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cherienymphe · 8 months

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Basic Training XVI (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

You knelt beside Peter with your hands in your lap, staring down at them as the conversation flowed around you. While you’d never had much to contribute to the conversation before, you still felt awful about being purposely excluded. Even more so because your humiliation was on full display for the whole house to see.

“It’s disappointing to see another empty chair at the table.”

Steve’s voice wasn’t very loud amongst the other low conversations, but it carried, nonetheless. You didn’t need to look up to know that his gaze was on you. You could feel it. It was then that you felt a gentle touch on the top of your head, fingers trailing down to rest just under your chin.

“Yeah,” you heard Peter sigh. “…but she knows what she’s being punished for.”

You did.

The night you told Peter that Nat had mentioned a pregnancy scare, he hadn’t said much to you for the rest of the evening. You could count the number of times Peter had been really mad with you, and his visible anger hadn’t done much for your sleep. You hadn’t been able to deny the pang in your chest when he laid down for bed without sparing you a glance.

You had almost wished you could take it back.

…but if it would prevent Nat from being on the end of whatever punishment Bucky saw fit for her, then you would accept however Peter retaliated. You weren’t being tied to some tree nor walking around with some collar on your neck, but it was no less embarrassing to sit at Peter’s feet on your knees while the rest of the household ate dinner.

Occasionally, Peter’s hand would come down to give you something to eat, and with starving as the only other option, you had no choice but to open your mouth and accept.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” he’d said just hours earlier, gazing at you with a small shake of his head. “…and to think this is something you knew before she even left. What if she was pregnant and has lost the baby? Do you have any idea what that will do to Bucky?”

You hadn’t had the heart nor courage to tell Peter that you didn’t care about Bucky. You didn’t care about him, at all. Your priority had been Nat and keeping quiet on something she herself hadn’t even known what to do with. That was then though, and while your first priority was still Nat, now you only wanted her out of harm’s way in whatever way you could achieve that. Even if it meant disappointing Peter and making Bucky aware of her possible delicate condition.

You knew that with Steve over his shoulder, Bucky was liable to do unspeakable harm to Nat. It didn’t matter that he’d grown up with her and therefore shared a deeper history than any other couple in the house. In fact, you’d wager that those circumstances only made him angrier, made him feel more betrayed. You didn’t count on Bucky being fair, on the punishment fitting the crime. The dark-haired man was angry and hurt—something you’d never understand—and he seemed the type to take it out on her.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sight of a fork in front of your face, and lock clockwork, you leaned in to eat what Peter offered. Your embarrassment lessened as you thought of the humiliating things the other wives probably had to go through. One incident stood out amongst the rest, and as you glanced up, your eyes met a familiar brown pair. She threw you a brief sympathetic look, something in her eyes telling you that it was okay, and you looked back down.

You tried to remind yourself that if your husband had been literally anyone else, you’d be dealing with far worse. Even Thor—who seemed a gentle giant most times—had forced Jane to hang the clothes to dry while completely naked once. At least, that was what Jane had said, and despite how long ago it was, you’d been able to see that she was still hurt about it. You wondered if that contributed to how “well behaved” she was for the blond. You wondered if she just didn’t want to experience that hurt again, and that was something you could understand.

When dinner was over, instead of following behind the rest of the men, Peter remained seated. You could feel his gaze on you, and you kept your own on your lap as you heard him stand. He stood there for what felt like a long time while the other women cleared the table. When the both of you were alone again, he quietly told you to stand and follow him.

Peter hadn’t said all that much to you since that day, and you didn’t know what you were walking into.

You kept your gaze on the back of his head while you followed him, tracing the brown strands with your eyes. There was a part of you that could acknowledge Peter’s disappointment, even understand the twisted logic in some sick way, but another part of you didn’t feel bad, at all. Whether or not Nat was pregnant was not something Peter needed to know. It simply wasn’t for him to know. It hadn’t even been for you to know until Nat decided it so, and it equally hadn’t been for you to tell.

…and you weren’t…until Steve and Bucky were itching to hurt her in ways she just didn’t deserve.

Even now, you wondered if you did the right thing. Only time would really tell, but you felt so…helpless. That night, you’d felt helpless, but it was a different kind of helpless. It was a helplessness that came about of your own accord. You could have very well told Peter you saw her. You could have even ran downstairs yourself to go after her, but you hadn’t. You’d remained quiet, and the opportunity to do anything to help or hinder the situation had passed you by.

You had left the fate of everyone in the house—including you—in her hands. Your future had depended on whether or not Nat was caught or not, both yours and Peters. You felt like something of a coward to leave that in Nat’s hands. Although, you guessed that your decision had been made when you simply…let her go.

You were frowning when Peter spoke to you again.

“You do understand why you’re being punished…don’t you…?”

You licked your lips, starting to nod before thinking better of it, remembering that Peter preferred you use your voice.

“Yes,” you told him.

“Tell me,” Peter urged, sitting down on the bed.

Your eyes met his, and like they had been for days, they gleamed with a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

“It’s important that Bucky knows everything pertaining to Nat’s health…and I helped her hide that from him.”

You repeated the words he’d said to you even though you didn’t quite believe them yourself.

Peter reached for you with a small sigh, and you slowly reached for his hand in return, moving closer. When his fingers threaded with yours, he pulled you to stand in between his knees, taking your other hand too. He looked at you with a look you couldn’t name, pink lips pressed together as he studied your face.

“If you were pregnant…surely you’d understand why I’d need to know that,” he continued before you could say anything. “Even if you just thought you were pregnant…that’s important, Y/N.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“Now…now I have to find a way to bring this up to him. I did make a promise, after all,” he said to you, reminding you of your plea not to tell Bucky you told him.

Peter pulled on your hands, forcing you to sit in his lap. One of his hands came to rest on your waist, and you held his gaze as he kneaded his hand into your side.

“…and you wouldn’t want me to break my promise…would you?”

Peter tilted his head at that, and you shakily shook your head.

If Bucky knew you knew…you shuddered to think of what would happen. Peter reached up to cup your face, gently brushing his thumb over your skin. It disgusted you to think that not even thirty minutes ago, he had you kneeling at his side and eating whatever he fed you like a dog…and now… Now, you were sitting in his lap, reaching up to cover his own hand as it rested on your face.

Was this how any of the others felt?

Did Margaret feel that conflicted mix of anger and sadness and admiration whenever she gazed at Steve? Did she remember the ways in which he’d humiliate her as he kissed her? Did Pepper think of Tony leading her around the house like a pet when he smiled at her? You wondered what Laura thought about when Clint hugged her and if it was that time she was forced to keep him warm in her mouth at the dinner table?

“I was very proud of you tonight,” Peter eventually told you. “You were so well behaved and did exactly as I told you.”

Peter pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, lingering there.

“Only four more days to go.”

You were outside in the garden when you first saw it.

Laura and Jane were planting some garlic with you when you saw Steve and Bucky talking and walking around the house. They were coming from the front yard, presumably from work seeing as they were still in their uniforms, and Steve had it in his hand. A whip—long and braided and dark brown. By the looks of it, you could tell it was real leather, and even in Steve’s grasp, it looked big…and torturous.

The sight of it made your stomach turn, and you had the brief thought that you were going to be sick…until you actually were sick.

“Oh my God!”

Both Laura and Jane’s voices caught their attention, and the poor garlic bulbs you’d had every intention of planting were suddenly covered in what you ate that morning. Your legs were unsteady as both women hurried to pull you to your feet. Both men were nearing you, something crossing their faces that looked oddly like concern.

It was strange.

You’d seen something like that on Bucky’s face before, notably that night when you ran into him outside the basement door. There was a hurt and crestfallen look there that told you as mad as he was at Nat, something in him hated the idea of punishing her more. Steve, however… You had never seen anything remotely resembling unease before, and it was then that you were reminded of something Peter had said to you once.

“You’re family, Y/N,” Peter had whispered one night. “Steve may be hard on you, and it may seem like he’s out to get you, but he just wants you to fall in line and be part of the family.”

Laura was wiping your mouth with a napkin she kept in her apron.

“Are you alright? Did you eat something bad?”

No.

You didn’t know how to tell her that the sight of that whip in Steve’s hand—the whip that was still in Steve’s hand—had disturbed you so badly you couldn’t even keep your food down. You could feel pressure behind your eyes, a burning sensation, and you wanted to scream. On top of throwing up on yourself like some child, you were now on the verge of crying too.

“Y/N…”

You weren’t on the verge of anything. You were crying…and badly too. You couldn’t stop shaking, covering your face with your hands as you fought to keep standing. Laura’s hands were on you as she guided you into the house, and your knees buckled. You would have collapsed if it weren’t for familiar arms catching you, and you clung to him instantly.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Y/N,” he softly urged, one hand on your head and the other on the small of your back. “What happened?”

He was addressing someone else, now, and you didn’t hear what they told him. You only shook your head, unable to get the words out. You wanted to be sick again, and you pressed a hand to your mouth. Peter took that as a sign, hurrying to get you up the stairs.

He softly called your name again as soon as you made it into the room, and you finally did collapse.

“Is that what he’s going to do to her?” you asked him, tearfully looking up at Peter as he looked down at you in confusion. “Whip her?”

Realization bled into Peter’s eyes, and you watched his shoulders fall.

“Like…like some animal that needs to be broken into submission? …and for what? Because she ran?”

You swallowed down something else that threatened to come up, and Peter knelt down with you. You were fighting to keep it together, but your chest felt so tight, and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The mere thought of Nat being on the other end of that almost made you sick again, and the room spun just a bit.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Peter cooed, wrapping his arms around you and leaning you back into him.

You descended into another fit of sobs, turning your face into Peter’s shoulder, and he rocked you. You reached up to grip the arm around your chest, holding onto him. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, but what else could you possibly say that would stop this?

“Did you talk to Bucky…?” you finally choked out.

You both felt and heard Peter sigh.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Look…Y/N…”

Peter paused, rubbing your arm and resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I know you want to protect Nat…want to stop this from happening to her, but she did a bad thing.”

You started to shake your head, but Peter continued.

“She has to be punished, made an example of. Hell…we still need to figure out how she escaped.”

Those words gave you pause, and you swallowed.

“She won’t say a thing about how she got out of the house with any of us none the wiser. How she snuck past all of us, Bucky especially,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “She could do it again. Any of you could try to imitate her…and we can’t have that.”

Peter pulled away a bit, looking at you as you looked at him.

“I would lose my mind if you escaped,” he told you. “…and I mean that.”

He took your face into his hands.

“You don’t understand what you mean to me…all I’ve done to keep you by my side,” he gently said. “All I would do to have you again if you ever did what she did.”

You believed him.

You didn’t doubt him for a moment, and that in itself didn’t scare you. It was the fact that you didn’t see yourself ever doing what Nat did, never even trying, and that thought was equally imprisoning as it was freeing.

You stared into the darkness with your arms wrapped around your knees. The stair beneath your bottom didn’t even feel that hard to you anymore, long growing numb to the feel. It was so hard to sleep lately, so tonight you’d just given up. Even with Peter at your side, you hadn’t been able to find lethargic bliss, too plagued with thoughts of Nat.

The memory of that whip in Steve’s hand made you grow so cold, like something was being sucked out of you. You had imagined the worst for her, but actually seeing it was another thing entirely. As much as Bucky scared you, you couldn’t really picture him doing that to her. Even for him, it seemed wrong, but then again, it was hard to tell what Bucky was actually feeling and what he wanted.

He kidnapped the girl he grew up with and he was the one to feel betrayed when she ran.

You wondered if a day would come where you’d sleep soundly again. Maybe when you knew for sure that Nat was going to be okay? You wondered if you’d even fret this much if you hadn’t seen her that night. You liked to think that you would, but you couldn’t deny that your guilt and fear over the whole situation played a huge part.

Rubbing your forehead, you pushed yourself to your feet.

When you turned around, the imposing figure at the top of the stairs almost made you fall back. You let out a gasp, taking a stumbling step back and almost falling in the process. The sound of your heartbeat was loud in your ear, and even before he turned the light on, you knew who it was.

Steve was as scary as he always was, but even more so now with the memory of him holding the whip that was most likely intended for Nat. It was crazy to think that even in the middle of the night, a time of day that should be for the most relaxed version of oneself, he still looked like a strict leader just itching to hand out a punishment.

“You should be in bed.”

You swallowed as he looked down his nose at you, lips trembling.

“I…I couldn’t sleep. I have trouble sleeping, sometimes,” you forced out, truthful.

The blond didn’t reply right away at that, simply raising an eyebrow at you as he studied you.

“Is that so…”

It came out more like a statement than a question, and you frowned.

“Since when?” he wondered, and you realized this was probably the longest you’d ever talked to Steve and definitely one on one.

“Since…since I got here, I guess,” you whispered with a frown.

He sniffed, looking past you for a few moments before meeting your eyes again. They narrowed at you, and for the life of you, you couldn’t place the look in them.

“You spend most of your nights awake? Sitting on the stairs? Hmm?”

“No,” you hurried to say. “No, this is a first. I guess I didn’t want to wake up Peter.”

There was a brief pause, and the silence was so loud.

“Is that okay…?”

You tried to keep your voice even, but you supposed you couldn’t cover the mocking tone well. It was hard to keep up with what was allowed with Steve, and it wasn’t like the other night when you were trying to bring Nat some food. You’d just been sitting on the stairs. What rule was there against that?

Steve stared at you for what felt like a long time before suddenly throwing you a tense smile. It looked fake, plastic even.

“Of course,” he almost sang as if it were obvious. “You’re family, now, and this is your house too.”

His tone, like yours had been, sounded almost mocking, and you didn’t like it. Unable to continue engaging in conversation with the blond without wanting to hurl, you moved to make your way back to your room. Steve’s gaze remained on you the entire time, and it was only when you were past him did he speak again.

“I never realized what a night owl you were…”

You slowed to a pause, looking over your shoulder at him, but his back was still to you as he stared ahead.

“You probably see all sorts of things from your perch.”

Your chest grew tight at that, and you stumbled back to your room without another response.

Peter seemed to reach for you on autopilot, pulling you into his arms and holding you close even in his sleep. You held onto him too, tears kissing your eyes as you forced your heart to stop racing. You pressed your face into his chest, thoughts going a mile a minute.

You hadn’t liked Steve’s words nor his tone, and you wondered…

Did he know? He couldn’t know, but his dubious tone and hidden meanings in his words couldn’t mean anything else. Unless he only suspected, and even then, that did little to reassure you. You weren’t good with lies, poker faces. As it were, it was taking everything in you to keep lying to Peter, and the way you felt about Peter was nothing at all how you felt about Steve.

It was taking all you had to lie to the man whose face you looked forward to seeing every day. You couldn’t even pretend to imagine you’d be good at lying to Steve. The thought made you sit up some, gazing at Peter’s face as he slept. You thought about your conversation earlier and what he’d done for you, the feeling in your chest when he told you he’d talked to Bucky.

“I just mentioned to him he might want to have Bruce come and look over her first before…”

He had trailed off after answering you when you asked him what he told him, quieting at the look on your face at the reminder of what was in store for her.

“They’ve been trying, you know, and I just reminded Bucky that he’d never forgive himself if he did anything that could take away something he didn’t even know he had.”

Your worry hadn’t disappeared completely, but it had definitely lessened, causing you to hug Peter. He had hugged you back, but you’d been more concerned with pressing kisses to his face. Even if Nat turned out to not be pregnant, it would put off her punishment for a bit at the least.

Sometimes you wondered why Peter did anything for you. You supposed it was equally for his benefit, to make you more susceptible to him, and you couldn’t deny that there was merit to it. Did it really matter the reasons behind anything he did to make you happy? As long as it made you happy, right…?

You leaned over, pressing your lips to his cheek, silently thanking him. You grazed your fingers over his own, listening to the sound of his breathing, and you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of bed. You moved to stand at the window, feeling very reminiscent of that night as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

You knew that you needed to get up early, and that you’d probably regret having such a late night in the morning, but you saw no value in trying to force something that would not come. Like the night Nat ran, you stared out of the window, looking over the yard...

…and just like that night, movement caught your eye.

The figure was unmistakable, his hands on his hips as he stood in the backyard, gazing around. You didn’t know why he was out there, especially at this time of night, and you frowned as you watched him. The sight of Steve would always serve to do the opposite of calming you down, so you were just about to turn away when he suddenly turned instead. Steve’s eyes met yours from so far below, and you could tell by the look on his face that he could see you.

You could also tell by the look on his face…that this did not surprise him.

His expression was even as he stared up at you, and you blinked, a slow frown forming between your brows. You didn’t understand why he was out there nor why he was preoccupied with looking up at your window, but the longer he stared, the more he seemed to find whatever he was looking for, frowning at you before you made the choice to turn away completely.

The next morning was as normal as any other.

For some reason, you hadn’t expected that. It had taken you forever to fall asleep, doubly so when coupled with the memory of Steve staring you down both on the stairs and through the window. You helped Margaret make Egg’s Benedict before getting started on a key lime pie she wanted to have ready by dinnertime. She brought little Sarah around for a bit, something you were grateful for.

“I know what they think,” she whispered as you shook the girl’s hand playfully. “What they say…”

You glanced up at her at that, and she sent you a sad smile.

“You would never hurt any of them,” she assured you. “You just need more time to adjust, that’s all.”

Knowing that Margaret trusted you around her child despite what Steve thought made your chest feel warm, and you thanked her. You often wondered about your own future child, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t worry for them. After all, if Steve and the others were worried about you around the other children, what could you possibly expect with your own?

You helped Christine in the garden, feeling much better than the other day. You felt that had more to do with the lack of a whip in your line of sight than anything. Peter was gone most of the day, at work, and when he finally returned home, it was almost time for dinner.

“What were you two planting? You smell wonderful,” Peter mused, watching you as you helped him undress.

“Sweet Pea,” you replied, unhooking his belt. “Pepper wanted some on the side of the house.”

You felt Peter press his face to your hair, deeply inhaling with a hum that fell over you like a warm blanket. When Peter kissed you, you were unsurprised when it didn’t remain just that, allowing him to pull you into the bathtub with him. Much wasn’t said between you, more preoccupied with the feel of his lips on yours and his hands on your waist.

It was a wonder neither of you were late to the dinner table.

Despite your interactions with Steve the previous night, dinner remained unproblematic. In fact, the blond was much more concerned with his wife whose forehead he kept touching. Truthfully, you didn’t quite know what you’d expected. Perhaps your disastrous birthday was still fresh in your mind, no stranger to Steve’s lack of reluctance to cause a scene.

You left dinner without a care, and you managed to go to bed without a care.

It was late in the night, however, when the horror you expected finally arrived.

It was the sound of yelling that disturbed you, the height of sound something you’d only heard the morning Nat went missing. You remained in bed in confusion—and slight annoyance—as you blearily stared at the ceiling. Sleep was still just within reach, and despite the disturbance, you were determined to find it once again.

That wasn’t possible though.

“Let me talk to her!”

It was Peter’s voice, the sound of it making your eyes fly open. You slowly sat up, never knowing Peter for one to raise his voice under any circumstances. There were a lot of voices mingling together from below, and they all quickly drowned his out. You slowly blinked as you stared at the door…

…and an uneasy feeling started to stir deep in your gut.

It only just occurred to you that if he was downstairs, then he wasn’t asleep next to you. You reached over and slid your hand along his side of the bed. It was cool to the touch, telling you he’d been gone for quite some time, and your frown deepened. What was going on?

Just as you thought that, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and you stared at the door in dread. They were nearing your room, the sound of them echoing in the hallway, and for some reason, you expected Steve’s imposing frame to be on the other side of the door. It wasn’t, but you still felt no relief at the familiar sight of Peter.

You rubbed your eye as your gaze met his, the dark-haired man standing in the doorway.

“Peter…”

It was hard to pinpoint the look on his face, only that it was strained and pinched. You watched the way his jaw ticked, chest heaving slightly, and when your gaze lowered, it landed on his tightening grip on the doorknob. You said his name again, growing even more nervous the longer he didn’t speak.

“Peter.”

That wasn’t your voice.

Your lips parted at the sound of Steve’s stern voice coming from over Peter’s shoulder, and you guessed that he was somewhere in between the door and the stairs, somewhere in the hallway where you couldn’t see him. At the sound of the other man’s voice, Peter seemed to visibly tense. He stood there for a few more seconds before finally stepping into the room.

“Peter, what…?”

“It’s okay,” he whispered to you although you felt like it was absolutely not okay. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He took your hand, threading your fingers together.

“I just…I need you to come downstairs.”

His voice was so low, and despite the confusion you felt as you gazed into his eyes, you allowed him to lead you out of bed. You surmised that Steve went back downstairs because he was nowhere to be found when you followed Peter into the hallway.

Every step of yours felt heavy, and you didn’t miss the tight hold Peter had on your hand as he gently pulled you downstairs. You had no inkling of where you were even going, but you were shocked to realize that he was leading you towards the den. However, the biggest shock of all was the sight that met you.

You faltered as your eyes roamed over every single one of the husbands.

“Peter…”

Your voice was barely a whisper, but you knew he heard you by the feel of his hand gently squeezing yours.

You didn’t understand what was going on, and as you looked around, you almost wished you hadn’t. None of them looked happy, and while that in itself wasn’t alarming, it was the degree of unhappiness that unsettled you. Your gaze briefly met Bucky’s, and you suspected that if looks could kill, your throat would have slit on sight.

You took a step behind Peter.

“I always knew that your methods would backfire one day, Peter.”

Your eyes landed on Steve as he said this, and you watched the blond pour himself a drink. Thor was sitting in the seat closest to him, and you felt grateful for that because you were sure that the sight of an angry and imposing Thor towering over you would have made you faint.

You glanced at Peter, face almost hurting now from how much you were frowning.

“Peter, what’s going on?” you whispered.

“Yeah, Peter,” Steve mockingly agreed. “What’s going on?”

You looked between them, that feeling a full-fledged impairment, now as you almost felt like you couldn’t move.

“Ask her, Peter.”

Steve’s voice had lowered, his tone cold when his blue gaze finally met yours.

“Ask her, right now.”

You wanted to run for some reason, get far away from here…but you couldn’t. Peter seemed to be hesitating about whatever he was supposed to be asking you, and Bucky beat him to it.

“Did you help Nat escape?”

The question shocked you both for how unexpected it was and also because it wasn’t true. You felt your lips part as you looked at Bucky, withering under his venomous stare.

“What?” you gasped. “N-No!”

You looked around, a painful feeling washing over you as you realized what all of this was about.

“No, I-.”

“I don’t believe you,” you hadn’t even been able to get the words out, interrupted by Bucky who charged towards you. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

You stumbled back per courtesy of Peter who forced you back with a hand on your waist. Your hand gripped his arm in fear as you looked around him, watching with wide eyes as he faced Bucky. The other man looked at you like he could kill you without thinking twice about it, and you supposed that he could. He’d done it to Wanda, after all.

You hadn’t realized that you’d started crying, your cheeks cold all of a sudden.

“Bucky.”

“She helped her, Peter. I know she did!” Bucky spat, pointing at you as you shook your head.

“No! I didn’t-! Peter,” you pleaded, looking at him, now. “I didn’t!”

Your voice was cracking, and you hoped they didn’t take that for an admission of guilt or something. You hadn’t helped Nat escape, but you knew that to them, the truth might as well be the same, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“Remind us again, Peter… Repeat to us the events of that night for you,” Steve finally spoke up again, his voice eerily calm as he looked at you both.

His words had you blinking, and you looked to Peter in confusion. He looked conflicted, almost miserable, in fact, and you watched him pull his lip between his teeth.

“What was it you said? You woke up…?”

You looked at Steve, hating him and his mocking tone. You hated the way he talked like he already knew the answers he was looking for, like he was the smartest person in the room.

“…because Y/N wasn’t beside me,” he finally answered.

Steve nodded, slowly and with a hum.

“…and why not? Where was she?”

Your heart dropped to the very bottom of your stomach, and the room swayed for half a second as you tightened your hand on Peter’s arm. You didn’t stare at any of them, your eyes falling to the floor as you fought to keep your food down. You felt numb and heavy all at once, and for the first time in a long time, you genuinely wanted to die.

“Where was she, Peter?” Steve asked again, not so nice this time.

Peter didn’t respond right away, and you wrapped your arm around him, forehead falling to his frame as you held in a sob.

“She was by the window,” he finally breathed, sounding defeated. “Looking out of it.”

You heard Clint mumble something, and although you couldn’t make it out, you knew it wasn’t nice.

Only another moment passed before Peter was harshly pushing you back, but it wasn’t fast enough. Bucky’s hand had gripped the sleeve of your nightgown, both ripping the fabric and scratching your skin in the process. You screamed in both shock and pain, hurrying back until you met the wall, clutching your arm as Peter harshly shoved the older man away.

“She didn’t do it!”

“Move, Peter,” Bucky hissed. “Anyone with half a brain can see that she helped her! She-.”

Bucky cut himself off, and when you looked around Peter, the other man’s chest was heaving as he stared you down.

“Anything could’ve happened to Nat,” he forced out. “Anything, and she-!”

“I didn’t help her!”

“Shut up,” he snarled at you, so harsh and violent that more tears fell.

You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying and failing to hold your sobs in.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of her mouth unless it’s the truth,” he bit out.

“Do not talk to her like that,” Peter told him, taking a step towards him. “Do you hear me?”

He continued before Bucky could say anything else.

“You’re angry, I get it, but if you think I’m going to stand here and let you talk to her like that, you’ve taken one too many blows to the head,” Peter sneered.

They stared at one another for what felt like too long, just staring each other down, and you felt yourself sliding to the floor. The room was blurry from your tears, and it felt so hard to breathe. You brought your knees up to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell.

“Let me talk to her,” you heard Peter whisper, the same thing you’d heard him yell earlier.

You couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard you tried, and you let your head fall into your hands. The room was quiet save from the sound of you, and it wasn’t long before you felt Peter’s hands reach for your own.

“Peter,” you sobbed.

“Look at me. Hey…look at me,” he softly said. “Please…”

You reluctantly peeled your eyes open, and you glanced up when Peter gripped your chin.

“Don’t look at them,” he told you, voice gentle. “Look right at me.”

His voice was soothing, and you reached up to grip his wrist as you met his dark gaze. His eyes were soft, but there was something swirling there that made you nervous. An underlying skepticism lie there, and you pressed your lips together.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he quietly praised, sadly smiling at you.

He wiped your face, tongue darting between his lips. He stared at you, running his eyes over your face, and drinking you in for a moment.

“Did you help Nat escape?”

“No,” you answered without hesitation. “I didn’t. I… I could never.”

…and it was true.

You weren’t like Nat. You were weak, passive at best, and you could never have the courage to actively help anyone in this house escape. At least, you didn’t think so. The best anyone would get out of you was…well…simply looking the other way, and that was why as Peter took a deep breath, hinting that he was not done, you feared what would come out of his mouth. You dreaded his next words…

…and Peter looked like he dreaded them too.

He looked like he dreaded them more than the question that had just left his lips, and maybe it was because he knew the truth in this moment.

“…but you saw her leave.”

He held your gaze, and you held his. You didn’t move…didn’t speak, but you didn’t need to. Your silence was confirmation enough, and you flinched when you heard Bucky break something. It sounded like a glass.

“Peter…”

“You saw her leave…and you didn’t say anything,” he sounded heartbroken, and you soon realized why. “You lied to me.”

Your head lowered, and you wiped your face, but more tears just replaced those. You reached for him, gripping his shirt, trying to keep him close.

“Peter… Peter, I’m sorry,” you choked out, trying to pull him closer.

“That’s why…” he trailed off, sighing to himself as his eyes fell closed.

He chuckled to himself, but it lacked humor.

“That’s why,” he said to himself, his own head lowering so that his forehead touched yours.

You felt him wipe your face, a shaky sigh leaving him.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he murmured. “…but I’m not who you should be apologizing to.”

You looked at him with wide eyes when he pulled away, and you released another sob. Just the thought of what was waiting for you had you breathing short, and you pressed your hand to your chest. Peter still had one of your hands, and you could feel his chin on top of your head.

“Anything could have happened to her,” he told you. “Nat could’ve been seriously hurt…she could’ve died.”

“We told you,” you heard Bucky harshly tell him. “We told you you were being too soft on her.”

“Bucky…”

Peter’s voice reeked of exasperation as he held you to him, letting you cry into his chest. You couldn’t stop shaking, and your head was pounding so much from your tears. What would happen to you now? Would you be going down into the basement? For how long? Or…

Or was Steve going to make Peter tie you to a tree?

“What? You’re going to look at us and tell us we’re wrong, now? Nat escaped!”

You flinched as Bucky raised his voice, sounding much closer, too close.

“…and she just let it happen,” he snarled. “If she wasn’t yours…if she was just some random woman on the street, I’d wring her neck.”

That was enough to have Peter pulling away from you, presumably confronting Bucky, but you couldn’t even care, couldn’t even focus on that. You couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard you tried. Every time you did, you almost choked, and between that and trying to suck in air…

“…and why would I be like you…? Or Steve? You don’t think you broke her enough when you killed her friends? What did you expect, for her to behave rationally all this time?”

You heard Bucky chuckle, and for some reason, you hated the sound of it. It was cold, nasty, and it sounded like something that preceded trouble.

“Get off your high horse, Peter,” Bucky threw at him. “You’ve done just as much damage to her as we have…”

Bucky’s next words made your breath stop entirely.

“…it wasn’t us who killed…what was her name? Was it Michelle? Was that the one you shot?”

You felt…paralyzed, and the distinct lack of sobs filling the room was evident. Your hands had been on your forehead, and you could only stare at the floor as you felt like nothing was below your feet, falling without an end in sight. A sharp pain in your head forced you to squeeze your eyes shut, and you shook your head.

No.

No…no…

That wasn’t right.

It couldn’t be.

Sam…Sam killed her. Hadn’t he?

Your chest was hurting so bad that you actually clutched it, gasping for breath, and your other hand reached for the wall, trying and failing to steady yourself. You felt like you were in pain, and when you tried to stand up, you only fell back down. You felt familiar hands on your arms, and when you looked up, you flinched.

Peter frowned.

“Y/N…”

“What…?” you breathed.

That couldn’t be true…and yet…you couldn’t recall actually seeing Sam shoot Michelle. You…you had just assumed… But Peter was the first one to get to you that day, but he’d also spoke as if it was Sam…but Peter… As you looked into his brown eyes, the brown eyes that you had grown to look forward to looking into, you realized that Peter was a liar…and a murderer.

…and you wanted to be sick.

His hands were on your face, and you tried to bat them away.

“No, no, no,” you repeatedly mumbled, shaking your head. “No!”

You shoved at him, but Peter wouldn’t budge, determined to get you to calm down. Too preoccupied with wanting to be as far away from him as possible, you were none the wiser to Steve’s approach.

“It’s a good thing you brought Nat back up to prepare for Bruce’s visit,” the blond said, shoving past Peter and roughly grabbing you. “…because now she’ll have the whole basement to herself.”

The scream that you let out hurt your throat, and despite your anger and disgust with him, you still reached for Peter as Steve dragged you away. Your hand just barely grazed his as your feet lifted from the ground, and you reached out, trying to grab onto anything you could. You could hear Peter following behind Steve, begging and pleading with him on your behalf.

You could hear something occasionally being knocked over by you, the sound of breaking glass reaching your ears here and there. When Steve finally did reach the basement door, you pressed your feet to it, trying in vain to prevent this from happening. You hadn’t been in the basement since your first few days here, and it was not somewhere you wanted to be again. Not now…not after…

However, enthusiastic to see you suffer for letting his wife get away, Bucky unlocked and opened the door for Steve, the darkness threatening to swallow you whole. When Steve’s arm pressed into the cut Bucky had made on your arm, you winced.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time…”

…and with those last words, Steve tossed you inside. Your hands slid over the steps as you fell, feet tangling together, and you reached out to grab the rail, but it only slowed your descent. It did nothing to stop it, landing at the bottom of the stairs in a heap just as the door was slammed shut. You were surrounded by darkness, but it was the least of your worries, a choked wail escaping you at the thought of Peter.

You pressed your face into the floor as you cried, lacking the strength and will to move.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #peter parker x reader

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firebirdsdaughter · 2 years

Text

To this day…

… I will always believe Peter knew or suspected Neal switched the locket girl paintings and just didn’t do anything bc the curator said nothing.

Esp bc come on. You telling me no one could see or saw that writing when he flipped it over???

#White Collar #one thing I love about White Collar is it lets Peter be competent #Peter caught Neal and they don't really forget that #in fact he's going to be 4-0 post series you know he is #he's bringing his boy back home #but I can also see him not doing anything if the curator doesn't press charges #plus he checks Neal's anklet every day he'd know Neal went back to her house #he can put things together #but hey victimless crime in the end #just like how a few other times he's like 'well it's interesting we never found this'#Peter has this face he makes #like Tim DeKay is on par w/ Matt Bomer for facial expressions #he's got the proud dad smirk but also the 'something's up here and I'm choosing to not see it' face #so I think he at least suspected but since the curator said nothinf #and making a stink would mean a big to do and Neal'd probably go back to prison…#and hey they caught the bad guy so we'll let this go #Adopt a Felon 101

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ghostkennedy · 6 months

Text

Workplace Romance

~ID! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count: 7213

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con, dub-con, serial killers, murder, leon's a major asshole and mean to reader, lots of arguing, confrontation, drugging, kidnapping, use of shock collar, degrading, pet names, serious bodily harm, forced self-harm, crawling, descriptions of blood/pain/body mutation, forced blowjob, cum swallowing, piss, reader pisses self, removal of an appendage/body part, capital punishment, death row, lethal injection, masturbation, very little comfort, no happy ending

the content warnings are a mess, but i think i included everything.

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!

Agent Leon Kennedy. A name you weren’t familiar with until a few weeks ago. Now, he’s the leading cause of all your headaches.

He’s a renowned FBI agent. Not only is he an excellent detective, but an expert in serial killer psychology.

He’s successfully led in the investigations and captures of eight serial killers and helped in the convictions of upwards of a hundred murderers.

He’s spent years studying the minds of serial killers. He can find the smallest bit of information and utilize it to get inside a killer's head. He’s the FBI’s serial killer specialist and if there’s ever a suspected serial killing, the case files land right on his desk.

And that’s what’s brought the two of you together.

You had just made detective at the Raccoon City Police Department, but the training was subpar. Any case that goes through this department is almost guaranteed to go unsolved. It’s not the station's fault, but the lack of funding and resources that has led to its downfall.

You’re up to your neck in cold case files. And crime that needs any sort of investigation is immediately your obligation. You’re a one person department and absolutely set up to fail.

When the FBI finally shows interest in the series of murders taking place throughout the city, you’re honestly relieved. Anything to ease your heavy workload. But it all changes when you meet him.

Agent Leon fucking Kennedy.

He’s a cocky bastard who undermines your department, which is solely you, constantly. He is unimpressed with the investigative work done on the case and won’t hesitate to insult your abilities as a detective.

And the man is basically untouchable.

He’s the FBI’s golden boy who can do no wrong. Everyone in the station worships the ground he walks on because he’s here to save the town, like a superhero. He’s the best of the best and everyone is expected to tolerate him. No exceptions.

It doesn’t help that he’s absolutely gorgeous. Always looking so well put together, a calculated appearance that never falters. Men and women alike gawk at the man. Whether they want to be with him or be him, you’d be stupid to not acknowledge it.

A brown fringe cascading around his face. Pretty blue eyes matched with a prominent nose and jaw line, a dimple centered in his chin. Even the stubble lining his jaw is flawless. His eyebrows are knitted together in a permanent scowl. He looks like he despises the world and it makes him that much more enticing.

And it pisses you off entirely. If he was just some mediocre, average looking man, it’d make hating him so much easier. But of course the jackass is incredible. It makes you wanna pour acid in your eyes just to give you your peace of mind back. Seeing is believing, right?

Without a single break in the case and no solid leads, you’re happy to take a step back from the case. It doesn’t mean you don’t care, but the crime rate in town has been steadily rising and you know you can help better elsewhere.

You walk into the station on what you thought was a typical Tuesday morning. But you’ve barely made it through the front door when you’re met with chaos.

People are running around, coming in and out of the station. The noise level is atrocious and has you wishing you’d caught the fucking plague because it would be less exhausting than this.

You barely make it five paces into the station when one of the coworkers you actually bother with appears at your side.

“It never stops, does it?” Jill says breathlessly.

You shake your head before replying, “What’s going on now?”

“Wait, you don’t know? Shouldn’t you be the first to know, actually?” She stops dead in her tracks, which in result causes you also to abruptly stop.

“Considering I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have no idea.” You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face her.

She sighs and places her hands on her hips. “They found another body early this morning. Everything matches up with the previous ones, so it’s basically confirmed to be one of his.”

“Another body? This will be his tenth fucking kill.”

“Thank God we got the FBI on it then?” Jill quirks an eyebrow at you, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

Jill is one of the few people seemingly in the world to not care for Leon’s bullshit. She can’t stand the man and isn’t afraid to voice it. She’s your number one defender and isn’t shy about arguing with the dreaded FBI agent.

“Maybe he’ll finally be good for something other than making my life a living Hell.”

Jill reaches out and squeezes your shoulder as she shakes her head. “But at what cost? Let’s hope the sweet, tender boy can magically solve the case and fuck back off to wherever he flew in from.”

Another coworker comes up and pulls Jill away from you. As she marches away behind the man, she turns and waves at you. You hate that you instantly wave back, but it’s Jill. You’ll look like a dork over and over for her sake.

You lower your hand and sigh, but before you can even begin walking again, a presence takes shape beside you.

“What are you doing?” An unmistakable snarky voice calls out to you. Your muscles instantly tense up in his presence, like your body is physically rejecting him and his aura.

You scoff as you begin walking again. “None of your business, Leon.”

You’re annoyed when Leon meets your big strides, keeping up with you pace for pace. You both remain silent as you quickly arrive at your office door.

You go to close the door behind you, but Leon pushes past, welcoming himself into your office. You’re frozen in place for a second in your confusion, but you quickly snap out of it and sink into your desk chair.

“What’s up?” You fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair. Being around Leon is exhausting and you can already feel this conversation draining you.

Leon doesn’t take a seat, instead choosing to stand tall above your desk, looking down at you.

“None of your business.” Leon mocks you in a shrill voice.

“What’s up?” His eyes meet yours, locking in an intense stare.

“You need to address me properly. Agent Kennedy, not Leon.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the sudden authority in his voice. When he doesn’t speak up again, it prompts you to instead.

“Okay. But I would appreciate it if you addressed me properly too, Agent Kennedy.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

You quirk your head to the side, shocked by the pure audacity of this man. The audacity to demand respect when he can’t even give it. It’s infuriating.

“Well, Leon, I don’t appreciate being disrespected in my own-“

“Earn it.”

You shake your head in exasperation at his interruption. Yes. Infuriating is the best word to describe this man.

“What?” You release a heavy sigh, already exhausted from the few words exchanged.

“Respect is earned. Earn respect and you will receive it.”

“You haven’t earned-“

“I’m the FBI’s best asset when it comes to convicting serial killers, not to mention all of the side work I’ve done in homicide prevention and precaution. I’ve earned goddamn respect and I expect it, no exceptions.”

He slams his hands down on your desk, causing you to jump, your chair screeching across the floor as you put more space between you two.

Your voice is shaking as you throw your hands up in the air, “Fuck! Okay! Sorry, Agent Kennedy.”

He gives you a final death glare before backing up and causally stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. It remains silent as you two stare across the room at each other.

“Anyways, I needed to talk to you.” He finally sits in the chair and your shoulders visibly relax. You hate yourself for being so visibly nervous in his presence currently, but it was out of your control.

“What about?”

He clears his throat. “I don’t like it anymore than you do, but my bosses have instructed me to take you under my wing. Teach you what I know. And it’s my obligation to follow those orders and I think it’s in your best interest to do so as well. It would be very beneficial to you.”

Your eyes fall closed as you barely manage to hold back a groan. Your head falls back, scalp connecting with the back of your chair.

“You just made detective, correct?”

You sigh and look back up at him, “Yeah. Not even a month ago.”

“Then let me help you. There’s no one here to train you on how to be a good detective, a good investigator. I know a thing or two. You just have to let me help you. Also, it’ll be better on my conscience if I leave here confident in this station's sole detective.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m being serious. I have a lot to teach and you have a lot to learn. You’d be stupid to not take full advantage of this opportunity.”

You remain silent, lost in your own thoughts. You were confident with your abilities as a detective. Confident with your capability to solve cases, but he has the experience that you don’t. But he’s also Leon Kennedy and that alone is almost enough to make you say fuck no.

“How many people have died at the hands of this killer? That we know of so far.”

“9 I believe.”

“10 after the discovery this morning. And there could be more we don’t know about. You don’t wanna solve this case? Wanna bring this sick fuck to justice?”

“Well, of course-“

“Then work with me. How many more innocent people need to die?”

You release a heavy sigh. “Alright, alright. We have a deal or whatever.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Weeks have passed and Leon’s arrogance has only gotten worse.

The belittling, the undermining, just everything he does has you raging. You’ve given up on helping with the investigation because anything you do is scrutinized. You found a solid piece of evidence that could have easily been looked into, but he rejected it and told you to disregard it.

No matter how hard he tries to make you feel like it, you’re not an idiot. You’re a great detective and nothing about this situation is right. His behavior, his attitude, his methods of operation are all suspicious as hell, so how could you not look into him?

You’re not exactly sure what you were looking for. Maybe a sign that he was taking credit for work he didn’t actually do? Or maybe a sign of him planting evidence?

Why couldn’t you have just minded your goddamn business?

You’re the only two left in the station, working late on the case. To say things are tense is a fucking understatement if you’ve ever heard one.

“Can I ask you a question, (Reader)?”

Your head shoots up from your computer screen. The way he says your name has chills running down your spine, has you struggling to swallow.

“Um, yeah. What’s your question?”

His elbows are on the table, his chin resting on the backs of his clasped hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?” His tone is accusatory and it confuses you.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why were you looking into me?” He brings his hands down to the table and leans in closer to your side of the table. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Your heart is in your throat as you struggle to find the words to explain yourself. “What kind of detective would I be if I didn’t?”

He snickers. “Answering a question with a question. Classic. But I’m not interested in beating around the fucking bush, so how about you just tell me what you were looking for.”

You take a deep breath before straightening your spine and feigning a confidence you definitely don’t feel. “Okay. You’re suspicious as fuck. And I don’t trust you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“And what did you find?” He snaps at you. You don’t understand why he’s taking such offense to a detective doing detective work? He didn’t anticipate this?

“Nothing. I didn’t find anything.”

“And do you still have your suspicions about me?”

“Yes.” You answer his questioning immediately. You’re not sure what compels you to do so, but your mouth moves faster than your mind. “I still don’t understand why you act the way you do.”

He looks away from you, pulling a file out of his briefcase and flipping through the papers inside of it. “What were you hoping to find?”

“I-” you’re once again stumbling over your words. No one has ever made you so nervous, no one has ever triggered your flight or fight as much as he does. Alarms are constantly going off in your head about him and you hate it. “I just wanted some answers.”

“Then fucking ask.” He slams the folder shut and tosses it down the table. “Ask me your questions. Don’t be a baby about it, going behind my back to find them. You’re a big girl. If you want answers, come and get them.”

“Why are you such a dick?”

“Because I can be. Next question.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Obviously.”

“We’re getting nowhere. Nevermind.”

“Wait!” You yell at him, reaching out and grabbing his wrist as he goes to stand up. “I’m sorry. You just piss me off.”

He pulls his wrist from your grasp with a disgusted look, but he doesn’t get up from his chair. He stares at you silently, which means he wants you to speak up. He’s so fucking entitled, you have to refrain from going off on him for the billionith time.

“Why do you brush me off constantly? I bring you solid, concrete leads and you treat them like they’re nothing. You’re leaving so many loose ends. We’re not any closer to solving this case. Why?”

He hums at you like your question is invalid. You don’t know what you expected. Of course he was just going to be a prick like he always is.

“That’s your perspective on it. A false perspective, but one nonetheless.”

“What does that mean?” The offense is obvious in your voice. More belittling, more brushing off your valid concerns. Of course. Of fucking course.

“Because I’ve followed every last lead and every little piece of evidence. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.”

“Bullshit!” You’re both surprised at your outburst. You can’t hold it back anymore. You can’t stand the lying and fucking diversions anymore. “I’ve been watching you, Leon. I haven’t seen you investigate shit. You pick and choose where you pay attention. This is the FBI’s very best? It’s fucking pathetic.”

He keeps his expression blank and neutral. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck it is you do that’s so fucking incredible that you’ve solved so many cases. Are you taking credit for other people’s work? Are you planting evidence? That’s the only thing that makes sense. You’re an opportunist. It’s like you’re just silently waiting to find the perfect person to blame. Is that it? You frame people to make yourself look better? What is it?”

Your voice is desperate and it’s genuinely embarrassing. But you are desperate. And you don’t wanna sit by anymore, not with the terrible suspicions constantly plaguing your exhausted mind.

“You think I’m covering up for serial killers? You realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. It’s not that fucking farfetched.”

“Why would I do that?”

You let out a noise of frustration, “I don’t know! To make yourself look better? Everyone worships you for the work you’ve done. Maybe it’s for the praise and glory, to stroke your ego.”

He smirks at you and it only enrages you more.

“You told me to ask you questions!” you yell at him, “Now give me fucking answers!”

“I don’t give a shit what people think. You think I would cover up for serial killers to make myself look better? That’s stupid.”

“Then maybe you have another reason!”

“Like?”

“I don’t fucking know! For all I know, you’re the serial killer and you just frame people to cover your own ass. Your job would be the perfect guise wouldn’t it?” It’s just word vomit pouring from your mouth at this point, but something about what you’ve said has Leon jumping to his feet.

Before you even have time to react, he’s leapt across the table. His hand wraps around your neck, pushing you back in your chair until you go crashing to the floor. You cry out in pain as your skull connects with the ground.

Your vision is fuzzy from the impact, but you slowly blink your eyes until they focus back in on Leon’s body hovering over yours. With the grip he has on your throat, you can’t speak. All you can do is look up at him and the unhinged expression on his face.

Leon shifts and there’s a sudden sharp, burning pain in your neck. Your arms shoot up and your fingers connect with the syringe in your neck. Your eyes widen in fear.

“Good detective work, baby. You’ve figured it out. Congratulations! You found your guy!” His smile is huge and combined with his crazy eyes, has you shaking beneath him.

The muscles in your body quickly start to tingle as you lose control of them, slowly going limp beneath him.

“Goodnight.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you pass out.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You’re awake, your eyes are open but your brain still isn’t able to process anything. You stare blankly as you try to actually wake up. The room is a blur and you can hear a voice calling out to you, but you can’t make out what it’s saying.

Sudden white hot pain has your consciousness finally catching up with you. You’re gasping for air as you finally take in your surroundings.

The room is dirty, trash littering the floor around you. The only object in the room is a chair on the other side of the room.

“Good morning. Thought that’d wake you up.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position as Leon appears in front of you. He gently pats your head causing you to cower away from him, but he just laughs at you and walks over to the chair. Every step he takes makes a loud crunching sound as his shoes connect with the debris covering the floor. The only cleared spot is the space surrounding you, just enough for your body to lay in.

You try to speak, but all you can manage to do is cough. Leon sits leisurely in his chair as you struggle through your coughing fit.

The second it passes, while you’re still gasping for air, you call out to him, “Wha-what are you doing? What do you want?”

“Crawl to me.”

You look at him like he’s insane, and in all honesty he is, but he only smirks at the look you’re giving him. He leans back in his chair so casually, legs spread open as his left hand dangles between them. It pisses you off that he looks so good like this. Maybe if he hadn’t just kidnapped you, you would be more willing to appreciate how good the view definitely is.

“I said, crawl to me.” His voice is filled with venom as he points to the ground between his legs. He cannot be fucking serious right now.

You look at the stretch of floor between you two. It’s littered with broken glass and who knows what else. It’s obviously been intentionally spread around. This house may be old and abandoned, but the sharp shards are too clean and perfect to have been sitting here long at all.

He wants you to crawl through shattered glass on your hands and knees to him. Kidnapping you wasn’t enough. Having complete control isn’t enough, he has to exercise it.

“Leon…” you struggle to find the right words, because what are you supposed to say? It’s obvious that you don’t want to crawl across this fucking floor. “Please don’t make me-”

You gasp as your body goes tense from a sudden, unfamiliar pain. It feels like several wasps just stung your neck, and as quick as it hits, it’s gone.

Your muscles finally loosen and your hands shoot up to your neck, feeling some sort of rough fabric with a rectangular plastic box at the front of your throat.

“What the fuck is this?” Your voice is strained, still panting as you try to recover from the pain.

He chuckles at you. “You will address me as sir and you will crawl to me.”

Your fingers are still fiddling with the device strapped to your throat, trying to find some way to take it off. But it’s complicated not being able to see what you’re doing. Just when you think you might be able to slip a finger under the tight, firm fabric, the pain comes back.

The stinging pain is more intense this time and longer. You’re about to collapse, unable to keep yourself in a sitting position, when the pain once again subsides.

You can’t stop the tears pouring down your cheeks, body still shaking and in shock from the intensity of the pain to your neck.

“Now. Stop fucking with your collar and crawl to me.”

Your head shoots up to him at his choice of words. “Collar?”

He licks his lips while a look of amusement lights up his face. “Yes, dumb little bunny. A shock collar. To help you behave.”

The hand that’s been lazily lying between his legs flips around to reveal the remote in his palm. Your eyes widen as your pain riddled brain slowly catches up to the present. A fucking shock collar. He put a shock collar on you like you’re some fucking dog.

“Crawl. To. Me. Now.” He spits out angrily, his tone sending chills down your spine.

When you don’t make any movement, he makes a big show of fiddling with the remote. Taunting you, warning you.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, shit okay. I’ll crawl to you.”

“Crawl to who?”

You push yourself up on your knees and lightly bring your palms to the ground, gently sitting them over top of the shattered glass. “You, sir. I’m going to crawl to you, sir.”

He relaxes in his chair once again at your answer, seemingly pleased with it. “Go on then. What’re you waiting for?”

You take a few deep breaths, attempting to will yourself to move forward. You know you have to do this, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to make the first move.

“Unless you need some more motivation. We could make good use of that collar.”

Your eyes shoot up and look up at him pleadingly, “Please, no.”

“Then fucking move.”

Leon’s patience is completely gone and you don’t want to see what other lengths he’s willing to go to to punish you.

You reach out with your right hand and your right knee slowly follows. You hiss out as your skin connects with some of the shards.

“That’s it, being such a good girl right now.”

Your breathing stops for a moment as a blush creeps up your neck at the praise. You’re so mad at yourself for your body’s reaction to his words. This is already fucking humiliating, how much worse can it get?

You move your left hand forward, breathing through the pain as it connects with the floor and your left knee follows. You’re going slow, being careful not to cut yourself up worse by being hasty.

You move your right hand carefully, blood already spilling from the cuts and onto the glass covered floor. It’s making shards stick to your skin and making everything that much more slippery.

Your right knee connects with the floor, right as the stinging pain returns to your throat. The sudden shock has you digging your knees, hands, and toes in the floor, heightening the pain you were already in.

The pain in your neck is once again gone and you’re left shaking and sobbing as blood puddles around your hands and knees.

“You know how to crawl. Go faster before you piss me off.”

You don’t know why you’re surprised he wants you to crawl faster, causing worse damage to your body. Of course he does. Why would you ever expect to be granted mercy?

You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. At least you won’t have to see the glass you’re crawling into.

You’re still crawling fairly slowly, but a lot faster compared to your previous pace. You’re whining and groaning in pain and you feel the glass embedded deeply in your skin connect with even more glass. Your lower legs and toes are dragging glass behind you.

You feel the burning pain throughout your hands and legs, but you focus on moving your body forward.

“Open your eyes.”

You ignore his demands. You’re doing what he’s asking of you and he has the audacity to ask for even more.

“Look at me when you crawl to me. I will not tell you again. Unless you’d like another… shock of encouragement.”

You raise your chin up from your chest and shakily look up at him, opening your eyes. He smiles at you for listening to him and you wanna rip his fucking face off.

Your heart sinks when you realize you’ve only crawled half way so far. The pain is absolutely nauseating and you’re choking down the bile that keeps rising in your throat.

You begin crawling once again, vision blurry from the tears that are continuously falling.

All you feel is the agonizing pain as you force yourself to Leon’s blurry figure. You’re on the verge of passing out from the pain when you finally place yourself between his legs.

He runs his fingers through your tangled hair, almost soothingly. And you want so badly to jerk your head away, to run from his movements, but you can’t help but give yourself over to the gentle touch. His comfort somehow pulls you back down to Earth from your pain induced robotic state.

“Show me your hands, bunny.”

You go to push yourself up but red hot pain rages through your hands and knees, causing you to scream out in pain. Your body goes to collapse from the sheer exertion, but Leon is quick to catch you, steadying you and forcing you on your knees with your wrists in his hands.

You’re shaking as the glass embedded into your knees is forced deeper into your skin beneath your newly distributed weight. You take deep breaths as you adjust to the new level of pain. Bile fills your mouth, but you’re able to force it back down, the burning sensation of it only adding to your misery.

Your eyes open again after shutting in response to the pain. Your vision clears and you find Leon studying your destroyed hands.

Blood is still oozing from your countless wounds, shards of glass sticking out of your palms and fingers. Your hands and forearms are covered in blood, you can barely see your skin tone through the mess. Your hands are unrecognizable.

He tsks as he continues to look over them. “These are useless to me now. Shame.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words, not sure what the implications of his words are. He releases your wrists and you let your hands fall limply into your lap. When his hands move to his belt and he starts unbuckling it, you gasp and try to move away from him but are instantly met with sharp shooting pains in your legs from your injuries.

You’re stuck in place and there’s nothing you can do about it. Anything you could possibly need to do will require Leon’s help. Just how he planned it.

Rope, duct tape, or any other typical restraints are so boring. Glass being embedded into your skin as you sit in your own blood? Now, that’s new and fascinating. You’re a cute little test subject for his vile thoughts and ideas.

He slides the zipper down his pants and you finally look down at what he’s doing.

What the fuck? He’s hard, not just hard, but really fucking hard and about to pull his dick out right in your face.

Your throat is raw from your previous wailing so your words come out scratchy. “What, what are you doing?”

“Oh, baby… Look how hard you’ve made my cock. It’s only fair that you let me cream that tight, hot throat in return.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t be such a fucking prude.” He rolls his eyes as he stands before you, sliding his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to pop out, his tip poking your lips. You attempt to pull your head back, but his hand is quick to grab onto your hair and push your face into his cock. You’re frantically trying to turn your face away from him, but it only has him gripping your hair impossibly tighter.

“Now, now. You don’t need another shock of encouragement do you?”

“N-no. Please.”

“Then start sucking. And don’t try anything smart because I am more than happy to shock your annoying little ass again.”

Before you can even prepare yourself, he’s pressing his fingers into your cheeks and forcing your mouth open, immediately shoving his cock into the back of your throat. You’re instantly gagging. And you’re already so close to throwing up that you’re certain you’re going to puke all over this man's dick.

“See, princess? You don’t want me to do it my way. So fucking behave and don’t stop until I’m creaming that fucking mouth.”

He pulls his dick out and you’re immediately running your tongue up and down his tip. You’re ready to do anything to keep him from choking you like that again.

“Make me cum in less than two minutes and maybe I’ll consider sparing you.”

You suck his tip into your wet mouth, the taste of his precum flooding your taste buds.

“There ya go. You’re so hot, all dirty and bloody for me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum so fast. Pretty bunny has such a good mouth when she’s not running it.” He chuckles at his own words as you quickly bob your mouth up and down on his dick.

“Just like that. You ready to taste me, baby? Need to cream this throat.” He speaks quickly as he starts to thrust, meeting every bob of your head. His grip in your hair tightens as his hips still and he holds his tip against the back of your throat.

You resist the urge to gag and cough as you feel his cum fill your throat. You think he’ll never be done when he finally pulls himself from your mouth and stuffs his cock back in his pants. He refastens his belt and turns to walk away, but stops and looks down at you.

“Here.” He grabs your shoulder, causing you to gasp, as he pushes you down to the floor, until you’re laying on your back. “I’ll spare you.”

And then he’s quickly leaving the house, confident that you’re not going anywhere anytime fast. You realize you’re in less pain being off your hands and knees and breathe a sigh of relief. Your weight is distributed better over the glass, so your back and legs only tingle and sting slightly.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You’re not sure how much time passes as you drift in and out of sleep, but when the front door finally opens, you can’t mask your excitement at Leon finally returning.

“Leon?” You call out in a happy, relieved voice.

“Hi, bunny. How are you doing?” His tone is lighter than you’ve ever heard it before and it fills you with hope.

“I’m gonna piss my pants, can you take me to the bathroom?” The back of your legs are getting badly cut up because you can’t keep your body still as your bladder throbs and aches.

“Sweetheart, you’re so silly.”

His tone is mocking. “What?” You're obviously confused and it has him shaking his head.

“That’s not my problem.”

“I can’t get up.” You whine out, praying he’ll give in and help you.

“I know,” he coos at you, “You’re gonna have to just piss yourself then. But don’t worry, I’ll stay here and watch.”

“What?”

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It hurts so much.”

“And you know exactly what will relieve you of that pain don’t you?”

“But I can’t get myself up.”

“That’s too bad.”

You’re so fucking confused. You don’t understand what his game is here. It has to be about control, the humiliation it’ll bring you. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and try your best to pretend this isn’t happening, but the pain is only getting worse and worse.

“Bunny… Just relax. You’ll feel better if you just relax.”

“Fuck no, Leon. No fucking way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!” You open your eyes and give him a dirty look. “I’m not going to lay on the floor in my own blood and piss! What’s wrong with you?”

He smiles as he shakes his head, “You don’t have a choice, baby.”

You don’t know what to say to him. What can you say? Beg for his help? Hope he actually cares? It’s all so useless. You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut and clenching every muscle in your body. This is so stupid, so fucking stupid.

“You really want my help?” Leon breaks the silence, pulling you from your thoughts.

You look up at him once again, “Please.”

“Okay, I��ll help you.” You breathe a sigh of relief. He’s going to help you, there’s some sort of hope. If he can find it in himself to help you now, maybe you’ll be okay. Maybe everything will fall into place.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a familiar remote. Your eyes widen in shock, realizing what he’s about to do. “Wait, Leon, don’t-”

But you aren’t even able to finish your statement before the shocks are shooting into your body and every muscle tenses up in resistance. A few seconds feel like minutes before the pain stops and your body goes limp on the ground. Every muscle in your body softens.

Before you can even process what’s happening, before your mind even comes back to yourself, you register a warmth growing on your thighs and ass. The warmth spreads further as you come back to yourself.

The second you realize what’s happening, you wish you’d remained oblivious. You try to stop it, but your body is so weakened that you have no more control.

You lay on the floor in your dried blood mixing with your hot piss. You’re no longer peeing, but the humiliation has tears welling up in your eyes.

The liquid starts to cool quickly in the chilly air and it has you shivering on the floor. It has you wishing you were dead.

Suddenly, Leon’s petting your head and hushing you. “You’re a good girl, you know that? Did such a good job for me.”

Your eyes dart up to his face. “What?”

“So pretty like this. All wet and helpless.” Your thighs clench together at the praise, furthering your humiliation. Leon notices immediately and smirks down at you. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

You whine as he lifts you in his arms. You’re slack in his arms because of the extensive injuries to your body. You feel your piss soaked body pressed against him and knowing your piss is getting on him makes you wanna vomit.

But that’s not the only thing you feel. This time it’s a lot less surprising, but doesn’t make things make any more sense. His erection pressed against your ass and you don’t have the energy to point it out or try to push yourself away from it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Thankfully, not a whole lot of glass is embedded in the skin of your back, so you can happily lay in the blankets piled on top of the mattress without causing yourself any more pain.

You lay with your arms against your sides, avoiding making contact with your hands. Every time you look at your hands, your stomach twists and turns at the deformed skin. They’re cut to shit and glass shards stick out haphazardly all throughout the skin.

“Are you comfortable?” Leon asks as he runs a cold, wet washcloth across your forehead.

“As comfortable as I can be.”

“Good, good.” Leon gets up and walks across the room. You let your eyes fall shut, your body crying out for blissful sleep.

You hear Leon’s footsteps approach your bedside, not bothering to open your eyes. You’re not even sure you could open your eyes if you wanted to.

“Baby, keep your eyes shut for me, alright?” You nod as he softly caresses your cheek, pushing your hair from your face.

“Can you stick your tongue out for me? I got a surprise for you.” You hum in response, too tired to question him. But you couldn’t help the hope growing in your stomach at the thought he might finally give you some water or food.

You lol your tongue out as far as you can and feel him grab it with his thumb and pointer finger. He grips it tightly. You’re not sure why he’s doing it, but once again, you’re too exhausted to question him or resist it.

“This will be quick.”

You make a “huh” sound as best as you can with your tongue in its current position, and that’s when you hear a disgusting snip sound followed by squelching.

You start screaming as excruciating pain sets in. Your screams are cut short as you start choking on your own blood, the liquid pouring from the wound and slipping down your throat.

Leon grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a sitting position, allowing the blood to pour down your chin rather than your throat. Your body is shaking from the pain, you’re on the verge of passing out, feeling the darkness creeping up on you, awaiting to consume you completely.

“There you go, baby. I got rid of the thing that causes you the most trouble. You’re perfect now.”

Your tears pour down your face, mixing with the blood coming from your mouth. You look down at the bedspread in front of you and the sight of your severed tongue has your vision going foggy. You let out one final cry before passing out from the pain and blood loss.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It’s been fourteen years, but you still remember it like it was yesterday. You relive those events every fucking day of your miserable existence. It doesn’t help that you have optimal time to think about it in your small prison cell on death row.

Of course he handed you over to the police with some elaborate story on how he found you out and when he confronted you, you went crazy and mutilated yourself. And of course, you can’t properly defend yourself, considering he took your fucking tongue. You could write out your claims of innocence over and over, but how could you possibly convey it with words alone?

Leon framed you for all of the murders. Planted all the evidence at your apartment and in your car, “finding” all the overlooked leads in your office. It was a pretty open and shut case. Took the jury less than an hour to find you guilty and for you to get sentenced to death.

Tomorrow’s the day. You’ll finally get the lethal injection and be free from your own personal purgatory. You’re confined to a prison cell by yourself 24/7 considering if you show your face outside of it, other inmates are instantly on you. You’re America’s most brutal female serial killer, how could they not want to kill you?

It’d be too easy if the prison would just let the other inmates go through with it. Just put you out of your misery and throw your body into the prison’s graveyard. But no. No amount of suffering will ever be enough to pay for “your” crimes.

You hate yourself. You look at your unrecognizable, mutilated hands and all you can do is sigh as you slip one down between your spread thighs to relieve the ache you feel between them.

In your line of work, you were well aware that trauma could cross wires in your brain. You can’t control your trauma responses. But the fact that your pussy is always soaking wet when you think about his dick in your mouth and the praising words he spoke to you is torture in itself.

You try to think of anything else, anything else at all. Even when your fantasies don’t revolve around that man, you can’t get yourself off without thinking of what he did to you.

As you lay in bed, shirt stuffed between your teeth to silence your sounds, you feel your climax grow closer and closer and his face above you is all you can see. And no matter how many times you go over it with yourself, telling yourself it’s a trauma response, you know the truth. You know that deep down you loved what he did to you and the only thing that makes you so angry is the fact that he put you here.

Here in this cold, lonely cell to waste away for the rest of your days. Leaving you with a heart, soul, and cunt that aches for him. You know what he’s done and you hate it, but you can’t bring yourself to hate him.

And as your wetness runs down your fingers, coating your palm in the proof of exactly what he does to you, all you can think about is that fucking day. You’re going to die tomorrow and here you are touching yourself to the man that put you here.

Your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a shaking and shivering mess in your threadbear sheets on your paper thin cot. It’d be so much easier to hate him, but you have the curse of hating yourself instead.

Tomorrow you will die and pay for your crimes. And maybe the crimes you’ll be dying for aren’t yours, but you still deserve to pay for being so fucked in the head. So you’re happy, almost giddy to be dying tomorrow.

Maybe you’ve gone mad, or maybe you were always mad to begin with and it took him coming along to pull it out of you. Either way, not like it fucking matters. You’ll still be dead and he’ll still be a free man. But you caught the killer and for that, you’ll always be a good fucking detective.

~masterlist~

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raainberry · 3 months

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Corrupt Kisses

« silly series - 12 »

synopsis - is corruption really a crime if it’s Sana’s kisses?

wordcount - 725

A/N - finally fought back writers block, we cheered🥳 (i am losing)

You never found your name special until you heard Sana say it. There was something behind the way she sounded it out; a feeling, a meaning. It felt as though it meant something to her. Something bigger than you could ever understand.

You knew it had something to do with the obvious love and affection she felt for you, yet you couldn’t quite tell the reason. Why she felt this way about you was beyond you, but you’d be a fool not to accept it.

You just hoped her love ran as deep as yours did for her, and it seemed like it. Especially when she left those sweet, soft kisses all over your face for whatever reason.

The small glimpses of happiness you caught on her glowing features felt unreal. Your heart fluttered at the sight every time, confused and unable to process how such beauty was reserved for you and only you.

That feeling, along with the overwhelming amount of love pouring out of her lips in those moments, often made you dizzy. The only thing you could grasp and distinguish was her giggles, her voice as she teased you about how you loved it despite all your grimacing and whining.

“Y/n…” Sana sung, dodging your hands and arms as you tried to push her love away. She managed to steal a few kisses here and there, weakening your defense, but you held up.

All those kisses were all fun and games until she used them against you, baiting and bribing you on the regular over harmless and ridiculous tasks. Last time she did, you found yourself carrying her home on your back for several blocks. She was well aware of her power, you enjoyed it, but maybe it was time for restrictions…

“Can you please help me?” She whined through giggles as you crossed your arms over your face. That way she couldn’t numb your common sense with that sweet love of hers.

“You’re so foul, Sana, using my love for your dirty jobs!” You wiped her kisses off your cheeks and she scoffed.

“I am not using you! I’m just asking you to do me a little favor.” She argued, playing with the collar of your shirt.

You sighed, dropping your arms below your nose to peek at her. Her eyes immediately met yours, abandoning the fabric between her fingers in order to put her full focus on that pout you couldn’t say no to.

“That’s the same thing.” You pointed out, taking her aback.

Had she lost her charm? Why didn’t it work? Did you fall out of love? Her thoughts were far from reasonable until she felt your hands cupping her face, lightly squishing her cheeks together and smiling at the sight of her. “Admit it.”

“Only if you actually help me.” She said, still pouting but in an angry way now, letting you know she was set on making you fold.

In a way, you could understand her dedication. She had gotten herself in a bit of trouble by hosting the latest get together with her friends. Her living room was a hot mess, to the point your jaw dropped when you walked in moments ago. You guessed it hasn’t been long since she woke up when you saw her bedhead dragging a trashbag, lazily pulling and grabbing whatever waste was closest to her.

“Last time I helped you it took us hours, I’m not going through this again!” You told her as your mind flashed back to the terrifying memories of that one day (also known as Sana’s birthday morrow).

“But it was different, that was like the whole apartment…”

“That’s not at all why it took us hours.” You reminded her, and a smile creeped on her lips as she remembered the numerous ways you’d gotten side tracked.

“Okay, but it won’t take long if we actually stick to cleaning up.”

“No kisses, no snack breaks, no breather, nothing.” You warned and she shook her head, agreeing to the conditions.

“Only cleaning up, I promise.” She said before stealing a kiss from your lips. “Starting from now.”

You could only blink and stare as she slipped away from your hold, her melodious giggles letting you know how proud she was of herself.

“I can still leave and let you deal with this alone, you know?” You said, trying to erase the blush from her kiss.

“Sure you can, but you won’t.” She smiled, sure of herself.

And she had every reason to be.

#twice x reader #sana x reader #sana imagines #kpop x reader #twice imagines #sana fluff #twice sana #minatozaki sana

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joelmillerisapunk · 3 months

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Brothers in Arms | i. don't talk to strangers

Cartel!Joel and Tommy Miller x Reader

masterlist | series masterlist

↳ Wordcount: 6,281

↳ Warnings: 18+, you're being watched, but it's different (it's the pick me quirky kinda being watched), you meet the boys, tags will added to each chapter

↳ Authors Note: Welcome, I hope you enjoy the first chapter. This is the first series I've ever written (please be gentle) also I couldn't find an accurate representation of cartel Tommy because Gabriel Luna is too cute and smiley, so I had to go suitless Tommy 🥰

Ten missed calls from your dad…

You didn't want to talk to him. You knew that as soon as you answered the phone, you'd forgive him for telling you that you didn’t have the guts to be a criminal psychologist. He told you that you were too sweet to survive. That those criminal types would eat you.

You suppose his feelings shouldn’t surprise you considering his “war on crime” campaign. He said the only place for criminals was prison. Do the crime, do the time. Completely ignoring the statistics that people that go through the system will end up back in again because the prison system tries to profit off prisoners instead of, you know, help them, like they were supposed to.

Like talking to a brick wall.

It didn’t matter that you were well on your way to a bachelor’s degree and then a master’s degree afterward. He had his own stubborn ideologies that no one, not even an expert in that field could dispute.

Fucking politicians.

Your phone buzzed again. This time a text.

Dad: Call me

You: No. I have plans. Stop calling me.

You threw your phone on the little twin bed in your dorm, watching it bounce on the thin mattress. Your roommate, Natalie, invited you to go out tonight. Most of the time, she ignored you, and who could blame her? You weren't the chatty type.

Two years into your degree, you were still buried in a book, absorbing every little bit of information you could because you found it so interesting. Natalie was a marketing major, so there wasn’t any crossover.

In your defence, your major was a bit more demanding so you didn’t have a lot of free time. But, you really chalk it up to being your dad’s only child. You were practically wrapped in bubble wrap since the moment you were born. But after getting into the thousandth fight with your father, you wanted to live a little. There was this club downtown you were being taken out to, your first experience at a club. You were terrified.

The dorm door opened. “Hey, girly. You ready?” You turned to see Natalie standing there, perfect brunette eyebrows raised. She was built like a supermodel. You swear a potato sack would look like high fashion on her. Meanwhile, you stood there in your most club-worthy dress, and it still had a collar. Natalie’s eyes flickered across your dress.

“Do you have a meeting after this or something?” she teased, not in a playful way. Her voice had a mean tilt, but you were so starved for a female friend that you were willing to let it slide.

"I don’t have anything to wear,” you stated, gesturing to your half of the closet that was filled about an eighth of the way. You lived in your sweatshirt. 104 degrees Texas heat and you’d still wear that thing around because your classes were cold as fuck.

Natalie laughed quietly, “Of course, you don’t. Do you think you can even keep up with me and my friends tonight? There’s no shame in staying in and reading…again.” She said it like there was definitely shame in doing that.

As much as it pissed you off internally, you let yourself wither. You wouldn’t get what you wanted if you snapped at her. “I’ll be fine,” you murmured sheepishly.

She passed you, smelling like expensive shampoo, and opened your dresser. “I’ll find something for you. That dress will make you stick out like a sore thumb.” She tossed a few items on your mattress. “There, jeans and this cute little lacy thing.”

“That is a bra,” you pointed out. “I’m not wearing just a bra.”

“You’re no fun. I’ve got a mesh top to put over it. You’ve got the tits for it,” Natalie said. “Show a little skin.'' You were a little thrown at the compliment, but you'd take it. “And take your hair down, the messy tousle is really in right now,” Natalie mentioned as she waited for you to finish up. And as you got dressed, you think she might have been right. Showing a little skin but feeling covered up was a fantastic combination. You felt hot.

Natalie seemed happy with her handiwork. You grabbed your phone and wallet, and you were off. You called an Uber to take you to the club to meet up with her friends, Monica and Katherine. And for once, you felt like you blended in with them. You looked like you belonged in the same friend group, and that, in and of itself, was exhilarating.

The bouncer checked your IDs, and you were in. You'd have to say that the bumping bodies, the confined space, the loud music, and the flashing lights were really disorienting. But you were determined to have fun tonight. Your heart crashed against your ribs, and you could feel the bass in your bones, vibrating your entire body. You just needed a drink to settle yourself.

Following Natalie and her friends to the bar, she bought you your first drink and shouted, “Thanks for coming out tonight!” The bartender handed you all shot glasses full of a clear, potent-smelling liquid. Tequila. You may have never had it yourself, but you always smelled it on your mom’s breath when she was around. Your stomach rolled, but you raised the shot glass and replied, “Thanks for inviting me! Cheers!”

You threw it back before you could register how the other girls were licking salt off their hands and chasing it with a hard bite of lime. The strong liquor hit your stomach, causing a wave of nausea to hit you, but you gulped it down and pretended like you meant to do that.

“Cheap tequila straight,” Monica said before looking over at Natalie. “Where’d you find her? I like her.”

You shot her a pained smile, fighting the burn in your throat. Natalie laughed and said, “Come on, let’s dance! I see some guys on the dance floor that I wouldn’t mind going home with.” You arched a brow, and you finally got a genuine smile out of her. “Not our dorm, obvi. I’m trashy, but not that trashy,” Natalie promised.

That made you laugh a little, your belly started to feel warm from the first shot you had ever taken. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You went out to the dance floor, wedging yourselves between bustling bodies. You felt a little nervous, your palms getting clammy, but you just followed everyone’s lead. You bounced along to the music, letting the bass dictate your hip rolls. Soon, you started to warm up. It was fun to dance around and move with the crowd.

Sweat beaded behind your neck, and you turned to the side, locking eyes with a dark-eyed man sitting at the bar. He wasn’t drinking, but there was no mistake that he was looking right at you. Your belly fluttered as you took him in, no longer interested in dancing. His broad frame slanted against the bar, his shirt was slightly unbuttoned and rolled up his forearms.

What is it about forearms? Your belly quivered a little bit.

You turned to see what Natalie and the others were doing, but she seemed to be choking on some random guy’s tongue in the corner. Part of you envied that. The ability to see what you want and act on it.

You were more methodical. Always a thinker. But this time, you wanted to act. There was a sinfully attractive man in the corner eyeing you. If you didn’t act on it, someone else would.

Oh, God, but what if he was looking at someone else?

As if sensing your hesitance, he waved at you, and you looked around, pointing at yourself like, “Who, me?” Even from several feet away, you could see a dimpled smile as the mystery man nodded, beckoning you over to the bar. You slid out from around the bodies to the slightly quieter bar. Up close, he was even more attractive. He was older than you but you weren't sure how much older. Certainly, the type of man well settled in his career. Made you wonder what he was doing at a club when statistically–

Hey, you told yourself, stop psychoanalysing strangers.

“Hi,” you greeted, unsure what else to say. You were very out of your comfort zone, but tonight was all about doing new things. Not that you were going to do him or–

“Hi,” he answered. “Do you want a drink?”

You tucked some hair behind your ear, heat in your cheeks from how you noticed his eyes follow your fingertip like he could see all of you. You'd never felt so naked before, but you made the mistake of looking down to see your tits proudly on display under the mesh shirt, in a lacy red bra. Your cheeks fired up even faster. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Maybe a drink would cool your nerves. Doubtful, but worth a shot. Ha. Shot. You could use one of those.

“Hmm, let me guess your drink,” the mystery man offered.

A smile curved the side of your mouth, and you were too intrigued to argue. “Okay, give me your best guess.”

“You don’t drink much, if at all,” he said, tapping his chin with a thick finger. “But if I had to guess that you were a wine cooler type of girl.”

You were shocked because he was absolutely right. How’d he get that off a look? “But, since wine coolers are shit, let me recommend a Tequila Sunset,” he said. “It packs a little more of a punch, but it’s fruity enough to take out the bite.”

You purse your lips, unsure if you'd like it, but you were in too deep not to humor him. “You know what? Sure.”

He turned to the bartender and ordered it. The bartender made a show of mixing it up for you before placing a lovely glass of orange fading into a berry red from the grenadine. He watched you intently with those intense eyes as you took a sip, marvelling that the juice took out that awful taste of tequila. You repressed a smile and said, “That’s quite delicious.”

He returned your grin with one of his own, showing off perfectly straight teeth. “I’m Joel. And you are…?”

And you answered, giving him your name.

“It suits you.”

Your face felt hot, not expecting that response. “Thanks.” You took another sip of your yummy cocktail that tasted more like juice than liquor. “So, Joel, tell me how you guessed my drink of choice.”

He shrugged his toned shoulders, drawing your gaze to the chords of muscle around his neck. Never once have you ever wanted to take a bite out of a human being, but here you were, wondering how his muscles would feel between your teeth. He wasn’t close enough to smell his cologne, but he just looked like he smelled good.

“You don’t look like you come to clubs often, so it was a lucky guess,” Joel said.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked meekly. Here you thought you were blending in nicely, but maybe you did stick out.

He smiled at me and said, “No. My brother owns a club so I’m in them pretty frequently. Checking out the competition.”

That made you feel better. You parted your lips to ask another question when Natalie came between Joel and you to order another drink. She took a step back at your side and gave Joel a once over. “And where have you been hiding?” Natalie said flirtatiously.

While Joel looked at you, he was smiling. Visibly interested in you, but with Natalie, he looked very bored. He ignored her completely, which you would have found rude if it wasn’t also incredibly hot. You liked the attention.

“Can I have your phone?” he asked, outstretching his hand to you.

You reached into your jeans pocket and pulled it out, placing it in his hand. Nervously, you sipped your drink. Was he really about to give you his number? He saved himself in your phone and handed it back. “Call me,” he said, standing up from the barstool. “Or don’t. But I really hope you do.”

He flashed you one more dimpled smile, shot Natalie one more dirty look, and left.

“What a dick,” Natalie grumbled, but you were too engrossed in the contact info. You had a hundred notifications from your dad in the notification bar, but your eyes were locked on Joel's name.

“Whatever, let’s go dance.” Natalie grabbed your arm, clearly irritated at the one man in the entire club who wasn’t showing her attention. You relented, tucking your phone into your pocket as you danced the night away with Natalie, the mysterious man from the bar on your mind.

Should I call him?

You looked at your phone, lingering on Joel's contact info. Your thumb hovered over the message button, but you turned off your screen instead. Study. You need to study. You divert your attention to your criminal psychology textbook, taking notes for various terms you need to know. You didn’t necessarily need the notes. You remembered everything you saw.

A gift and a curse. A gift for college. A curse because you can’t forget anything. Your dad’s bribe deals. All the sketchy shit he got himself involved in, you remembered. You could even remember the name on the check with crystal clear accuracy. Sierpente. A distinct last name. Of course, considering how fast your dad snapped that check away from you only solidified it in your memory. He played it off, but you knew how nervous he was. Whoever this Sierpente was, they were bad news.

So sure, you were avoiding your dad because you were angry with him, but you also didn’t want to get tangled in his web. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. Because you were also a terrible liar.

You were practically a walking textbook.

You sighed, leaning back on your rolly chair to tie your hair up. It wasn’t a very good bun, but your hair was always so unruly anyway. Your leg shook, and you couldn’t stop tapping your pen on your desk, eyes darting back to your phone again.

Fuck it. I’ll text the mystery man from the other night.

Keep it short and simple. Don’t sound desperate. Joel was too attractive to find desperate and endearing. You typed a few letters only to backspace.

You: Hi, it’s the girl from the other…

Nope. Nope. Nope.

You: Salutations. I was pleased to meet…

Salutations? You started to backspace when you accidentally hit send. Sounding like a fucking weirdo by texting “Salutations—”

Giving up hope, you turned off your screen and placed it facedown on your desk. Way to fucking go. That’s the last time you ever try to make a move. You pressed your palm into your forehead. Never once had you ever used that greeting before, but you decided to send it to a drop-dead gorgeous man you met at a club.

Way to fuck that one up.

Why were you so hung up on it? Joel had this energy about him. You felt it when you were next to him. It intrigued you. You remembered what his hands looked like. Burned into your vision with perfect accuracy. You bet those hands would look great around your throat.

And where the fuck did that come from?

A spike of lust coiled in your belly at the image. Lust wasn’t completely foreign to you, but you never acted on it. Boys never interested you. Surrounded by boys in class and on campus. You'd always been attracted to older men, but you had no idea how to make a move. And your inexperience was apparently a massive turn-off.

Your phone buzzed, and you flipped it over to see that Joel texted back.

Joel: Salutations to you too. Who’s this?

Your face warmed as you tried to wait the appropriate amount of time before texting back. But in reality, you replied in about ten seconds.

You: From the other night at the bar.

Three dots appeared, keeping you on the edge of your seat.

Joel: Tequila Sunrise? How are you?

You: Just studying. You?

Joel: Another boring day at the office. You up for a phone call? I’d like to hear that sweet little voice without all that music.

Your stomach lurched up to your throat, and you started to feel incredibly warm despite your sleep shorts, oversized tee, and the AC blasting over your head. You looked over to Natalie’s unmade bed. She likely wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. A little phone call wouldn’t hurt.

You: Sure. One sec.

joel's pov

A small smirk pulled to the side of his mouth as he pulled back the curtain to look through his scope into your room. Joel was set up in an abandoned dorm across the courtyard. Temporary until the recon team set up cameras, and he could finally go back to his own bed.

You paced around your room, looking at your phone. Visibly nervous as you gave yourself a pep talk. Fuck, you were cute.

The past few weeks, he’d been assigned to you. Keeping an eye on you for Don Sierpente. A nice change of pace from breaking kneecaps and cutting off fingers. His usual mark was easy. Kill or send a message. Make it look like an accident. You, however, were a particular case. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you. In fact, he was supposed to make sure no harm came to you until Don was ready for his move. Keep his distance until his orders suddenly changed this past weekend.

“Get close to her,” Tommy ordered, playing liaison for Don. “We need her to trust you.”

Trust me? The girl was naive, not stupid. But I’d play. Could be fun.

As usual, he had eyes on you while you were at your desk that evening, nibbling on a pen and tapping your foot. You kept making little notes from your forensic psychology textbook. Wearing an oversized t-shirt and cute little pajama shorts, you looked good enough to eat.

“Call me, you sweet little thing,” he murmured, just loud enough for his brother, Tommy, to hear. He rolled his shoulders, raising his eyes to look at Joel, lips tilted downward in a displeased grimace.

Joel's phone rang and he lifted it to his ear, answering, “Joel.”

“H-Hey, um…this is, uh I was just texting you,” your cute voice whispered nervously over the phone.

He could feel his dimple puncture his cheek as his grin widened. “I know. Salutations.”

“Oh, dear God,” you muttered with audible embarrassment.

Your anxious little breaths were endearing. Joel was tempted to stay quiet and wait to see how long it took until you crumbled, babbling about something just to fill the silence.

“So, uh, about the salutations thing. That was an accident.” You twirled a loose tendril of hair around your finger, pacing back and forth in a circle. He liked that, even from a distance, he could watch you squirm.

“You mean you don’t send salutations as a greeting to everyone?” He already knew the answer to that when he got the text and saw you smash your palm into your forehead.

You laughed nervously. “Ha. Yeah…uh, I was supposed to delete that. But it sent so I gave up on getting a text back.”

“Gave up that quick, huh?” Joel teased. “Shame.”

“About five seconds from deleting your contact too.”

Joel gave a mock gasp. “Wow, darlin’, that’s just cruel.”

You made a cute-sounding giggle, finally warming up a little bit. He glanced over at his brother, clearly distracting himself with a text—probably from Eli—before he put his phone down and made a motion to cut the call. Joel rolled his eyes at him, turning away completely.

“Hey, baby girl, I actually have to go. Bossman is walking in.”

The pet name took you off guard, but he liked the way you paced when you were nervous and how you twirled your hair. “Okay. Nice talking to you?” you said more like a question like you weren't sure how to end the call.

“Definitely. I could fall asleep listening to that sweet little voice.” Or jerk off to it, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Talk to you later.”

He hung up, arching a brow at Tommy. “What?”

“Babygirl? Really?” he inquired, crossing his arms.

“You’d like her, Tommy. Just your type,” he smirked. “And if she’s your type, then you know she’s mine.”

“The last time you dated a woman you were attracted to, she turned out to be a raging psychopath,” Tommy commented.

“Exactly. You have better taste in women,” he winked. He raised the scope to get one last eyeful of you before Tommy told him whatever he had to say.

“She’s undressing right now,” Joel baited. You weren’t. It wouldn’t have bothered him, but he knew it bothered Tommy. And it was always fun to fuck with him. Tommy's eyebrows furrowed, frown deepening. Always fucking frowning. Always pissed off.

“You want a peek? She’s got the assets.”

Suddenly, Tommy stood up and ripped the scope out of his hands. “She’s a mark. Not your personal peep show,” he practically hissed.

“You’re telling me that the Don wants me to get close to her, but not fuck her?”

“For the love of God, don’t fuck her. She’s the congressman’s daughter. We’re only watching her as insurance that he’ll follow through with his promise to rule in our favor. Then we leave.”

Well, that was a fucking contradiction. Why would Joel have to get close to her if he had to watch her? “What if she fucks me?”

“For fuck’s sake, Joel.” Tommy pinched his nose in frustration. “Drop it.”

He leaned back, pleased by Tommy's reaction. “She’s been my mark for three weeks and you don’t even know what she looks like.” Joel took a pack of smokes out of his jeans pocket, lighting up right in the room. “Humor me. See for yourself how fucking cute she is.”

“No,” Tommy hissed.

“Why? Do you think you’ll get attached?” Joel pouted his lower lip. “I know you have a soft spot for soft spoken women. I thought you were supposed to be the big bad Tommy Miller and now you won’t even look in the direction of a mark? You’re not even the least bit curious why the Don has his eye on her?”

Joel was baiting him and he knew it. He didn’t even know why he did this, but he liked getting under Tommy's skin. It proved that he still had a heart after all the shit that happened to them. He wasn’t like Joel and he shouldn’t be. He carried all that weight for them so no one else had to feel it. All that stress could break a man down.

Tommy sighed, sitting back down at the table, and taking Joel's scope with him. “Why do you think you were assigned to this?”

Joel raised his eyebrows. “Enlighten me. Why wasn’t Eli assigned for babysitting duty?”

“Because he would start to feel bad about her. You, on the other hand, don’t feel much of anything,” he said.

He was right. The only attachments he had were Tommy and Eli, his brothers. Part of him wondered what it would be like to care. A small little part of him ached for those attachments. But most of him didn’t give a fuck unless it gave him something he wanted.

“Speaking of, he’s flying back from Mexico next week,” Tommy explained.

“About fucking time. I missed the empathetic asshole,” Joel commented. Eli was too nice for this line of work. He wasn’t a good fit for the cartel, but he was trapped in this arrangement. So was Joel. So was Tommy.

They were Don Sierpiente’s lapdogs and there wasn’t jack shit they could do about it. Til the day they died, the old fuck owned them. Tommy at least had enough sense to make himself indispensable. And if Tommy was indispensable, so were the rest of them. Package deal. The Miller brothers. They were a package deal in many parts of life.

Tommy nodded, deep in thought. He didn’t like it when Eli was sent over the border because he never knew if he’d come back. He was sure Eli could handle himself just fine, but Tommy practically raised them, so he still sees Eli as the thirteen-year-old jackass who moved the neighbor’s gnome every morning to make her think it was moving on its own. And Tommy, being eighteen and struggling to help mom make ends meet at the time, felt like he needed to protect Eli from every little thing. Of course, good ol’ Eli doesn’t help his case when he still plays tricks all these years later.

Tommy got up from his seat, still pissed off. This time, not at Joel, it was at whoever was messaging him. Not that he would ever tell Joel what was really going on. Tommy was still trying to protect his brothers. Joel would find it endearing if it didn’t annoy him so much.

“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later,” Tommy said as he left before Joel could get a word in. But, he’d done his part. Now Joel just had to watch the pieces fall into place.

your pov

Time for coffee. Your caffeine fix. You were up all night studying for some bullshit math test that had nothing to do with your major, but it was a requirement. Sure, you can remember obscure terms or exactly what someone was wearing at brunch four years ago. But math? Your Achilles heel. So now you had to wake back up before you went to the class you actually liked. You just hoped you survived math long enough to get the credit for your transcript and never have to do an equation ever again.

Your phone buzzed.

Tucking your book under your arm, you reached into your pocket to see a missed message from Joel. You'd only met him a week ago, but you really enjoyed texting him. Your lips quirked into a smile when you saw it.

Joel: Hey, do you want to get a drink with me?

You: Tonight? I can’t. I have a morning class tomorrow.

Joel: That’s a shame.

Your stomach twisted because you did want to get a drink with him. He made you nervous in a good way and…he intrigued you.

You: Tomorrow?

Joel: Tomorrow is good.

Say something flirty.

You: Maybe I’ll let you buy me a drink.

Oh yeah. Hook, line, and sinker. You could pat yourself on the back for that one.

Joel: What else would you let me do?

Instantly, your entire body was hot. You could hear that sentence in his voice. That deep, sexy voice that made your knees wobble when you talked to him on the phone. That sweet-talker. But you'd be lying if you said you didn’t like it. You like how your belly flushed with heat. What would you let him do to you?

You: Buy a girl dinner first, Joel.

You giggled to yourself at that one, shifting foot to foot, still walking toward that coffee shop without a care as to where you were going.

Joel: I’ll take you up on that, baby girl.

Why did you like that? Never once had you ever liked being called baby girl or doll or sweetheart or any pet name, but when Joel said it so nonchalantly on the phone, your thighs tingled. Wetness pooled in your panties, and you didn’t understand why you liked it so much. Joel was an anomaly to you. He drew you in. Sent little shivers down your spine. Whether it was danger or attraction, you weren't quite sure. You were still trying to pinpoint exactly what it was about him. Maybe it was his absolute certainty in himself. The arrogance you could hear in his voice. He knew who he was, and you were still trying to find that out about yourself. Maybe you envied it a little bit. You had this urge to absorb some of that certainty.

Really, it didn’t surprise you. You were a psychology major and therefore hyperaware of how your parents influenced your childhood. You dissect people based on their walk, the flicker in their eyes, and the fluctuations in their voices. You could read just about anyone. Except for Joel. His mannerisms contradicted themselves. He’d say one thing with complete conviction while his body language said something else entirely. You wanted to get into his head and figure out what he was thinking. That came from your mother. She was an alcoholic talk show host who knew what buttons to press to make the best TV. Your father knew how to manipulate people to get what he wanted. A match made in Hell. That’s why they’re divorced.

Some divorced kids would be excited to have two versions of holidays, but while your dad spoiled you rotten, your mother forgot you existed. She’d forget birthdays. Important events. Always absent. Always drunk. Months, you were trapped in her condo, wondering if you'd find her body, finally worn to nothing from years of substance abuse. You would wake up on Christmas day to find her intoxicated on the kitchen floor, knife in her hand, in a pool of her own sick. You never knew what she planned to do with that knife. Was it for you? Or for her?

She’d tell you she was fine. That she wouldn’t relapse again. You had to protect yourself from her. No child should ever have to protect themselves from their parents. She was always lying. Eventually, your dad got full custody of you. He wasn’t much better, but at least you knew he loved you in his own way.

Unfortunately, he overcorrected. And manipulated to “keep you safe”. Your dad was a master manipulator. Your childhood was in the confines of homeschooling and avoiding paparazzi. But the love child of a politician and a public TV personality made for a complicated childhood. It only got worse as you started to grow up. You became anti-social. Cautious. You're still trying to unlearn the survival mechanisms you taught yourself. The flinching and the shaking. The “shut up and smile,” mentality.

Now you were free from your father’s legal ownership of you, but there was only so much behavior you could correct. And that’s why you have an uncanny ability to know when people are lying to you. You swear you're too fucking observant for your own good.

And just as that thought crossed your mind, you ran face-first into an incredibly firm chest. The man’s coffee went flying, saturating a white dress shirt. Your phone propelled across the sidewalk. And your textbook skidded over and tripped a student who got caught up in your acute sense of observation.

“I’m so sorry!” you gasp, trying to salvage his coffee cup, but it’s toast. You didn’t even look up at him as you went for your textbook. Black slacks appeared in front of your vision as he helped you gather your stuff. The first thing you noticed was scarred knuckles. The second thing, his voice.

“It’s fine.”

Your face was boiling. You can’t believe you just did that. Why do you even go outside? His scarred hands outstretched your book and phone to you. You took them, sheepishly looking up into deep eyes. “Thank you,” you said, tucking some of your hair behind your ears. This man couldn’t have been a student. He wore a suit jacket, also stained with coffee. “Your jacket,” you gasped, now seeing the damage you caused. “Oh no. Can I do anything?”

His nose had clearly been broken a few times. His thick dark hair had a few streaks of gray through it, aging him slightly, but you only found yourself more attracted to him. He shrugged his jacket off and you got an eyeful of a soaked shirt clinging to his toned body.

Good Lord.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just get another,” he commented offhandedly.

You felt like you had to do something. You did just completely destroy his shirt. “Please, at least let me get you another coffee. I feel awful.”

He rolled his shoulders and you swear your mouth watered a little bit. First you ran into Joel last week and now you run into another stunningly gorgeous man? “If you insist,” was all he said. But you felt like his lack of speech only made whatever he didn’t say much louder. His mouth was curved downward into a rather aggressive scowl which would typically send anyone else running away, but his shoulders were slack, relaxed. The unconscious language put you more at ease than his face did. You wondered if perhaps the grimace was a defence mechanism. Perhaps developed at a young age–

Stop psychoanalysing everyone. Get it together!

You greeted him abruptly stating your name, outstretching your hand to shake his in greeting. He looked at your hand but didn’t take it. You tried not to take that personally.

“Really?”

You babbled nervously, explaining why you were named what you were named. He watched you closely, still not smiling, but his tongue curved against the inside of his cheek, making it just out a little in an expression you translated as amusement. “I’m Tommy.”

“Well, let’s go get you that coffee, Tommy. I probably already made you late for your meeting.” You tucked your book under your arm, pocketing your phone to not distract yourself anymore. The student you tripped with your book gave you a death glare as you mouthed, “Sorry.”

“Meeting?” Tommy asked.

“Do you wear suits for fun?” you commented, your favorite coffee shop coming into view.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I work in the area, but I don’t have an office job.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

“Finance,” he stated without missing a beat. A slight fall in his voice. An alteration in his speech pattern. An odd thing to lie about, but he also hadn’t talked long enough for you to determine his speech pattern.

“Oh?”

He diverted the conversation, another indication he was lying. You felt the urge to prod, but you didn’t know this man. Why he was lying was none of your business. Maybe he was sneaking around. Or cheating on his wife. You glanced down at his hands. No ring. Not married. Unless he took it off, but you didn’t see a tan line either.

“Are you a student here?” Tommy asked, keeping his tone neutral.

“Yeah, I’m in my second year. Studying psychology with a focus on criminal psychology.”

“Busy girl then,” he commented, but for some reason it made your insides twist. You felt hyperaware of his gaze. It felt curious even if his scowl said otherwise. People can rarely hide the truth in their eyes.

You chuckled, trying to sound at ease even though your body was twisting and tightening against your control. “That’s me. Busy. Busy.”

There wasn’t a long line at the coffee shop as you went up to the counter and ordered your usual. Iced coffee and a cream cheese danish. You went absolutely feral for their danishes. Homemade and always warm. Your favorite snack between classes. Tommy spoke his order. Medium coffee black. Nothing to dress it up.

“Have you tried their danishes?” you asked, gesturing to the glass case. “I’ll buy you one. They’ll change your life.”

The cashier laughed. “High praise from you.”

His eyebrow twitched and he said, “Fine. I’ll take a strawberry one.”

“Excellent choice,” the cashier stated as he started to get the order ready.

“Tap your chip when you’re ready.”

You nodded, pulling your wallet out of your pocket, but Tommy beat you to it, swiping a platinum credit card. “Hey!” you objected. “Let me get that for you.”

“I have more than enough money. I’m not letting a college kid buy me anything,” Tommy started with a complete monotone.

You brushed some of your unruly hair back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he shrugged. The cashier came back with your orders and Tommy handed you your coffee and danish. His fingertips brushed yours and small shocks erupted up your arm, leaving tingles prickling the hair on your arms. “Consider this a gift.”

You raised both your eyebrows, brushing off the addicting sensation tingling your arms. “For dumping hot coffee all over you?”

The corner of his full lips curled up for a fraction of a second before it was gone. “For the conversation.”

Your breath escaped your lungs and you stood there completely dumbfounded. “You’re welcome.”

“Now,” he held up his paper sack housing a delicious danish, “this danish better change my life.”

“It will,” you promised.

His eyes flickered. “Nice talking to you.”

“You too, Tommy,” you murmured, liking the way his name sounded. Coating your tongue like golden syrup. He nodded and turned away, exiting the coffee shop without another word. Your eyes were glued to him as he left, helplessly gliding down his back to his waist and thighs.

“Huh,” you muttered to yourself as you brought your danish to your lips and took a bite. Flavor exploded across your tongue. Tangy. Creamy. Buttery. Yum. You looked over at the cashier and shouted, “You’ve outdone yourself, Steve!”

The cashier shot you a smile and waved you goodbye as you left. Thankfully, you still had a little time before class to enjoy your coffee.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller #tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction

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trippingontheescalator · 2 months

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Curious about the direction the HP fandom has gone

Okay, so as an old HP fan from way back when the books were first coming out, and then getting hit with the nostalgia and decided to return after years and years of not interacting with the fandom at all, the changes are truly mindboggling and I'd love to get to the bottom of some things.

Like, the disappearance of Blaise Zabini. Blaise was a fan favorite way back when we only knew his name but now I barely hear a whisper of his name. Now, the obvious answer is racism, which I think is the #1 reason why Blaise-pairings have dropped of significantly. Back then we all thought Blaise was a hot Italian girl, and then we found out he's a black man and suddenly people stop writing about him? Hm, yeah, seems the obvious answer (especially considering the popularity of other characters who are just a name on a page *cough*regulusblack*cough*).

Or the rise in Snape-hate. Like, Snape used to be the fan favorite. Everyone loved Snape. The meaner he was, the more we liked him. Being mean to children was a plus, not a negative lol. And this was back when we all thought he was a pureblood who came from a wealthy family like the Malfoys. Now by the time the 7th book came out I had pretty much moved on and so I didn't really see the fallout of readers discovering his actual background, so I don't know if his drop in popularity is classism and learning that he isn't a palette-swapped Lucius Malfoy or not, but honestly I would figure his impoverished background would be a plus in these times. Like Snape is obviously one of JKR's least favorite characters, and considering how she-who-must-not-be-named has destroyed her reputation with her increasing radicalization you'd figure the poor, abused, author-hating character would become more beloved instead of the rich, white, heteronormative bullies who barely even show up in the books. Like with our increasing knowledge of social injustice, I just don't understand why the fandom would want to latch onto the Marauders? And I just can't believe Snape's handful of snippets with Lily is the cause of his downfall (like what's there is barely enough to fill up a few pages, and there are certainly more toxic relationships in the series that are still beloved), or the fact that he was a Death Eater or that he inadvertently caused the deaths of the Potters (we already knew that in GoF and HPB respectively and he was still beloved, and this was when we assumed he didn't give a shit about the Potters or if they died when he went snitching). Draco is still popular. DRACO who doesn't give two shits about slinging around the word "mudblood," as opposed to Snape who actually changed for the better.

Am I just too old to understand? Is this like 90s fashion coming back in style (no, I won't do it again, I don't care if it's cringy I'm sticking with my millennial styles, I did the platforms and the slip dresses and the cargo pants in high school and I'm not putting myself through that again lol you gen z's can pry my comfortable mom jeans from my cold, dead fingers, I don't care if it makes me look old, that's the point, I AM old). Like, in addition to 90s fashion, has the 90s obsession with luxury athletic fashion like Lacoste come back in style? All those fashion ads of rich white people on yachts with popped collar polos? Are people starting to obsess over the Marauders because nouveau riche conspicuous consumption is coming back in style? It can't all just be young kids who have only read AtYD and have never actually opened one of the books, can it?

There also seems to be a trend of treating characters as if they're real people. I mean, we've always done it (Snape Wives, I'm looking at you), but now it almost feels as if the crimes characters commit are treated as if they're real crimes and that liking them is somehow a moral failing on the reader's fault. If you were to say "I don't like Snape, his douchy actions anger me, I'd rather skip all the parts he shows up in" I'd say, cool, I get that. That's normal. But "Snape is an abuser, a racist, and an incel and if you like him you're probably those things too" is fucking weird. Like, Harry and Hermione are not real children. Snape is not a real person. The things that happen in this book have as much influence on the real world as me imagining ninjas breaking into my workplace on a slow day. And that "media does not exist in a vacuum" pisses me off because it's blatantly misused. The pieces of media that have had serious consequences? Jaws, The Birth of a Nation. One resulted in the culling of sharks, the other helped restart the KKK. Do you know what those two pieces of media have in common? They're not about fucking wizards and magic schools. They instead paint a target on real groups. After twenty years nobody has ever tried to hurt a marginalized group of people because of a harry potter book (except for JKR herself).

Anyway, these are just some random thoughts, feel free to chime in with your own.

#pro snape #severus snape #pro severus snape #snapedom #mostly snape some blaise #would love to hear form some marauders fans but im not touching that tag with a ten foot pole #yikes

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thejujvtsupost · 5 months

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Key: -> NSFW ✿ -> Requests ʚïɞ [updated 2/19/24]

Comment on this post if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Collar Crimes

Being such an important man is stressful but being an important man to you, his girl, is everything to him.

Series Notes: F!reader, yakuza!Geto, fluffy, reader is a smaller than him and a sleepy type of gf & soft girl- think Sanrio/hello kitty aesthetic? heartwarming, pet names (bunny, sweetheart, baby), violence in some chapters, Geto is so soft for his girl.

1. To Ease A Heavy Soul

2. Torn Knuckles

• Series List • Masterlist •

🏷️:@annoyingstrawberryballoon @missgab

#collar crimes series #geto suguru #reader insert #no use of y/n #lots of fluff #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jujutsu geto #geto x y/n #getou suguru x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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imtryingbuck · 6 months

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Remembering

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: The team lose their friend (I’m bad at summaries sorry)

Word count: 2,821

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of children dying. Our poor reader gets attacked. Small mentions of suicide, being spat on

Translation: unde este femeia?-where is the woman?/oms-who/da, ea este prietena noastră- yes, she is our friend/ea este cu noi, acum ești în siguranță-she is with us, you’re now safe. If any of the translations are wrong please let me know

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It has been two weeks since the attack on the Capital. Two weeks since the Avengers got their friend back.

Y/n was taken straight to the Raft, for her own protection incase Hydra came for her. None of the team was happy about it especially Bucky who fought against the medical staff, trying to stop the SHIELD agents from taking her.

“It’s for her own safety” Fury explained, he still couldn’t believe she was alive, he didn’t believe the agent who had informed him that she was was on the street and was now working for Hydra.

“Okay well why all the guns being pointed at her?” Tony said with his arms crossed.

“For everyone’s safety”

“You’ve got a collar around her neck, two handcuffs on her wrist and cuffs on her ankles. I don’t think she’s going to get very far, do you?”

“It’s okay Tony-it’s fine I promise” Y/n spoke, Fury had to admit he hated doing this to her but he had no other option.

In them two weeks, they fought tirelessly to get her back to the tower, fought to get her pardoned - it should of been easy as they couldn’t connect her to any crimes committed by Hydra, but the government wanted her locked up as a traitor.

Ross allowed the team including Fury to go and question her at the Raft, on one condition - there be armed guards in the room.

They were led into a huge room with tiny windows, a small table and three chairs. There was armed guards lining against the wall. They had been there for 10 minutes before three locks sounded from the metal door, just as the door came open the guards stance changed, ready to shoot kind of stance.

They saw the man in charge walking in front of someone who they assumed was Y/n, who was then being flanked by three guards on either side. When they got closer the man moved aside, they all sucked in a breath at the sight of their friend handcuffed, a collar around her neck, but the worst part was the bruises littering her face and a busted lip that they could tell were fresh.

Fury reached out to her before a voice stopped him “No touching the traitor”

“She’s not a traitor” Fury snapped back.

“That’s not what her file says” Turning his head to Y/n “Sit and don’t move”

“Don’t talk to her like that” Bucky’s anger started to get the better of him.

“Oh I’m sorry, do you want to have this visit or not?”

“It’s fine. You can leave now” Fury replied.

“Remember no touching her and don’t try and pass her anything or she’ll be shot, enjoy” the man walked off chuckling to himself.

“Are you alright?” Questioned Bucky.

“I’m so sorry for what I did to yo-“

“Hey it’s fine, I’m okay, look. Now answer my question”

“I’m fine”

“What happened? Because they’re fresh bruises Birdie”

“It’s nothing”

“It’s not nothing Y/n! Who did it?” Tony says from next to Steve.

“Nothing I don’t deserve” Shifting more comfortably she sighs “Ask the questions you want to ask and you can leave”.

“You don’t deserve this Y/n!”

“Ask or I’ll get them to take me back”

Fury finally speaks after a few minutes of silence. “Okay, do you remember what happened the day we lost you?”

“I remember we was on a mission in Russia and I remember being shot and then falling and hearing voices, thinking it was you lot I-I saw faces and felt something pinching me and then waking up at Hydra’s base.”

“T-that can’t happen, Y/n we found your body and you was dead. We took you back home…”

“It wasn’t me. Hydra used a woman who could shape shift, they showed me”

“What else do you remember?” Tony asks.

“They tortured me, questioned me about my genes, t-they showed me my funeral. Then they gave me the serum and after a few months they started training me”

“Do-do you remember any missions you went on?”

“No. They always wiped my memory after I came back”

“Has any memories come back?”

“Yes”. Her head bowed and her eyes closed “I was the one that killed all those SHIELD agents”

All of them sighed in defeat. At her confession, she could be tried as a traitor, it didn’t matter if she was brainwashed or not. She had just admitted that she killed over 60 agents.

“I don’t remember any other missions. I’m sorry. I hear that you’re trying to get me freed, don’t. I belong in here”

“No you don’t! None of this is your fault!” Bucky’s voice broke.

Not listening to him, she looked directly at Fury “Lloyd was a member of Hydra, there’s many agents at the FBI that work for them and The Reapers didn’t exist because it was Hydra - the whole thing was a set up to get me. Rumlow told me that there was a deal in place between Hydra and The Facility, but when Logan got me out it pissed them off because they didn’t have me and the deal was off” Sighing, she moves the handcuffs to more of a comfortable position.

“Theres something else you need to know, the base they kept me at is in Romania. There’s children there, they’ve been injecting them with my blood. Innocent children are being killed because of me. I’m so sorry.” Looking at the guards “I’m ready to go now”.

“No no Y/n we’re not done yet” Fury stands and tries to stop her from standing.

“I’m done. Take me back”

“She’s not safe in there Fury!” Tony exclaimed as he paced back and forth in the briefing room.

“We don’t know who did it yet” Fury replied.

“Well it’s obviously the guards, we need to get her out of there” Tony’s voice rose with each word.

Shaking his head at the billionaire, “It’s safer for her in there Tony”

“No it isn’t and you know it!”

“We need to find this base and see if there are any children like Y/n said, couldn’t that help with getting her out?” Wanda ever the voice of reason.

“About that, the main reason I came here is because there is a base in Romania just like she said, you guys need to go there and check it out, I’ve already sent the coordinates to the pilot”

“When?” Steve asks.

“Pilots are ready whenever you are”.

Five hours later they were inside the base, the whole building had paperwork littering the floors, blood smeared on the walls, the horrible stench of death lingered in the air.

They searched the whole building from top to bottom for any signs of life, coming up empty until Bucky and Sam opened a door on the far end of the corridor, inside the darken room they saw seven small children huddled together in the left corner.

“It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you” Sam says as he put his gun down. The children’s faces all contorted in confusion making Bucky repeat what Sam had said but in Romanian.

“unde este femeia?” A young boy spoke from the front.

“Oms?”

“Y/n”

“Y/n?”

“Da, ea este prietena noastră“

“ea este cu noi, acum ești în siguranță” Bucky and Sam watched as the children took careful steps towards them, Sam spoke through his comms to let the team know that they were coming out with kids.

After getting the kids on the quinjet they both made their way back into the base.

“I found a file called Little Bird, all the crimes Y/n’s ever committed for them is on here” Nat says as she opens up another link, surveillance footage after footage showing Y/n, committing crime and crime, more worse than the previous.

“Download everything to do with Y/n and we’ll show Fury, Buck Sam said something about the kids knowing Y/-Buck?” Sam laughs at Steve’s facial expression when he realises that Bucky’s not in the room with them.

“Left corridor, right at the end”

“She carved her name into the wall just so she wouldn’t forget” Bucky says without looking to see who was behind him. “She also wrote how many days she was here, she probably lost count after day 327” Turning to face his oldest friend with tears rolling down his face. “Steve, day 327 I lit a candle in her room to keep it smelling the way it always did. For 327 days we cried and mourned her whe-when she was here all along, alone and terrified. I should of done more Stevie, I shou-should of known she was still alive”

“Buck it’s not your fault! It’s not our fault either, we all watched her die. We couldn’t of known Buck so stop trying to blame yourself”

“I need to tell you something”

“Anything pal, you know this”

“17 years ago when I was still under Hydra’s control…I was sent on a mission to kill this girl, I get to her location bu-but I couldn’t go through with it. I remember her smile as clear as day, she was with an older man - laughing about who knows what but her smile Stevie” For the first time in over two weeks Steve watches his friend smile at a memory he wishes he could see. “I left and was punished for not completing the mission. It was Y/n, she was the girl. The exact same smile when I first met her-“

“Buck…”

“I never told her. I just couldn’t you know? And the worst part is Steve, if I could go back in time and do it over again, I wouldn’t. For my own selfish needs I wouldn’t stop the pain she would have to go through for six years. I would let her go through all the pain and suffering because I’m selfish!”

“You’re not selfish Bucky! You love her, you always have and you always will. I’m glad you didn’t do it 17 years ago either because I wouldn’t have met her, I wouldn’t have had a great friend, she’s the only person who ever treat me as Steve and not America’s puppet. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes Buck”

“We agree, with Steve I mean” Both men turn to face the team who were standing in the doorway.

“It’s not your fault tin-Bucky, none of this is” Tony corrects himself.

“I’m pretty sure she’d do it all ove-“.

Wanda gets cut off by Fury’s voice through their comms “You need to get back to the Tower now”

“What’s goin-“

“Now!”

They are looked equally confused by Fury’s tone and demand, but complied nonetheless.

After the children were taken away by the medical staff, FRIDAY let them know to go straight into the briefing room - where Fury, Maria, Ross sat waiting.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, looking at all three people.

“Y/n’s been attacked in the Raft” Fury speaks solemnly.

“W-what? Who by? When?”

“Late last night”

“And you’re only telling us this now?”

“We only found out an hour before I told you to get back!”

“Where is she?” Tony questioned.

“Still there…” Ross speaks up from the end of the table.

“You’ve got to be joking right? She gets attacked and she’s still there?”

“We have to wait for the President to sign the paperwork agreeing to have her moved to a hospital, a lot of armed guards are going to be needed”

“Who attacked her?” Bucky asks.

“We don’t know”

“How bad is it?”

“We don’t know, but bad enough for the prick in charge to let us know about it happening”

Just as Bucky was about to open his mouth an agent came running in “Sir, this is straight from the President” Handing over a piece of paper to Ross, who then squeezes his eyes shut.

“What does it say Ross?”

“He’s not allowing her to be moved”.

Chaos. Chaos is the best way to describe what happened next. Everyone shouting, Tony even picked up a chair and threw it through one of the windows.

“He can’t do this!” Fury shouted.

“He’s the President of the United States Fury! He also believes she’s a traitor. He’s also not allowing her to have any more visitors”

“She’s going to die in there Ross!”

“I know, I know. Now if everyone calmly collects themselves and follow me I have a plan.”

She had managed to find a more comfortable position to finally fall asleep, which wasn’t easy to do on cold concrete flooring. Now matter which way she turned the collar dug in her neck causing her to wince at the pain. The handcuffs weren’t helping either.

Hearing the now familiar locks clicking on her door, she sat up and scooted into the corner.

“You’ve got special visitors” One of the guards said “Get up traitor”

Standing up on shaky legs, she waited for her next instructions, which didn’t come as the guard gripped the cuff link and pulled her roughly. Bare feet digging slightly into the metal grates of the walkway as she tried to keep up with the guards.

“Get in there” His rough voice echoed through the empty corridor, her heart pounded in her chest as this wasn’t the same place she was taken to when Fury and the team had been to see her.

“Whe-“ She gets cut off as she gets pushed into the room.

In the windowless room there was no chairs or table, there was nothing other than 8 men standing there.

“You’ve got two hours boys. Make sure you don’t kill her or the warden will be pissed plus she’s got more special visitors tomorrow” The guard chuckled before he closed the door.

“The most respected agent of SHIELD you was, hell I even looked up to you. And now you’re a murderer and a traitor!” A tall man with dark hair, whose eyes burned with hatred.

“So here’s what we’re going to do, each one of us is going to take a turn beating the shit out of you and your gonna be a good little girl and take it, understand?” The only blonde man spoke.

“Understand?” The first one spoke again.

Nodding her head, she watched them move around each other and waited for the first blow to come.

The punches and kicks just wouldn’t stop, she couldn’t even fight back due to the collar and handcuffs. Despite her whole entire body screaming and throbbing in pain she refused to let one sound slip from her now busted and swollen lips. All she repeated in her head like a mantra was that ‘she deserved this and more’, everyone was right, she was a traitor and no not because she wanted to but because she didn’t end her life before Hydra had a chance to turn her into a monster. She betrayed every single thing she stood for, everything she believed in, she betrayed herself and SHIELD. But most importantly she betrayed The Avengers, her family.

Knowing that they watched her ‘die’ broke her heart, when she watched her funeral, - Rumlow using it to break her - she put a shaky hand to theirs faces on the small grainy tv screen, trying to send them comfort despite where she was and what she was going through. She didn’t mean to hurt them, of course she didn’t want to but it wasn’t something that she had no control over.

If laying on the cold, dingy floor taking punch after punch, kick after kick was to make up for the pain she caused her family to go through, she’ll happily do it until her last breath.

“Times up fellas” The guard came into the room “I gave you an extra 15 minu- you did a right number on her, didn’t you lads” He chuckled at the sight of her.

“Just give me one more minute with her, I just need to say one last thing”

“Sure thing just make it quick”

As the men walked out they spat on her one by one, and when the door closed the last man picked her up by her hair. “That was for all the agents you killed, my brother was one of them! I had to tell our parents that he wasn’t coming home anymore. I promised my ma I would get the person who did this, best 300 bucks I’ve ever spent - oh sweetheart, didn’t you know that the wardens charging people to have their way with you, you’re not big and scary now are you?” He chuckled just before he spat right in her face and dropping her.

The guard comes back in and takes her back to her cell. “Sweet dreams Little Bird” is what he says to her before locking the door.

After the third day, her face was unrecognisable. Her prayers for death weren’t being answered.

Tags: @unaxv @sapphirebarnes @bethexo07 @doublebassallie @vicmc624 @cyberficlya @elijahssuit @learisa @wasffginc

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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cannedpickledpeaches · 15 days

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Insert Your Name (9)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, ten, eleven, twelve!

Notes and TW: I apologize if this chapter is a bit messy, but answers are coming soon! This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-writes @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie

Your phone rings in your pocket. A little flustered, you pat your pockets for your phone with your free hand. Annoyance flashes in Jade’s eyes as he prepares to let go of your hand, but you curl your fingers in his grasp and hold onto him while you fish up your phone. His body stiffens.

“Oh, it’s Floyd.” The call cuts off just as you’re about to answer it. He’s so impatient. A string of texts pop up on your screen. “He needs me right now for . . . something? He’s being super vague.”

Jade doesn’t respond. You snap your fingers in front of his wide eyes.

“Jade? Hello?”

He blinks once, twice. “Oh. Yes. Floyd.”

“Yes, Floyd. He wants me to go back for something. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” He intertwines his fingers with yours and holds them gently by your sides. His skin feels as soothingly cool as ever. “Shall we go?”

“Actually, Floyd wants me to go alone this time.” The texts he sent are rather adamant about it. You aren’t sure what requires this degree of secrecy. “It might be important?”

“If it’s important, I don’t see why I should be kept in the dark.” His grip tightens on your hand, just enough to be firm, not overbearing. “I’m sure he can be convinced.”

“I guess you’re right. I can’t really think of why he doesn’t want you to know.”

“Whatever it is, I know of it now, so I may as well tag along.”

He’s so stubborn. Just as you concede, you get a call from Azul. You pick up with growing curiosity. Azul right after Floyd?

“What’s the matter?”

Azul’s voice sounds strained. “Can you go back to the twins’ residence? There’s a problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

A pause. “Is Jade with you?”

Mutual understanding fills the space between you as you make eye contact with Jade.

“No, he isn’t. Why?”

“Floyd just—wait—”

The sound of shattering glass. The line goes dead.

You grip Jade’s hand. “Let’s go. Should I call a taxi?”

“No.” He presses a kiss to your fingers again. Before you can even process that, he lets go. His cool touch lingers on your skin. “The sea is faster.”

He shrugs off his blazer, then unbuttons his waistcoat. The expensive clothes drop onto the sand in his haste. His fingers make quick work of the buttons on his shirt. They open in succession in a way that mimics drawing back silk curtains on a canopy bed, revealing his collarbones, bare chest, solid abs, all awash in red and gold tones of the setting sun—

You look away. There’s no need to watch the process of his transformation into his mer-form. Of course not. Certainly not when it’s causing sweat to gather under your collar. Focus. You need to clear your mind and prepare yourself for what might have happened at the mansion. That’s right, focus—

“You may look if you’d like.” His shadow overlaps yours. Cold fingers tangle around your own, capturing you like tendrils of seaweed snagging a hapless diver. His voice coos in your ear and seeps into your mind. “I would not mind it. Merfolk are not squeamish about nudity the way land-dwellers are.”

You swallow hard, but it does nothing to help the heat starting to emanate from your cheeks. It’s strange. You’ve seen the twins shirtless before, many times. Neither of them are shy about it—in some ways, they actually prefer it. You just haven’t ever seen them in the process of taking off clothes. The way fabric slides away to reveal skin, the way his nimble fingers slip the buttons out of place . . . .

“Too bad I’m a squeamish land-dweller. Hurry up! We need to get there quickly.”

“As you wish.”

He squeezes your hand lightly. Before he can let go, however, a shriek pierces the air.

You whirl around. Standing in the middle of the deserted beach, the dying sun lighting her hair up in fiery shades, is (Y/N).

Panic is the first thing that shoots through your heart. She wasn’t supposed to see you for the duration of the story. But maybe this is just a minor scene that won’t affect the major plot? It can’t be. Her features twist into an ugly glare you have never seen on her before, a nasty expression you weren’t even aware she was capable of making. It tamps down whatever relief or hope you might’ve had from seeing her again after several weeks.

“(Y/N)?” Something ice cold grips your heart. You step towards her. Why did she scream? Is she alright? Is she hurt? Did something scare her? You scan your surroundings. The three of you are alone on the beach. No external threats. You need to make sure she’s alright. You need to find out why she’s glaring at you like she wants to rip out your heart. You need to go back to the mansion. You need to help Floyd and Azul. There are too many things pulling you in different directions. Your thoughts go haywire. Who do you go to? Who do you prioritize? What’s most important here?

Who do you care about more?

A tug on your hand snaps you back to reality.

“Go,” he says, placing himself in front of you. You stare at the hills and valleys of the muscles on his back. “Call a taxi. I’ll take care of this situation.”

You don’t even know what “this situation” is. (Y/N) is livid, and her glare is aimed at you. She points at you, storming over with a wild look in her eyes. You flinch. It is the first time you have ever seen her like this. She is sweet and mellow, kind and caring, never one to radiate hatred. This is not her nature. This is not the (Y/N) she is supposed to be—no, this is not the (Y/N) you have come to know.

“You!” Poison drips from her voice and sears your eardrums. “So you’re the one who’s been fucking everything up! It’s all ruined because of you! Everything. Everything. It’s all because of you!”

“Go,” Jade urges, releasing your hand. You stay rooted to the spot.

What is she saying? What did you ruin? Guilt tears at your chest. Why is she so angry at you? She’s your best friend. Your best friend can’t hate you.

“You’re the bitch who’s been fucking up the plot. I did so much to get here, and you’re making it all useless! Get out! Just disappear! This was supposed to be perfect. It’s supposed to be exactly as I wanted. This time, everything is supposed to go my way!”

The plot? She knows about that? But how? Does she also have a copy of the manuscript? You’ve been doing everything you can to make sure things follow the plot. Is she talking about something completely different? Things are moving too fast for you to think everything through. There’s an alien glint in her eyes. Something more than anger. Something murderous. She lunges for you, only to be stopped by Jade as he steps between you two.

“Don’t touch her.” His firm voice chills the air. She freezes on the spot, looking like she was slapped across the face.

“What? No. No, no, no. You’re supposed to be on my side. You’re supposed to say I’m right, no matter what. Why are you defending her?” She pulls at her hair and hunches over. “He was right. You aren’t following the story at all. You’re supposed to love me. You’re supposed to be madly in love with me! Why? What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with all of you?”

You step forward, half of you wanting to do anything at all to comfort her. The other half screams at you to hurry back to the mansion. You’re still torn. The scene is a sand castle, and it’s crumbling in your hands faster than you can put it back together.

She throws her head back, staring at the sky, before pinning her gaze on you. “It’s all your fault. Who the fuck are you to come here and seduce my Jade? You’re just an extra. You don’t even have a name. You’re just Friend A! You’re a useless side character who doesn’t even matter after a couple pages. Who do you think you are?”

Jade’s fingers curl into fists. His voice thins with his patience. “That is enough. Shut your mouth before I carve it off of you.”

Tears fill her bloodshot eyes. “What are you saying? You’re in love with me. That’s no way to talk to me, and you know it. You love me. You’d do anything for me. Right? Say I’m right. Say I’m right, Jade!”

You can’t see his face. You’re honestly glad for it. (Y/N) reacts to his expression with a recoil of genuine fear.

“You must be mistaken. I don’t love you. I never have, and I never will.”

Tears stream down her face. She tries to grasp his arms, only for him to smack her hands away. She cradles her hand against her chest and bites her lip so hard it starts to bleed.

“You don’t love me? You’re lying. The story says you should love me. Why don’t you love me? You’re being cruel, Jade. You’re supposed to be sweet to me. I’m the only one you’re supposed to care about! Love me. Love me, love me, love me, love me!”

She screeches, a bone-chilling cry that slices the evening air. You step towards her, brushing past Jade’s protective arm. Her gaze focuses on you. Just as you get close enough, she lunges for your throat. Her nails touch your skin. And your surroundings burst into brilliant white light.

White.

There’s nothing here.

Just white space.

And suddenly, there’s something.

You blink rapidly as you find yourself in a small, cozy room. A warm, crackling fireplace casts warm light over soft fabrics and old furniture, contrasted against silvery moonlight spilling in from a large window. Bookshelves stretch from floor to ceiling. Knit blankets drape over throw pillows and two armchairs, one of them occupied. You shift into a defensive stance and your Signature Spell envelops your body on instinct.

A middle-aged man raises his head. There’s something odd about him. His clothes are outdated, his demeanour too calm. His thin frame and mild-mannered smile makes him seem like less of a threat, but you know better than to underestimate anyone.

“Good evening,” he says, folding his hands in his lap. “I apologize for the abrupt intervention, and I hope you are not too confused from your trip here.”

“Who are you? Where am I?” It seems like he’s the one who brought you here. What was that bright light earlier? A teleportation spell? What about Jade, (Y/N), Azul, and Floyd? “Actually, don’t answer that. Send me back. Right now.”

“I understand your distress, but I think we are due for a conversation. Why don’t you join me for a cup of tea? As one close to you might note, a soothing cup of tea will help you relax.”

There’s already tea on the table. Only now do you realize it smells of lavender. Was it always there?

“I’m not drinking or eating anything you give me. Send me back.”

“Goodness, young people are so hasty. There is much to the world that you may only learn of when you slow down. I’d expect you, out of all the characters, to agree with me.”

“Characters?” Your shoulders tense. He also knows about the story. “Tell me what you know.”

He gestures to the armchair across from him. “Please take a seat. This may take quite some time, and as it is rather far outside what you may consider to be your realm of possibility, please suspend your disbelief. You may believe what you choose to. I, for one, promise to you that everything I say is the truth.”

You curl up into the armchair, eyes never leaving him. He promised you answers, and you’re willing to hear him out. No matter what manner of strange things he says, you’ll parse the truth of the matter out of it.

“Well, now, how shall I begin?” He takes a sip of tea, the scent of lavender mixing with the smoky scent of the fireplace. “Let me first explain to you the setting, as any good story may start. This world that you live in, your existence, as well as the existence of everyone else in your life—all of this is part of a story. And I am a . . . hm, how exactly shall I phrase it? I suppose to characters like you, my existence is somewhat similar to a god.”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst jade #twst fanfic #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #mafia au #multi chap fic #slow burn #truly sorry to that one commenter who said they hope nothing happens to y/n and reader #things will make sense soon I promise

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sorrowfulrosebud · 1 year

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The Lone Wolf (again…)

Wolf! Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Contents: in which Wolf! Katsuki royally fucks up

Genre: extreme angst

CW: this is a very dark fanfic so I can’t really put the tws without spoiling the story. I’ll try my best anyway. TWS for blood, neglect, death and etc.

This is for @vampyrsm s collaboration! I’m sorry it took so long but it’s finally here! It can also be considered an alternative AU for my papa wolf series and can be read as a stand-alone piece.

“I’m leaving you”.

These were the words that made you stop scrubbing the dishes in the basin as the muscular frame of your mate stood unbreakably behind you. Your brows furrowed at the proclamation, wondering where the hell it had come from.

You had had a slight idea that he was unhappy, being more growly and quick to trigger than usual, but you had just assumed that he was nearing his rut again. Determined to see what he had to say, you stood your ground and remained facing the stone basin. The slight trembling in your hand informed Bakugou that you had indeed heard what he had sprung on you and took your silence as a means of continuing his speech.

“I’m getting soft and weak, for god’s sake. I’m a wolf, not some sort of damn domesticated house pet that you can play with whenever you feel like it. I can feel it that staying here is making me lose my edge, and what kind of wolf would stay with some sort of weak little human like you, huh? The very idea would have you slaughtered in my pack for acting like a domesticated pet,” Bakugou spat. The way he borderline snarled the word made it seem like it was some sort of dirty slur.

But I suppose, when you are forcefully ripped from one lifestyle and thrown into another, you’re bound to feel shaken up. That’s the strange thing though. The last year and a half of your life after meeting him was the best time of your life, and judging from the endless belly rubs, walks in the woods and helping him through his ruts, you were certain he had the same feelings for you as you did him.

==================================

The way you had met was less than conventional; when checking your rabbit traps and snares in the forest, you had found Bakugou muzzled, naked and chained by a collar to one of the thickest trees with a huge gaping wound slicing his Achille’s tendon to prevent him from running away. (Not that he could have to begin with. You figured that it was to add insult to quite literal injuries).

As a twig snapped under your hunting boots, the thrashing of the chain ceased as carmine eyes pored into yours. You were mesmerised by how a well-sculpted man could seem so animalistic until you were able properly see the well hidden ash blonde ears tucked in with the rest of his hair and with a quick swish, you were also notified of a fluffy tail being raised on alert. A sharp snarl pierced the air as Bakugou tried lunging at you, secretly dying internally from the horrible humiliation of someone from the species he’s mortal enemies with seeing him in such a disgusting manner.

In Bakugou’s pack (as he explained to you), being even remotely associated with humans would mean that you were the lowest of the low; a domesticated dog who would do cheap tricks for their master. Bakugou had been found sneaking off to the local human village to observe how humans function as a society, to study what they eat, how they take care of their young and how they farm crops. The leaders of the pack (his parents) decided that the punishment should fit the crime:

First, the traitor would be stripped naked as a symbol of stripping their morals for the enemy

Next, the heels would be sliced open to prevent any further disloyalty to the traitor’s new master by running away after the disloyalty for the pack was displayed

Then the traitor would be muzzled since it is a reflection of the biggest rule in the pack: NEVER SPEAK TO A HUMAN

The most humiliating thing was next. The traitor would be collared and leashed to a tree in hunter territory since acting like a pet means that you get treated like a pet, much like a dog being chained to a kennel. If the traitor loves humans so much, they can see how much they enjoy being skinned for their fur and having their teeth torn out for jewellery.

Eager to help the handsome stranger that you found, you raised your arms in peace and ambled slowly in front of him. You were EXTREMELY aware of his claws so you sat a good three feet away. Bakugou couldn’t deny that he was intrigued by your actions; he was still highly on guard but most hunters would have raced away for a spear or bow and arrow to put him out of his misery. With a small smile, you had introduced yourself to him to try to establish some sort of relationship, only to be met with an annoyed growl and chuff of his breath. In an instant you totally remembered that he was naked and rootled through your bag for a spare pair of hunting trousers that you carried. Your soft hands held them out to Bakugou to see if he wanted them instead of sitting there with his whole body on show.

Bakugou made no move to grab them from you, thinking that you had doused them in chloroform or some other drug that would seduce him to sleep. Instead, he just glared at you with intense eyes. The yanking on the chain had stopped completely as he studied you ferociously.

“Go on, you can take them! I can’t guarantee that they’ll fit you but I’m sure it’s better than sitting out here naked and covered in your own blood,” you offered with a gentle smile. Katsuki glowered at you as you set them down for him and turned your back so he could change himself.

Internally, Katsuki was in two minds; accept the clothes and kill you at any point in time if you threatened him, or sit here bound and helpless for god knows how long…

Katsuki growled as the fabric temporarily dug into his bleeding heels. He eventually managed to shimmy them up his legs, toned calves strained against the fabric due to their size.

“Are you done? Can I turn around right now?” You asked him politely. Katsuki let out an annoyed growl at your question, but you took it as a yes. You turned back around, borderline chuckling at the size of your trousers on Katsuki’s lower half before immediately being shut up with an angered glare.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Now you’re going to have to stay still whilst I-” you fumbled in your pocket for a knife, the silver blade glinting in the sun.

You only just managed to avoid the swiping of claws against your skin as Katsuki lunged for you, hackles raised and sandy ears pulled taunt against his head. Your fingertips pressed against the wound and you audibly winced at the amount of blood; even though he nicked you, there was still 4 big slits in the side of your tunic.

“Fuck, shit that hurts! What the actual fucking hell, asshole?!” You yelled at him, “I was going to unlock the muzzle around your mouth!”

Katsuki still growls, but his ears go back to normal. His entire body feels so… sluggish.

“Woah, hey are you okay?” Your face donned a worried look as the adrenaline of his night finally floated away from him and he slumped unceremoniously at your legs.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The pops and crackling of the toasty fire surrounded Katsuki’s senses as he finally started the descent out of sleep. He had no fucking clue where he was; there were certainly no soft couches back in his cave, nor were there little carved woodworks of various woodland creatures.

A soft humming could be heard from what Katsuki would assume to have been the kitchen. You entered Katsuki’s eyesight with a carefully balanced tray of stew (lamb by the small of it), and placed it carefully on the oak coffee table next to your plush couch. Katsuki shot up from the couch, snarl in his throat, ears all the way back and hackles raised as you raised your hands once again.

“Hey, relax, please! I’m not going to do anything, I swear! I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You passed out on me in the woods, so I took you back to my house to clean your wounds and feed you,” you lowered your hands to your waist and looked at Katsuki for his reaction. His ears slowly went back to their original position, the glint from his fangs could still be seen. His breathing was harsh, toned pecs heaving in his fear rage.

He slowly reached for the bowl of stew before sniffing it.

Well, it doesn’t smell poisoned. He thought. Might as well eat some, I’m fucking starving.

He tucked in with hesitation, but as soon as the first bite of juicy lamb hit his tongue, the bowl was next to empty. You stood dazed at how fast he consumed the bowl before offering your hand out to him. Katsuki immediately shrank back on the couch.

“Woah, I just wanted to know if you wanted seconds? You’re obviously hungry and there’s plenty more in the pot if you want some,” you spoke gently to him, almost like he was a pup, or a wild animal. Katsuki clearly thought for a second before shoving the bowl in your chest with an annoyed huff. You smiled at him widely before trotting back into the kitchen.

It suddenly dawned on him that he didn’t have any extra heaviness from that damned collar on his neck, and upon further inspection, you actually had stitched up the gaping wounds on his ankles. He still wore the trousers you had gifted him, so he was at least quietly grateful that you granted him privacy.

Well. This is going to be one hell of a summer.

=================================

“Katsuki, what the hell do you mean? You’re leaving?? When did you decide this?!” You turned around to face him properly and were instantly met with an annoyed expression.

“It doesn’t matter when I decided it, I’m fucking leaving and there’s nothing you can do about it!” He snarled at you. Deep inside, he loved you more than anything he could ever think of. He wanted to be your mate for his entire life, to wake up with you every morning and maybe if you would let him, indulge in his fantasy of having a few pups of your own. Alas, he had heard rumours around the village about a group of werewolves terrorising the local village’s cattle and he desperately wanted to see his old pack again.

“But Katsuki, please think about it! Where would you go?! You know that if your old pack were to see you again, they are more likely inclined to kill you!” You shouted at him, face crumpled up in tears.

“No they fucking wouldn’t, my pack respected and adored me! I just put my own personal interests before the safety of my pack, and that got me landed here in this shitty fucking cabin with you. A filthy human who would probably sell me to a hunter the minute I started acting like a true wolf,” he snapped back, his eyes dilating to pin pricks in his anger. Your own eyes glared back at him with tears delicately lacing your lash line.

“They. Fucking. Left. You. For. Dead. You went against your pack, and your PARENTS of all fucking people decided that they would slice their own fucking SON and LEAVE HIM FOR DEAD! I have done nothing but take care of you, through each of your ruts, each full moon, I EVEN FUCKING NURSED YOU BACK TO HEALTH.

DAY AND FUCKING NIGHT, I WAS AT YOUR SIDE HELPING YOU TO WALK AGAIN! EVERY INJURY YOU EVER HAD, I WAS THERE TO CLEAN UP AND KISS. SO DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING DARE SAY THAT I’M JUST SOME STUPID FUCKING HUMAN WHEN I WAS MORE OF A PACK TO YOU THAN YOUR OWN FAMILY!” The words were spewing like venom at this point, you couldn’t fucking breath and the tears were pouring down your face thick and fast. In an instant, Katsuki had a death grip on your wrist, carmine eyes reduced to slits and his ears were flat against his head.

“Don’t. You. Ever. Disrespect my fucking pack again. Y’know, my pack was right. Humans do nothing but brainwash you into domestic shit. This was a mistake from the start,” he spat maliciously. His claws were digging deep into your wrist, making your face screw up in pain.

“K-Katsuki, let go! You’re hurting me!” You sobbed as you tried to pry him off. It wasn’t until the smell of blood hit his nose that Katsuki realised that he had actually hurt you. With a cry of pain, you clutched your bleeding wrist to your chest. The red stained your shirt a violent colour.

Katsuki could feel his rage ebb away and was slowly being replaced by worry.

“Woah, hey are you ok-“ he tries before you flinch away from him, hitting your back against the sink behind you in an attempt to get away. Your whimpers physically hurt him in ways he never knew existed.

“Hey, don’t push me away! I’m trying to see-“ he tries again before you finally turn to him and his heart breaks further at your teary face.

This was such a stupid fucking thought, he was so fucking stupid, why the hell would he leave you for his old pack?! Katsuki finally reflected on your words before his blood felt like ice. Why would he say such awful things to you to try to prove to an old pack who left him for dead?!

“Baby, please, I want to help,” he borderline whimpers, ears twitching dolefully. Your face screwed up in anger before you stood at your full height.

“You want to leave you fucking bastard, then leave. I’m not going to fucking stop you. I hope your pack was fucking worth the one person who stuck with you these last few years. Now, get the fuck out of my house.” You snarled lowly, eyebrows furrowed in pain. Katsuki reached out for you with a trembling hand before you started borderline shrieking.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE I CALL THE DAMNED HUNTERS TO SKIN YOU ALIVE!”

Katsuki had never felt so low in his entire life. You started swaying in your rage, trying to shoo him away. He let out a whimper as he looked at you one last time before fleeing out of the house, your screams of pain and fear ringing in his head.

==================================

1 year later…

Katsuki was miserable. Utterly, and purely miserable. He had found his old pack, and for a moment that had hope flutter through his stomach. Until of course, as you predicted, they tried to kill him for his betrayal (and the fact that he still stank of human).

Slurs of “pet” could be heard through the snarls as Katsuki had narrowly avoided claws and fangs, before tumbling down a hill and running for his life. It was against his morals to do so but he couldn’t face losing another family.

For the past year, Katsuki had tried making his own way of life; finding a small cave further into the mountain range near your cabin and stealing from the local village for meats and blankets. He made his own new home, but it didn’t feel the same without you whatsoever.

He missed you. He missed your sleepy smiles, he missed your stupid little jokes, he missed kissing you awake on Sunday mornings, he missed… you. Every night, his hands loosen the thick red collar you had given him as a joke and thumbed it carefully. Trembling hands caress the leather as small tear stains plop onto it and whimpers reverberate around his cave. It may have started as a joke, but he never took it off even after you threw him out, only to lament painfully on his regret. Most nights he substituted your soft body for his tail, clinging on to it until it hurt.

He hadn’t seen you for a year. 365 days without your cuddles, belly rubs, gentle kisses and warm smiles. Katsuki could feel himself going mad, so he made a decision.

He was going to apologise.

==================================

Katsuki checked his appearance in a puddle that had accumulated in his cave; his hair was somewhat kept better, his ears and tail were freshly groomed and he held a large bouquet of wild flowers he found in a field.

Katsuki let out a shaky breath before hardening his face.

“I just have to show her how much she really means to me. I can’t- I can’t be without her.”

And so he began the trek to your cabin.

==================================

He began to walk at dusk; it gave him a cloak of protection from hunters, plus you would be really surprised. It only took him about half an hour to find your cabin tucked snugly in the back of the woods. But the sight before him made his blood feel like ice.

The door was absolutely shredded. Large claw marks had sliced the door to oblivion, as well as the surrounding walls. Even though it was almost as thick as the trees that the wood came from, it was nearly folded in half and torn off its hinges.

Bile raised in his throat. As did his hackles.

“(Y/N?)” he tried anxiously.

No answer. However, he detected a new smell.

Blood.

He crept behind the door, immediately on high alert. Whatever did this was not fucking human.

His heart lurched dramatically at the state of your home; all of your belongings were either torn to shreds or thrown across your floors. Carpets were torn up, pillows shredded, curtains torn from their windows.

“(Y/N)! I’m not fucking joking, if you’re there then say something!” He yelled through the house. Fluffy ears twitched intensely, desperate to hear some call of validation. He was frightened absolutely shitless. The only other time he had felt so afraid was the day he lost you.

Creak…

Katsuki pinpointed the noise to upstairs. All survival instincts flew out of the window as he bolted up the stairs, only thing on his mind was to ensure your safety. He nearly fell down a few steps before reaching what was your shared bedroom.

The bile actually came out.

Your bedroom door was identical to the one downstairs; torn to shreds and laid in pieces on the ground. The soft blankets that laid on your bed had gigantic claw marks slicing through them, all the way down to your thick mattress.

Again, your curtains were brutally ripped off the window. The window itself had been smashed, shiny fragments glittering across the entirety of the room. Katsuki stepped lightly on the floor, the smell of blood poisoning his sensitive nostrils.

It was the strongest in your bedroom and-

“Oh my fucking god, no.”

Strewn like a rag doll, mangled on the floor in an inhumane position was

you.

The exact same slices on your door were buried deep into your stomach and neck. Thick, red torrents of blood seeped from your body and deep into the wooden floor. Your eyes had completely glazed over, staring back at him with gray.

Tears had crept down your face in your last few moments; Katsuki could smell the salt on your face.

“B-baby? Oh my fucking god, please no!” He screamed brokenly into your corpse. His tears dampened the dress you were wearing (the same one you wore when he tore your heart from its chest). All Katsuki could do was scream in pure, unfiltered pain at the loss of his love.

Memories of you both flittered through Katsuki’s mind. Mornings where the sunlight trickled into your bedroom as he studied your face sleepily. Memories of the sweet and shy kisses, of lazy summer days, of comfort from agonising nightmares all cursed Katsuki as he mourned your death.

He truly had nothing now. No family. No friends. No you.

So, Katsuki did the only thing his paralysed mind could think of; the same claws that scarred your wrist brought hell down on his neck, his claws shredding his gullet within seconds.

Katsuki coughed, once, twice before the metallic tang of blood seeped into his mouth and seeped down his face in buckets. Not that he could see before due to the tears in his eyes, but the quickening of the blood down his body reduced his vision greatly, black spots already swimming in and out of his peripheral.

He only managed to sink down beside you, wanting his last dying moments to be beside the very person that made him happy. The very person who changed his life. The very person who’s life he had ruined.

Through the tears, Katsuki nestled his head close to you, tears dripping on to your wounds as he found it increasingly difficult to breath. He gasped unconsciously for breath as he tried to grip on to you, feeling scared of his descent into death. As long as you were there, he would follow you and plead for forgiveness.

He started to feel content.

‘I- I’m so sorry. I’m coming,’ he thought. His face rested on your shoulder as his body started to shut down completely.

But it wasn’t until his final breath did his eyes shoot open one last time at the sound of the four small whimpers across the room.

“D-daddy?”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #hybrid bnha #wolf bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #wolf Bakugou #Wolf Bakugou angst #hoo boy this took months #hybrid bnha x reader #papa wolf katsuki #major tw #bnha x reader angst #MHA x reader angst

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leafs-lover · 4 months

Note

Happy birthday!

I didn’t pick a prompt but had an idea for Auston with one of his daughters? I can use something cute/ fluffy and want to see him being a girl dad😍

Daddy's Girl - A Too Far Gone One-Shot

A/N: This is very delayed, and I'm sorry about that. This is a bonus chapter set in the future, after the timeline of TFG. It can be read as a stand-alone piece.

Warnings: None - just pure fluff, maybe some minor spoilers if you haven't been following the asks?

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2,700

Auston loves coming home from road trips. He always has. Years ago, in the start of his career, leaving wasn’t so bad because there was nothing waiting in Toronto except a cold and empty condo. The most he missed was his own bed, some of the restaurants he’d grown to love.

Now he doesn’t care about the bed but who is waiting for him in it. It is not the food being served, but the smiling faces that surround the table. So, when the plane landed at 1pm and Auston knew the house was going to be empty for a few hours, he did what any logical person would do. He dropped his bag at the door, loaded Felix into the back of his car, and set out to spring his children from school.

Only, he couldn’t break all his kids out. Taylour had a math test and Tia would scold Auston if he made him miss that (even though Taylour would appreciate it), and this would be a real scolding not the fun kind he spent days missing. Maddie was having a class party, and even though she was a huge Daddy's girl there was a small possibility she would want to stay in class and Auston didn’t want to subject himself to that kind of disappointment. Even worse, if she said yes and left early, Auston knew she’d be disappointed come tomorrow when all her friends were talking about the party she missed. Benjamin was struggling to adjust to school and make friends, he had been all year. Auston knew that as much as he wanted to see his son, it was best for him to stay put. On top of that, he largely favours Tia, he often is reluctant to join in with Auston’s shenanigans, what if today was one of those days? That left Quinn, and even though she loved daycare, she was his partner in crime, always willing to do anything he suggested.

Auston put his car into park and left it running with the heat on low. He stepped out into the crisp Toronto air then muttered a curse word under his breath. He quickly shoved his hands into his pockets and tucked his ears into the collar of his coat.

He should have brought a beanie; Tia would have made him wear a beanie.

The snow crunched under his feet as he walked through the parking lot. Before he even reached the door he could hear the room kids – excitedly screaming, laughing. For a moment Auston felt guilty, pulling her from the fun solely because he didn’t want to spend a few hours alone, but her face lit up brighter than a Christmas tree when he stepped into the room, and it reassured him it was the right decision.

“Daddy!” She squealed. Excitedly, she jumped up and down a few times, her blue Cinderella dress (the one Tia spent three nights working on instead of sleeping because Quinn kept asking when it would be finished) sways side to side. The tiara atop her honey-blonde hair caught the light the moment she took off running for Auston.

“Hi Quinnie Bear.” Auston welcomed her, immediately wrapping his arms around her small body, and placing a kiss on her temple.

“I mith you Daddy!” She kissed him back, with a wide toothy smile stretched across her face.

“I missed you too.” Auston tossed her playfully into the air, electing a shriek, then brought her in for another tight hug. “I missed you so much Quinnie!”

“How much?” She probed. Her sweet innocent voice makes his heart flutter -she, like all his kids, has that effect on him.

Keeping Quinn on his right hip, Auston stretched his left arm out as far as it can go. “This much,” he told her.

“That’s a lot.”

“Mhm.” Auston nodded and kissed her temple once again. “What are you up to?”

“Making Fwostee.”

“Making Frosty?! Can I see?”

“YES!” She immediately and enthusiastically agreed.

Auston set Quinn down and she quickly wrapped her tiny hand around two of his fingers, then tugged him toward one of the tables. They stopped at her workspace, and she released his fingers, then pointed to the chair. “Sit,” she demanded of him.

From the outside, Quinn looks nothing like her parents. Her hair is light and straight, where he and Tia have dark and curly, her eyes are hazel – sometimes looking more of a green – and again, theirs are both dark. He can look at any of her three siblings and immediately see himself or Tia in them, but when he looks to Quinn, he struggles to see any part of them. Then she puts her hand on her hip, has a sassy comment, orders him around with a sweet yet devious little grin, and Auston instantly knows that is Tia’s daughter.

So, just like with her mom, Auston does what she says. Even if that means folding himself into a tiny plastic chair where his knees are taller than the table. Even if he is worried about the structural integrity of that tiny plastic chair as it creaks and sinks with his weight because it was made for three-year-olds and not the stature of a professional hockey player, he promptly sits in the chair without so much as a hesitation.

Quinn reaches out to the desk, grabbed a mess of construction paper, then shoved it into his hand, and smiles.

“You didn’t make this.”

“Yes, I did,” she is quick to protest.

“No way! This is the best snowman I’ve ever seen!” The snowballs are misshapen and boxy, the black blob on what Auston assumes is the head, looks nothing like a hat and the “buttons” are just a bunch of scribbles. There are three eyes glued and the nose that should be carrot shaped, is misshapen, but at least orange. “This was made by a professional.”

“No Daddy,” she giggled. The sound instantly made Auston smile. She brought her face closer, and pressed her forehead against his, staring directly into his eyes, she dropped her voice to try and sound serious. “I made it.”

“You made this?” Auston held the snowman up to get a better look at it. “You, Quinn Leigh Matthews made this?”

“Mhm.” Quinn proudly nodded. “Look at the eyes.”

“I see –“

“They move!” She squealed. Grabbing the snowman, she flipped it upside down, the black pupil of the googly eye moving with her.

“I see that. This is going on the fridge tonight.”

“Yay!” She jumped into his arms, the smile on her face somehow continued to get wider.

“Do you want to stay at daycare, or want to get some hot chocolate and take Felix to the park with me?”

“I want to go wif you daddy!” Her face scrunched as she gave him her signature grin, his signature grin. One of the few physical traits she took from him.

“Okay. You get your boots and I’ll talk to your teacher.”

The conversation with Quinn’s teacher was quick, they were accustomed to Auston sneaking her from daycare early. Like every time before, they reminded him that Tia specifically said Auston wasn’t to pull her from daycare early (she knew him far too well), and just like every time before, Auston rolled his eyes said he wasn’t going to listen to Tia (even though history had taught him otherwise). Quinn’s teacher just laughed, like she did every time Auston said that, then she wished them a good afternoon, and Auston went to gather her belongings.

Auston found Quinn sitting in front of her cubby with her purple butterfly boots on the wrong feet. He knelt down in front of her, set the snowman on the bench, then tugged at the Velcro to switch the boots around. As he reached for Quinn’s coat, he felt his watch vibrate - he knew who it was, didn’t take a genius to figure it out - but of course he flipped his wrist, saw Tia’s name and the beginnings of her lecture, and laughed. What was he supposed to do? Sit at home for three hours in an empty house?

He slipped his thick, muscular arm through the straps of Quinn’s sparkly pink unicorn backpack, fisted her jacket, then scooped Quinn up. When the door opened, he felt her nuzzle into his chest, and he tightened his grip. There was no point putting her jacket on to walk twelve feet to the car, only to take it off for the car seat, but he still hated the shiver that always erupted following the temperature change.

“Felix!” Quinn shrieked when she saw his head sticking out the window. The pup let out an excited whine. Over the low hum of the engine they could hear his tail eagerly smacking against the seat. “Daddy is taking us for tweats!” She told him through the window as she scratched behind his ears.

It took a bit to get her in the car seat. Felix kept wanting to be close to her, which lead to him sitting in the car seat, licking her face, and lots of laughter. If Auston didn’t know better, he’d think Felix was the one who went eight days without seeing her.

The drive was short and Quinn had a million things to tell Auston, most of which she told him during their daily FaceTime or video updates Tia would send, but he didn’t mind. He loved listening to her excitedly ramble about everything that happened while he was gone, the highlights of her days. It was less than twenty minutes, but the only time Quinn wasn’t talking was when she was laughing because Felix had snuck in a kiss or two. Even in the drive-thru while Auston was ordering she didn’t let up for a second.

With the vehicle off, Auston opened the back door and squeezed himself in. He gently shut the door behind him to keep the heat trapped inside, then turned to Quinn. He softly brushed some hair behind her ear and let his thumb rest on her jaw while examining her face. He knows it isn’t possible, but every time he comes back from a road trip the kids look different, older somehow.

“Alright,” his voice cracks.

Smiling through the pain of being gone, he unbuckled the car seat, gave Felix a few pets, then turned his attention back to Quinn. She had jumped out of the car seat, so Auston held her coat out for her to slide her arms into the sleeves. He zipped it up, wrapped a scarf around her neck, then rummaged around her unicorn backpack for the pink sparkly beanie shoved to the bottom. “You have to wear a hat sweetie; your ears will get cold.”

“But my tiara.” A large pout formed, and her words were barely over a whisper.

“You can put it back on when we leave.” Auston offered, but the faint quiver in her lower lip told him that wouldn’t be acceptable. “What if I wear it for you at the park, then you can have it back when we’re done.”

Quinn takes a second to think it over, her lips slowly curling in the process. She nodded, then reached up and got to work positioning it on his head. “You’re a pwetty pwincess,” she said.

“Not nearly as pretty as you.” Auston pulls the toque over her ears. “You’re the prettiest princess ever.” Quinn blushes and sways gently from side to side, then gives Auston a quick kiss. “You ready, Quinnie the Pooh?”

She laughed at the nickname, like she always does. “Can I hold his leash?”

“Of course.” Auston kissed the tip of her nose.

He helped Quinn out of the car and waited for Felix to jump out to shut the door. Stacking their hot chocolates, he held them in one hand and passed Quinn the leash. Like he is with all of the kids, Felix was gentle. He didn’t pull or yank even though he wants to sprint ahead, he stayed right beside Quinn, matching his pace to hers. Auston reached over the fence and popped the latch, he waited for the two of them to step in before letting it close. He bent down and unclipped Felix’s leash, looked at Quinn, then nodded.

“Go pway Fewix!” She squealed.

The energetic pup took off and ran to a tree, then the bench, and a garbage can, carefully sniffing everyone. Quinn reached up for Auston’s hand and the two of them moved to the bench. Auston sat down first and placed his hands under her armpits, helping her up beside him, then passed her Felix’s ball which immediately caught the pups attention. He scurried over, then jumped up and down, tail rapidly wagging from side to side. And when Quinn threw it a few feet he eagerly retrieved it and dropped it on the ground at their feet.

“Good boy.” Auston told him. This time he throws the ball quite a distance, working to burn off some of his energy. “Is that good?” He chuckled at the hot chocolate moustache on his daughter's upper lip.

“Mhm.” She beamed. “It’s the best hot chocowate ever.”

Auston bent down and once again retrieved the ball, then tossed it to the other end of the park. “Sure is, princess.” After a few of his tosses, trying to tire him out, he passed the ball to Quinn. She quickly accepts and throws it, smiling, even though it only went about six feet.

Felix bit down and a loud squeak erupted through the ball. His tail excitedly wagged, and he wandered back to them, dropping it at their feet once again. Auston hands the ball to Quinn, who had set her hot chocolate on the bench, and threw it again, shorter than the time before. After the fourth throw that barely had Felix moving, Auston took the slobbery ball and launched it to the other side.

A loud, whistling wind enveloped the park, the branches creaking with every gust. A shiver erupted through Quinn’s tiny body, and she curled herself into her bright pink jacket. Auston scooped her up and tried to use his large body to shield the wind, sharing his body heat with his tiny daughter.

Felix dropped the ball at his feet and when Auston didn't immediately move to pick it up, Felix barked, then knelt his head down and rapidly wagged his tail from side to side, barking again.

“So impatient.”

Auston shook his head, smirking towards the youthful pup. He bent down and collected the ball and tossed it. “You want to go, Quinnie bear?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I like spending time wif you Daddy.”

Auston melts and tightened his grip, bringing her in as close as possible. “I like spending time with you too, Quinnie, but it’s a little cold out.” Auston said. Even though he is keeping one eye on Felix to ensure he doesn’t get into trouble, he can’t help but notice the rosiness in her cheeks and the tears clinging to the corner of her eyes.

“No, Daddy, I not cold.” She promptly replied. But like her mother, she is a terrible liar.

“Daddy is getting cold.” Auston told her, knowing the only way to make her leave would be with a small fib.

“Oh, no. Daddy okay?” She asked, then brought her tiny little hands up and cupped his ears, attempting to shelter him from the wind.

“Thanks Pumpkin.” Auston smiled sweetly at her. One of the things Auston had noticed of his youngest child was her selflessness. She was always checking in on her siblings when they were sick, and whenever he would huff or Tia would let out a frustrated sigh, she would immediately ask if they were okay. She picked up on their subtle cues, sometimes Auston thought she could sense things before they did.

“How about one more throw each, then we go home and watch a movie?”

“Tweee more.” She offered.

“Two.” Auston laughed when her entire face scrunched up before she emphatically shook her head no. She really is her mother’s daughter. “Fine,” he huffed. “Three more, but you can’t tell your mom I kept you outside in the cold.”

Her signature grin exploded on her face. “We get ice cream too.”

It’s Auston’s turn to showcase that signature grin. He can already hear Tia’s hushed whisper as she once again tells him all the reasons, he shouldn’t be pulling Quinn from daycare, does he really need to compound that by ruining her dinner? His move already has him “on thin ice” as Tia will undoubtedly tell him, one that has him dangerously close to not touching his wife that night, is it worth cementing that for a bowl of ice cream?

He glances down ready to deny his daughter's simple request, then he sees those wide hazel eyes practically glowing with hope, and sighs. There is no way he can say no to that face.

“You won’t tell your mom?”

“No.” She shook her head, the devious grin on her lips says otherwise - Quinn cannot keep a secret.

“You got yourself a deal, Quinnie-Bear.”

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@youtxbemusic@nicoleloveshockey@emsully2002 @hockeypuckspottspot @ashleymarine@albal321@b34ut1fulb4st4rds@biznastysloneshift12@burkylover@c-tangerine@canadian-girl87@crazzyfann @dana-hqy @delighttfulll@evawest5@every-beautifulthing-thereis@greendragonzz@heatherawoowoo@hockeybabe87@hockeyinaussie@hockeyisit@hockeypuckedmeup@je-ne-regrette-rien@jakekisska@partypoison00 @princesscameston @puccbunni @queenmarvel21 @sixmapleleafs@starswin@trashforbarzal@0kikina0@1-fuzzy-squirrels@janeydeaux@stuff4me2do@callsign-denmark @monnbc @simpgirl-lat@huneyjojo221 @idfan21 @elly-dx@samanthasgone@holyalfalfasprout@lwstuff @mattyzmarner @ashloveshockey @34tkachuk

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rounderhouse · 4 months

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'ohh if i was a horny mech pilot and you disabled my mech would you abuse me' no i would treat you as a prisoner according to the laws of war. i would not cut your sexy bodysuit off because it is a crime to strip a POW of their clothing and personal effects other than explicit combat equipment. i would not hurt you with my big boot & would instead render medical aid unto you. i would carry out political education to you and set you free as soon as possible according to the strategic and logistical situation

in this house we follow the geneva conventions, damnit. "ohhh would you torture me with a shock collar to get information out of me" no! torture is a grave violation of the laws of war and human rights. you will be detained for the duration of the conflict and then repatriated back to your mother country with all the civil capacity enjoyed at your time of capture and you'll like it.

of course this is all complicated by the fact that mech jockeys are, through a complex series of legal shenanigans, part-owned by corporations and so classified as third-party irregular combatants that don't enjoy the protections of the laws of war

#ask

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primojade · 1 year

Text

𝐎𝐃𝐈 𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐎.

❝ loving you is the highest crime I'm willing to commit. ❞

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 | in which Scaramouche reveals you the reason why he hates you so much. But in the silence that comes after his hatred is revealed, and from the unspoken words that never leave his lips, would it be too selfish to ask for something more than this?

𝐂𝐖 / 𝐓𝐖 | GN!Reader x Scaramouche; angst with an open ending; mention of kidnapping; could be read as romantic or platonic; a "what if" route in the Fallacy of Love CYOA series; spoilers for the Sumeru Archon Quest; cursing; SAGAU themes (but not the creator thingy) more of this AU in my masterlist if you want to read them!

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | Uhhh look, I have no idea if Scara could go out of his robot without breaking those stuff in his back? But let's pretend that he could for the sake of the plot xD also, tell me if you want a part 2 cause this one felt kind of a cliffhanger to me hahaha.

The first time that the game revealed his true colours, you knew that Scaramouche was not one for pleasantries. Perhaps he would if the situation calls for it, or if it means getting his way into tricking his enemies into lowering their guards down before he swiftly strikes them down. But in terms of normal conversations, he was like a person who wouldn't hesitate to call you 'fucker' or something insultingly similar.

He canonically called us 'suckers'. You inwardly snickered at the memory when you first heard it. It was kind of surreal, you know. Back then, you were hoping and praying to Hoyoverse that Scaramouche would be playable and don't let him end up like Signora. And now, he was almost playable!!

Only if you yourself weren't isekicked in Genshin Impact in the first place…then you'll be rejoicing in getting this angry purple guy with mommy issues into your party. And if you weren't thrown in Teyvat, you wouldn't also ended up in this…peculiar position.

"You…" Scaramouche's thunderous voice echoed in the vast chamber, his magnificent robot hovering behind him in a threatening manner. The artificial light that casts over the massive room gives highlight to his ethereal features, giving you time to admire his otherworldly—albeit angry—beauty. It was as if he was planning to skewer you alive with his sharp gaze if you wouldn't give him your full attention. "...You aren't afraid of me at all…"

You couldn't help but to feel shock at his surprisingly accurate observation. While it was true that you were kidnapped by the Sages and their minions, you almost immediately relaxed the moment you heard Scaramouche was the one who ordered it. After all, you knew his lore in-game at the very least and what will happen in the Archon Quest so it wouldn't really matter if he kidnapped you or what.

The Traveller and Nahida will come and defeat the false god, restore the Dendro Archon's reputation and power, save the Irminsul, and the Traveller was once again being crowned as a hero of a nation. That was written in the 3.2 version of the game.

Scaramouche is written as a villain who was destined to be defeated. But in the end, even he would probably be redeemed and would inevitably befriend the Traveller since he will become a playable character.

"...Duh, what are you talking about? Can't you see I'm shaking?" You felt a cold sweat on your back as Scaramouche inched closer to you. Though he was on the smaller side of the male characters, his charisma and appeal isn't lost to you. Especially now that he was glaring at you as if he was ready to plunge you away like what he did to the Traveller in the fighting cutscene.

"No, that's not it…" Scaramouche gritted his teeth, before he grabbed your collar and forcibly made you look straight into his burning eyes. "...that look in your eyes, that way you're looking at me right now…I despise it, I loathe it more than I despise the Traveller and everyone in this world!"

"Wha—?"

His hand on your collar tightens when you start to struggle under his hold. "Everything you told me, every expression you gave me…I remember it all. Everything was etched into my mind and I…I won't ever forgive you!"

“What in the name of the Archons are you talking about?” Even if there was a pit starting to form in your stomach, and even if he started to shake you out of sheer rage, you forced yourself to not waver under his maddening gaze.

You have no idea why he hates you so much, nor the sins you seemed to unknowingly commit to him. You were not like the Traveller who could go head to head with him and actually defeat him. You were not like the gods that abandoned him, nor the Harbinger that used him. In fact, you are a nobody to him. Nothing but an addicted gamer of Genshin Impact that was isekai’d in Teyvat for some cruel, unknown reason.

So, why does he hate you so much to the point that he ordered you to be kidnapped just to spit in your face how much he despises you?

“—Back then, when I invaded your mind, you confidently told me that everything I did would be futile and pointless, so it's best if I gave up my plans to save myself of the pain," intense anger bled through his tone, the venom on his voice made you tremble inside.

You remember that. It was during the part where the Traveller touched Haypasia and Scaramouche connected into their mind. But to your surprise, you were also connected to him. Although everything played out just like what happened in the Archon Quest, you still tried your best to convince Scaramouche to stop whatever he was doing—just like the Traveller.

You said it out of pure concern for him. As much as you want everything to play out what it was meant to be, a small part of yourself didn't want to see him suffer with your own eyes when Nahida and Traveller defeat him and take the Gnosis that he treasures so much from him.

You don't want to see him so miserable and lifeless as if his very soul had been ripped apart from him. You especially don't want to see him plummet down from his 'godhood' with no one to catch him as he falls—just like a discarded puppet that he so believed he was.

Still, you don't understand his spiteful words towards you.

"—but now, I understand." There was a sudden calm in his voice that made you slightly nervous, like a brewing storm ready to swept you away. With a harsh tug of your collar, he leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from yours. You couls feel his ragged breathing, his gritted teeth, and his anger. "...you have no right to judge me, mortal. You have no goddamn right to judge people like that!"

You felt as if Scaramouche threw a bucket of cold water into you.

"I…" Judge you? You wanted to say, but all you've managed was to look at him with wide, horrified eyes as realisation slowly dawns on you.

Genshin Impact is a video game with a strong plot and fictional story, played by millions of people across the world. Scaramouche is one of the villains, the antagonists, who has done nothing good to the main character. He was someone who was just a mere supporting character in order to make the plot interesting, someone who, just by existing, is a catalyst to the plot of Sumeru Archon Quest, who had a sad backstory in order to grab the heartstrings of the players.

A cash grab for the simps, to cruelly put it.

Scaramouche could never win this battle because that was how this world was set. He could never have the Gnosis because he was written for something much different.

No matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he struggles, he will only just be hurting himself because his actions are futile for the future had long since written.

The villain role that was given to him is fixed and cannot be changed.

"You were looking at me, thinking that my actions are useless, that I would never become a God, that I will become even less than what my creator thought of me when she abandoned me!" Scaramouche shouted at you and with so much vigour, he finally let go of our collar. Your knees gave out and you were left kneeling on the ground with a daze expression. "—when you were looking at me, gazing at me with those sympathetic eyes as if I'm someone who challenges the absolute impossible!"

No, its…its not like that.

But you felt sympathetic and empathetic at Scaramouche because just like you, he had no chance of winning this battle. He was not the main character. He was a villain, a supporting role, like yourself.

This is a world inside a sick game, where each playable character was moving and making choices based on what was programmed of them. They have no control of their choices because that's how the game's flow works.

But all this time, maybe unconsciously, you were seeing—judging—everyone you met here because you knew they were not real. They were programmed characters made to entertain the gamers.

But Scaramouche…

The Balladeer was so different as he himself shattered your little world. His blazing purple eyes even bluer than what you expect.

And he looked so real. So human-like and yet god-like at the same time.

"—I will become a god," he said with finality, so sure of himself that you almost believe him. He turned his back on you and walked towards the giant robot hovering in the distance, the elegant flutter of his sleeves was so real. "—And I do not care if it will be useless. Because unlike you who easily give up, I make my own decisions and I will forge my own future the way I want it to."

As you listlessly watched the Traveller and Nahida slowly but surely defeat Scaramouche's god-like form, watching the familiar battle scene of the Shouki no Kami unfold before your eyes just like you see back in the screen of your device, for the first time since you arrived in Teyvat, you realised that perhaps, despite his artificial origins, Scaramouche was the most human of them all.

...One that you have no right to judge so rashly as he continued to struggle and fight under the harsh thumb of his cruel fate.

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | I had this brainrot a lot because I know that a lot of us must've thought along the lines of 'i can't wait to beat up scara' or something along those lines lmao. Ik cause i'm the same LOL. But what if this behaviour had bleed into you when you were isekai'd? Like ofc they are all video game characters, they are programmed and coded to act like what the script told them to, but I felt like Scaramouche fit the trope that wouldn't just give up easily even if the 'ending was already decided' so that's why he hated the reader because he thought that they were judging his actions as useless and futile, even if the sentiment comes from good conscience in our part! I just hope I manage to deliver the feelings well because im not really good at describing stuff 🤡🤡💀

TAGLIST (open! Send a dm or ask to be added :3) | @xinii , @maehemthemisfit , @abvolat , @crazypriestess , @ghostsaysno , @kittence , @unabashedlyminiaturetyrant , @xiyanin , @toasterinabathtub , @sketcheeee , @fuoon , @luvwukong , @salty-salty , @rosebatsc , @inky8 , @thegeekact , @almighty-raiden-shogunate , @isuckat-avery-thing , @perhapsabitgirlypop , @2cuteforyourlies , @stxrgxzxr , @elsoleil , @tsukkinoyya , @mkaella , @celi-alika , @tiffthescales , @blurr3db3rry , @messyserver , @shadowmist0706 , @chin-chii , @observation-subject-753 , @clovers-anxiety , @shizunxie , @lleoll , @shoujishu , @uwu-panic , @forgotten-blues , @chaneylovesfangirling , @enma-reblogs , @cookielovingalien , @iruiji , @samarill , @definitionofsadness , @spynerr , @bigcandlesmolbrain , @universal-rose , @feverish-dove , @inlovewithwaffles , @jar-03 , @swaggyb0ke , ... (if ur username is bolded, it means i cant tagged u :(( maybe its in ur settings? Also lmk if i missed anyone cause im such an idiot sometimes shsh)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #sagau #genshin sagau #jaded moments—!#gender neutral reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer

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