from her time in the girl scouts. But Misty obviously pays attention, and she gathers plants into a binder that she secretly hides in the woods.

In her binder there is also a book on medicinal plants. As pointed out in this reddit thread, it looks faded, has no hole punches for the binder, and there's no reason Misty would have this with her in the crash. It's likely a book from the cabin. Instead of having it available for everyone, Misty has hidden the book so that only She has the knowledge - she's the one with the power, she's the most useful, and she appears to just know this information.

The plants in the binder include the ones that make you sick and hallucinate - you can see the 'vomiting' label! And this is not to know what to avoid, she gathers enough to use - which she does! It's completely premeditated.

Misty's eager to control Ben and poisons him when he appears to reject her advances. When she thinks she has a chance with him at Doomcoming she excitedly goes to drug him into a state of compliance. Her plan is ruined before she can attempt it (though I doubt Ben would've ever accepted another tea from Misty lmao) when Mari adds the shrooms to their stew. Misty knows that Everyone is going to be drugged and there will be consequences - but she says nothing and even has the stew herself in order to try and appear innocent. So she knows it's not something someone's supposed to be doing but does it anyway for her own gain.

"You poisoned me! Why?" "That's a very strong word. I wouldn't-"

Chronologically, the first death that Misty directly causes is Kristin's.

Misty threatens to kill her if the other girl reveals her secret (destroying the black box) and backs Kristin up against the cliff. When Kristin steps back, she falls to her death.

I truly don't think Misty meant to kill Kristin here. I think she was 100% capable of it, but her actual death was an accident. Misty panicked and was trying to gain control of the situation. Misty is in shock after Kristin falls off the cliff, she's devastated and climbs down and does CPR to try and save Kristin. Absolutely not a death she meant to occur, but despite her grief, Kristin's death does solve a problem for Misty.

Something that she'll remember going forwards.

The next death Misty is (at least partly) responsible for is Javi's. Misty is the one who relays Lottie's wish to be used as food if she dies, this causes the group to decide to sacrifice someone in Lottie's place. Natalie draws the card, Travis and Javi help her escape, but when Javi falls into the icy lake, Misty is the one to pull Natalie back from helping him and make it clear that it is Natalie or Javi's life and he is already drowning.

Misty also has complicated reactions to death. She immediately covers up Kristin's death with the blizzard, knowing that she'll be blamed if anyone discovers she fell from the cliff. But she's also panicked and upset and berating herself. She makes justifications for Javi's death and looks way too intrigued when Travis bites into the heart. But in contrast - Misty's devastated when the baby dies, and she actually convinces Ben not to commit suicide because "I can't have another death on my hands"

Yet Misty is also enamoured with violence - looking positively gleeful as Shauna nearly beats Lottie to death and grinning after they feast on Pit Girl.

At this point this is as much as we've seen of Misty in the '96 timeline but it's... troubling. Especially considering what she's like in 2021.

Misty's become a nurse, working in an aged care facility, where she can play God and have control over people's lives again without any real oversight.

But none of this makes her a potential serial killer. What does is:

1) Her basement.

Misty kidnaps Jessica (we'll get into that) but she already has a basement set up for this exact need. A bed, TV and kitchen facility in a basement isn't usually suspicious - but we know that Misty has ZERO guests staying (willingly) with her, the basement only locks from the outside, it's already set up with restraints on the bed (potentially just kinky but given the context more murdery), a wheelchair that someone can be easily handcuffed to, duct tape, etc.

There's also other details that show that... this is not the first time Misty has done this. She gives Jessica plastic cutlery like what a child would use (unlike the metal cutlery Natalie uses to stab Lisa and escape when she's kidnapped and chained to a bed). Misty wears gloves and a full jumpsuit to conceal her DNA and a pair of work boots that are clearly for this purpose only.

Even knowing that Misty is a researcher, is fascinated by true crime and is a citizen detective, there's just too many details in the set up for this to be a one off thing and first time success.

2) Misty's knowledge, supply of, and willingness to use drugs.

Misty kidnaps Jessica in about ten seconds. She's convinced Jessica to willingly get into her car to discuss what they talked about on the phone, and without a word Misty stabs her in the thigh with a syringe and knocks her out. Then Misty drives away with a smile. hm.

After discovering that Jessica will be harder to crack then Misty thought, she's perfectly willing to... murder Jessica's father. By lacing chocolates with a deadly drug and sending them to the guy from his daughter. Misty even gets his nurse to agree to deliver them personally sjdlk;fhaskl;dfh holy shit??

Drugs are Misty's weapon of choice. It's another thing that gives her power over people. She laces Jessica's cigarettes, murdering her, when Lisa shows up with a shotgun to try and get all the masked armed people away from Lottie, Misty's first instinct is to kill the girl. The only reason she doesn't succeed is that Natalie covers Lisa and sacrifices herself.

So in the adult timeline - that's one straight up murder (Jessica), two attempted murders (Lisa and Jessica's father), and one accidental-ish killing (Natalie). All with drugs.

3) Misty's manipulation and lack of boundaries

Not as big of a reason as some of the others, but important to consider overall. Misty has no boundaries with other people, and uses her skills against everyone around her, whether she thinks of them as a friend, foe, or a complete stranger.

She keeps tabs on the other survivors, including Travis, who changed his name and disappeared. She's disappointed in herself for not knowing Lottie was back from Switzerland.

She tampers with her own car to guilt her date into driving her home, then guilts him into coming inside by crying that he doesn't think she's pretty.

She tampers with Natalie's car in order to force Natalie into going with her to find Travis.

She texts Kevyn Tan pretending to be Natalie and starts up a relationship with him (i mean acab but still bad from natalie's perspective)

She puts a hidden camera in Natalie's room in order to spy on her, listening in on her conversations and watching her have sex (girl come on.)

To threaten Jessica, Misty finds out the aged care facility her father is in, who his nurse is, and using a fake name has a lengthy conversation with the nurse to find out as much information as she can.

Misty does a whole background check on the random motel employee in order to threaten / blackmail him into helping her.

Not to mention all the ways Misty abuses the residents in her care at her job.

4) She knows exactly how to get rid of a body

She's so flattered I just-

Once again, because she's a Citizen Detective and loves true crime I can see her knowing a fair bit about this. Like the 'fun fact' that 12% of killers are caught buying cleaning supplies. Why she knows exactly what brand of bleach is best to clean up a murder because "regular bleach leaves behind hemoglobin for the luminol tests" is not something anyone who has not cleaned up a murder scene would know. Also she knows exactly what to steal from her work to clean up a murder scene and dump a body on short notice...

A lot of things that Misty still uses are things that she learnt in the wilderness - the drugs, the manipulation, etc. Cleaning was not a part of the wilderness. This and her murder basement are things she has learnt over time since they've been back.

She's also so upbeat?? All of the survivors have dealt with bodies, but for most of them it's been a while and they're all pretty shaken when getting rid of the evidence of Adam's murder. Misty is practically glowing - but given that her 'friends' need her and that she's in charge, that tracks for her character.

So after all this, there's still the question:

Is Misty a serial killer?

Honestly? Yeah, probably. She has far too many resources and techniques and is just far too comfortable with murder and cleaning up afterwards to have not killed at least a few people that we don't know about. A serial killer is someone who has murdered at least three people over a period of time. I'm thinking Misty qualifies.

Then there's the question of why?

Misty thinks of herself as a hero. The underdog who's protecting her friends, especially Natalie. She's doing what needs to be done when the others aren't able to.

And it's the phrasing of the quote above that really gets me. The 2021 timeline in both season 1 and 2 takes place over only a couple of weeks. The bulk of it - from Jessica's kidnapping and the blackmail to ending up in Lottie's compound - happens over about two weeks.

In that two weeks, Misty has (according to herself) taken care of things such as: helping Natalie find answers on Travis' death, stopped Natalie from relapsing, killed Jessica and neutralised a potential threat, helped the others cover up Adam's murder & tracked Natalie down after her kidnapping.

Only they really didn't find answers on Travis' death, Adam's murder was not covered up and Shauna is being investigated, and Natalie stayed willingly with Lottie. The other two are highly debatable.

So Misty did not take care of things. Also, "always" is a strong way to phrase a two week period. Considering she hasn't seen the other survivors in years.

So is Misty... not talking about that two week period? Is she talking about before?

The Yellowjackets and their survival have been public speculation since their rescue. Jessica pretending to be a reporter and poking around for a story is not shocking to any of them. But no official story has ever come out. Maybe Misty has been "taking care" of any potential leaks.

Has anyone checked in with the author of 'Skin in the Game' i'm just saying

She already has the basement set up for interrogation. She already has the drugs on hand to make a murder look like an overdose. She would rather kill someone then deal with the consequences of them living. Take Jessica, or the fact that Misty used a lethal drug (probably the fentanyl) when attacking Lisa, when she could have easily used some sort of tranquilliser.

There's also the fact that she just enjoys having power over other people. She enjoys violence.

Some theories:

There's Stan, the guy she went on a date with in 1x02. It's obvious the date is going terribly. Misty is trying way too hard and he's not into her but she keeps pushing. That is in character, and maybe they're just trying to set Misty up as being desperate. But also... the guy is kind of a loser. He's just been fired, he tries to ditch the date at 6PM, he's even more awkward then Misty. But she still messes with her car so he has to give her a ride home. She still manipulates him into coming inside.

Why? Why does she want this guy in her house? To try to convince him to have sex with her? She doesn't really seem that into him either. And once Natalie turns up Misty could care less about the guy.

Maybe Misty was looking to use her murder basement. This guy just lost his job, if he disappeared would anyone notice right away? If he turned up a week later, dead of an apparent overdose, would anyone suspect anything? Misty sees herself as being noble, when she kidnaps Jessica she taunts her saying "good night, sleep tight, don't let the fact that you're a terrible person keep you up tonight". Stan was a jerk, so would Misty justify her actions to herself because of that?

Then there's Walter. He knows more about Misty then he's letting on. He may have found her on the citizen detective boards, but even with his odd behaviour, this doesn't explain his borderline obsession with her. When covering up Adam's murder, he's also covering Jessica's. How does he know about Jessica or that her murder relates to Misty? He's very into true crime - has he tracked Misty down because he's linked her to several suspicious deaths? It clearly doesn't bother him, it actually seems to be something that endears her to him, but it supports the serial killer theory. Also hilarious that he thinks her being a surviving Yellowjacket is the least interesting thing about her and... he's right actually jsldkfhsaldhfas;hf

At the end of the day, Misty Quigley is a fantastic and fascinating character and I can't wait to see where her story goes. I would love for this theory to be true, but either way I'm sure Misty will be as entertaining as ever.

"I know when you look at me, you don't see someone you should be afraid of, but, uh... you're wrong."

[johnwickb1tsch]

Excessive Force : a Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE AMAAAZING @treedaddymcpuffpuff 😘😘😘) - Chapter FOURTEEN ---> (all chapters)

trigger warnings: mention of police shooting, child trafficking, past childhood trauma, abuse, etc. plz take care!

“Are you serious?!” You have to move the phone away from your ear to avoid a blown drum from Sheila’s screech. 

“Yup.”

“Okay, why don’t you sound as excited as me?” 

“I’m nervous. He’s really forward. And, I haven’t been on a date in forever.” That didn’t end horribly… You’ve decided not to count the fiasco with Julian. You’re in your room, fingering through the limited collection of nice clothes in your closet. You briefly debate wearing a turtleneck and thick linen pants just to piss him off. But, also, there’s that little sundress you bought at the mall that you’ve never gotten a chance to wear… The pretty, soft color would pair very nicely with your silky cream bra and panty set—that you also have never worn. You’re starting to re-think the whole not being a prude thing. 

Plus, it’s hot outside.

Sheila pulls you from your search. “Listen, if he tries anything, just kick him in the dick. Works every time.”

“He’s like eight feet tall. I don’t know if I can reach his dick… with my feet.” 

You both giggle. 

“That’s why they make step stools.” 

“Like, for that exact reason?” 

Sheila’s one of those people that has proven to be supportive. You met her on a bus tour your first week in LA and have been buddies ever since. It works perfectly since you both have hectic work schedules and don’t really expect anything from the other one. She calls you for drinks, you call her for lunch. Sympatico. 

“Obviously. So, he’s tall. Is he hot?” 

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you think back to his bare, bruised body on your exam table, those mile long, strong thighs that caged you in and felt more like they belonged to an Amazon Boa rather than a man. 

“Okay, that silence either means hell yes or hell no, so which is it?” You hear the grin in Sheila’s voice.

“First one.” 

You end up telling her about his persistent hospital visits, him pulling you over, maybe omitting some—okay, no, a lot of the details just so she doesn’t want to kill him just yet. You also haven’t told her about the Julian debacle–or that Tom basically rescued you. 

You also leave out that he just happens to be the new superhero on every news channel right now. You’re still processing that yourself, and it’s not boding well for you keeping your cool with this man. 

As it turned out, it was the news that informed you of Officer Tom Ludlow’s whereabouts those lonely night’s you’d missed him harassing you on that lonely stretch of highway. He wasn’t ignoring you. He was rescuing two teenage girls who had been kidnapped and trafficked by a gang. According to the report, Ludlow had entered the house after hearing a cry for help, alone, and gunned down every single one of the gangbangers before setting the girls free.  

Parts of this story should have alarmed you, but there had been a time in your past when you would have given anything for a person of authority to ride to your rescue, red tape be damned. How many times had the cops come to your house for a domestic disturbance between your parents, and left you in a bad situation because of some legal technicality or another? How had they seen you, scared and dirty, cowering in the doorway, and left you behind? The horrors you could have told them, if only they’d cared to ask without your parents there to overhear and threaten you, but every time until the last time, they’d just left you in the hellhole that had been your childhood home.   

How different your life—your sister’s lives—would have been if you had a Thomas Ludlow back then.

The twin girls’ MISSING posters and billboards were all over the city. Most anyone with the power to do something had given up on them as a lost cause, just another sad story, written them off as tragically probably dead in a gutter, but not Ludlow. Ludlow had risked his neck (and possibly his badge, because you’d heard of the old “I heard a cry for help” trick to gain entry, and it was almost always code for “I didn’t have a warrant, what are you going to do about it?”, to get them out, and goddammit if that didn’t just warm you to your toes and soften your heart.

Worse yet, you feel like the biggest asshole for calling him a fraud, to his face, the night after it all went down. He’d just taken it on the chin, and he still asked you out. 

Ok, he technically extorted you, but it just doesn’t feel as sinister now as it had last night. He’d been bold, and borderline needy for some human tenderness, and fuck if you didn’t understand all too well why now. 

Now, rather than having to keep yourself from tearing him a new one, you were afraid you were going to have to restrain yourself from crawling into his lap at the first opportunity, and fucking his brains out for being such a goddamed hero. 

“Oh, he’s a freak!” Despite saying this, she sounds like she’s twirling her hair and kicking her feet. 

You snort. “He’s got..uh…nice hands.” 

You decide on the sundress and the bra-panty set, but you don’t bother laying them out in preparation, because you’re still telling yourself that this isn’t that big of a deal and you’re not that invested and that if Tom Ludlow kisses you, you won’t burst into flames.

You want to take a bath, leave some scent of those seldom used lavender lemon oils lingering on your skin, but decide against it. 

No. Actually. You’re doing it. Taking a nice,  warm, spiced soak, rubbing lotion over every piece of you except the very sensitive bits, shimmying into the undergarments. The panties end up being cheekier than you like, but your butt looks cute, and the dress covers everything pretty good, anyway—well, everything that matters. 

After putting your hair up in a messy bun and throwing some mascara on, you’re ready for—actually, who the fuck are you kidding, you are the opposite of ready. Borderline panicking at the thought of this man coming to pick you up and taking you out and putting on his lewd charm and ruining this cute underwear. 

By the time he buzzes downstairs, it’s too late to decide on another pair of shoes. You have to live with sandals—with the fact that he might just look down and get a full, unfiltered view of your toes curling when he opens his pretty mouth. 

You’re totally fucked, here. 

You think it again when you open the door, finding his lean form all in black, leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets and his full bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s already thinking about eating you up. You literally feel it as his eyes look you up and down, from your messy bun to your pink painted toes. It’s been two seconds, and already you are soaked between your thighs. 

Doomed. You are just fucking doomed, and a part of you is just ready to surrender, because it takes so much goddamn energy to fight your attraction to this man. You can feel it like live electricity crackling over your skin. 

Of course, there’s that other part of you that wants to run right back up those stairs and lock yourself away from this gorgeous devil.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Your mouth opens to reply, but your brain takes a few seconds to catch up, utterly short circuited by how ridiculously handsome he is in his black button down, his dark pants belted low on his hips, those big feet in black boots. It’s a little strange, seeing him without his badge or his gun on his hip–but you can work with this. 

“Hi,” you answer, scathingly clever as ever. 

“Ready to go?” 

You’d brought down your purse, to avoid inviting him into the private sanctuary that is your little shoebox of an apartment, but now you almost regret it. 

“Yeah. Where are we going?” You step out the door, but he doesn’t move back, relishing your close proximity with a smirk. But there is a new softness in his brown eyes as he looks down at you that makes you a little weak in your knees. He reaches up to touch your cheek, feather light, and it boggles your mind how this man can be such a beast, and yet so gentle when he wants to be. 

“You’ll see.” You narrow your eyes at him, but for once, it’s more playful than fueled by annoyance. “Relax,” he says, his shapely mouth dancing as he suppresses a smile. “You’re in good hands, honey.” 

You don’t even flinch, as he drives this final nail into your coffin, the wave of desire inspired by the thought of those oh-so-capable hands and what they just might do to you tonight buzzing down your spine. This is how you die–you are strangely, almost, ok with it. 

When he has you safely ensconced in the passenger seat of his sleek black Charger you look over at him, his long arm draped over the wheel as he navigates the hostile environment of LA traffic like a shark patrolling a reef. “So…I saw you on the news last night.”

He lifts one of those dark brows, though his expression remains otherwise unreadable. “Haven’t really looked at what they’re saying,” he admits, like he’s used to the media getting the details wrong towards their own ends. 

“They said that you saved two underaged girls that were being traffiked?”

His mouth turns down, and you wonder if you’ve killed the happy vibe of the evening so soon with your nosy questions. But then again–you need to know. It’s a gnawing curiosity in your gut not just for the events that transpired, but the man who orchestrated them. Who you are currently alone in a car with, so you reason you have a right to know.

“Yeah,” he simply answers, not keen to crow his own praises. 

“And you…killed all those guys?”

He gives a sigh that seems to come from the bottom of his soul. You sense a weariness in him that he’s never shown on the outside before. 

“Yeah.” A long silence draws out between you, before he adds, “They were very bad dudes, y/n. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

You can’t exactly say that you’re not–but ironically, the news of him shooting down those gangsters really has nothing to do with it.   

“I’m not. I mean–if they were abusing those girls, then they deserved it.”

He looks you over then, an appraising look as though you’ve given him some new information about your character. Maybe information you didn’t exactly mean to give away, but it’s out there now. He’s going think you’re a kindred spirit–or a blood thirsty gremlin. 

Either way, you don’t really want to discuss why you sympathize with those girls, and with him. 

“Are you okay?”

This question seems to take him aback, like he truly wasn’t expecting it. He’s surely used to being a pillar of stoic manhood, but you know this shit takes its toll. “Yeah. I’m fine, sweetheart. Thanks.”

You eye his hand resting on the center console, and a part of you very badly wants to reach out to him and take it. Almost as though he can sense it, or maybe because he wants it as badly as you do, he holds out his hand palm up in invitation. It’s possible you stare at that hand for a beat too long, his wide calloused palm and long blunt fingers. Long enough that he tries to play it off, starting to take it back, before you quickly lace your fingers with his. The way he smiles to himself sends warmth blooming all the way to your toes, and you’re glad he’s driving because they do, indeed, curl in your sandals. 

You give him a little squeeze, relishing the way your hand feels so tiny and protected in his own, and say, genuinely, “I’m sorry. For calling you a fake cop.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I’ve heard worse from people that aren’t half as pretty as you.” 

You want to fight with him on that—scoff, roll your eyes—but you just can’t, because as much as that small, whiny part of your brain tells you he’s lying, the bigger, rational part absolutely knows just by the sincerity in his tone that he thinks you really are a pretty, sublime creature. 

“But I still kinda think you’re a jerk,” you half tease. 

“Mmmm, what happened to that feisty little thing I know? She change into a cute sundress and suddenly become sweet?” 

You are loathe to admit the real reason for your change of heart. 

“You wish.” 

He chuckles. “Bet I can make you sweet.” 

You’re a total idiot for what comes out of your mouth, and your underwear is the one that will more than likely end up paying for this mindless insolence. “How?”

He brings your hand up to his mouth, lips brushing over the thin skin of your knuckles, sending a spear of desire through your arm and into the rest of your body. You make a tiny choked noise when his tongue peeks a taste of your skin, going unfocused and fuzzy, radio static and full throttle cavewoman. 

He kisses the center of your hand, then murmurs, “With sugar, silly girl.” 

It's not only the panties that pay a high price, but also your throbbing heart, pleasantly tense and hot and full of desire. 

He must find your slack jaw and blank stare immensely entertaining, because he’s laughing low and soft, rumbling in delight. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

“I’m fine.” There has never been a more heinous lie uttered in this entire state. 

You’re fairly new to LA, but you soon realize from your surroundings that he’s taking you to the Santa Monica Pier. 

You are thanking the universe and the gods when you arrive at your destination. Five more minutes—hell, seconds—trapped in that car with him and you would have climbed into his lap and started barking. 

When he swings into a parking space designated just for Law Enforcement you turn to him with a lifted brow, as though to say, Abuse your authority much? 

But you already know the answer to that. This date is a product of it. And so far…it’s not so bad. 

“Do you like fish tacos?” He asks, keeping your hand and massaging that bulky thumb over your wrist.

“Shouldn’t you have asked that before you made a reservation?” you taunt him. 

“No reservation,” he informs you with a quirk of his mouth. “But the manager owes me a favor.” 

He waves around the busy avenue and beach walk bustling with people, peppered with colorful shops and restaurants of every kind. “Pretty sure we can find you something you like, if Mexican food with an ocean view isn’t your thing…” He says it with a smirk, and you’re seriously not sure if you want to kiss this man or smack him. Maybe both, but save it for later, sings out the little devil on your shoulder before you can tell it to shut the fuck up. 

Good lord. 

You’ve heard of the restaurant–and that it’s famously hard to get into. You wonder if his connection is a product of a favor for a good deed, or a bit of blackmail. Maybe a little bit of both. You’re finding more and more that it’s hard to put this man in a single box. 

“Honestly…?” You make him wait for it, and you can tell your effort to put this confident man on the spot only half succeeds, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “That sounds pretty amazing.”

This evil, evil gentleman. He opens your door for you, helps you out of the car, stands patiently while you fix your dress, only half looks at your exposed thighs before you pull the hem down and cover them up again. 

Then, he threads his arm with yours and leads you onto the pier. You can’t believe you’ve never taken the initiative to come here before. It’s beautiful, lit up like a modern carnival of neon lights. 

“Oh, can we go on the Ferris wheel?” You ask, looking up at him. 

“Let’s get some food in you, and then we can do whatever you want.” He really needs to stop being so…caring. It’s seriously starting to mess up your insides. 

You turn into a fascinated kid as you walk down the salt coated slice of wood built out over the ocean, looking this and that way, pointing things out, mentioning possible after-dinner activities. You feel like you’re getting annoying, but Tom just seems amused by your sunburned tourist behavior. 

You pass by a little shooting booth with huge stuffed bunnies hanging from the rack, and he must see the way you’re ogling them, so he leans down close to your ear. “I could win you one of those?”

You grin back up at him. “I can win you one.” 

“Oh? Little sharpshooter?” 

It sounds like he doesn’t believe you, so you stick your tongue out at him between smiling lips. 

He pokes your forehead in retaliation. “Anybody ever tell you how fucking cute you are?” 

The restaurant lives up to its popularity and then some. It takes a while to get here, but you just know it’s worth every foot blister when they sit you down and immediately serve a popped bottle of iced sparkling water and delicious, warm salsa and chips. 

You made it just in time to catch the purple orange sun sinking below ocean level, and the front row seats really just make the view that much more spectacular. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if a dolphin jumped from the water, illuminated by the dying sun, just like in the movies.  

“This is… amazing.” You grab some tortilla chips to munch on while he pours you both glasses of the fancy water. “Have you ever been here before?” 

“Once.” He doesn’t elaborate, so you don’t want to push the issue, but you can tell there’s some kind of ache behind that simple word. 

“Okay, so you’re obviously not from LA—where are you from?” He leans over the table a bit, curious. 

“Kansas.” 

He opens his mouth, but you stop him because you already know what he’s going to say. 

“Don’t do it.” You point a warning finger at him, giggling like an idiot. 

“God, but I really want to,” he groans. 

“So,” you say, taking another bite of chip. “Why did you become a cop?”

“You start with the heavy questions, huh?” he teases you. “Thought I was the one who was trained in interrogation?”

You suppose he’s right, considering your earlier line of inquiry in the car. But you shrug in response. Considering how you ended up here, you see no reason to tiptoe around things. “Just curious.”

He offers up an easy smile, letting you know you didn’t offend him. “Well, I actually always wanted to be a dentist.”

You snort with disbelief, trying to imagine this man’s bedside manner. But then, dentists do get to cause people a lot of pain… “Ok. Maybe that tracks.”

“I’m fucking with you,” he informs you with a smirk. 

You do your best to appear annoyed, and fear you fail at it badly. “Guess it’s not hard to imagine you pulling teeth, is all.”

He huffs at that. “I always wanted to be a cop, since I was a kid. My old man was a detective. Killed in the line of duty. I guess I felt like I needed to pick up his unfinished business.”

You blink at that. You and your big fucking mouth. “I’m sorry,” you say, reaching for his hand across the table. He curls his fingers with yours, playing with your aqua painted fingernails with his thumb.

“It’s alright. Happened a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

You squeeze his hand in yours, saying nothing. 

“What about you? What made you want to be a nurse?” 

You don’t really feel comfortable enough to tell him your whole coming-of-nurse story, so you give him the cut version: “when I was young and felt like I had no one, a nurse comforted me.”

“How young?”

“Ten.”

He winces. “Maybe I’ll get the full version of that story one day?”

There’s an epiphany, here, in this little restaurant with the comfy blue chairs, and it’s that Tom Ludlow scares you because he makes you feel something deep, deep inside your chest that you can’t even remember being there before he came along. Julian was easy, child’s play; although it stings, you’re writing him down as just another failed fling. You know if Ludlow gets his hands on your little sensitive heart, it will be a very different story. 

You take a big drink of water to wash down the salty crunch. “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Being so…cold.”

He chuckles. “Oh, you are so cold. Gonna have to make it up to me.”

Warmth floods the top layers of your skin. “I already said I’d win you the bunny.”

You’re amazed at how easily he can transition back into a smooth, carnal beast. “I don’t know if that’s enough for me to forgive you.” The fake hurt in his tone should not make you squirm in your seat. 

You bite like a dumb, good little fish should: “okay, then, how do I make it up to you, Officer Ludlow?” 

You’re hoping to faze him with the sultry innocence of your tone, but it just fuels his devilish aura instead. “We can start with me turning you over my knee.”

You don’t have a retort, but your vagina absolutely does, and she gets you squirming in your seat. 

He leans forward, knowing smile sure to be your undoing one way or another. “Would you like that?” 

“Thought you didn’t want to hurt me?” You challenge, trying to keep cool despite the blazing Ludlow heat. 

“Who says spanking has to hurt? Dr. Bitch?”

You can’t help the giggle that rolls out of you, and he seems to find it entertaining that you have to cover your mouth to hide it. “No, Tom, believe it or not, I am a grown woman who has lived an experienced life.” 

“And how was it?”

You tilt your head. “What?”

“You know, when you asked one of your vanilla boyfriends to swat that gorgeous, plump ass a little bit? Just to see how it would feel.” He leans his chin on his palm, listening intently for your answer, and you think you might be on your way to spontaneous combustion. 

How in the fuck can he just hit the nail right on the head like that? Know about parts of your life that you haven’t shared with anyone—not that there were many to share with. Are you really this readable? 

Once again, he has your sharp tongue dulled with arousal and embarrassment, and you shift in the chair. “He did it, like, once and then stopped.” 

“And did you like it?” He presses. 

“Yes.” 

He takes a little sip of his water, raising both dark brows over the glass at you. “Good to know.” 

Tom recommends the margaritas and fish tacos, so you let him order for the both of you while admiring the view. You can’t decide which one you like better, his handsome face or the ocean scape.

As you are finishing your delicious dinner the last rays of the sunset are putting on a five star show for you, the sky painted that impossible deep blue and purple, the water shimmering like color-changing opals.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you sigh, and you catch him looking at you out of the corner of your eye with a softness you haven’t seen from him before. You get up the courage to meet his eyes, and he smiles at you, but for once not like he intends to eat you.

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, sweetheart.”

“Goddammit.”

He laughs at that, a real belly laugh that makes you warm all over even without the aid of your two nursed margaritas. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to out shoot you for that little bunny now.” 

This wins you more genuine laughter. “Alright, Annie Oakley. Lead the way.”