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babydollmarauders · 7 months

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ENCHANTED — JAMIE DRYSDALE

jamie drysdale x hughes!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n meets Jamie on a boring night and becomes completely enchanted with him

notes: this is my first time ever writing for Jamie, so bear with me! (4k words, precisely.)

this wasn’t where i wanted to spend my night.

after two years in Anaheim, i thought i had successfully avoided my brother’s best friend dragging me to parties or nights out.

i always had an excuse handy.

“sorry Trevor, i have a big test. i gotta study.”

“i have major cramps, sorry Trev.”

“i have study group, sorry!”

“sorry Trevor, i have a shift at the campus store!”

that last one came back to bite me in the ass after Trevor had mentioned it to Jack and my loving brother outed me on the fact that i don’t even have a job.

that’s what got me here. finally conned into being Trevor’s friendly plus-one to John Gibson’s end-of-the-season party. despite the fact that i was telling the truth this time when i said i had to study for finals.

Trevor had pulled some pouty puppy face over facetime, reminded me that i lied to him last time, and even pulled out the “i just wanna hang out with you, mini Hughes. i never get to see you, even though we live in the same city. you may as well be as far away as Jack.”

and just like that, i was putty in his hands. i agreed to accompany, only on the agreement that he wouldn’t leave me alone when we got here. and he hasn’t, so far.

he stands next to me, an arm leant against my shoulder, as he chats with Troy Terry.

“this is y/n Hughes, my itty bitty best buddy!” his speech is slightly slurred, already significantly buzzed, but not quite drunk yet.

“you gotta stop calling me that.” i roll my eyes. “i’m not fourteen and 5’3 anymore.”

“but you’re still not my height,” he laughs, ruffling my hair. “so it stays.”

i send Troy a pleading glance and his head tips back in laughter.

“so, you’re Quinn, Jack, and Luke’s sister?” Troy asks.

“yeah, i’m between Jack and Luke.” i explain and he nods, making a comment about how hard it must be being the only girl.

“where’s Jamie, Trevor? thought he would’ve driven with you.” Troy questions, and i’m grateful for the change of subject.

i love my brothers, but they’re all anyone ever wants to talk about. i’m my own person, my life doesn’t revolve around them.

“nah, i picked this one up, so Jamie’s driving on his own. he should be here soon though.”

i zone out as the conversation shifts to their off-season plans, forcing a laugh whenever Trevor tells a horrendous joke, and faking a smile when he mentions that he’ll be coming to my brothers lake house.

but eventually i get bored, instead turning my head to look around the crowded house.

i recognize a few people from the Ducks games i’ve watched or attended. John Gibson, the goalie. Mason McTavish, the young center.

but then i see him.

dark hair and blue eyes contrast against pale skin. even from across the room, i can see the freckles that litter across his nose and cheekbones. his gaze shifts around the room, and when it settles on where i am, he seems to let out a relieved sigh, making his way over.

my body tenses, my posture becoming straighter, and as i push my shoulders back slightly, i accidentally knock Trevor’s arm off. but he doesn’t seem to notice, a large goofy smile breaking out across his face as he cheers.

“Jimbo! you made it!”

a blush rises to the gorgeous boy’s cheeks, huffing out an awkward chuckle. it’s beautiful. he’s beautiful.

“Jimmy, this is y/n. y/n, this is Jamie!” Trevor introduces us and realization settles over me.

this is Jamie? Trevor’s best friend and roommate in California?

he reminds me of a disney prince. his eyes meet mine, wonder shining amongst them.

“have we met? you seem kinda familiar.” his voice reminds me of daylight breaking amongst gray clouds. warmth and security flowing throughout my body.

but before i can respond, Trevor butts his way in again.

“i’m gonna go get another drink! i’ll be back.”

Trevor pushes his way between us, heading off toward the kitchen, and Jamie laughs again.

“so, how drunk is he?” Jamie questions, his head nodding towards where Trevor disappeared.

“well, about ten minutes ago, he was singing me the mighty ducks theme song.” i explain and Jamie nods in understanding.

“got it. so, he’s sober.” he remarks and i let out a giggle.

“yeah,” i drag out. “there really isn’t much of a difference between sober and drunk Trevor, is there?”

“not when he’s as wild drunk as he is sober.” Jamie jokes, and i hum in agreement.

“so, you’re the infamous Jamie Drysdale?” i raise an eyebrow, watching as his cheeks turn pink.

“oh god, he talks about me?” he laughs and i nod.

“you’ve been mentioned a few times.” i confirm. “all good things, of course.”

Jamie and i stand in that same spot almost all night, eventually moving to the couch when we realize that Trevor isn’t coming back.

“so, you’re a student at… Chapman?” he gathers.

“yeah, i’m about to end my junior year. one year online during the pandemic, and two years on campus here.” i explain and he nods his head in understanding, taking a sip of his soda.

“what’s your major?”

“broadcast journalism. my main focus is sports entertainment.” he nods again before his nose scrunches in confusion, his eyebrows pulling together.

“and you’ve known Trevor this whole time?” i hum out in agreement. “how have we never met until now?”

“okay, don’t judge me.” i preface, making him chuckle, but agree. “i’m not much of a party person. i prefer to stay in my dorm and watch movies. so, i always make up an excuse to get out of coming to parties with Trevor.”

his head tips back in laughter, causing a rush of heat to spread across my face, but at the sight of my blush, he shakes his head.

“wait, no! no! i’m not laughing at you, i swear! i’m laughing because i do the same thing.” his words are spoken through broken laughter, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip to hold back a smile.

“really? you’re his roommate!”

“that doesn’t mean i love partying!” he defends himself. “i’m more introverted. quieter than Z. a lot of people wonder why we’re friends, but, we balance each other out.”

he shrugs and i tilt my head, squinting my eyes.

“hm, yeah, i could see that.” i admit. “my best friend and i are the same way. she’s a lot like Trevor.”

as the words leave my mouth, my face drops; my eyes wide, my lips parted in horror.

“oh god, she’s like Trevor.” Jamie’s entire body folds in laughter, his face turning bright red as his hand lands on my knee, sending sparks up my leg.

he looks so carefree and happy, i can’t help but sneak a picture.

“so, neither of us like parties,” Jamie starts, once he’s finally calmed down from laughing at my horror. “and Trevor has left us, and i doubt he’s coming back.”

“definitely not. that boy has the attention span of a goldfish.” i joke and Jamie agrees.

“so why don’t we get out of here?” he asks. my lips part, blood rushing to my cheeks, but before i can speak, he cuts me off. “wait, not like that. that came out wrong! what i mean is, i could really go for some food. and maybe getting out of this crowded house.”

“oh- yeah.” i nod, sliding my phone in my pocket. “yeah, that sounds great.”

“great!” he rises from the couch, holding his hand out for me to take; and i do, slipping my hand into his larger, more calloused hold.

he pulls me up from the couch, his grip never faltering as we exit the house with an irish goodbye and head to his car.

he opens the passenger door, finally dropping my hand to allow me to slide in, but i catch his hand flex in my peripheral vision and despite my now cold hand, my heart races in my chest. did i just get my own pride and prejudice moment?

“do you have any special requests on where to eat?” he questions as he starts the car.

“um, no.” i shrug. “anywhere with chicken tenders is fine with me.”

he laughs. “then i know just the place.”

the ride is made in a comfortable silence after that. nothing but the sound of country music flowing through the radio.

Jamie pulls into a diner parking lot, mostly empty due to the late timing, and we head inside, taking a seat in a booth towards the middle of the establishment.

“your chicken tenders, await.” he grins, pointing out the item on the laminated menu, slightly sticky with syrup.

“hey, don’t knock the chicken tenders. they’re an important food group.” i stick out my lip in a fake pout and he chuckles.

“yeah, if you’re ten.”

“oh yeah, well what are you gonna get? a burger?” he opens his mouth to defend himself, but as i raise a brow, he chooses to stay silent, letting out a ‘hmph’

“that’s what i thought.” i grin in triumph as a waitress stops by to take our orders. as soon as she leaves, my phone buzzes in my pocket and i slide it out, huffing a laugh at the text.

***

from: quack-quack 🦆

yo, where’d u go?! u disappeared on me!

***

i show the text to Jamie, who laughs as well.

“guess he did try to come back to us.” he shrugs.

“yeah, three hours after he left us!” i giggle, holding my phone up to take a picture of Jamie, who smiles, his arms crossed on the table.

the photo is the only response Trevor gets, but barely 5 minutes later, interrupting Jamie and i’s heavy debate on which Star Wars movie is the best, i get another text.

***

from: jacky ♥️🖤

why is Z telling me you’re out with a guy? at 11:30 at night?? y/n, go home. now. it’s unsafe and i can’t believe you’re being so reckless. i’ll deal with this in the morning.

***

i roll my eyes, choosing to ignore the text and slip my phone back into my pocket.

“Trevor again?” Jamie asks but i shake my head.

“no, worse. my brother.” i explain as our food arrives.

i smile over at the waitress, muttering out a ‘thank you’ before she retreats.

“you have a brother?” he speaks up as i take a bite of chicken and i nod.

“i have three.” i don’t give him any more information than that. if he’s unaware of who my brothers are, then i don’t want to tell him. not tonight, at least.

“oh damn.” he blows out a breath, his eyes widening. “i have a brother, but i can’t imagine having three. and being the only girl?”

“yeah, they’re pretty protective.”

“do they live here?” he asks, and it feels nice; being able to talk about my family without someone already knowing who they are and pretty much everything about them.

“no.” i shake my head. “one lives in canada, the other two on the east coast.”

he ask me more questions about my family, and i try to keep my answers as vague as possible, while still not being too vague that he thinks i don’t wanna talk about them.

for every question i answer, he gives me a fact about his own family, until the conversation shifts to jobs.

“well obviously you know i’m a hockey player.” he says as i push my now-empty plate away. “do you work?”

“not right now.” i tell him. “i’m focused on school at the moment. i got a full-ride scholarship, because of my grades, so i don’t have to pay for my tuition, and my parents pay for my dorm.

“but because they don’t have to pay for my tuition, they send me a monthly allowance from my college fund so that i don’t have to work and i can focus on my schooling.”

he follows along as i explain, maintaining eye contact.

“that’s cool. it’s good, that you get to focus on your grades.” i yawn as he finishes speaking, attempting to cover it, but he catches on. “oh shit, are you tired?”

“i- just a little bit.” i wince, hoping he doesn’t think i found him boring or anything.

“i can drop you off at your dorm, if you want. i know Trevor picked you up”

i nod as he motions over to the waitress for the check.

“yes, please.” i give in. “i usually wouldn’t mind staying out all night with you, because i’m having a really good time, and you’re so funny and sweet. but, i need to sleep so i can study tomorrow. i have a final on Monday.”

Jamie pays, waving off my offer to pay for my own food, and we exit the diner, climbing back into his car.

the time on his dashboard reads one am and i internally cringe at the idea of having to sneak back into my dorm.

the drive is mainly quiet as i give him directions to my dorm, and i sigh as we pull up in front of the building.

“i had a lot of fun.” i turn to him with a small smile as i unbuckle my seatbelt. “thanks for making tonight a lot less boring, Jamie.”

“yeah, me too.” he nods, “thanks for saving me from drunk Trevor.”

i’m grateful for the darkness of the night sky as he leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek, thanking whatever higher being that he’s unable to see the pink twinge of my cheekbones.

i bid him a goodnight as i exit the car, looking back as i reach the door to the dormitory building, to see him waiting for me to get inside before he leaves. i wave another goodbye, him doing the same as i disappear into the brick building.

i’m blushing, grinning like a lovesick fool the entire elevator ride up to my dorm.

i wonder if he knows how enchanted i was by him. one night together and i’m already thinking about how i would introduce him to my family.

i tiptoe into the dorm room, quiet to try and avoid waking my best friend slash roommate, but my efforts go unappreciated as she’s already sitting up in her bed, waiting for me.

“how was it? were you miserable without me?” Brandy asks from her spot propped against her mountain of pillows. “i bet you were, right?”

but i’m quiet; my mind still stuck on Jamie. he was amazing. so kind, and funny. and he actually asked about me. he genuinely wanted to know about my family and friends, what i liked to do in my free time, and what i wanted to do with my degree.

“oh- i know that look.” Brandy squeals, hopping off her bed and disregarding my half-nakedness in the midst of getting changed into my pajamas, pulling me in for a hug. “who is he? what’s his name? where’s he from? does he have a hot brother?”

“Trevor’s roommate, Jamie, Canada, and he has a brother but i don’t know what he looks like.” i spill, my cheeks red and a wide grin on my lips.

you’d think i just told Brandy i won the lottery with the way she lets out an excited shriek, jumping up and down as i finish changing.

i leave her to get out her excitement as i go wash my face and brush my teeth, but when i’m back, she just seems even more excited.

“tell me all about him!” she demands, hopping back into her bed, turning to face mine as i crawl in and bury myself in my covers.

“he was enchanting.” i sigh, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. “he was so funny, and he was so sweet. we really clicked, Bran.

“we met at the party and spent hours just talking and getting to know each other. and then he took me to this diner, and we spent another hour and a half just talking about our lives. and he doesn’t know who my brothers are! i mean, he knows who they are, obviously, because he plays hockey, but he doesn’t know they’re my brothers.”

“oh sweet angel,” she sighs, and i turn my head to look at her. “you seem so happy.”

her eyes are soft, a gentle smile on her face.

“i am.” i tell her.

“are you gonna see him again?” she questions, laying down under her blankets.

“i don’t know, i—” my mood deflates, my face dropping as realization settles over me. “i didn’t get his number.”

“so ask Trevor for it.” she shrugs, as if it’s easy. and i guess for her, someone who doesn’t have crippling anxiety, it is.

“i can’t.” i shake my head. “that would be so embarrassing. i don’t want Trevor to know i’m interested in his friend. not yet.”

“you’ll see him again, sweet angel.” Brandy assures me, flicking off her lamp. “it’ll work out.”

the room goes dark and quiet, and a mere five minutes later, i can hear her snores fill the room. but i’m still awake.

i grab my phone from where it rests on my bedside table, unlocking it, i’m unsurprised to see it’s two am. i click into my photos app, swiping back and forth between the two pictures i took of Jamie tonight.

questions plague my thoughts.

does he have a girlfriend in canada?

who does he love?

when is he leaving, now that the season is over?

will i ever see him again?

please let this be the very first page of our story.

please don’t let this be where our storyline ends.

i turn off my phone, plugging it in and setting it back on my nightstand. his name echoes through my thoughts, and when i close my eyes, all i picture is him.

please don’t be in love with someone else.

please don’t have somebody waiting on you.

i drift into sleep, my dreams overridden by the same blue eyed, freckled boy that had taken over my mind.

*** TWO MONTHS LATER ***

it’s been months, but i still haven’t moved past that April night with Jamie.

i can be having a normal summer day, and yet some way or another, i’m reminded of the beautiful boy that i spent that night with.

sometimes it’s the blue of the lake water, which reminds me of his eyes. others it’s the color of my coffee in the morning, that reminds me of his hair.

it doesn’t help that nearly all of Trevor’s stories from the past season, include Jamie in some way.

it’s been months, and i still hope to every higher power, that i’ll see him again. that he’s single and hoping to see me too.

i’m sprawled across the couch, my head in my eldest brother’s lap as the guys play chel.

i was reading a book, but that’s been long abandoned; now closed and resting on my chest as i daydream about the freckled disney prince like boy from Anaheim.

“hey.” my trance is broken when Quinn pokes my cheek. i glance up at him, tearing my eyes away from their zoned out glare at the tv. “you okay?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” i give him a small smile. “just wondering where Trevor is and if he can stay there. it’s so quiet.”

Quinn laughs, zoning back into the tv screen as a new game starts between Jack and Cole.

“he went to-” Quinn is cut off by the front door opening and Trevor’s loud voice echoing throughout the house.

“honey, i’m home!” Trevor calls out and Quinn and i share an exasperated glance. “and i brought a guest!”

my brows furrow together at his statement, listening to the two pairs of footsteps that get closer to the living room.

“guys, this is Jamie. you know him from… playing against him.”

my eyes go wide, my head snapping up as i quickly raise myself to a sitting position, accidentally kicking Jack in the groin from my feet having been in his lap.

Jack lets out a groan, doubling over, while Cole laughs and takes that as his chance to score a goal on him in the video game.

“Jimbo, this is Cole, Alex, Quinn, and Jack, who looks like his appendix burst.” Trevor introduces and Jack coughs, holding up his middle finger at his best friend. “and you already know y/n.”

at the mention of my name and the flick of Trevor’s finger towards me, Jamie’s eyes snap to me, a smile on his face.

“hi.” i grin, shuffling to my knees on the couch.

“hey, i’m glad to see you again. i didn’t know you would be here.” Jamie’s eyes light up, crinkling as his smile gets brighter.

“it’s her brothers’ house Jimmy, of course she’ll be here.” Trevor laughs, slapping Jamie’s back, whose eyes go wide as he realizes.

“oh- these are your brothers? you didn’t say they played hockey.” Jamie chuckles awkwardly.

“what?” Jack huffs from behind me. “not only have you met him? but you didn’t tell him about your dear old brothers?”

Jack wraps an arm around the front of my shoulders, pulling me back into him and ruffling my hair.

“get off me, jackass!” i break free from his hold, making him laugh. “i didn’t tell him who you are, but i did tell him how annoying you are.”

Jack gasps in mock offense, reaching out for me, but i clamber into Quinn’s lap.

“keep him away, Quinny!” i shriek, making all the guys laugh.

“Jack, leave her alone.” Quinn chuckles and Jack slumps back on his seat, rolling his eyes.

“you two are no fun.”

“hey mini Hughes?” Trevor starts, plopping down into the seat beside Jack. “you mind showing Jimmy to the empty room? i wanna beat Cole’s ass at chel.”

“sure.” i rise from Quinn’s lap, sending a smile towards Jamie as i motion for him to follow me. he picks up his suitcase, shuffling behind me through the house and up the stairs until i lead him into the empty room beside mine.

“here ya go. your room for the… however long you’re here.” he chuckles at my words, setting his suitcase down on the bed before he turns to me.

“ya know, i was hoping i’d see you again.” he confesses, my cheeks turning pink.

“yeah?” he nods, “me too.”

“i was enchanted to meet you that night.” his hand grabs ahold of mine, lacing our fingers together. “and then i realized i didn’t get your number, and it felt too weird to get it from Trevor. so, i was really hoping i would run into you next season, but here you are now.”

“here i am.” i bite my lip, glancing down at his lips before back at his eyes.

“would you wanna go out while i’m here?” he asks shyly. “like, on a real date?”

“i would love that, Jamie.” i take the chance while i feel bold, wrapping my arms around his neck, his following suit and coiling around my waist.

“yeah?” he replies giddily, his voice filled with excitement and nerves.

“yeah. i’d love that a lot.” his eyes flicker down to my lips before his tongue darts out to wet his own.

“hey, Jamie?” my words earn me a distracted hum in return. “you finally gonna kiss me now?”

“oh yeah.” he nods, causing me to giggle.

his head dips down, our noses brushing as his lips finally press against mine. my entire body melts into his, my hands cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. our lips fit together perfectly, fire spreading throughout my body at the feeling.

and all i can think, is how enchanting this feeling is.

#speak now fic list #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale fic #jamie drysdale blurb #anaheim ducks #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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huggybearluvr · 6 months

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milestones | tz11

pairing:trevor zegras x drysdale!reader

summary: You and Trevor have been dating for almost 6 months now and have mostly been in the honey moon phase of your relationship. You have yet to get into any fights... until you go out to the bar with the team after their first win of the season.

Masterlist

You were stood beside trevor at the bar happily celebrating with the team. He was focused on his conversation with John Gibson. You tapped his shoulder to which he brushed you off with his hand.

You huffed walking to the bar to get yourself another drink. You then stayed there for a bit, not long after a large bearded man came over to you, "Hello there darling."

You simply waved to be nice before getting up to head back to the group. The man was quicker though, grabbing your arm.

"leaving so soon?" He asked with a a god awful smirk on his face.

You desperately tried to get Trevors attention but to no avail.

"I have a boyfriend," You said trying to free your arm from the mans grasp.

"Yeah, i've heard that one before, hasn't stopped me," He smirked even more.

"Let me go!" you argued. When the man only gripped your harm harder. You stepped closer to him, kneeing him in the groin. He quickly hunched over relieving your arm.

You went back to the group grabbing Trevors arm, "Trev!"

"what babe," He said annoyed.

You looked him dead in the eye about ready to slap the attitude out of him, "Can we please leave, that guy over there won't leave me alone and I feel so uncomfortable!"

"Maybe in an hour just stay over here," He said turning back to his conversation.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" You had raised your voice at this point. You angerly walked away. You spotted your brother at the bar getting a new drink.

"Jamie, will you please take me home," You said as your eyes began to slowly gaze over.

"Of course, what happened?" He asked as he led you over to the table to get your jackets.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now, please can I stay at your house tonight?"

He nodded taking your hand and leading you out of the bar.

Once you made it to Jamies apartment you explained what had happened to him.

"I swear, Trevor is a fucking idiot." Jamie said angered by his best friends actions towards you, "I'm gonna call him."

"Please don't Jaim," you looked at your older brother with pleading eyes.

"Alright, you sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch," he spoke softly.

"Thank you," You smiled hugging your brother before heading off to Jamies room.

-----

It had been about 2 hours before a wag mentioned your disappearance to Trevor.

"Hey, do you know where y/n is?" The wag asked Trevor.

"I don't know, she's around here somewhere." Trevor responded.

"We've all been looking for her, she's not here Z." The wag said in a serious tone this time.

"What do you mean she's not here." Trevor now began to worry.

He called you and texted you no answer.

He called Jamie and on the 5th ring it answered.

"What do you want Z?"

"Do you know where y/n is? No one has seen her."

"It took you two hours to realize I took her home? your an asshole Z you know that?"

"Why'd you take her home? Why is she at your place?"

"Are you that fucking clueless? She came to you with a legit problem and you ignored her, you ignored her the whole night."

"I didn't mean too" Trevor tried to defend himself but it was no help.

"Sure you did bud." and with that Jamie hung up.

Trevor quickly called and uber to head to Jamies and talk to you.

Once he arrived he knocked rapidly on the door til Jamie answered.

"She doesn't wanna talk to you." He said sternly.

"Please can I just see her?"

"It's okay Jaim." You said softly standing in the living room facing the door.

"Fine," Jamie rolled his eyes but followed your wishes letting Trevor in.

"I'll be in my room," Jamie said leaving to head to his room.

"baby, im so sorry, you know how I get after hockey games," Trevor argued.

"So your making excuses?"

"No forget I said that, Im so genuinly sorry I didnt listen when you told me about the guy, It was fucked."

He stepped closer to you, grabbing your hands, "Baby im sorry, please forgive me," He said looking at you with pleading eyes, "Let me take you back home."

You rolled your eyes before smiling, "Fine."

"thank god!" Trevor said before leaning down and kissing you. You pulled away smiling.

#trevor zegras #anaheim ducks #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras x you #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x drysdale!reader #trevor zegras fic #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl fic #anaheim ducks imagines #jamie drysdale

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 3 months

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“Not quite my type”

Shelby Brothers x reader

Summary: Everybody says they have “a type,” but we don’t always fall for that type now do we?

Note: Physical descriptions are used. This is a sequel to this post that goes over my hcs for the Shelby brothers’ (excluding Finn) types!

Arthur

(Short and curvy—> Tall and lean)

Arthur always liked a softer lady, someone on the shorter side too. However, Arthur’s type is truly any woman that shows him kindness and patience. Out of all the Shelby brothers, Arthur would be the first to change his preferences for his partner. He doesn’t treat you as competition or as being masculine, no. Arthur treats you like a princess… think of Gimli speaking to Galadriel. If you were not only tall, but muscular, Arthur would only find you that much sexier. A noble, strong, otherworldly woman chose him as a partner, he’s a lucky man. Once he’s in love, he romanticizes every part of you. From your long legs to your elegant back.

Tommy

(Tall and lean —-> Short and curvy)

Tommy tended to go for lean, sophisticated ladies. When he was young they called his type “Gibson Girls.” That is not to say that he would turn down a woman based only on her height or waistline. It would take some getting used to, sure… but he does get used to it. Tommy likes the subtle curves of a woman. Her spine, her neck, her thighs. There is something gentle and romantic about a softer bodied woman. He likes to buy you fine dresses to accentuate your figure and jewelry to compliment your eyes. Tommy likes to show you off, until men start to get too close. His favorite place to put you is right on his lap, his hand gripping your thigh.

John

(Plump backside—> Not so much)

So, you’ve got a small or flat backside. Not everyone gets to just have one. No shame in it! Now, if you’re worried John would love you less for it… It wouldn’t matter. He will spank it anyway. And John is an easygoing guy when it comes to sex appeal. Some pricks only want girls with big bosoms or dainty hands. John likes all sizes. Tits are tits, an ass is an ass. He isn’t exactly a poet about it though, so you might not always feel as sexy as he sees you. Until he gets his hands on you, anyway. John doesn’t even care about lingerie! If you’re his girl, all you need to do is give him a wink and he’s yours.

Tags-

@graveyard-stray @roeun

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #John Shelby #arthur shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #john shelby x reader

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milknhonies · 4 months

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The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 2 || MasterList || Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: A new job creates a new problem for August who decides he needs to remind you of his power. You let Lloyd inside, and he has an offer to make.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Referenced Non-Con Events, Implied Illegal Weapon Arms Trading, Threats, Manipulation, Stalking Journalism.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Author Notes: in my mind and casting, Jude Driver is played by Adam Driver. Wesley Gibson is played by James McAvoy. Brandon Sullivan is played by Michael Fassbender. Katarina Vikander is played by Alicia Vikander.

Inspiring Song: "Woman." by Ke$ha.

10:23am Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

“These photos Miss Y/L/N, they’re magnificent. I haven’t seen quality this good since…well…never really…When can you start?”

You grinned, sitting across from the head editor of one of the smaller local newpapers.

You knew you had to find a job quickly…you were sick of the employment agency and their unhelpful attitude. You knew if you were going to remain safe and take down the billionaire asshole, you needed to be the best version of yourself.

It had been a three days since you first met that monster... August Walker. And he had seemingly invaded your every thought. He was there in the back and front of your mind haunting and taunting you with his smirking lips and roguishly deep voice.

The gentleman who sat in front of you had no idea. That was something you were okay with, how could anyone know? No one knew. You hadn’t called or replied to any text messages Lloyd had sent.

You made a resume portfolio of your best photos you’d taken since your first camera your dad ever bought you. Both Polaroid and electronic. You still hadn’t forgotten that August had stolen one of your father’s cameras from the day he forced you to cum on the recliner chair.

You knew you were inexperienced in journalism…but your photography was a master skill unlike any other.

Your successful interview, you put it up to a great sense of confidence, as well.

“Right now if you’ll have me,” you winked. He was an older man of an older generation. Clearly he knew and was a deep fan of Australian banter that borderlines the aesthetics of flirtation. You were a young woman and he was an older man, the math was simple. Bat your lashes, pretend to be coy and then slide in with a sarcastic remark or sexual innuendo.

He laughed and leant over his desk. You shook your new bosses hand.

He liked that very much. ‘Of course he would, he’s practically old enough to be someone’s perverted uncle.’

“Oh most definitely…” he said biting his bottom lip, he was milking the banter.

He was a handsome even for a classic perverted elder fellow. John Luther was a grey fox so the ladies might say. You were sure that from now on never to truly trust a man…so when he winked back and looked down your shirt- at your chest, you smiled wider, ‘predictable men…he is going to be easy to manipulate…’

You had to thank August one day…if he hadn’t hurt and humiliated you the way he did…you would never have felt the rage of all women and the desire to use your assets to get what you wanted in this Man’s World.

You sat back a lit and lifted your chest as you gave a big happy sigh while watching Mr Luther continuously ogle your chest.

It sent a shiver even down your spine thinking about it…entering a villainess era…a femme fatale story….a tale of revenge and justice.

“I admire a woman with confidence,” he said sucking his teeth, his right hand slide down beneath his desk out of view. You had half a mind to assume he was palming his dick in his trousers.

“So how about I assign you your first assignment? See how you go? I’ll even let you choose…”

“Choose?” you asked with a faux coyness, fluttering your lashes.

“Well, we have a very interesting story idea in regards to the Woolloongabba Doggy Day care that just moved to East Brisbane, rumour has it that the business is understaffed for the amount of dogs they keep in care. And they only use half of the required sanitization required. A spread of kennel cough and many dogs having their ears ripped off by other larger dogs belonging to rich clients the owner of the doggy day care refuses to lose business towards.”

Oh dear, you noted, that sounded tragic….it’s a good thing you never had a pet as a kid. It would hurt too much to be in that position. Hearing a pet dog had its ear ripped off by savage untrained dogs.

“...And the other case?” You sweetly chirped.

His smile fell, “There’s a certain gentleman that’s running around allegedly smuggling drugs and arm deals…” he repeated, “’Allegedly’…”

He rolled back in his chair to reach for a folder on his bookshelf, flicking through it.

Your craning neck had time to catch the outline of his prick beneath his pants. ‘Oh yes...this man is putty in my hands.’ When he swivelled back, you dashed your eyes back to his desk trinkets and smiled at him.

“A bloke named August Walker selling to or buying from an old money American philanthropist Brandon Sullivan…”

‘No fucking way’….just your luck…

You were going to fucking take it no matter what….

Luther grimaced, “It’s a big task so I won’t judge you for not taking it. I’m just hoping to catch the sons of bitches at it. It would be a huge story for media not even those wankers at seven, nine or ten news could think to report.”

You reached over his desk to steal his pen and stick note pad. You took down the name he mentioned on a sticky note- Brandon Sullivan...you made sure to memorise it well.

“How about we even make those conniving morons at sky news jealous, sir?” You smirked and watched as the rockets soared in his eyes with his white tooth grin.

He laughed hard.

He wiped his hand down his chin, “I love a girl with ambition Miss Y/L/N. I’m sure you won’t disappoint me! The dead line for photos is in a week, he’s having some soiree on next Friday or something so it’s got to be before then because you’re never gonna be able to enter those clubs, chicky. Respectfully.”

You smile and shake his hand again, “Mr Luther, I swear…I’ll give you the best goddamn shots you’ve ever seen of that criminal.”

Now your man hunt had truly commenced, you smiled to yourself. Who knew that revenge could come so easily and quickly…

Luther gave you your own cubicle to work in. A place to hang and edit your photos. A place to file your evidence. He may have mentioned that the work they did in his agency was on par with the police but by no means legally police work. So if the cops arrived, you stayed hidden and kept your fucking mouth shut....

You had a job and began researching the bastards name again on your laptop, compiling the sources from Google and the notes from Luther’s folder files.

You discovered the following about August J. Walker.

He was born in New Jersey. He was twice your age and almost as old as your father. He had a plethora of connections in businesses from alcohol distillery to Chinese restaurant vendings. Actually you were confident that a restaurant he help partnership over had a familiar logo. You tapped your lip and wondered briefly if your father ever delivered there as a truck driver.

August was a fan of European and Asian based foods and sold it at his clubs. He owned over fifteen around the world. One of his biggest in Australia was The Lions Lounge, it was on the edge of Fortitude Valley. It was for the richest social elites of the country. The price of food alone was almost your weeks rent.

On the website of his club you could see information regarding the tightship of his security. It seemed supreme so there wasn’t a chance of you going to his club without a fat purse and invitation.

A party was coming up, a celebration for the ten year anniversary of its opening. A soiree with a “The roaring 1920s.” Theme. You scoffed at the cliché.

It was exclusively invite only, it was only on the website so that those who received a invitation could reply a rsvp. And with you fresh out of luck of an invite like Luther even said, there was little to no chance of clawing your way inside.

So...that’s when you had to resort to extra creativity. You held up the sticky note and smiled.

09:07am Wednesday 14th August 2024, Robertson Brisbane.

August Walker was a man with a craving to remain in power. He had fought tooth and nail to get where he was and for now he felt incredibly comfortable…he had enough money to buy the fucking country...he had the power to make politicians kneel and kiss his shoes if he demanded it. To the police, with his legal team, he was currently untouchable.

He could literally have any woman he wanted…but he wanted you. Since that night he first saw your photo, he starved. He had given you time to mourn. Now you were alone and he righteously believed you needed him.

Yet to his surprised pleasure, he liked the fight and push you tried to dish out on him. Your guts to go to the police sent blood to his cock. He hadn’t expected it. He believed you’d roll over and cry only. He never predicted you’d immediately leave the apartment before he could wish you a good morning or afternoon after leaving you drugged up. He snooped for hours in your father’s bedroom and yours. He’d flicked through your old school reports and photos. He tried tidying your mess and clutter, washing your vomit covered duvet and even had cigarette to pass the time.

So when he received that call from the police requesting his presence, instead of anger, he felt surprise. Not many could surprise him. But you did...

He pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes chuckling, you were definitely a tasty little thing.

It made his dick hard when he remembered you crying beneath him. He loved to fantasise your pathetic excuses and spitfire words. He only wished you’d push the boundary more. The more you fought, the sweeter the submission.

He pulled out his ‘other’ phone. His ‘business’ phone. The phone no police would ever know or see. He swiped his thumb across the screen and groaned at the sweet nude thing he took photos of the night you’d both met. Oh how pitifully adorable you were with your desperate pleas and confusion as the pill quickly broke down into your blood stream.

He wished he had a video of it. How he teased your phone away from you. How he mocked you. Half of it he imagined you probably didn’t remember. After all it wasn’t long that you were totally out of it, limp and softly snoring.

He liked how much control he had over you. Laying the strips over your hairy body and tearing it away to be baby smooth as he liked it. How delicate you looked as he rubbed the baby oil into your skin to settle any potential irritation. Perhaps it was sick of him to prefer you like this. He sighed, licking his bottom lip, staring at the photo he took of your freshly waxed pussy.

He had done sicker things to other people. But you were someone who didn’t deserve this. That is where the guilt lied. You didn’t deserve this and August Walker fucking new it deep in his bones.

He wasn’t shy of hurting innocence but your situation was different. This was personal.

So really could he hold it against you for going to the police? No... And besides...his false alibi had been solid... especially after the rape kit evidence had been tampered with, concluding as inconclusive...

Something about the thought of making you submit but never fully breaking, constantly challenging him- turned him on so much, he found it impossible to work. He slapped his phone down and chewed the inside of his cheek while he considered calling up Natalie, one of his go to escorts. His payable whores. She was expensive but she knew how to suck him off to completion quickly and he wanted to focus on work and finalising the details of his party in two days, not on you.

As fate would have it….he wouldn’t have a choice…the phone rang on his desk.

He pressed the reviewer to his ear and turned to look out the window.

“Walker.”

“It’s Gibson.”

He smiled and leaned back in his rolling chair, “Ah Wesley, yes, how are you mate?”

“You’ve got a little problem, sir,” he heard his public relation specialist sigh, “A tail.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sending the email now,” the click clack typing of the keyboard echoed in the headset Wesley wore,” It seems the paper has started to find better journalists…”

The email notification came in quickly. The ping from his monitor forced August to spin around in his chair. He pursed his lips and scrolled to click the link.

He hovered the mouse arrow down and noticed the collection of photos taken of him in the high class restaurants talking with a old underworld buddy of his. Some of the images however were incredibly exposing. His hand was shaking Brandons in one when he made a export deal with him, another photo showed August’s fingers touching a contract, his eyes looking at a phone Brandon was holding with images of guns. This was not good at all…

“What the fuck…” his hand pressed to his lips, he mused, “The photographer was smart, he knows how to pick a decent angle, Jesus what camera took this?” He clicked another photo, “These details…you can practically see every pore on Brandon’s bloody face…”

His mouth felt dry. He knew he needed to hire Natalie’s services now, the stressed building up had him tense. His erection had vanished, now it was a matter of pain in his shoulders and back.

He scrolled further and stared at the headlines jumping out. “Playboy or Pathological Criminal.”, “Party King or King Pin.”, “Australia’s own insider terrorist.”

His eyes widened at seeing the publishing office. John Fucking Luther & Co. News.

His jaw cracked with the tightness he clenched. No. He didn’t have time for this shit.

“She, sir,” The lackey corrected, “Newest of Luther’s flock. His word usually isn’t credible but this? This is going to be hard, expensive press to erase or cover up. Other news outlets are fighting over the rites.”

She...

He picked up a pen and clicked the button. Why was it even that important.

She...

She? His eyes sharpened. He looked closer at the photos on his screen. Something about the photo style reminded him of something earlier he had seen the previous week. So many….on a wall…beside a bed…filled with a captivating woman he defiled…but surely not you? Surely not you...

“What did you say?”

“Sir the cost to-”

He shook his head and sighed into the phone, cutting of the agent, “No, no, I meant the photographer. You said ‘she’? Luther? Are you sure this is real? His lot are the worst, always blurry or grainy if they’re lucky…who the fuck is this new photographer or editor or whoever the fuck is getting these images.”

“We can only assume,” Wesley mumbled, “You’ve had this little thing on your tail for the passed few days, she tries to be sneaky we’ve noted. We didn’t expect her to release decent pictures…we followed her back to the Luther office. The angles fit the locations we have caught her in.”

His thumb pressed hard against the pen.

“Show me this bitch,” he growled under his breath.

Another email ping and a link later, your face filled the computer screen. Your eyes burned him right back…you were in a few photos. Some where you hid among a roof top, another you were hiding in a corner at the restaurant, and finally one where you were just in a park looking down at your camera probably going over the shots you’d taken.

“Want us to deal with her, sir?” he suddenly heard Wesley ask. Deal with her...Destroy her reputation...beat her up…sell her…or kill her....no…no...not his new puppy.

He blinked with bewilderment and hummed, “No...” He cleared his throat, “No, no thankyou, Wesley. I know this kid; don’t worry…” he smirked, “This is just a simple misunderstanding…bit of…play. Trust me.”

Oh how he could’ve whipped the skin from your back raw for this if you were anyone else...

“Sir, if you can’t get her to stop, if she’s going to keep doing this…” Gibson warned, “Anything more in depth- you’ll wind up in court or prison at the worst, the pigs aren’t taking the pay like they used to…”

August shook his head and sighed, “It wouldn’t be the first time Wesley. Ignore her. I’ll deal with it. She’s my responsibility.”

His public relations officer seemed to pause for a moment. As if he had something else to say but he knew better than to total talk back to August Walker.

“Alright sir, have a good evening,” August heard before he slapped the phone, hanging up.

He scooted closer to the screen and scrolled back at the photos you’d taken. He bit his lip and chuckled, shaking his head at your profiling photo, “You little-...you want to play this game? Fine, now it’s my turn.”

He began dialling up a new phone number. He held it back up to his ear and waited for the receiver to pick up.

“Jude mate, I’m gonna need you to develop some photos for me...oh yes,” he replied pinching the pen in his hand, “Red room style.”

06:19pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane.

“Who needs a man? Huh!” You said to yourself testing out the new bolts and chain locks you installed on the front door. They rattled and locked. They didn’t budge when you jiggled the handle and pulled. You still had three more you planned to drill in.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead and grinned proudly. This is something your dad should have taught you how to do. Thankfully with the help of a YouTube tutorial and a bit of bravery you managed to take full control and ownership of your front door.

If your new landlord wanted to charge you for damages to his door, so be it, as long as this kept you protected from him while you slept at night that was all that mattered. He’d either have to pick every complicated lock, guess or, he’d have to hire the damn firefighting crew to use a battering ram.

When you opened the door again to test it a second time, a squeak of surprised popped from your lips. You clenched your dad’s power tool tightly.

A man in a black suit and black sunglasses stood outside the door with an large yellow envelope in his hand. He held it out to you silently. He looked ominous and familiar, he wore leather gloves…your eye widened, he was August’s driver.

You glanced between him and his hands. Every second was a risk you weren’t sure you could keep taking. You hesitantly pinched the bottom of his flat package and he let go. He pulled the edge of his sunglasses down his face, looking at the plethora of door locks.

‘What was his name again? Judea, Judas?’

He said quietly, “It might be better if you open it inside...” his eyes glanced at the door again before smirking, “Nice locks...pretty crappy if you think it’s going to stop him though.”

‘Him...August Walker...’

You stood still in shock. He gracefully spun on his heel and left. Your tongue caught in your throat…what the fuck was this?

The package was as thick as your hand.

You had to know it was from August…I mean who else could it be from? Especially since you speculated it was his driver that delivered it…especially since there was a massive cursive ‘A.J.W’ on the tab of the envelope.

You held your breath and walked hurriedly backwards inside.

Your teeth caught your upper lip. You slammed the door shut and locked all the locks before going to the couch, disposing the drill on the coffee table, and tearing open the envelope.

You pinched the top wide open and hovered your eyes inside. There was a white papery page ripped out from a note book. You pulled it out and unfolded it to read his handwritten warning.

“Careful Puppy, you’re lucky my men didn’t bite when they sniffed you out, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I think you need a break from your little hobby. So I’m going to remind you...I have copies of these. Scratch me again and I’ll bite back. Stay down or I will put you down.”

Your mouth became dry as your eyes raced over that one last line again.

‘Stay down or I will put you down.’

When you ‘put down’ an animal, it usually means death…your insides grew cold. You were confident this was a strict warning, not a threat but a promise, August walker was telling you to stop investigating or he would kill you…

Your hands shook uncontrollably. You wanted them to stop. Your body felt the reeling anxiety. You dumped the rest of the envelope over the counter. All the content spilled across the entire floor. A camera came clattering out. Your father’s camera in fact.

Inside were photos of you. A photo of you working in the editor office. A photo of you walking in the deli section at the underground Woolworths grocery store and photos of you sitting at the Queen street bus station, even the bus numbers showed up. The bus 200 via Carindale. Then at the bottom of the spread out deck of photos were the shots from the night he forced you to cum on the recliner and the night he had drugged you, naked on his bed.

Your teeth clenched hard.

You felt your eyes grow hot quickly with tears. You didn’t like how pathetic and helpless you appeared, covered in tape, and totally lost in the bliss of his sexual torture. You didn’t realise how sweaty it had made you until noticing the intense wet shimmer over your body in the photo, the hot light of the camera shone reflectively from your skin.

You closed your eyes and choked on a sob. He made his point loud and clear but it wasn’t fair. Why could he get away with all of this? You wanted to tear all the photos up one by one until they were tiny papers the size of your pinky nail.

But they sat in a piled collection on your coffee table.

Your hand cupped your mouth as you fought your wails. You clenched your teeth and stomped your foot.

You kept rereading his note. Memorising his handwriting. His Y’s had a straight tail that didn’t curve upward. It made you hate him twice as much as irrational that detail was.

August hadn’t come back since then. He had not made any personal contact since he cornered you in your father’s bedroom. It wasn’t the last time you saw him though…you saw him almost daily, but you confidently were sure he never saw you until now. You were gathering all the evidence possible to put him in the doghouse...

You pressed yourself against the wall and slid down it on your back until your bottom hit the floor.

Now what would you do? Take photos and write about abused animals instead? Always worrying about August coming into your home to take his revenge for the humiliation and defamation you brought to his name?

You settled your hands into your lap. Your heart was pounding. You could hear every awful thud.

Your phone came to life. Lloyds number ran across your screen.

‘Oh god, Lloyd. Sweet, wonderful Lloyd. Maybe he could help me.’

Hitting the green button, you picked up the phone and cleared your throat, “Hey, how are you?”

His voice was a cool balm, “I’m getting on alright. I thought I’d call and check up on you. You haven’t been very chatty over text is all. I still think you should move Y/N.”

Lloyd kept you as updated as he could. He said he interviewed August a few days ago and the excuse was laughable. August had lied about being at his club during the time he had been with you. He had staff members who could vouch for him, Lloyd suggested they’d been paid off and supposedly security footage, all which Lloyd assured must’ve been edited. It was comforting knowing out of everyone, Lloyd stayed true in his belief that you were a victim.

Another tear rolled down your face, your voice became shaky, “Yea...I think you’re right. Lloyd...things have been happening...and...can you- can you just come over please?”

You were breaking down hard and couldn’t stop the wave of anguish coming over you. The detective was compassionate and said softly, “Of course. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

When the phone disconnected you rubbed your face and flared your nostrils. Seeing the photos made you feel dirty, unclean. You decided a quick shower before Lloyd arrived might help you relax and calm down from the absolute panic attack creeping under your skin. You stood under the hot spray and tried to control your breathing.

And under the water your thoughts persisted to race. A particular question shot through you.

‘Why would he even send those to me?’ Your eyes shut. ‘Why’? If you were just some women, he liked to fuck and humiliate... ‘Then why didn’t he just come in and do it in person?’

It was like a pin had dropped. Your eyes flashed wide open, and you turned off the water. You scrubbed your face and got out of the shower, rushing to put your pyjamas on. You almost slipped on the tiles and hard wood.

You crashed to your knees at the coffee table and spread the photos around trying to find that one.

The one where you were sitting inside the editor building at your cubicle. It had been taken from a low angle on the street. A small laugh escaped you. If he sent you an image of you at the office he knew where you worked, and who you worked for…he had read your articles...a light laugh escaped your parting lips. Tears dripped from your eyes, not from grief or fear, oh no, it was relief. Now it made sense.

'Of course!' August had read your articles...and they- you chuckled; they frightened him!!! Yes, maybe not to the extent of full fear, but enough that he felt it fit and necessary to send these too you. He felt threatened. The articles were piling up on speculation against him now in the paper. You were walking a thin line between defamation and creative liberties in alleged speculations, but Mr Luther assured it was legal in the laws of journalism and gossip.

If August had copies of your lewd rape photos, if he published them…you didn’t care...what was the point in caring about that?

You knew humans could be animals. It didn’t matter what was seen. Anyone can masturbate to anything, even just a selfie – so an image of you cumming on the recliner chair was really nothing at the end of the day…sure you might lose your job but the confidence to get you there would be used in the future again. And it would be all worth it just to watch the cuffs slap over August’s wrist. Because even if he’d never go away, locked up for your abuse, you could at least drag him further down with as many criminal activity charges as possible.

You glanced at the note he wrote…maybe he didn’t even write this. If he really wanted you dead, you were sure you would be. This wasn’t a threat, this was a game. He was toying with you, clearly trying to scare you into stopping any investigations of his hidden underground work.

Little did he know, he had no idea that your rage and hunger for revenge was greater than your fear of him.

You pinched a photo to the light and smirked. If only a week ago, this poor defenceless girl knew how her life would change for good...her eyes the mirror of yours. You slapped it flat in the table and pinched your eyes. August was definitely no talent in taking photos.

You smiled recalling how Luther reacted to the first photo you brought him the third day of working...

02:36pm Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

On the sticky note you’d written down a name Mr Luther had shared. You looked up that name, Brandon Sullivan, with deep dive searches and found very little of him…however he did have a single photo up on his Facebook, he was holding a gorgeous woman.

Once you had reversed search the woman’s face, Katarina Vikander, you could have peed with excitement. She was some Swedish ballet dancer and super model. She was Brandons girlfriend. And she was happy to share a dozen photos over all her social media platforms…and yes, Brandon clearly wasn’t a fan of his personal paparazzi, but there were hiccups in his cover ups.

Katarina had taken a selfie on a balcony; her sunglasses reflected her phone and Brandon coming out of their hotel bathroom.

Behind Katarina was a marina in the background. That area was very rich and popular and easy to find. You recognised the area only by chance. The were staying at the JW Marriot Gold Coast Resort and Spa. You could see the JW Marriot logo on a bath robe in a previous photo while she wore a creamy face mask with cucumber slices over her eyes.

Katarina seemed to have this obsession with a Americana aesthetic, her favourite artist was in her saved Instagram stories, Lana del Rey.

The caption of her post with Brandon hidden in the background under a broad brim hat said, “Sunny and happy with my love, he doesn’t like the seafood here, he wants ‘real truffles.’ **eyeroll emoji**”

You remembered how you sat back after seeing that and searched every restaurant in the area of the Gold Coast region and only one sold authentic truffle dishes…men are fickle and usually won’t try new things…he was clearly a man set in his ways if he wouldn’t let her post photos of him. or at least that was your theory and assumption about the almost non-existent Brandon Sullivan.

You went back and searched August. He had a decent amount of information, he was very private however, no named girlfriends or family. He was very business oriented….and what did you know? Two years ago on his LinkedIn profile you could see August had been at the opening of the same little truffle restaurant nearby where Katrina and Brandon were staying. You scrolled.

‘Looks like he was or still is an investor.’

It wasn’t solid evidence, and you didn’t know if August would be there to meet with them…so all it took, was a simple phone call…and the great skill of confidence with a stride of lying.

As the phone dialed, you selected a fake name. Your co-worker had a F.R.I.E.N.D.S coffee mug, and you stared at the dark drink stain…it’s dark colour making a perfect name.

When a staff member of the restaurant answered you hurriedly got through your plotted lie, “Hello? Yes, my name is…Jennifer Brown, I’m Mr August Walkers new assistant…listen his last employee was quite begrudged and threw out all the known appointments Mr Walker was to attend in the next three months. I’m pretty sure he has a table booked for your restaurant?”

The administrator paused. You hoped he wouldn’t ask you to repeat yourself or question you further, so you sarcastically joked, “He will murder me if I can’t find out, it’s very important.”

You prayed he’d bite the banter.

The administration clerk had a boyish tone, “Of course! Would you like me to look up the time and date of his reservation?”

You smirked and held back a cackle, you feigned a sweet joyful cry, “I would be grateful if you could be a dear, thank you so much!”

And that was how you found out the schedule and exact location of August Walker and his criminal associate.

09:45am Friday 9th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

Getting inside the restaurant wasn’t too hard. It had an open-door area with French doors. You made sure to wear a large sun hat and a plain dress. Your dad owned a small camera, about the size of an apple. You put it on a timer and leant to the floor, aiming the view finder at their table.

The entire time you swore you were sweating bullets. If August had seen you and confronted you, you probably would be chained to a pipe laying naked on a dirty mattress…maybe with those missing women you heard about on the news, Rachel, Stephanie, and Alison.

‘Why didn’t he keep me then? We did he return me back home? Did he kill those other girls?’ the more you thought too deeply on the topic, it made your skin crawl.

You clenched one of the forks, staring at the kingpin in the reflection. He looked to smug for a man that got off on harming women. You wished you could stab out his eyes with the prongs. And when the waiter came around to ask what you wanted to order, you held up the fork and requested a new one, apologising for “dropping it”.

You determined the camera had taken enough footage. You knew you’d need to make your escape when the waiter left to find you a new fork. Afterall- who can afford to pay for a cut of salmon with rocket leaves and white sauce for a hundred and thirteen fucking dollars?

You went straight home on the train and bus. You developed the photos in the bathroom sink. Hanging it up on the shower rails to set.

Those were the first photos you gave Mr. Luther.

The other times you took photos of Brandon and August were harder, a little more risky.

06:23am Saturday 10th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

You had staked outside of the hotel where Brandon stayed. Waiting across the street in a side street. It was cold and miserable. But you knew August would be down here. Darling Katarina had posted a photo of her shoes in an elevator, beside her feet were Brandons shoes, but his had a shine. You could see the blur of Augusts moustached face. Maybe it was a reach, except when the caption said, “Lions Lounge anyone? Don’t my heels look incredible! **love heart eyes emoji**”

You were dressed in rags, you clenched a juul stick you bought that morning, gagging on the watermelon flavour while you practiced your “Eshay” accent. You stared up at the windows trying to guess which room the three were in with the help of the ex-ballerinas photos.

A month ago, you would’ve thought doing something like this was insane and frankly unhealthy. But you a month ago had not been humiliated and manipulated, God knows what a woman will do once you’ve pissed her off…was it obsession? Most definitely, for revenge, for justice, for all the girls who fell for August and harmed by his reputation.

You waited…and you were right. Brandon and August walking out together. The sweet young woman was clinging to Brandon’s side with a wide girlish smile and love heart shaped sunglasses. Funnily enough, the car that picked them up just so happened to be driven by the same dark headed driver in the same black car that August took you in. You took a snapshot of the license plate and watched it drive through the somewhat slow traffic down the street. You walked and walked, keeping your eyes set on the license plate. While traffic rolled, you turned and noted there were a few empty taxis.

You took off the jumper that you cut a bunch of holes in and dumped it in a garbage bin before bending down and tapping on one of the taxi windows.

“Hey! Are you available to drive me?” You called to one of the taxi drivers that hadn’t noticed you until that second...his eyes widened with surprise before nodding, “quickly, traffic is slow, hop in!”

You slid directly into the passenger side, which on a normal day you’d never dare.

But today wasn’t a normal day. You sat up in your seat and scrolled the area with your eyes.

“So where are we headed today, ma’am?” The driver asked.

You pointed ahead with a cheeky smile, “See that black car? The fancy one.”

“The tesla?” He asked.

“My friends are in that car, so please follow it. They know the way.”

He peered at you curiously, you knew it was stupid. If you had friends rich enough for a tesla, they’d never leave you to find a taxi. But hey…money is money, the driver wouldn’t argue. He started the timer and to your satisfaction traffic picked up. When they zoomed through the street the taxi tried to keep up. They were driving to a quieter street with Western Europeanised cafe’s.

As they stopped and hoped out you quickly requested to the driver, “Do you mind going around the corner? I’m a little embarrassed.”

God, you hated to say it but you had to play the suddenly snobby cunt.

He didn’t care either way to your relief and parked around the corner, metres away from the two men.

You paid the driver handsomely with cash you managed to find in your old piggy bank back home and slid out of the cab. Your face carefully looked around the corner and you skirted back. August, Brandon and Katarina had decided to sit outside in the warm morning sunlight. It was just your luck! Quickly, you crossed the street away from the cafe. The more distance the better.

To your luck it was a block of units across from the cafe. You walked around the building and kept your head down. You came up behind in an alley and smiled at the long spiral stairs that went up to the roof top. The adrenaline extinguished all fear of heights and pushed you up until you stood out on a flat roof. You crossed the way and looked over the side.

‘Fuck’, you thought to yourself. ‘Would a police officer ever do this? Would Lloyd ever have the guts to do this?’

Probably not, there was lots of red tape involved in police investigations...but you were just a reporter...You were a photographic investigator and you amazed yourself at the lengths you were taking. You were eager to get these shots. This evidence.

You saw the pair of businessmen receiving a cup of tea and breakfast meals from the waitress. Getting down onto your tummy, you grabbed your camera and leant over the ledge to zoom in on the two.

The pumping blood roaring in your vein filled you with a mixture of fear, excitement and surprisingly…arousal.

Those were the photos that made it to the papers first.

06:35pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba Brisbane.

As you reminisced on the evidential demise of August Walker, a knock at the door designed a bigger grin across your face. Lloyd had arrived. And no longer standing in a fit of sobs you welcome him cheerfully at the door.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and black slacks, totally out of uniform. Below his eye was a reddish spot. It was shining against his pale face. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was a bruise.

‘Many police are brutal and cruel but there’s no way Lloyd is one. He isn’t one of those cops...he must’ve been attacked by some bogan eshay or crackhead.’

His smile turned your knees to warm jelly. You felt shy like some first year highschooler being noticed by the seniors. He just had this glow around him.

“Hi Lloyd.”

“Hello there,” he said softly, his head cocked to the side, “Do you mind letting me in?” He asked.

‘Oh right.’

“Come- come in.”

You felt your face grow warm. You opened the door wider and looked out and down the hall. You held your breath and stood aside. The tall man slid passed you inside to your lounge room.

You took a massive breath in and exhaled. No one was waiting behind a corner or ready to catch you with the officer. You knew there were no security cameras and you doubted August would ever add any with his reputation.

Lloyd removed his leather shoes and placed them beside the door. His black socks glided over the hardwood.

You bit your lip…you looked back at the coffee table and quickly shut the door, bolting the locks after the detective entered your flat.

If August knew you were letting a detective inside, continuing to talk to one he could-…’Well, hold on...how would he know? He wouldn’t.’

“Woah, locked me in, what are you doing?” Lloyd gasped as he glanced over the metal mechanisms of your door. His eyes widened when you twisted the locks and shifted the small chains.

“I just...um. August Walker.... he’s kinda now...my new landlord and he probably will be getting keys soon and I....” your breath wavered. You paused and took a deep breath, “I needed to talk to you privately in person I think....”

His eyes didn’t grow any wider, but his pupils shrank. He pinched his dark pink lips. Sucking his teeth loudly he nodded slowly.

“That’s definitely a pickle you’ve been put into then, huh?”

You nodded back, pressing yourself against the door, sighing softly, “That’s not even the half of it Lloyd...”

His eyes raked up and down your body in surprise. You weren’t wearing your bra and your nipples were rock hard. Your pyjama bottoms were very short and little did you realise how much they were riding up your thighs.

You walked around him timidly to the coffee table.

“I got a new job, as a photographer journalist, no real experience required just my luck honestly,” you awkwardly laughed, “August um, he’s supposedly up to no good and I thought I could have a jab at him from a professional angle…”

You sat yourself in the recliner, while you invited him to sit opposite of you on the couch where he’d be able to properly look at all the photos.

He looked frightfully tired. His hair was dishevelled, and his shirt was stain with sweat. He had a nasty purple bruise on his knuckles that also matched the one under his eye.

You lifted your knees to your chest and worried about how much trouble this man was getting into as well as you. You wondered if it was like television shows where detectives mostly focus on the darkside of the force.

You gestured to the photos. You weren’t sure how he would react. He sat on the couch and peered across the coffee table, glancing over the images. It took him a few seconds before a gasp of shock ripped from his throat.

You tapped on the photos where you’d been stalked and seen taking photos of August, “Well, it shows he’s not one to have his photos taken...”

He was shaking his head. He couldn’t stop staring at the nude photos. And for a few seconds you relived that feeling of embarrassed humiliation.

You could see how his throat bobbed and his eyes flutter.

He leant forward on his knees and licked his lips.

“I...and here I had called you to check up on you and I was going to ask you for help Y/N, but god I don’t know if that’s gonna work now,” he sighed.

The detective ran a finger across your face in the lewd photos.

Your eyes narrowed, “Wh-what do you mean?”

There was a lengthy pause.

He chewed the inside of his cheek before asking, “How much do you hate what August did to you?”

You didn’t hesitate, “I’d kill him for what he’s done if I knew I wouldn’t go to prison…” you briefly looked down, “He…he came back like you said...”

Lloyd eyes glanced down too and he sighed, “Thought as much…let me guess…he threatened you?”

Your eyes fluttered closed, August had done more than just threaten you.

You nodded slowly, “He…he did…but he…is possessive, he kept saying I was his and I belong to him.” You pointed to the photo of you taped up on the recliner.

His brows pressed together, his eyes saddened. He clear his throat, “How long ago was that?”

Your mouth grew dry. You felt embarrassed telling Lloyd.

“The day of the report, after you brought me home.”

His eyes widened, his hand rubbed his parted lips, “So he ugh…he was here already?”

You nodded again, “The call you made… he was standing right here with a knife in his hand.”

“That’s why you have those deadbolts huh?” The officer rubbed his eyes and groaned, “Fuck. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me after he left? I could’ve moved you, you could’ve stayed with me at least until I could put you into witness protection. Fuck!”

His swearing sent a shiver down your spine.

Your looked at your feet, you knew he wasn’t victim blaming, he just didn’t understand. You told Lloyd everything…confessed like he was your priest. You told him what August did with the vibrator despite it bringing you to tears again. You told him he was the new landlord and that’s why you installed the extra locks. You told him about your new job and you told him about the photos and how you were going to help however you could to put the bastard away.

You sat off the recliner and slid the photos back into the envelope.

“You’re very brave Y/N,” Lloyd whispered, he reached out and laid his warm hand on top of yours.

Your belly felt warm at the praise. You let him hold your fingers in his and rubbed his thumb over your skin. You stared at his blonde moustache and those bright clue eyes of his. You imagined his mouth scratching your lip if you only leant in closer...he was still as handsome as the day he patiently listened to you in the report.

Lloyd smiled softly.

God if you were a cat you would’ve been feral and in heat with how creative your imagination was getting.

Your eyes fluttered as your entire body warmed up.

“Y-You said you needed help with something?”

He smirked, letting go of your hand.

He claimed, “After what you’ve told me I’m confident you can do it...but you might not like it…”

“Try me,” you huffed, falling victim to his contagious grin.

“I have two tickets to August’s little Soiree at his club The Lions Lounge,” He started off, “My other sources have confirmed there is going to be some form of arms deal with some unsavoury company, illegal, unregistered weapons. August Walker is very good at knowing the law and requesting a warrant… but the sources I have are not substantial to the board to guarantee a warrant by that night and by that time Walker would’ve moved the weapons and sold them in a different location.”

You pieced it bit by bit.

“So you need to get inside the party, find the deal going down and bust them?”

“Exactly, that’s right! However the moment a single man waltzes to the front door it looks suspicious. I need a lady on the arm…and better yet…I need a distraction for Walker, if he sees me head on, I could be as good a shark chow.”

Your eyes lit up, it didn’t take a genius to realise he meant you. You would be the distraction. And you’d be damned before you put yourself in real danger again especially after the threat August had given you...your photos were taken in public, this would be in private. Anything could happen to you.

“No… that is too dangerous, Lloyd,” You stood up and paced the floor in front of Lloyd who was now also rising to follow you in your pacing. You walked around your kitchen and Lloyd put his hands on the bench beside you.

“Y/N…” he bent close in a whisper. You wouldn’t look at the detective. Fear was buzzing inside of you. You felt stupid about saying you’d do anything to take August Walker down now. You really wanted to just humiliate the man and call him up in prison one day and rub it in his face. But this? This was a game of cat and mouse and you didn’t want to be backed up into a corner again.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if this unless I had to...”

You bit back the whimper in your throat as Lloyd touched your shoulder gently.

“He let you live…he has a soft spot for you.”

‘He threatened to put me down.’

He turned you around and squeezed your arms while he pitched the plan, “What’ll happen is we enter the club, I find the dealers and you find Walker because he will be hosting the party, he will want to know why you’re there and you are going to tell him that…you wanted to see him.”

You rubbed your eyes angrily, “Why the fuck would I want to see him?!” your fingers felt moist, you’d been compelled to tears.

The kind eyed detective sucked his teeth, “I don’t know, make it up. Kiss him. Men don’t care about a thing once a pretty thing is kissing them.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. No, this wasn’t the Lloyd you had imagined.

“Oh,” you chuckled sourly, “So you’re pimping me out then?”

He gave you a dumbfounded look, “Call it whatever you want…you’ll be paid good money for your service and he’ll be arrested, in prison, unable to touch you. You can run away and move to wherever you want then.”

Your breath was shaky as you dared to ask, “How much?”

His left brow rose.

“How much would I be paid by the Queensland police or Australian defence department or whoever this is through?”

He sighed and gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Around fifteen grand.”

Your breath escaped you. From near negatives to fifteen grand overnight? That much? For this job?! You were stunned…not sure if it was worth your life…but if it meant he only humiliate you one more time and you walked away with that much money…you’d do it.

You shook your head, “Fine, it’s this Friday night yea? His club is high-class and I don’t have clothes for that type of event.”

The tall man stood back and chuckled as he tug into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pinched a wad of cash and slapped it in the benchtop. Your eyes widened, holy fuck it was a month or two in rent alone…

“Go buy some. But you have got to be ready. At Seven o’clock I’ll pick you up an hour before the event and we can refresh what we know before we line up.”

You glanced between him and the money and nodded….”Alright, let’s…let’s do this.”

He laughed and clapped his hand excitedly, he leant in and gave you a fat kiss on the cheek. Nothing romantic, just pure joy.

“Thankyou so much Y/N you are going to be hailed a hero, a legend in my books!” He marched back to the couch and grabbed his blazer.

“You are a special person and I’m honoured to have met you! Really honoured!” He said as he unlocked all your bolts. He swung the door open and slammed it behind him.

You sighed and fell back against your cold fridge.

You weren’t sure you could pull this off….but as your eyes looked over the cash, the corner of your lips lifted.

You shut your eyes and sighed…all that money, it made your blood pulse. You returned to the lounge room and sat in the recliner. You laid back, staring at the ceiling. Your hands crawled down, passed the waist band of your pyjama shorts and underwear. You touched yourself and sighed.

Your fingers rubbed delicately against your clit while you leant against the kitchen bench.

You tried to imagine someone...Lloyd…the detective. He had a warmth his face. Lloyd would never rape you though, he was good, he was honest…

You moaned softly, imagining his warm hands groping your skin and his lips kissing your skin.

Fingering yourself, in and out, in and out.

You were imagining Lloyd speaking to you. He was currently the most attractive man you’d made contact with in weeks...other than August who essentially raped you.

What kind words would Lloyd say? “I washed our clothes, finished the dishes, now come here and let me fuck you.” ‘Oh yea that’s fucking hot.’

You imagined he would be gentle and soft before using more strength in his hips. His lips would be soft and hot. He would protect you and play sexy policeman. You might not have been a fan of the justice system but you were confident Lloyd would fill in a police uniform very well.

So why did your body start to dry up?

You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You were riding your fingers and teasing your clit…why couldn’t you cum? You felt weird doing this now. It was strange to think before you met August you could cum very easily, after your dad- well you hadn’t touched yourself because you weren’t thinking about sex for a while until the millionaire stepped into your life.

After the third time of unsuccessful release, you punched the arm of the chair and started searching sex toys on your phone.

You weren’t totally sure if the prices were worth it for a piece of painted pink silicone. And there were strange shapes you were amazed were even designed to fit into a human….‘a whole fist? Surely that’s satire,’ you thought, ‘it shouldn’t be possible. It would be like reverse birth?’

You settled on buying a “rabbit dildo with thrusting pleasure.” You rolled your eyes at the name. You slapped your phone down and sighed, rubbing your eyes.

The hour was late.

Your first paycheck would be coming in soon. It was the smell of a small victory.

10:33am Friday 16th August 2024, Queen Street Westfield Shopping centre, Brisbane.

“What should I wear…” you hummed as you flipped through the dresses. Some of these dresses cost the amount of a new iPhone. You bit your lip. ‘Maybe I can return them tomorrow and give Lloyd his money back?’

A sales clerk came up, “Need some help?” She was blonde, curvy and tall. A supermodel compared to your body. You blushed.

“I’m looking to wear something to one of the high end clubs like The Lion Lounge, he’s having a nineteen twenties theme soiree this evening?”

Her lips widened, “Well, we do have many suitable gowns and even pantsuits for that social class, what designer were you thinking?”

You balked and worried that she would see you sweat, “Oh…I um…I’ll be super frank…I have not a clue what I’m doing…it is my first time to something so spectacular.”

The clerk’s eyes softened, her lips pursed, “Well! Let me help you then! These gowns you’re looking at are definitely not old twenties glam worthy! Right this way!”

Your cheeks buzzed as you were led into a dressing room and made to try on multiple styles, designers and colours of dresses.

She asked if you were getting your nails done and gasped when you said you hadn’t thought about it.

She was like a fairy godmother. She went the extra mile to call up the other stores in the mall to book appointments. You hadn’t felt so pretty ever in your life until then

She appeared stunned by the cash you laid on her counter.

Your nails were french tips with a holographic clear coat. You received a quick arm and leg wax and eyebrow shaping. The makeup matched the entire outfit. Your dress clung to your best assets and shaped your body with a clutch purse and low heels to match. Your hair was gelled and hairsprayed down into finger waves. And a lather of pearls circled around your throat and wrists.

The long finger of your dress tickled your calfs down to your small kitten heels.

You looked incredible, it took your breath away to see the glow up….

Lloyd thought so too.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

83 notes · View notes

bordysbae · 1 year

Note

39 with trevor please :)

“you’re obsessed with me”

trevor zegras x fem reader

39. “my clothes look better on you anyways”

word count: 0.7k

today the anaheim ducks are playing the chicago blackhawks, and you’re very conflicted on what to do. your boyfriend plays for the ducks, but you’re originally from chicago. of course you own multiple blackhawks jerseys, but you always wear your ‘zegras’ jersey to every ducks home game. “babe, you’re wearing my jersey tonight right?” trevor asks you, as he enters the kitchen where you’re standing cooking breakfast “unfortunately. i hate going against my roots” you say sarcastically . “unfortunately?! oh you’re dead meat missy!” trevor says as he lifts you from behind and throws you over his shoulder. “trevor put me down i need to finish cooking!” “nope! not until you take it back!” he says as he spins you around. you flail your arms around hitting his back as he spins you. “okay okay i take it back! i’m getting dizzy put me down!” you beg. he places you on the ground again and you dizzily walk back over to the stove finishing the food.

as you and trevor are sat at the kitchen island eating breakfast he notices you’re wearing not only his hoodie but also his sweatpants. “are you wearing my clothes?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. “maybe” you smirk, as you eat a bite of food. “you look cute” he smiles, causing a blush to take over your cheeks. after breakfast you go and get ready for the day, and trevor heads to the rink for morning skate.

once trevor gets home to take his pregame nap, you decide to clean the house and run some errands before getting ready for the game. as trevor is leaving for the arena, he stops you. “wear my extra jersey tonight.” “why can’t i wear mine? mine fits me perfectly, yours is like a million sizes too big!” you cry out. “pleaseeee? it’s cute how big it is on you” he whines, grabbing it from the closet. “fine, only cause it smells somewhat like you” you roll your eyes playfully. he smiles and leans down to kiss you before heading outside to his car.

you finish getting ready and slide on trevor’s jersey over your head, adjusting it at the bottom slightly. you get to the rink and meet up with some of the other wives and girlfriends and you all head to your seats down by the ice. trevor instantly skates over to you, and blows you a kiss through the glass before skating away to give some fans a puck. you’re sitting next to troy terrys wife dani, and on your other side is john gibsons wife alexa. “is that trevor’s actual jersey?” dani asks you. “yes, for some reason he wanted me to wear it” dani laughs, “i think it’s cute! oh look the game is starting!” she says turning her attention to the ice.

the game is close in numbers until the last period when trevor randomly gets on his grind and makes one goal and assist. the game finishes at 2-1, ducks taking the win. you and the other wags head straight to the locker room and per usual, trevor is the last one to leave. god does that man love to talk. as he walks out, a big smile takes over. “you wore it!” he smiles as he rushes over to hug you. “i told you i would!” you smile up at him. “cmon let’s go home i’m exhausted” he says wrapping an arm around you, leading you to the parking lot.

back at home, you get into one of trevor’s hoodies and sweats, and crawl next to him in your guys’ shared bed. trevor puts his phone down on the nightstand and looks at you with soft eyes. “you’re wearing my clothes again” he smirks. “what is your deal with me wearing your clothes! it’s like you’re obsessed with it!” “no actually, you’re obsessed with me. but it’s okay, my clothes look better on you anyways” “since when is that something we didn’t know” you mumble, causing trevor to laugh. “yeah and i love it” “yeah you better, cause this hoodie is so comfortable. i think i’m stealing it” you exclaim, curling up closer to him. “yeah whatever you think sweetheart.”

#trevor zegras #anaheim ducks #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #i hate this tbh #this is bad i apologize #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine

363 notes · View notes

corn-fanfiction · 5 months

Text

SAVIOUR COMPLEX (Mark Hoffman x F!Reader Pt. 9)

(Pt. 8)(Pt. 10)

Rating: M

TAGS: language/brief mention of canon typical violence and gore/past abuse/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader's life is maybe becoming less normal/Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p/Detective Gibson is his own tw

Mark has to take the night to cool the fuck off. When he leaves your place he is no position to back to the precinct to talk to the chief, and if he goes to his other job, he’ll likely do something irresponsible and needlessly violent. Like kill. And killing is distasteful.

It’s times like these that, despite his better judgment, he misses John. Misses his wisdom, despite the hypocrisy of it.

So, with no other options, Mark grabs the pistol from his apartment, his leather gloves, and heads for the warehouse.

The caution tape is still up and Mark is surprised until he remembers- this is still an active crime scene, despite the fact that no one is there now. It’s maybe been 24 hours since he and you had arrived just as Ted was being wheeled out.

You…he can’t think of you for too long before his pulse begins to race- for multiple reasons.

Instead he focuses on the crime scene, lifting the tape and stepping carefully into the warehouse. He never actually made it inside, though he’d gotten some of the information from the other cops between then and now.

He steps around dried puddles of blood, areas barricaded by tiny flags and string. Those aren’t his concern, anyway. He has few thoughts for Ted or even the trap itself- until he sees one of the mechanisms.

It’s a blade, still affixed to its contraption that hasn’t been taken in for evaluation yet. Now, Mark didn’t see the body as it was being taken, but he knew now that, while they were included on the stretcher, his arms and legs were severed. And the blade in front of Mark was sharp enough, precise enough, to cut through without any dramatic blood splattering.

Fine metal. Sturdy metal. Metal chosen specifically for a job like this. Which means this person knows what they’re doing, and has the means to do it.

He pokes around further, sidestepping into an adjoining hallway. Regardless of reputation or moonlighting, Mark is proud of his skills as a detective. He got there before John, and even with the crooked system, he’d like to think he could still land the job on merit alone.

Like here, for instance, he zeroes in on a track of footprints among the dust and grime that have obviously already been observed, judging by other police equipment and prints. But he goes slightly cold at slightly deeper indentation. Whoever this was favors their left foot. The right print is too flat, a purely vertical step as opposed to the left heel to toe.

Whoever this is has a right foot prosthetic.

He could be wrong. He hopes he is. But he’s also not foolish enough to believe in coincidences and that’s the only other option.

But if it’s who he’s thinking…why? Why would this person go after Ted? Presumably, the two of you have had no interactions. But that’s a foolish thought as well. Among the useful avenues of thinking John would provide was the truth that more people know people you know than not. Or, at the very least, it’s a safe assumption.

He needs to check on you anyway. What’s the harm in asking about the last time you went to a hospital?

Mark texts you. Not calls. Texts.

It sets off alarms in your head but mostly you’re just happy to finally hear from him, two days later. He asks to meet and you suggest work before your shift, knowing Gibson will leave as soon as he drops you off. Mark agrees.

You can’t help it. You put a little more effort into your appearance. You know he doesn’t mind; he’s seen you at your worst. But you’re giddy and you know you’ll have to hide it. Doing your makeup is a nice outlet for that energy.

Strangely enough, you don’t mind getting a ride from Gibson. The earlier you get to work, the longer you’ll have with Mark. When you step outside, Gibson is leaning against his car, arms crossed, watching something above the roof of your building. When you stand by the passenger side door, you follow his eyeline, you find a murder of crows standing in a line.

You turn your head to him in slow doubt.

“Um…big fan of birds?”

He shrugs. “Black birds. Anyway, I was surprised to get your text. An hour earlier?”

“I’m opening and covering for Gerri. Appreciate you getting here.”

The oddly kind words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them, and they sound convincing enough that Gibson cocks a brow.

“I’m touched. Get in.”

The ride is quiet, which is fine by you. But when he pulls up to the nearly empty parking lot, you both immediately notice Mark’s cruiser. You bite your tongue to suppress the curse that almost slips out.

“Well well well. Shall we go say hello?”

You scowl at him.

“We’re allowed to see each other.”

“Opening early? You’re a good liar.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, exiting the vehicle. He follows suit.

“Seriously, Gibson, back off.”

It gets worse when Mark gets out of his car.

“Motherfuck…” you mumble. You turn into yourself slightly, prepping for a fistfight. You don’t, however, slow down before stopping next to Mark, pulling his head down to give him a kiss on the cheek. You feel the corner of his mouth crinkle into a smile.

“Play nice,” you whisper before pulling away.

“Hoffman. How’s indefinite suspension treating you?”

“Good. I’ll keep your seat warm.”

“Assuming I fuck up bad enough for me to get there. Just enjoy your time on the bench.” He nods at you. “Pick you up at lunch.”

Before you can protest, Gibson is getting back into his car and peeling out of the parking lot. You exhale and Mark puts a hand on your lower back.

“Missed you.”

He pulls you in for a kiss. You reciprocate, of course, but you frown when you pull away.

“Don’t antagonize him. Just let him do his job. He’s harmless.”

“Pain in my ass.”

You walk towards the restaurant.

“Have you talked to the chief yet?”

You knock on the front doors and Gerri lets you in.

“Hey, hot shot,” they greet Mark.

“Mornin’, Gerri.”

You take Mark to a corner table, the same table he took when he first came in to watch you. You both sit.

“So, the chief.”

“Right,” he sighs. “Going in tomorrow. Wanted to give him some time.”

“Wanted him to see how much they need you?” You remark with a sly smile. Mark chuckles and grabs one of your hands on the table.

“Something like that.”

He’s got this look in his eyes. Some depth that you can’t decide if it’s thoughtfulness or concern.

“Like?”

He lowers his voice but only a little. The only other people are the openers, and no one cares when an employee brings in a significant other or family member. One of the other waitresses will sometimes bring in her 2 year old to sit until the babysitter can get her.

But Mark’s being reasonably cautious.

“I went back to the crime scene, poked around.”

“Isn’t that what they say perpetrators do? Go back to the scene of the crime? What if you’d gotten caught?”

“You’re a regular detective. No, I know their shifts.”

You pull back your hand and crack your finger joints as a tic.

“What did you find?”

“The usual.”

He waves it away but you know that can’t be true. He’s also not looking at you.

“Mark.” He taps the table. “Mark, don’t lie to me.”

He looks at you and sighs again. “Sorry, you’re right. But you’re not gonna like it when I can’t tell you everything.”

“Then just tell me what you can and we’ll take it from there.”

He makes a sound in his throat. He’s not convinced, but he caves anyway. “Alright, lemme ask you a question. You been to the doctor recently? For anything?”

You stutter. “Um, just my GP for a checkup in June. Why?”

“What’s your doctor’s name?”

“Dr. Shane Campbell. Why?” Realization dawns on your face. “Wait, you’re saying a doctor did this?”

“He shakes his head. “That’s not-“

“But that’s what you’re thinking, right? Unless you’re looking for a recommendation.”

“See, this is why-“

“Oh, don’t even go there.”

“I cannot in good conscience accuse someone of something like that until I have any evidence at all.”

“And what if you’re right and this is a person I need to look out for?”

“Listen to me. Nothing, nothing is gonna happen to you without me knowing. No one is gonna go near you. And if you ever feel unsafe you let me know and I’ll be there.”

They’re meant to be comforting words, and you know that once you calm down you’ll be able to hear them as such, but for now, you’re bitter.

“It’s not fair that you get to know this and I don’t.”

“Maybe. But that’s how it has to be right now.”

He sees your scathing look at the wall over his shoulder. “Hey, look at me. Can you trust that I know what I’m talking about?”

Of course you can. But you hate not being in control. It’s why you keep your life small. Everything is tight and compact. You can control that. And you’re not used to relinquishing any of that control.

But who’s ever been there to offer?

You sigh. Nod. Pull Mark in for another kiss. His fingers graze along your jaw and you break it yet again before either of you get too into it. You put your forehead to his.

“Why were you out there when you knew Gibson would see?” You do not miss the attempt to hide a smirk. “Holy shit. You did it on purpose. You were showing off.”

“Maybe I was.”

“You’re horrible,” you smile.

“Yeah, maybe I am.”

#mark hoffman #saw fanfic #fanfiction #mark hoffman x reader #saw franchise

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chasingcherriess · 1 year

Text

Let the light in.

Eddie roundtree x reader!

warnings: cigarettes, angst, alcohol, and drugs.

P.S. This fanfic was originally an oc, so if you see the name violet it’s meant to be y/n :)

Let the light in - Lana Del Rey Ft. Father John Misty.

Y/n had been sitting at the end of the bed, watching her best friend strum his fingers against the cords of his red Gibson. She spent hours studying his every move: how his nose would scrunch up every time she told a joke, how he would hug her tightly as if she was going to disappear from thin air. The brunette's eyes landed on hers, and noticed how her pupils would grow bigger every time they locked eyes. Eddie wasn't the type of guy to express himself, and that included not expressing himself to her. He grew up in a house where communication and emotions didn't mix together. Y/n always thought of it as "oil and water" - it just didn't work.

"Distracting you?" Y/n finally spoke, breaking the silence and staring into the brunette's eyes. She heard a chuckle escape his lips, and she couldn't help but smile at hearing it. The two spent their evenings like this; it was a normal thing for them. Just them. Until one night when eddie sneaked through the window into the girls room.

"Eddie! What are you doing here?!" She giggled a bit, whisper-yelling at the boy in her room. "If my parents find you - no, no, if my dad finds you - you will be next on the stove." Eddie laughed before hugging Y/n. "We need to talk," Y/n heard these terrifying words and looked at him a bit scared. "Did he find out?" "Was he going out with someone?" "Is he going to end our amazing bond?" Millions of thoughts swarmed her mind, but all those thoughts came to a halt. "Come with me, to California." The boy took her smaller hands into his. "I'm going to go with the band, just come with! It can't be terrible." Y/n couldn't believe what he was asking. This could be their new beginning, maybe? Y/n didn't think, nor hesitate. The girl had just nodded and hugged him tightly. "I'll go with you, I'll follow you anywhere." eddie felt himself flush at the girl's words as he placed a soft peck on her cheek. "We are leaving soon, on Thursday. We're leaving, starting a new life." Y/n couldn't help but smile to herself. The two turned at the footsteps that could be heard coming to Y/n room. "Okay, go! Go!" She giggled, pushing Eddie out the window.

Y/n mother came in with a hamper stuck to the side of her hip. "Hi sweetheart," the woman's voice spoke calmly as she set y/n hamper down. "Mom," y/n voice turned into a whisper. "Yes, honey?" Her mom had sat down on the bed, holding her daughter's hands in her own. "Do you like eddie?" Y/n eyes glued onto her mother, looking for an answer with just her facial expressions. "He's a good kid. He has a bright future ahead of him, honey." Y/n felt relief wash over herself as she nodded. "I want to go to California with Eddie." Y/n didn't have time to even process what she had spoken. "What? Why?" Y/n saw the color drain out of her mother's face. "Mom, I'm 18. I want to go live life! I want to be a singer. I won't get that here." Y/n words stayed soft. "I trust you, baby, but I need you to promise to call every day." Y/n nodded her head excitedly and jumped into her mom's arms. The two hugged each other tightly. "I love you, Mom." "I love you too, honey."

After spending what felt like hours with her mother, y/n lay in bed thinking about all the possibilities of her new life in California. She slowly drifted off to sleep, feeling a sense of excitement and nervousness. The next morning came quickly, and Violet packed her most valuable belongings before walking down the stairs to see Eddie and the rest of his bandmates waiting in the van. Her favorite drummer, warren, took her bag and hid it away in the van. Eddie hugged y/n tightly and spun her around. "Let's do this thing," he said with a wide grin on his face as they both walked into the van.

The trip to LA was long and tiring, but also very exciting with the band. Y/n had lit her fifth cigarette, having spent hours reading and smoking by the window. Once they arrived in LA, Warren had arranged a place for them to stay, which wasn't the best but would do for now. Violet sighed upon hearing the lead singer speak. "Really, warren?". billy was an idiot in y/n eyes, and that's all she thought of him.

Months went by and it was tiring for sure. Billy’s girlfriend, Camilla, had been helping y/n with the band's preparations. The two worked day and night managing the band. Y/n grew tired of always managing the band and wanted to be part of something great, not just manage it. Billy never let her join, thinking it should be a "boy band".

Eventually, y/n got her way and joined the band as a background vocalist, occasionally even getting to be the lead singer. She was so happy to finally show her true artistry.

A couple of months had passed, and the band had taken off. Y/n was still crushing on the dreamy bassist, who was also her best friend.

"Birdie, come on, just tell me," Eddie begged on his knees in front of the girl. "Nope, you can't know!" Y/n laughed, watching the boy stand up. He placed his hands on her waist, but was sadly interrupted by Camilla's voice echoing through the house, "Anyone home?!" Eddie quickly backed away and called out, "We're up here, Camilla!" Y/n sat down on the bed in the corner, letting out a loud sigh, feeling her heart break into pieces. She always knew Eddie had pent-up feelings for Camilla, but it still hurt. Eddie had complained to her about what had happened between them. Y/n had taken it for a while because she was too scared to lose her best friend. However, she knew she deserved better, even if she was blinded by love.

The making of their new album was not easy either.

Daisy and Billy constantly fought, making every day exhausting for everyone around them. After finishing the album, they took a three-week break before the tour began. During the break, Y/n attended parties, often drunk or high. This was normal for her in the 70s, but being away from Eddie gave her peace of mind. Eddie, on the other hand, had not slept a single night worrying about Y/n. He didn't know where she was or how she was doing, and it was starting to get to him.

Finally, the three-week break was over, and everyone said their goodbyes before heading out on tour. Y/n had already bid farewell to Camillia and Julia with a smile. On the bus, she noticed Eddie looking at her in a way that made her heart break. Y/n couldn't handle it anymore. After everyone said their goodbyes, Eddie sat next to Y/n and gave her his classic tight-lipped smile. The two were quiet, and Karen noticed this more than anyone. Everyone was in their own world, but Karen always knew when something was going on, especially when it came to y/n.

Their first concert was great. Y/n was super nervous but also felt an excitement within her. Emotions were running wild as the band wrapped up the concert. Y/n walked towards the wings and felt someone's arms wrap around her waist. "We did great!" It was the bassist, her best friend. Y/n smiled and hugged Eddie back, but without thinking she had kissed him. It wasn't intense, just a quick smooch. Y/n didn't know what to do after that. She just nodded and smiled at the man before walking off with Karen to the tour bus for their after-parties, leaving the groupies to swarm Eddie. This was the routine at every concert: perform, party, and hit the road. Eddie played that kiss over and over in his mind. Maybe he did love her? Eddie couldn't keep his thoughts sane after the feeling of his best friends lips on his.

The girls had decided to go shopping while the boys stayed back on the bus. "I don't know, man. Maybe I do love Y/n," Eddie told Warren and Graham. Warren, still high from his daily dose, tried his best to respond. "If there's something going on, then go for it! Why wait? Besides, you don't want to do it too late, man. Y/n is tricky." Eddie nodded, listening, before Graham interrupted. "I mean, Warren's right. No girl kisses just because." Eddie thought for a moment. "Well, no, I mean, have you seen her? A bunch of guys swarm her all the fucking time, man! They are like insects wanting more." Eddie frowned and looked at Warren. "I mean, man, listen, Y/n is a beautiful woman. She's going to get stared down like that, but just because you love her isn't going to stop those guys. She doesn't know you love her." Eddie's eyebrows furrowed. "I'll tell her soon.” Warren shook his head, “whatever you say man.”

Chicago was the final stop, and y/n had made it to sound check on time, as she never missed it. However, as she approached the stage, she saw that Eddie had a black eye. Y/n’s lips formed a frown “Ed’s, are you alright?” She could tell that he wasn't okay. Eddie forced his smile before speaking “I’m alright birdie, thank you” Eddie placed a soft peck on her cheek before going back to shining his bass. Warren looked over at the bass player and frowned, and Eddie knew he needed to tell Y/n what was going on. Warren felt bad for y/n, he could tell that she was tearing herself apart over Eddie’s actions.

Since no one showed up for sound check, y/n asked Rod for permission to leave, and he excused her. She went to her room and stared at herself in the mirror, feeling overwhelmed. She felt like she was going crazy and without thinking, she ran to find Karen, she had no one else.

When y/n arrived at Karen's room, she knocked aggressively, needing her friend's comfort. Karen opened the door and took a second to see y/n face, without hesitation Karen had taken y/n into her arms, consoling her as she cried. Y/n sobbed out “it’s too much Karen. It’s too much for me, for my heart”. Karen held onto y/n until she was ready to let go, and then y/n had collected herself and spoke softly, “I won’t allow myself to suffer like this, ever again.”Karen was proud of y/n and hugged her tightly, “I believe in you y/n.” Karen placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

It was finally time for the show. This was it, the end. Y/n stepped onto the stage, tambourine in hand, and looked out at the crowd. She knew she had to give it her all. She performed like no other before her, wowing the audience. Even a certain bassist couldn't take his eyes off her. Daisy and y/n had sang a duet together, their voices ringing out as loud as they could. Daisy had started the intro for look at us now, but when billys part came on, he didn’t sing. He stayed silent. Billy ran off the stage, causing confusion, but the band continued on. It was the end. Y/n and the band she had grown to love took their last bow to the audience and walked off. Before y/n could leave this place forever, her home, she felt a hand grab her wrist. "Wait," Eddie said, pulling y/n close. "I have something to tell you, please." Y/n stayed quiet, puzzled. "What's the matter, Eddie?" His heart tugged a little hearing how easily his name slipped off her tongue. "I love you, y/n, more than anything. I know it's late, but please." Y/n stayed silent, shocked. These were the words she had begged to hear her whole life, but now that she heard them, nothing changed. Everything was the same. Eddie noticed her silence and felt himself get anxious. "Birdie, please, we can leave the band together and start our own thing. I just need you to trust me," Eddie pleaded again. He wasn't giving up. "Ed's... I," she didn't know how to form the sentence she needed to say, "I don't love you anymore." She said it. She finally said it. Relief washed over her, but she soon became overwhelmed with sadness. "Y/n, but this is how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be us against the world. It was supposed to be like that from the beginning," Eddie felt his eyes water slightly. Eddie didn't want to be vulnerable, but he really loved this woman, and he hated that he was too late. "Exactly, Eddie. From the beginning, not from the end," she spoke coldly, the words striking through Eddie's heart. "Please, y/n, don't do this, please," he filled her ears up with pleads once again. He couldn't let her go like this. "Eddie, I like to love you, and I hate to hate you." Y/n eyes watered, tears threatening to fall. "Let's just put on some Beatles, light the candles, and start over," Eddie held y/n hands in his. He wanted to keep her around. Eddie didn't want to lose his favorite girl. Y/n kissed Eddie, knowing this would be the last time ever. Eddie didn't want this to end, but he had to accept that he couldn't control what happens. Y/n finally parted her lips from his. "Look at us," she whispered to him. "You and me, back at it again," Eddie whispered back, his tear-stained cheeks and red eyes staring into y/n swollen eyes and cheeks. "Goodbye, Eddie," y/n left him standing there. That same night, she left Chicago and went back home. Y/n left a piece of herself with Eddie, just as Eddie left a piece of himself with her.

This definitely wasn’t my best, but I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! sending love 🍒

#eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #daisy jones and the six #warren rojas #graham dunne #karen sirko #daisy jones spoilers #billy dunne #camila dunne #warren rojas x reader #billy dunne x reader #karen sirko x reader #graham dunne x reader #daisy jones x reader #camila dunne x reader #eddie x camila #billy x daisy #karen x graham #josh whitehouse

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cuttergauthier · 1 year

Text

Who I Write For

Hey everyone this is a list of who I write for.

If you have someone else in mind, send me an ask and i’ll let you know if i want to write for him. I’m not picky

Also if anyone would want me to start an AU let me know!

How to request

I DO NOT WRITE SMUT

New jersey Devils

Jack Hughes

Nathan Bastian

Dawson Mercer

Luke Hughes

Nico Hischier

Timo Meier

Brendan Smith

Vancouver Canucks

Quinn Hughes

Brock Boeser

Elias Pettersson

Cole McWard

Anthony Beauvillier

Dakota Joshua

Toronto Maple Leafs

Mitch Marner

Auston Matthews

William Nylander

Matthew Knies

Morgan Reilly

Buffalo Sabres

Owen Powers

Tyson Jost

Devon Levi

Erik Johnson

Jeff Skinner

Tage Thompson

Dylan Cozens

Casey Mittelstadt

Carolina Hurricanes

Michael Bunting

Andrei Svechnikov

Jack Drury

Pittsburgh Penguins

Pierre-Oliver Joseph

Ryan Graves

Ty Smith

Columbus Blue Jackets

Nick Blankenburg

Kent Johnson

Cole Sillinger

Adam Boqvist

Zach Werenski

Adam Fantilli

Vegas Golden Knights

Brendan Brisson

San Jose Sharks

Thomas Bordeleau

Tristen Robins

William Eklund

Henry Thrun

Luke Kunin

Anaheim Ducks

Trevor Zegras

Mason McTavish

John Gibson

Frank Vatrano

St Louis Blues

Jake Neighbours

Colton Parayko

Ottawa Senators

Josh Norris

Brady Tkachuk

Mathieu Joseph

Jakob Chychrun

Zack MacEwen

Tim Stutzle

Thomas Chabot

Minnesota Wilds

Matt Boldy

Brock Faber

Brandon Duhaime

Los Angeles Kings

Alex Turcotte

Quinn Byfield

Brandt Clarke

Pierre Luc Dubois

Alex Laferriere

Florida Panthers

Matthew Tkachuk

Sam Bennett

Mackie Samoskevich

William Lockwood

Aaron Ekblad

Josh Mahura

Brandon Montour

Colorado Avalanche

Cale Makar

Bowen Byram

Nate Mackinnon

Miles Wood

Detroit Red Wings

J.T. Compher

Dylan Larkin

Joe Veleno

Jake Walman

Boston Bruins

Mason Lohrei

Johnny Beecher

Jeremy Swayman

Jake Debrusk

Charlie Mcavoy

Montreal Canadiens

Cole Caufield

Arber Xhekaj

Kirby Dach

Christian Dvorak

Alex Newhook

New York Islanders

Noah Dobson

Mat Barzal

Philadelphia Flyers

Morgan Frost

Cam York

Jamie Drysdale

Joe Farabee

Tyson Foerster

Noah Cates

New York Rangers

Alexis Lafrenière

Adam Fox

K’Andre Miller

Braden Schneider

Chris Kreider

Zac Jones

Arizona Coyotes

Logan Cooley

Dylan Guenther

Clayton Keller

Nick Schmaltz

Chicago Blackhawks

Lukas Reichel

Seth Jones

Alex Vlasic

Connor Bedard

Tampa Bay Lightnings

Brandon Hagel

Anthony Cirelli

Seattle Kraken

Brandon Tanev

Jamie Oleksiak

Philipp Grubauer

Will Borgen

Dallas Stars

Wyatt Johnston

Jake Oettinger

Rope Hintz

Craig Smith

University of Michigan

Luca Fantili

Rutger McGroarty

Nick Moldenhauer

Phil Lapointe

Jacob Truscott

Tyler Duke

Marshall Warren

Frank Nezar

Ethan Edwards

Michigan State University

Red Savage

Isaac Howard

Maxim Štrbák

Ohio State University

Joe Dunlap

Cam Thiesing

Davis Burnside

Caden Brown

Matt Cassidy

Minnesota University

Luke Mittelstadt

Jimmy Snuggerud

Ryan Chesley

Oliver Moore

Brody Lamb

Boston College

Cutter Gauthier

Will Smith

Ryan Leonard

Gabe Perreault

Drew Fortescue

Jacob Fowler

Will Vote

University of Wisconsin

Cruz Lucius

Charlie Stramel

Zach Schulz

Random Teams

Nick Granowicz

Jay Keranen

Colton Dach

Nathan Gaucher

+ more

AU’s

Nick Granowicz x Msu Reader

Josh Norris x Tkachuk sister

Trevor Zegras x Hughes sister

Cutter Gauthier x Hughes sister

Matthew Knies x Matthews sister

Jack Hughes x Mercer au

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wishuhadstayed · 2 years

Text

Double Your Pleasure

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x John Wick x fem!reader

Word count: 5.4k (WENT OFF 😳)

Summary: Two men, two tragic backstories. One woman determined to make them both happy.

AKA: feel safe at night sleep with an FBI agent and the worlds deadliest assassin 😂

Warnings: NSFW. PURE SMUT. Restraints, blindfolds, unprotected three way sex, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), praise kink, degradation, cockwarming, thigh riding, mentions of alcohol, language

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday Hotch 🥰 have a threesome

Masterlist

Yet another hard week at the hospital brought you to your knees, sobbing as you sank to the hardwood just inside the front door. Upon hearing your distress, your lovers are by your side in an instant.

John pulls you into his warm chest, his muscular arms wrapping you in comfort. His large hand strokes your hair as you tearfully relate the story of your stressful day.

Seeing that John has you well taken care of, Aaron comes up with a plan of his own.

“I’ll be right back,” he assures, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing up the stairs.

“You know we both love you so much, right?” John inquires as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze and planting a tender kiss to your forehead. “We will always be here for you.”

About 15 minutes later when your tears had mostly dried, but the exhaustion remained, Aaron re-emerged.

“Come with me darling,” he requests, reaching out for you. “I have a surprise.”

“What are you up to, Aaron?” You wonder aloud.

With a mischievous grin, he replies. “You’ll see.”

The sight that meets your eyes as he sets you on your feet in the master bath is breathtaking.

Dimmed lights, candles burning, and a tub full of hot, soapy bubbles. His thoughtfulness is enough to make you tear up again.

“For me?” You squeak, eyes watering.

“All for you,” Aaron replies, softly grabbing the hem of your scrub shirt and lifting it over your head. Drinking in the sight of your exposed skin, gingerly kisses your collarbone and stomach before returning his attention to your remaining clothes.

Next he moves on to your lower half. He unties the drawstring and slowly shimmies your scrub pants and underwear down over your hips, warm hands grazing your sensitive skin the whole way.

As he stoops to grab the discarded clothing, he pauses, pressing his lips softly to your thigh before standing and lifting you up to set you on the cool countertop; placing himself squarely between your legs.

Tilting your chin up to him, he captures your lips in a warm, wet kiss. A soft sigh of contentment escapes your lips as he slowly pulls away. He gingerly brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear before leaning in and reaching both arms around to unclasp your bra.

The weight of the day seems to slip away with every article of clothing he removes.

“That’s right, baby,” he encourages. “Just relax. Are you feeling better?”

The small, shy smile that graces your lips is all the confirmation he needs.

“Come here, honey,” he requests and you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He lifts you easily from the counter, placing your feet back on the tile floor.

“You go ahead and get in darling,” he suggests. “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna grab you some cozy PJs alright?”

As he turns to go, he feels a tug at his wrist.

“Wait,” you plead, pulling him close once more. “Please don’t go. Get in with me?”

Who could say no to that angelic expression?

Immediately stopping in his tracks, Aaron lifts the hem of his purple polo shirt, slightly exposing his scarred abdomen.

Your soft voice cuts through the quiet, a sweet distraction.

“Let me,” you request. “Please.”

Dropping his hands, he relents to your desire.

Your hands slip under the fabric, pressing flat against the warm skin of his belly.

Closing his eyes and soaking in the pleasant sensation, Aaron sighs out, “Oh baby.”

Lifting the shirt over his head, you discard it with a fling before leisurely unzipping the fly of his jeans. Hooking your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, you slip them both off and he steps out, exposed in all his glory.

“Come here, you,” he says with a grin, easily sweeping you up in his strong arms and settling you both in the hot, soapy water.

The warm water soothes your fatigued body and you relax back into Aaron, resting your head back on his broad shoulder. His arms slip around your waist as he presses a tender kiss behind your right ear, his slight stubble scratching your neck.

Moments later, John’s imposing frame fills the doorway, arms laden with a bottle of wine and three glasses, as well as a variety of cheese and crackers.

“I figured you could use a drink,” his deep voice rings out. “And no one drinks alone in this house.”

Placing everything on the counter, he reaches for the bottom shelf of the linen cabinet where the bath tray is stored. Retrieving it, he arranges the spread on the tray and places it before you. As he turns to leave, your angelic voice reaches his ears.

“John.”

He turns, greeted by the sultry look in your eyes and the entrancing motion of your hand beckoning him closer.

He approaches eagerly and once within arm’s reach, you lean forward, hooking your finger through his belt loop and drawing him to the edge of the tub.

“Kneel,” you command, and the usually formidable man is on his knees in an instant, as if under the influence of some intoxicating spell.

His first glimpse of your body renders him speechless as your voice interrupts his train of thought, his eyes remain fixed on your soapy breasts.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” You inquire, your finger lifting his handsome face to meet your gaze.

“It’s okay, you can tell me. Do you like what you see?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he replies.

“I love it.”

Suddenly his massive hands are on either side of your face, pulling you in for a steamy kiss. His tongue slides hungrily against yours, tasting faintly of his favorite bourbon.

You find yourself grabbing desperately at his shirt, slipping it over his wide shoulders, breaking the kiss to slip it over his head.

“Stand up,” you whisper breathlessly and he obliges. Your nimble hands make quick work of his jeans and a sigh of relief escapes him as your palms make their way down his thighs, removing the last remaining clothing.

The pull of your hand on his relays an unspoken invitation which he readily accepts. Stepping over the side, he carefully lifts the tray and sets it aside before easing into the heated water.

“Relax, angel,” Aaron encourages as John returns the tray to its rightful place. “Let us take care of you.”

“I believe I promised you a drink,” John recalls, placing a glass of white wine in your hand as recline once more against Aaron’s chest.

“Thank you, honey,” you reply, taking a sip as Aaron’s large, capable hands massage the knots of tension in your shoulders.

Your body goes completely limp at his soothing touch. Head falling back on his shoulder, your eyes close in blissful relaxation.

“Oh my god, Aaron,” you whimper, “that feels so good.”

His soft lips trail his hands, littering your shoulders and neck with feathery soft kisses before pausing just behind your ear; the combination of his warm breath and whispered filth making you squirm and whine with need.

Aaron’s undivided attention has you so pleasantly distracted that you hardly notice when John lifts your leg, resting your right ankle on his left shoulder. That is, until John presses a steamy kiss to your ankle, tenderly nipping your sensitive skin.

You gasp at the unexpected sensation, your nails digging into Aaron’s forearm. John smirks, pleased with his effect on you and his lips continue their warm, wet trail up your calf.

His strong hands follow, providing a sorely needed foot and leg massage. The sheer relief and intensity of his touch has you arching back against Aaron, head thrown back on his shoulder.

“Ohhhh John, FUCK,” you moan out. “That feels so amazing.”

Not one to be outdone, Aaron grasps you firmly by the chin, turning your head to look him right in the eyes. The hunger in his dark eyes makes your heart skip a beat before he claims your mouth with his tongue.

The sudden absence of John’s touch tears your attention away from Aaron and twists your expression into a pout.

“John,” you plead, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Fear not, my love,” he reassures, squeezing your hand as he rises from the water. “I have a surprise for you. I’ll be right back.”

“What is he up to?” You muse as he disappears out of sight.

“I don’t know,” Aaron replies, caressing your nipple with the pad of his thumb. “And I don’t care. I have you all to myself. I’ll make you forget he’s gone.”

His touch sends shockwaves straight to your core, leaving you squirming and desperately in need of friction.

Taking matters into your own hands, you rise from the water, slowly turning to face Aaron.

Massive hands gripping your ass firmly, he pulls you almost close enough to taste.

“You smell so good baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “I can’t wait to devour you.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” he vows. “But not quite yet,” he teases, softly nipping the skin of your inner thigh.

Grabbing your hands, he pulls you in, straddled on his solid thigh. Unable to resist your desire any longer, you twine your arms around Aaron’s back and shoulder and roll your hips eagerly against him.

Overwhelming sensation ripples through your body and leaves you a whimpering mess, your nails digging into Aaron’s skin.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” John’s voice rings out. “Mind if I join?”

“Oh John,” you breathe. “Please.”

He approaches, kneeling by the tub with a wicked grin.

“Your pretty mouth is entirely too empty for my liking,” he states. “Open wide for me, baby.”

Leaning over the cool fiberglass you oblige, lips open wide, tongue out, eyes closed; anxiously awaiting your surprise.

A sudden but familiar sound startles you just before the taste of sweet whipped cream on your tongue makes you sigh with pleasure.

“Good girl,” John praises, pulling you in and pressing his tongue to yours, leaving you breathless.

The passion in the kiss stokes the flames of desire and John’s teeth softly tug at your lower lip as you unconsciously pulled away, involuntarily rocking your hips back into Aaron.

“Maybe I should give you two some time alone,” John suggests, slowly rising to leave.

“No, John, wait! Please stay,” you plead pitifully.

“It’s alright, really,” he reassures, softly stroking your hair. “Both of us together can be a bit much. Take your time. I’ll be waiting.”

And with that he disappears into the master bedroom.

Still overly stimulated and desperate for friction, you rut into Aaron’s thigh even more frantically than before, panting for breath as you quickly near your peak.

His fingers digging into your hips, he brings you to a sudden halt, leaving you nearly in tears of frustration.

“You dirty girl,” he chides, lifting your chin to stare into your soul. “If you’re so wet and desperate, we’ll put you to good use.”

Pushing you off his lap, he quickly stands, grabbing a towel and drying off before wrapping it around his waist. You scramble out behind him, throwing on a fluffy robe that had been set aside for you earlier. Before you can even tie the sash, Aaron has you thrown over his shoulder and halfway to the bed.

Next thing you know, you’re being tossed through the air before bouncing to a halt on the massive king sized bed, flat on your back. A fit of childlike giggles overcomes you, quickly replaced by a nervous shiver down your spine at the scene before your eyes.

Both men loom over you, a familiar look of lustful hunger in their dark eyes as they drink in your barely concealed figure.

“We thought we might try something new tonight, darling,” John informs you, grabbing a tie from the nightstand by the bed. “A blindfold,” he continues. “That is, if it’s alright with you.”

A moment’s hesitation flashes through your mind before the decision is made.

“It’s alright, John,” you consent, looking them both in the eyes. “I trust you.”

“Anything you’re uncomfortable with, we can stop at any time,” he reassures, softly stroking your cheek. “Just use the stoplight system,” he explains. “Green for good to go, yellow for slow down, and red for an immediate stop, no questions asked and we can discuss. Understand?”

Nodding, you signal your comprehension.

“I need to hear you say it, love,” he requests.

“I understand,” you reply. “Green for go. Yellow, slow down. Red, stop.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, softly kissing your cheek. He slips the silky material over your eyes, pausing a moment before he ties the ends behind your head.

“What’s your color baby?”

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you respond, quietly but firmly, “Green.”

“Just relax,” Aaron soothes as John ties the knot and removes your robe. “We’re going to take such good care of you tonight.”

The complete darkness provided by the blindfold amplified your anticipation immensely. You laid on the bed, heart racing, body aching for their touch. What must have only been a couple of minutes seemed to stretch on for hours as you tried to wait patiently.

“John?” You call out, squirming as the burning desire from lack of contact consumes you.

“I’m right here, my love,” he reassures, almost at the same moment as a pair of soft lips press a searing kiss to your lower belly.

“Oh!” You gasp, stunned by the electric sensation that had heat pooling between your thighs already. Aaron continues his sinful trail down your body, leaving you panting for breath as he stops just shy of where you need him most.

“So wet already and we haven’t even touched you yet,” he teases, eagerly licking a wet stripe up your quivering cunt before gently sucking your clit between his lips.

The instant jolt of mind-numbing pleasure short circuits your brain, leaving you back arched, fingers desperately gripping the sheets until your mind catches up to your body.

Just as an obscene moan issues from your lips, John smothers it with a deep, wet kiss.

Aaron’s strong arms snake around your legs, his massive palms pressed flat against the sensitive skin of your belly; holding your hips firmly in place.

John’s hands begin to wander, massaging your breast as his tongue finds its way to your neck. Sucking bruises into your skin, he rolls your nipple between his fingers, instantly making you squirm against Aaron’s skilled tongue. Your legs begin to shake as you let out a desperate moan, the overwhelming mix of sensations pushing you rapidly to the edge.

Just as quickly as heaven approaches, it is cruelly wrenched from your grasp as Aaron retreats, leaving your cunt dripping with need.

Luckily you need not think straight to even follow directions, as your men do all the work. Strong hands guide you up to your knees, legs spread wide. After a moment’s shuffling, a pair of hands caress your thighs, pulling you back to a seated position; a familiar beard scratching your hypersensitive skin.

John.

“I have a treat for you,” Aaron’s deep voice rings out, making you flinch. “That is,” he resumes, “if you promise to be a good girl for me and do as I say. Look, but don’t touch.”

“I will,” you squeak.

“You will, what?” he inquires. “Be specific, pet.”

“I will be a good girl for you, I promise,” you vow.

“For your sake,” he replies, leaning in to remove your blindfold, “I certainly hope so.”

As you adjust to the blinding brightness of the room, Aaron’s naked figure comes into focus right before your eyes. The mere sight of his hard, swollen cock was enough to make your mouth water and your cunt throb.

Fueled by instinct and raw desire, all promises of being good are quickly forgotten as you reach out a hand to stroke his erection.

“You dirty whore,” he scolds, brushing your hand away. “So focused on my cock you can’t even follow a simple instruction. So much for being a good girl.”

“I can- I will,” you plead. “Please sir, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s a little late for that now,” he replies. “Bad girls who can’t behave themselves have to learn their lesson.”

Picking up the discarded blindfold, he moves to your side, untying the knot and cinching it around your wrists.

“Maybe that will teach you to keep your hands to yourself until given permission,” he states, returning to his previous spot.

“I was going to let you have my cock in your pretty little mouth since I know how much you love it, but now,” he trails off, “since you’re being a little brat I guess I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands.”

Watching Aaron spit in his palm and reach down to wrap his hand around his aching erection, you become acutely aware of your own pulsing need, and John’s devotion to relieving it.

His tongue presses into your slick heat, nose barely brushing your clit, and beard burning your thighs.

“Oh GOD, John,” you cry out, and he moans, the resulting vibrations against your clit leave you gasping for air, grinding on his face, your arousal coating his beard.

Your focus is broken by Aaron’s sinful moans, causing you to stare, mesmerized as he stokes from his base all the way to his flushed, leaking tip.

His dark eyes lock with yours as his tongue glides slowly over his lips before disappearing with a smirk.

FUCK.

He’s teasing you, and it’s so totally working.

“Such a filthy little slut, so desperate for my cock you can’t even keep your mouth closed. Don’t even pretend you’re not. Nothing but a set of wet, needy holes for us to use,” he mocks, eyeing your shocked expression.

“I know you want my dick down your throat,” he continues, “but you’ve been a fucking brat and you don’t deserve it. If you want it so bad, prove it. Beg for me.”

“Please sir,” you whimper, “I want your cock in my mouth so badly. Please, please sir, let me suck your cock.”

“I’m not convinced. Surely you can do better than that,” he suggests.

“You’re right,” you whine. “I’m a filthy slut. Your filthy slut. Please, please use me like your dirty whore and fill my throat, sir.”

“That’s more like it,” he approves, wrenching you head back by the hair and forcing you meet his steely gaze.

“John’s going to continue ravaging your pretty pussy with his mouth while I fuck your face,” he explains. “And you are not, under any circumstances, to cum before I do, or there will be repercussions. Are we understood?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out.

“Yes, WHAT?” he questions. “So fucking needy you can’t even remember how to address me properly?”

“Y-YES SIR,” you whine pitifully. “I understand.”

“Good,” he replies, stroking your lips with the pad of his thumb. “Now open up.”

Eager to please, you stick out your tongue, gagging and eyes watering as he thrusts down your throat. You struggle to breathe through your nose as lines of drool begin to run down your chin.

Hollowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue against the underside of his length, you bob your head taking as much of him as you possibly can.

Meanwhile, John continues his worship of your sex, his tongue circling and flicking your clit bringing you dangerously close to your peak.

“I knew a filthy tramp like you could take my whole cock down her throat,” Aaron gloats, cock twitching at the sensation as you swallow around him.

Just then, John switches it up, sucking and lapping at your clit, sending fireworks from your head to your toes. Your orgasm burns hot and fast like wildfire, completely out of your control.

Your hips instinctively squirm against John’s bearded face, dripping pussy clenching around nothing as you moan desperately around Aaron’s cock.

The vibration and tightening of your throat pushes Aaron over the edge, groaning as his release coats the back of your throat.

SHIT. You’re in big trouble now.

Leaving spit running down your neck and the remnants of his release on your lips, he slips from your mouth. Gripping you tightly by the hair, he wrenches your head back, his ferocious gaze assuring you that the consequences will be severe.

“Were you so focused on getting my cock in your mouth that you forgot every word that came out of mine?” he demands.

“I-I,” you stutter.

“I’m talking to you, you fucking brat, and I expect an answer!” he exclaims.

“No, sir. I didn’t forget,” you plead with a repentant look. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t help myself. I really am sorry, sir.”

“Whether you meant to or not makes no difference to me,” he asserts. “Disobedience is disobedience, and you know what happens to bad girls who don’t mind.”

“Yes, sir.” comes your defeated response. “They get punished.”

“That’s right.” he replies. “And this time, you’d better be a good little slut and do as I say.”

“I will,” you whimper. “I promise I’ll be good this time.”

Pulling you up from your seat on John’s face, he unties your wrists before explaining the details of your discipline.

“You’re going to sit on John’s cock,” he orders. “And you’re not allowed cum or to touch either him or me.”

“When will I be done?” you inquire.

“When I say so, brat.” he replies. “Oh, and one more thing,” he continues. “Don’t even think about moving. You sit still like a good little girl and maybe you’ll earn your reward.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say.” you agree.

Releasing your hair, he tilts your chin up to meet his lustful eyes.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Resting his back against the headboard, John lets his knees fall out to either side, the soles of his feet lightly touching and offers you a hand for support as you straddle him. He drags the tip of his cock languidly through your wet folds, teasing you as he aligns himself with your slick entrance. Bracing your hands on the mattress, you slowly sink onto his rigid length, moaning at the feel of every ridge and vein as he stretches your aching pussy.

“Oh, FUCK,” you moan as he bottoms out, catching your breath as you adjust to the feeling of him sheathed so deeply inside you.

“That’s it sweetheart,” John whispers, the combination of his beard and his warm breath tickling your neck.

“Oh god,” you whine, as you obediently place your hands on your knees.

“Shhhhhhh,” he soothes, one hand flat against your lower belly, the other caressing your jaw. “You’re doing great, baby. Just relax. Lean your head back on my shoulder.”

Taking his advice, you lay your head back on John’s shoulder and he wastes no time in pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to your neck as his right hand squeezes your tender breast.

A strangled groan falls from your lips, your nails digging into the skin of your leg as his lavished attention quickly leaves you trembling.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he praises, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “Such a good girl,” he breathes, his cock pulsing inside you. “You take me so well.”

Biting your lower lip, you struggle to hold in obscene sighs as the hand that was groping your breast travels slowly and sensually down your body, finally making its way to your soaked, needy sex.

The brush of his thumb against your aching clit pushes you so close to the edge that you’re seeing stars, and you sniffle as tears well up from overstimulation.

Seeing the tears about to fall, Aaron lightly slaps your cheek.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He inquires mockingly. “I thought my little slut LOVED cockwarming. Don’t cry now, you’re just getting started.”

“She can’t take anymore, Aaron,” John cuts in, jumping quickly to your defense. “She’s followed your rules and been a very good girl,” he says, softly kissing the cheek just marked by the other man. “You’re torturing my angel,” he snaps, wrapping his comforting arms around you.

Hearing John’s concerned tone and witnessing a single tear slide down your cheek, Aaron wonders if he may have pushed the scene a bit too far.

Gently cupping your chin, he asks, “What’s your color, baby?”

“G-green,” you choke out. “Please just let me cum, sir,” you plead tearfully. “Please, GOD, please, sir. I can’t take anymore. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if you want.”

“You do look beautiful on your knees,” he muses. “But begging won’t be necessary. I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

“May I PLEASE finish with John, sir?” you implore, still on the verge of tears.

“Yes, my love,” he permits, licking the pad of his thumb and pressing it against your tender clit. “No more restrictions. We’re here to please you sweet girl.”

The sudden friction sends tendrils of burning desire straight to your core, leaving you fluttering around John’s aching length.

“Oh,” you gasp, your hand snaking into Aaron’s hair as he claims your mouth with his eager tongue.

The sensation of John rolling your nipple has you moaning into Aaron’s mouth and squirming restlessly as a familiar tension mounts quickly.

Sensing your rapidly approaching release, Aaron increases his pressure, rubbing tight circles as John kisses your neck. The combined sensations send you crashing over the edge as your cunt pulses around John’s cock.

“Oh, John,” you whimper, grinding your hips into him. “Feels so good, John.”

Slowly coming down from your high, Aaron’s voice cuts through the haze of pleasure.

“You wanted to finish, well, looks like you’re finished to me,” he comments as he turns to leave.

“Aaron, wait,”you plead, grasping his wrist.

“Ohhh, so you’re NOT finished then?” he inquires. “Greedy little slut. If you’re that desperate for cock, why don’t you just take us both?”

With that he grabs you by the wrists, pulling you up from John’s lap and bending you over on all fours, spread wide in front of him.

“Is this what you want?” he taunts, rubbing his cock teasingly against your wet, needy cunt.

“God yes,” you whimper, grinding your hips back against him, desperate for him to claim you.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he demands, grabbing you by the hair. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“YES SIR,” you wail, unable to withstand his torture any longer.

“That’s what I thought,” he replies, pulling you flush against his chest as he plows into you hard.

A strangled sob of pleasure falls from your lips; his bruising grip and unrelenting pace rendering you incapable of anything except whining his name with each forceful thrust.

“God my name sounds so fucking good coming from your pretty mouth,” he moans. “But I’m sure John could think of a better way to put it to use.”

“There’s my angel,” John murmurs, softly cradling your chin and lifting your eyes to meet his tender gaze. “Do you think you can take me as well?”

“Oh, FUCK, y-yes John,” you pant. Gasping for air between Aaron’s deliciously deep thrusts and the nip of his teeth at your neck, you stick out your tongue; your mouth a warm, wet invitation for John.

“Oh, shit,” he hisses as your tongue swirls around his flushed, leaking tip. Twining his hands in your hair, he draws you closer, gently encouraging you to take him deeper.

“Mmmmmm,” he moans, as your tongue presses flat against his underside and you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head and taking him as deeply as you dare.

Your questioning glance up at him though your lashes is answered by his eager moans and twitching cock.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, staring deeply into your eyes and making your cunt flutter with need as Aaron continues to drive into you from behind, his thrusts growing sloppy.

“Oh baby,” John sighs, “I’m so fucking close.”

“I think we all are,” Aaron replies. “What about you, baby?” He questions, squeezing your hip. “Are you ready to cum for us?”

You let out a desperate whine around John’s cock, signaling to Aaron in the affirmative.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he states, lowering his hand to rub tight circles on your clit. “Come on, baby,” he encourages as you whimper and squirm with pleasure.

“Come for me, come all over my cock,” he requests, grinding into your g-spot at the same time as his thumb strokes your clit, sending you crashing over the edge; seeing stars as your cunt clenches around his pulsing length.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, hips stilling as he spills deep inside you.

Your desperate moans send heavenly vibrations rippling through John, and he groans out curses as he too reaches his peak, his release pooling on your tongue as he retreats, leaving the last few drops on your soft, swollen lips.

“You took us so well, sweetheart,” John praises. Softly caressing your face, his thumb collects the remnants of his release and softly presses it back into your mouth, humming as you lick it clean.

“You rest, baby,” he bids. “Let Aaron take care of you while I go get something to clean you up.”

“Come here, darling,” Aaron implores, pulling out of you slowly before rolling onto his back and pulling you half on top of him, head on his chest, left leg hitched up over his.

You snuggle close to Aaron, basking in the warmth of his skin, his steady heartbeat soothing as he wraps his strong arms around your waist.

“I love you so much, baby,” he whispers, softly kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too,” you breathe, nuzzling his chest.

“Are you comfortable?”

You nod, nearly drifting off to sleep when John returns.

“I’m gonna get you cleaned up, okay my love?” He asks, softly stroking your lower back.

“Okay,” you whisper, and a warm, damp washcloth is smoothed between your legs and over your

inner thighs, gently cleansing you.

He kisses your shoulder softly before rising to head back and dispose of the cloth.

“John,” you whimper, a hint of a pout in your voice.

“I’ll be right back, honey” he assures, stroking the small of your back. “I promise.”

You whimper, head going fuzzy from his absence.

Moments later, his promise is fulfilled as you feel the mattress dip beneath his weight. He presses close to you, spooning you with his arm draped around your waist.

Their combined mass and body heat set you back to right, soothing your desperate need for close contact.

Aaron strokes your hair as John litters your neck and shoulders with tender kisses.

“Y/N?” John inquires softly.

“Hmmmm,” you acknowledge, nearly falling asleep.

“I’ve - uh, I’ve been thinking,” he stammers, looking over to Aaron.

“It’s okay,” Aaron assures him. “Ask her.”

“I want to have a family with you,” John states.

Confused, you reply, “We have Jack, and each other, we ARE a family, John.”

“Of course we are, my love. That’s not what I meant,” he explains. “A baby, Y/N. Would you have a baby with me?”

“A baby?” You repeat, still in shock.

“Yeah,” he continues. “I never got to have one of my own and I just love you so much. I just want one with you so badly,” he pleads, softly nuzzling your neck.

“Oh John,” you squeak, unexpectedly tearing up. “I love you too. Of course I’ll have a baby with you,” you agree with a grin. “You’ll be such a good dad.”

“Oh thank you,” he breathes, squeezing you so tight that you struggle for air. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he gushes, lavishing your skin with kisses.

“John,” you pant, patting his arm. “John, earth to John.”

“Hmmm?” He responds, still caught up in the bliss of your agreement.

“I do still need to be alive for this plan to work,” you comment.

“Oh!” He gasps, quickly loosening his grip. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. I was just so excited.”

“I know,” you soothe. “It’s okay, I’m no worse for wear. And now,” you continue, softly patting Aaron’s chest, “we should all get some rest. It sounds like we’re going to have our hands full very soon.”

——————————————————————————

Tag list: @ange-must-die @agent-laufeyson @poetsacademia @hotchners-slut @ladyreapermc @rousethemouse @less-intelligent-spencerreid @themanip @quillvine @word-scribbless @glizzieborden @miss-united-ace @samayoshito @hotchnerundercover @pedropascalian @thenewnormalforensicator @crowdedimagines @sagittarianwolf @ssamorganhotchner @avatarkanemi @kleff03 @hotforhotchner11 @wanniiieeee @romanogersendgame @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @arsonhotchner @scuttling @ssahotchie @silvermercy @sacralizatio-n

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dmercer91 · 7 months

Note

i forget in which inevitably headcanon you mention something about reader and jamie-

but all i can picture is reader being a bit more on the reserved side when initially meeting eveyone, and jamie is just the first person she warms up to- and that’s why it makes john so happy when he sees them giggling together

(if it was anyone else he’d definitely get jealous-)

she’s definitely very nervous cause she’s meeting a bunch of people who didn’t know she existed even though she’s been with john for so long

the reason she’s so comforted by jamie is that he genuinely seemed so excited to meet her while the rest she could tell were confused and a little put off cause she’s very different than gibbys normal type

mason and trevor were quick to adapt to her and troy was never judgemental, just very quiet- but the first time dahlia hugs mason goodbye at an event she was invited to a while after meeting, it’s very, very obvious that john’s not a huge fan

so she sticks with jamie because inexplicably, he loves them

also, until she gets used to trev being around he just has so much energy and it’s a little head spinning for her

dux in tux | inevitability au, jg36

“my girlfriend is coming tonight,” john murmured nonchalantly, heard vaguely over trevor, jamie and mason as they contemplated, as the single men of the team, wether or not they should bring casual dates

trevor whipped his head around, while jamie just smiled a little and mase furrowed his eyebrows “your who?” trevor had caught the attention of a larger part of the dressing room with his words.

“girlfriend?” mason repeated, a little more tame than trevor, but still pronounced enough that anyone who’d looked over at the commotion could hear.

“why haven’t you said anything?” jamie quietly asked.

john nodded to masons question, licking his lips in contemplation at jamie’s

“she’s younger.” he stated, scratching the back of his neck at the thought of the day they met. dahlia had continuously reminded him throughout the relationship that she was one one interested in him

and that their relationship would always be private enough that anybody who had an opinion wouldn’t be close enough to them regardless

“like.. 25 younger?” trevor tilted his head, and john poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue

“like i met her on her 20th birthday, younger.” he stared at the floor for a moment, looking up to see pretty much the whole team staring at him, with neutral looks of confusion.

that was good enough for him, though when he saw that jamie just smiled and tried to move on with the previous conversation, he was relieved that at least one person would be accepting of dahlia that night.

when the beginning of the event rolled around, john walked in with dahlia holding his arm, clearly very nervous to meet everyone since john had spared the details of the reactions his blurt had gotten him at practice

troy, trevor, cam, mace and jamie had all already been standing together, jamie immediately turning and smiling at her from their spot.

“this is dahlia, my girl,” john smiled down at her as she waved to the small group, jamie returning the favour while the rest just eyed her in silence.

john rolled his eyes a little, but carried a conversation with his teammates while she stayed wrapped around him and tucked close

as the night progressed, dahlia had met nearly the whole team, and they were all very mellow with her, not sure what to think about her and johns dynamic

when john leaned down to tell her that he’d needed a minute to use the bathroom, she blinked, nervous.

“can we find jamie first?” she looked up at him worry prominent in her features. john kissed her on the forehead and nodded, pulling her over to the drinks where jamie was standing

“hey, jim. can she stand with you a sec?” john nodded to the bathroom and then his eyes trailed to her, who still looked a little nervous to be left without him.

jamie nodded with a proud smile. he could already tell how much she meant to john, and being trusted to ease her discomfort like he had was a different kind of honour.

“dahlia, yeah?” jamie asked, looking down at her while she planted herself next to him, close but not uncomfortably.

she nodded. squeezing her own wrist like she’d been anticipating a piercing.

“gibby’s a big softy, right? like he’s real quiet at the rink but then he just goes teddy bear mode?” dahlia smiled, thinking of the contrast between her john and his john.

“yeah. he’s very sweet to me,” she blushed, looking up at jamie to see him fully engaged in their conversation, chuckling

“oh- and, ignore the team, i think they just weren’t expecting him to have been in a long term relationship. they’ll all warm up,” she nodded slightly, giving him a small thanks

“have you ever been to a game? i know we weren’t introduced to you, but some home games he looks more excited to play than others,” she bit her lip, reminded of the first game she’d ever gone to.

“i’ve been to a couple. i stay in the crowd, obviously. mason’s noticed me in the stands before and had apparently taken interest,” she giggled, jamie’s eyes going wide as he laughed

“that went over well, i take it?” he breathed out, tilting his head

“well. he asked me to be his girlfriend because of it, so i think it did,” she smiled, earning a hum.

“the jealous type?” before you could answer, johns arms were snaked around you from behind and jamie was beaming at the two of you.

“definitely.”

#e’s 500 celly!#inevitability au !#e’s blurbs!#john gibson #john gibson x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #anaheim ducks

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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years

Text

Sam Winchester: Thoughts

*Credit to the gif owner*

Pairing: Sam W. x reader

Pov: Sam

Warnings: Fluff, Sam can hear the readers thoughts, Sam falling in love with the reader, Dean is here to help the plot

Summary: Sam gets cursed after the Dean, Y/n, and Sam hunt a witch. The next morning when he wakes up all he can hear is Y/n thoughts, and he’s slowly start to fall in love with her.

A/N: Using @firefly-graphics Sam Winchester divider for this fic. This fic is sorta based on "What women want" with Mel Gibson. A good ol' Romantic Comedy.

Word Count: 2.3k

Main Masterlist Sams Masterlist

Taglist: @sweetdetectivequeen

A witch hunt couldn't possibly go wrong, right? Especially with the Winchester boys.

"Look lady, sit down before I shoot," Dean shouted, causing Y/n to flinch. Just enough of a flinch that I would be having a conversation with Dean later about no yelling so much.

The witch sat down, but what nobody noticed she was casting a spell under her breath. Dean, Y/n, and I had huddled together trying to figure out what we were going to ask this damn witch.

My back facing the witch. Dean looking over my shoulder looking angrily at the lady. Y/n had her game face on. She sometimes followed us around like lost puppies, but damn was she a fucking awesome hunter.

Sometimes better than Dean and I put together.

When I say that she followed us around like lost puppies I mean she never said what she thought. Dean or I would come up with a plan and she never put input in. Just kinda did what she was told. Reminds me of a younger version of Dean and myself.

Working our asses off for John, all for it to be for nothing. A good little soldier and that was all we were to him.

In the end, Dean just ended up letting the witch go since she hadn't any information. We all pilled back into the impala for the drive back to the bunker.

Y/n fell asleep in the back seat curled into a ball and looking rather peaceful. "Y'know I was thinking lover boy that maybe she could stay permanently with us," Dean said referring to Y/n in the backseat.

I just rolled my eyes before turning to look out the window. The drive was shortened by the fact that at one point my eyes were open and scanning the passing environment.

And the next minute I was dreaming a nice dream. I had a family a beautiful wife standing on our front patio, and watching our daughter and I play with our puppy.

It was nice, it was peaceful. But when I was looking around my dream, I noticed that every face was blank. Well, there goes the normal dream.

The shaking of my body woke me up. "Yo, wake up. Get your shit and go the bed." Dean said, pushing me closer to the passenger side door.

Stumbling out, I walked groggily to the back of the impala and grabbed my bags. Slinging them over my shoulder, I saw Dean try to pull Y/n from the back.

"Sweetheart, we made it home." Dean whispering. His hands falling underneath her knees, carefully picking her up out of the impala. "Open the door would Ya, instead of just standing and staring," Dean said still whispering.

I ran over to the door opening it. "Dude get some sleep, I'll get Y/n settled in, kay," Dean said passing me. Shrugging my shoulders and yawning as I walked to my room.

Stripping down to my boxers I collapsed into bed, loving the coolness of my sheets. Within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I was out like a light.

Dreaming wasn't something that always happened for me, not since I first started hunting with Dean. But those weren't dreams those were more like nightmares, of people that I couldn't save.

I fell back into the same dream as before, still no faces. But the woman I assumed was my wife as a familiar voice, our daughter was what seemed like she was tops five or six.

Cute little thing, long brown hair like my own, wearing a cute sundress that was blue with green flowers printed on it. ' Dear, are you guys ready for dinner?' the woman asked me. I tried to not stare at the fact that she had no face, so I just hummed. Picking up our daughter.

'Tank you for playing with me daddy!' my daughter said to me bringing her small hands and arms and hugging me around my neck. Besides having no faces everything else seemed normal, my wife's voice seemed all too familiar and it was honestly getting at me. Before I was able to ask her something I was pulled from my dreams.

Waking up was a bitch. My neck was sore, and so were my shoulders. Deciding that today I wouldn't take that mile run, I opted for staying in bed just a bit longer this morning.

Finally getting up when I smelled coffee being made in the kitchen. Grabbing a pair of sweats that were laying around, I slipped my slippers on and went to go get some coffee.

The first thing I saw when I walked in was Dean dancing along to his horrible 70s and 80s rock. Flipping pancakes and sizzling bacon. 'God, why'd he choose no shirt this morning' "Huh? Did you say something Y/n?" I asked her, looking at her for the first time since last night.

She had her hair up in a messy bun, wearing a flannel of Dean, and a baggy pair of shorts. "No, I didn't say anything, Sam," Y/n said pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, continuing reading her book.

Okay Sam you have to admit that was odd and kinda creepy. Not that I mind being complimented, but still weird. "You gonna get your cup of coffee or just stand there looking like an idiot!" I heard Dean crack.

"No," I answered back grabbing a coffee cup that was next to the machine. 'Jeez Dean way to be an asshole towards Sam.' There it was again Y/n voice.

Turning around rather quickly which only hurt my neck even more. "Did you just say that?" I asked panic starting to overtake my body and instincts. y/n looked over at Dean, causing Dean to look over at me.

"Dude what are you going on about?" He asked me... eyes big I just waved his question off, "Never mind I think I must have hit my head last night." I said just wanting my morning coffee more than anything.

The rest of the morning went by fine. No hearing Y/n voice, but then again, she wasn't around for the rest of the morning. "I'm heading out to the shops; I need a new pair of jeans. If either one of you wanna head out with me that's fine too. If not that's okay too guys." Y/n said mostly talking and looking at me.

'Please come out with me Sammy' I heard. Ignore it, rolling my eyes before speaking again. "No, it's okay. Dean?" I spoke. "Nah, I'm fine dear. But thanks." Dean said using his signature wink.

As Y/n walked away I heard her voice again, 'Jesus Dean, stop with the nicknames, and the winking. Obviously, it's not working.' That was the last I heard the sentence.

Dean wants to be with Y/n. I don't, I can't see that going very well, Dean sees Y/n more as a sister than anything else. What does that mean it's not working?

Hours later Y/n came into the bunker carrying a few bags. "I thought you only needed a pair of jeans, Y/n?" Dean snarked. "I did, but you guys were running out of some things, so I grabbed some other shit." Y/n countered.

Well, I can't deny that Dean and Y/n do have a certain chemistry, one that she and I just don't have. "what did you get?" I asked moving the conversation along. "I umm... I got you guys some t-shirts, some more socks, and just something fun for both of you." She said shyly.

"That's great, thank you. Did you have an okay time?" I asked, 'No, Sam I didn't that's why I wanted you to go with me. So many gross old men hit on me.' I heard Y/n's face was only scrunched up for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I had a perfectly fine time. Really did enjoy the alone time." Y/n said winking at us. Dean just rolled his eyes and jumped up to go through the bags, but Y/n swatted his hands away.

Digging into the bag she pulled out pie for Dean and he took off with it like he was a squirrel. Y/n looked back over to me and then started to look through the other bags. "Here Sam. I didn't know if you already had this book, but I thought why not." She said, shrugging her shoulder in a cute sort of way.

"Here for a gift return, a Winchester hug, yeah?" I said laughing a little bit. "I don't see why not, I heard that they're hard to come by," Y/n said back rounding the table in an effort to get on a very one-sided hug.

I hadn't realized until recently how much shorter Y/n was compared to me. I could fully rest my chin on her head. 'God I could use this more often' I squeezed her in my arms. 'God, he smells so great' I heard again, she nuzzled her face into my chest. 'He gives much better hugs than Dean.' I heard.

Y/n was the one to let go of the hug, not me. I was starting to realize that it was in fact Y/n I was hearing just not the words coming out of her mouth, it was her thoughts.

That night I convinced Dean that I could make dinner. For the time I was at college and dating Jessica I had learned some good enough cooking skills. "Fine whatever you do just don't ruin my pans and pots!" Dean screamed from his bedroom as I walked away.

That night I cooked a shrimp alfredo, and chicken alfredo with noodles. Something simple but it was mostly all the food that we had left in the bunker kitchen.

"Dinners ready you two!" I hollered from the library, Dean running from the garage, and on the other side of me was Y/n walking down the hallway. 'Look at him, damn chiefs' apron' I looked down and saw that the apron said "kiss the cook" Damn Dean.

'I'd definitely kiss that cook.' I heard as she walked past me. I just followed her with my gaze, mouth slightly open. Hoping that it wouldn't fall straight to the floor.

"Well dig in. It won't kill you, Dean." Y/n said. Dean just put his hands up in defense it's not like he had said anything but we all know he was thinking it instead.

Dinner went by quickly, few words from any of us, and not many thoughts passing through Y/n's mind. Besides 'Damn, he's got skills, 'So much better than Dean would ever do' I snorted when I heard that thought. Dean looked over at me, "What's so funny Samuel?" He spoke.

I rolled my eyes, "It's Sam, Samuel sounds like an old fashion name" I said. "Nothing is wrong Dean." I finished. 'If nobody thought you guys were brothers, they should spend at least a few hours with you.' I heard.

"Can we not fight at the dinner table, please Dean," I asked. I was trying to lean into what Y/n was saying, or more thinking. By the end of dinner Dean had eaten another serving and was now on his second piece of apple pie and a glass of hard crown apple whiskey the Y/n had bought earlier that day.

"Good night you two love birds. Tweet tweet. I'm heading to bed." Dean said kissing Y/n's temple, and patting my shoulder he walked out of the library.

"I'm sorry about him, Y/n. He doesn't have a sensor." I said apologizing for my older brother. Y/n got up waving him off and grabbed the leftover dishware.

I followed behind her grabbing what she couldn't. "He's fine. He should know better, but he's okay Sammy." Y/n said. Not many people called me Sammy besides Dean and Y/n, but it always seemed sweeter coming out of her mouth.

Y/n started to wash dishes. "Can I ask you a question Y/n?" She hummed, so I continued on. "Why do you never say anything while we are on a hunt. You don't always have to follow out stupid ideas...." I said noticing that Y/n had now turned around and was facing me.

"Look I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying that I'd like to know what you're thinking for a while. especially when we are on a hunt. Your opinions matter to me. I hope you know that." I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

'Shut up would Ya'. You don't know how much that means to me.' "I know that you can hear what I'm thinking." Well, that went south very quickly and my stupid facial expression doesn't help the situation. "How long have you known?" I asked.... We stood in silence beside the water in the sink running. "Since before dinner when I was thinking about kissing the amazing chef that made dinner. Because I would still kiss the chef." Y/n said. setting the plate down on the kitchen island.

'Do you want me to kiss you, Samuel?' She said in her thought. I hummed. Shaking my head, licking my lips in anticipation. 'Words Sammy Dear.' She thought. "Just come over here. If this is what happens when I can hear your thoughts, I may be okay with being cursed by a witch ever so often." I said before our lips crashed together.

Our kiss was short-lived when Y/n left mine. "What are you talking about the witch from last night's hunt?" I shook my head. "We need to go get that witch, kill her, get her to remove the curse. Whatever, because as much as it's cute somethings a girl wants to keep to herself." Y/n said, coming back up to my lips and pecking them.

"You're gonna be the death of me," I said, before following her over to the sink to help wash dishes. I think I might have fallen in love with you Y/n. I thought.

"Hey... I heard that." Y/n said. I rolled my eyes, "No you didn't." Confusion replaced Y/ns soft features. "Okay, what did I say then, Y/n?" I asked. "I think I might have fallen in love with you Y/n" Y/n answered.

"Damn it. We really gotta find that witch, Samuel." Y/n said.

Completed on: 04/11/2021

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orphan-with-a-stutter · 4 years

Text

Master List

Newsies

Character x Character Imagines

Ralbert:

Best Friend

Spavid:

Sick Day

Sprace:

Movie Date

Davey x Crutchie:

Park Bench

Henry x Jojo

just-something-to-show-how-much-they-cared-jojo-x

X Reader Imagines

Albert:

Fort Battle

the broken

Extra! Extra! Released Newsie

Buttons:

Love hurts

The rock

Left Breathless

Buttons secret

Crutchie:

Tough

By faith

Davey:

The Violinist

Knowledge Gained

Elmer:

Visit to the Refuge

Henry:

Sweet Baking

Jack:

Us Together

The famous and badass (Jack Kelly x reader)

JoJo:

Thinking Back

Mike & Ike:

Let’s Get Drunk

Seeing Double

Mush:

Risk

Any Monday

Mini Golf

Oscar:

The Seventh Cell Block

Race:

Change

Sunset

Falling

I Choose you

Sketches and football

Happy with you

My Hercules

Pulitzer’s daughter

Christmas

She deserves the best

Tommy Boy:

Eastside Girl

Katherine:

Steal Her Away

Spot Conlon:

Spot’s Girl

Strike and poker

Series Imagines

Truck Ride (Tommy Boy x Buttons)

My Best Friend (JoJo x Buttons)

Skating Rink (JoJo x Kenny)

Nerves (Bill x Davey)

Dunkirk

Headcanons

Tommy x reader - after war

Peter x reader - dating

Best Friend’s sister

Dating Gibson after Dunkirk

Dating Gibson before the war

Imagines

Tommy:

Love and war - Tommy x reader

Love worth fighting for - Tommy x reader

Under the Willow - Tommy x reader

Late night troubles - Tommy x reader

War and it’s problems - Tommy x reader

Now We’re Even

Allies

Peter:

Friends and more - Peter x reader

Anniversary Morning - Peter x reader

Our Maze - Peter x reader

Jealousy in friendship - Peter x reader

Knight in shining armor

Gibson:

Extra room - Gibson x reader

The market (extra room part 2)

The lost friend (extra room part 3)

Don’t Fence Me In (Gibson)

A Hit of Faith

Alex:

Home - Alex x reader

Train of thought

Collins:

Just Friends - Collins x reader

Flight instructor

George:

Birthday - George x reader

Teen Wolf

Liam:

Not a curse

Peter Hale:

Line of questions

Teen wolf hc

characters in quarantine

Peaky Blinders

Finn Shelby:

Finn in danger

Anything for you

Workaholic (Finn Shelby x reader)

Business deal

Arrangements and Vendettas

Michael Gray:

Morning Michael

A couple of scouts (morning michael part 2)

Tommy Shelby:

Allies Daughter

The Reporter

No Gift

Like Home

People Always F**king Talk

Trust

John Shelby:

The parents

Drunk Words

Arthur Shelby:

Argument

Peaky Blinder HC

Tommy Shelby x Witch reader

Harry Potter/ Fantastic Beast/Next Gen

Newt:

Mistletoe

A Great Mgzoologist

Remus:

Willow and the lake

new-friendship-remus-lupin-x-reader-part-2-to

James Potter:

Falling

George Weasley:

Yes You Prankster

Because I like you

Teddy Lupin:

Silly Faces

Harry Potter HC

Seamus Finnigan dating a Slytherin girl

West Side Story

Riff:

The dance

Not impressed

Bernardo:

Peace

Outsiders

Ponyboy:

The DX

Two-Bit:

Right amount of change

Dallas Winston:

your secret (Dallas x reader)

Darry:

No Help from the Helpful

She’s Real (Darry x reader)

Soda:

Not Alone

Outsiders HC

Sodapop x reader HCs

Outsiders HCs wife/girlfriends are pregnant

Seven brides for seven brothers

Gideon:

The meeting

Frank:

Weird feelings and butterflies

Marvel

Bucky:

The Beginning of forever (bucky x reader)

Peter Parker:

All makes sense (Peter Parker x male reader)

BBC Merlin

Sir Leon:

Best Christmas Yet

Disney Descendents

Harry Hook:

The One pt1

The one pt2

The One pt3

1917

Joseph:

Photo of Memories (Joseph Blake x female reader)

Change in atmosphere (Joseph Blake x reader)

Tom:

We’re a team

Will:

Will x reader who is a member of the cavalry HC

Dark (Netflix):

Noah:

Alternative timeline - young Noah

Your Part

Young Noah HCs

Magnus:

Your first I love you

Jonas:

Dating Jonas Kahnwald HCs

Hunger Games

Peeta:

Stress of the Reaping

GIF Imagines

Star wars (Poe)

Disney Descendents (Harry Hook)

Harry Potter (Neville)

Dead Poets Society (Knox)

Peter Parker

Dunkirk (Tommy)

Peaky Blinders (Michael gray)

194 notes · View notes

warriorteam1924 · 4 years

Text

As far as the eye can see - Chapter 8

Author note : Hello my beauties !! I should again first apologize for not being able to keep updates on this series of mine. I’m not going to explain here what is going on, so to make it simple, let’s just say : LIFE.... Anyways, here we are for Chapter 8, let’s hope you didn’t forget about this story lol I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for the feedback, I really appreciate. You know now, English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes. A huge thanks to my beta reader, @thosequeenboys, who seems to be giving extra work every time, my queen you’re just amazing, my writing wouldn’t be this nice without you, a big thanks to @eileen-crys for the help, and for all our conversations despite both being so busy. The two of you have never failed me and I thank you both so much for your support. You know it means a lot to me. Love you both so much. Yet, the biggest thanks goes to my sis. Love ya !!!

Summary : Rusper, 1975. Lizbeth’s life is going to change and new challenges are coming to her.

Word Count: 2.990 words

Warnings: certainly still some mistakes, a tiny bit of cussing, but nothing too bad, hopefully.... ^^

Permanent taglist : @anotheronebitesthedick, @reavenedges-lies, @thosequeenboys, @orionis8689, @roger-taylors-car @queenlover05

If you wanna catch up, it’s here (X)

Dedicated to my babies 💖💜

Lizbeth did not wake up the following morning since she had not gone to bed at all. Thus she had not slept at all. She spent her whole night in front of her piano, pressing the keyboard and the pedals with precision, hearing, almost feeling the notes spreading around her. She played songs she knew, trying something new, and then tried to recreate the notes from the songs she had discovered a few hours before, from Queen’s repertoire she had just discovered.

Before Mister Gibson talked with her about the band Queen and their recording project at Ridge Farm, Lizbeth hardly recognized their name. When taking time to listen to their first three albums with her friend François, she recalled hearing some of their songs while she worked with her boss. And this attentive listening made her realize something.

Lizbeth was going to work with Queen, more particularly she was going to give piano lessons to Mister John Deacon. Yet, even if Queen seemed to have their very own musical style , they were categorized as a rock band. However, Lizbeth had to admit her knowledge about this very style was very limited.

When working at the shop, she used her knowledge about music to help beginners. The customers would come to pick their first instrument and the blind young woman guided them, letting them know what the best choice would be for them, according to their preferences and the style they wished to play.

When real musicians came to the shop, it was usually to repair their old instrument or to buy a new one, so they exactly knew what they wanted and needed. In those cases, it was very easy for Lizbeth to complete the sale. Most of the time, this kind of customer did not need further information about an instrument they were already mastering.

When customers arrived at the shop to buy a record, if they could not find it in the specific section of the store, Mister Gibson was usually the one to take care of it. Lizbeth had never had a record in her hands where something about the band or the title of the song was written in Braille. As a result, when touching the disks and their covers with the tip of her fingers, she was unable to know the band. It was easy for her to listen to her records at home, since she had asked her former tutor or François to help stick Braille the titles on the records. Gerald trusted his employee, but was aware this task was impossible for her to handle. Thus, it had been some kind of tacit agreement between the two of them.

As a result of this implicit understanding, Lizbeth had somehow remained on a set path. Since she had been working with Mister Gibson, she had obviously carried on practicing her instrument almost daily. After a while, she had completely stepped into her adult life, getting more and more responsibilities, thus having less and less time to learn new styles for the piano. And that very night, she realized it could become a problem.

Teaching the piano was surely not going to be very easy for a blind person. But Lizbeth was willing to prove she was up to the task. Yet, teaching the piano to a Rock band member was an even more complicated challenge.

The thing was Lizbeth had mostly been taught how to play classical piano, with waltzes and ballads. She was able to play solos, such as preludes or scherzos. She was obviously aware of many genres using the instrument’s large range of notes. When she had started to work with Mister Gibson, she learned more about the piano in Jazz or Blues songs that allowed musicians to put an emphasis on a specific part of the song.

Lizbeth almost felt embarrassed that so far, she had considered her knowledge was sufficient, resting on her laurels to play and work efficiently, yet without too much effort. Laziness, so common to human kind, had started to settle into her. And it was totally unacceptable to her point of view. This was the reason why she had stayed up all night, trying to make sure she would sound great on the piano next to Mister Deacon, but also able to show him she was not limited to one style, to one technique.

Lizbeth was feeling a deep shame when thinking about it. During her childhood, she had faced many challenges and after a while, after she decided her blindness would never be an obstacle for her in everyday life. She definitely was willing to face each and every single one of them. At some point, her child self had thought her ‘handicap’ would allow some doors to open in front of her, that the others would treat her differently and would make her life easier. Thus, after finding out that her tutors and her teachers were not treating her differently from the other orphans only for her own good, she had been willing to face life with pride and dignity. She wanted to face the challenges coming to her, to make sure her skin would be tough enough to face this world, this world that had been very much hard to her so far.

The combination of new responsibilities given by her boss Mister Gibson, the intense listening of Queen’s records, the night she had just spent in front of her piano brought her back many years before, when she was still a young blind orphan. It also brought back deep inside her the feeling of wanting more, the desire to become even more of a performer, to become even more perfect. It was as if she had a duty: to show herself, and the world, she was able to accomplish new things, with success.

The young woman headed to her window and opened it to feel the air on her skin. She wanted to have a clue about the weather, since the previous day had been a disaster, rain (and coffee) soaking her wet almost all day long. Yet, this day seemed to be more clement, which made her smile widely. She hoped her arrival at Ridge Farm would be more ordinary and more positive-with all band members. A quick shower and a rapid stop in front of her wardrobe were enough for her to be ready. She was willing to keep her habits :a coffee at François’ café, before heading to ‘Gibson’s’, ready to have a productive day, though she had been up all night long.

Even if she did not see it, her friend François greeted her with a smile, complimenting her about her outfit. The young woman smiled at him and thanked him though he had not really paid attention to the way she was dressed that day. Coming closer to her to make sure her drink would not land anywhere else but inside her stomach, the owner of the café whispered:

“You look tired, Liz. Are you okay?”.

“I’m good thanks.”, she tried to reassure him with a smile. Yet, hearing he was surely waiting for another reply since he was not answering, she carried on, sighing. “I didn’t sleep much. I’m a bit nervous, so I practiced a lot. I don’t want to mess it up.”, she confessed.

“I’m sure you’re going to be wonderful, don’t you worry.”, he soothed her, putting a hand on her shoulder and pressing it slightly.

“I would be even more appeased if I wasn’t late. See you later !”, she exclaimed after she had touched her watch to check the time. She was surely not going to be late on her first teaching day.

She opened the door and left, waving goodbye and smiling. The sun was shining and it was doublessly going to be a beautiful day. Nothing was going to ruin it. Lizbeth arrived in front of Gibson’s, and she came in the shop, making the doorbell ring, as usual. As a habit, she went to the changing room, where she put her emptied coffee cup in the trash. That day, she didn’t need to let her bag nor her white cane there. She turned and came back to the shop, where her boss happily greeted her. Without further ado, the two of them headed to Gerald’s car. He turned the engine on and he drove her to Ridge Farm, as they had agreed.

During the drive, they had a very random chat about music and weather and the latest news in Rusper, soothing Lizbeth. She was glad her boss wasn’t putting any additional pressure upon her shoulders, as she was already quite anxious, even if she was trying to hide it. It seemed the young woman was getting good at concealing her emotions, or maybe Mister Gibson was too busy looking at the road, because he didn’t notice anything. He had a total faith in her and was absolutely certain her lessons with Mister Deacon were very soon going to be very productive.

“Here we are.”, he let her know after arriving in front of Ridge Farm. “Do you need help to get to the door, Lizbeth?”, he cautiously yet casually asked her, willing not to hurt her feelings.

“That’s fine, Mister Gibson. I’m going to be able to get to the door on my own. At least, it’s not raining today.”, she joked, trying to wink in his direction.

He looked at her with a smile, thinking about how cute she was to try some things a blind person surely had a very hard time doing.

“Okay then. I will see you at the shop at the end of the afternoon, then.”, he eventually replied.

“You will see me, but I surely won’t.”, she carried on. Since it was coming from her, Mister Gibson loudly laughed as she closed the car’s door and headed to the main entrance of Ridge Farm. She used her white cane and she happily and quite easily landed in front of the door.

Recalling the previous day and willing this one to begin on a better track, she took a deep breath. For a brief moment, in her head, she heard the notes she had been practicing during the night on her piano, and it made her feel more confident. She nodded to herself and assuredly knocked on the door. Success and confidence were going to be the key words of her day.

She was secretly hoping Roger Taylor would not be the one to open it. Confidence was one of the key words of the day, but this did not mean she wanted to have to harness it to deal with him straight away. She smiled anyway as she heard footsteps coming closer. Someone bluntly opened the Ridge Farm front door.

“Ah, darling, it’s so good to see you.”, the man now facing her told her.

“Mister Mercury, it’s a pleasure to be in your company again.”, Lizbeth replied, giving her hand for him to shake it.

“The pleasure is totally mine, darling. Please, come in.”, Freddie carried on. He very kindly took her arm to guide her inside, hoping he wouldn’t be impolite regarding her blindness. He thought he was acting appropriately though, since the young woman had a slight smile on her lips.

“My, my, my…. What do you have here?”, he asked her, spotting the records she was firmly holding against her.

“I hope you didn’t mind, Mister Mercury. I took it upon myself to ask Mister Taylor if I could borrow your three first records to get into Queen. I must confess I wasn’t really aware of the band’s style….”, she admitted, blushing a little.

“Better late than never,Love. May I offer you a cup of tea, while you wait for John? This way, you’ll be able to tell me your most secret thoughts about our music….”, the lead singer proposed, in a friendly voice. Yet, he was really interested in knowing her feelings and her true opinion about their music.

“Oh…. But I really don’t want to annoy you, Mister Mercury.”, she said.

“Please, I insist. Maybe I could use some of your knowledge about music as well…. Perhaps you’re going to inspire me to write the new hit of Queen.”, he tried to convince her.

“Well, if you insist.”, Lizbeth surrendered and followed his lead to the kitchen.

The other members of the band were surely busy, because only the two of them sat at the kitchen table after Freddie had prepared tea.

“So tell me, Lizbeth. What did you think?”, the lead singer asked,eagerly.

“Well. I must say I’ve been highly impressed by all the songs.”, she started to say, putting her cup of tea aside. “The lyrics are always very interesting. You are always telling a story, which is highly captivating. I don’t really know how to describe it…. I mean I really can’t pretend I’m now a Queen expert….”, she almost apologized.

“That’s okay, darling. None of us here is. Just tell me your thoughts as they come….”, Freddie suggested, in between sips of his tea.

“Well, musically speaking, it’s very impressive. For a band which has been together for….”, she hesitated.

“Five years now. Well, four if you consider John joined us one year later.”, Freddie was remembering, counting on his long fingers. He looked at Lizbeth who was frowning. “In fact, the previous lead singer decided to seek and drift towards new horizons. Tim was the singer and bassist for the band Smile, while Roger drummed and Brian played the guitar.”, he started to explain. “Then I joined the two of them and we formed our own band : Queen…. But I don’t play bass guitar. We had several auditions and eventually John was the one.” He smiled.

Lizbeth gathered information as she listened to her host. She was getting to know the band more and more and this conversation was surely going to be very helpful in guiding Mister Deacon during his lessons. After all, Lizbeth’s role was to teach him the piano, but she would doubtlessly feel really proud if she actually could help him with his song writing.

“So this is the four of you then….?”, the young woman asked. “Sorry if this sounds weird, but I’m quite sure I’ve heard many back vocals….”, she indirectly questioned him.

“That’s an interesting point.”, the lead singer replied. Lizbeth smiled as she could hear he was very enthusiastic to talk about his band and their music.

Freddie Mercury was a rather confident man in public, so he usually was the one to talk or answer questions about the band when they were giving interviews. Yet, and to his annoyance , the journalists usually didn’t have a clue about what kind of music Queen was playing and even more often, weren’t even aware of real music. The conversations didn’t allow him to show his passion. As a result, he was really enjoying this discussion with Lizbeth, who was discovering Queen but was a musician. Her points of view and thoughts were very meaningful to him.

“In fact, all the sounds you’ve heard on the records were produced by the four of us. They are instrumental or vocals. Though in terms of vocals…. John still thinks his voice isn’t good enough for singing…. Even if I’ve convinced him once or twice to join us in the back vocals.”, Freddie laughed.

“Oh, I see. Maybe that’s the reason Mister Deacon doesn’t feel really confident regarding songwriting? I’m sure he has a lovely voice. Far better than mine….”, Lizbeth joked, making the singer laugh even louder. The young woman smiled as she found his giggle very natural and kind. Since she couldn’t see his facial expressions and his body language, she always had to refer to the sounds during a conversation.

“I’m sure you have a lovely voice as well, darling.”, Freddie said, gently taking her hand.

“We are talking about voices and I couldn’t help but be impressed by your vocal range….”, she confessed.

“Oh, thank you very much, darling. I’m the lead singer, but Brian and Roger sing as well on some of their songs….”, Freddie explained.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t recognize everyone’s voices when listening….”, Lizbeth admitted, blushing.

“Well, that’s no surprise, love. You’d known us for only a few hours. Anyone would be lost still. In fact, I think you should keep the records. If you enjoyed them of course…wouldn’t want to force them on you.”, he hastily added with a smirk.

“Oh, Mister Mercury. I’ve really enjoyed the records, but I guess we should ask Mister Taylor’s permission since he was the one to lend them to me….”, Lizbeth tried to protest.

“Nonsense. These records belong to Queen and I hereby declare I pass them down to you…. Anyone is against this motion?”, he asked.

Since there was no one else in the room but Lizbeth, no one answered.

“Motion adopted then.”, he stated, tapping his hand on the table as if he was some kind of judge pronouncing his verdict, making Lizbeth giggle and blush.

“This way you will be able to listen to them as you please. And when our fourth album will be completed, one album will be given to you.”, he told her.

“Thank you again, Mister Mercury. May I ask you a question, of course, feel free to elude it….”, she cautiously asked.

“Go on, love, don’t be shy….”, the singer kindly encouraged her.

“How would you describe your band and its bandmates? How would you describe Queen?”, she politely asked.

Freddie took a moment to think about it, looking dreamily at the ceiling. He took his breath and replied :

“We're four misfits who don't belong together, we're playing to the other misfits. They're the outcasts, right at the back of the room. They’re pretty sure they don't belong either. We belong to them.”

#warriorteam1924 writes #as far as the eye can see #AFATECS chapter 8 #queen #queen band #freddie mercury #john deacon #roger taylor #brian may #queen x ofc #freddie mercury x ofc #john deacon x ofc #brian may x ofc #roger taylor x ofc #queen imagine #queen fanfiction #queen fic #queen fanfic #gosh this post was programmed....

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merlins-mushrooms · 4 years

Text

Anyway here’s a list of good Cedric x reader songs that I’ve even categorized by vibe

Fluffy romantic sweetness:

Lost In Your Eyes- Debbie Gibson

Let Me Be Your Wings- Barry Manilow

A Moment Like This- Kelly Clarkson (but the Leona Lewis version is so much better please listen to it it’s on youtube)

Ours- Taylor Swift

Can You Feel The Love Tonight- Jason Derulo

Do You Believe In Love- Huey Lewis & The News

Spend Another Night- Billy Gilman

Lost In The Woods (from Frozen)- Jonathan Groff

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face- Leona Lewis

You Make Me Feel So Young- Frank Sinatra

I Won’t Say I’m In Love (from Hercules)- Susan Egan

Songs that are perfect for dancing at a royal ball:

So Close- John McLaughlin

Reflecting Light- Sam Philips

As The World Falls Down- David Bowie

Tale As Old As Time (Instrumental)- London Music Works

To Be Loved- Michael Buble

Dream Come True- Frozen Ghost

So This Is Love (from Cinderella)- Ilene Woods

Angst/Very Emotional Moments:

Stars- Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

Can’t Stop Loving You- Phil Collins

Burning House- Cam

Last Kiss- Taylor Swift

Boston- Augustana (guys I’ve loved this song since I was a kid and it aLWAYS makes me cry but it’s so fucking good please listen to it)

Anymore- Travis Tritt (also makes me cry but it just so god damn good and the meaning is usually misunderstood I’ll explain in the tags)

One Of Us- ABBA

It Must Have Been Love- Roxette

Open Arms- Journey

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°):

I Put A Spell On You- Annie Lennox

Get You- Daniel Caesar

You’re The One That I Want- Lo-Fang

Bad Intentions- Niykee Heaton

Red Lipstick- Rihanna

#a lot of these inspired some fics/one shots that I'm currently in the middle of writing #there are all on spotify if yall want to give them a listen #anyway 'Anymore' is about not being able to hide your feelings anymore #a lot of people think its about falling out of love #not true! its one of the most romantic ballads ever written and I'll die on this hill!#if you couldnt tell im an absolutely hopeless music fanatic

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corn-fanfiction · 4 months

Text

SAVIOUR COMPLEX (Mark Hoffman x F!Reader) (Pt. 13)

(Part 12) (Part 14)

Rated: M

Tags/TWs: language/ past abuse/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader's life is getting messy/ Detective Gibson/ LINDSEY PEREZ????/ CHAINSHIPPING MENTION???????/ trauma n grief/ hurt NO comfort

Housekeeping: I'm retconning that Lindsey wasn't killed by Mark. I've decided she took a long sabbatical after her injury and then returned only after the coffin trap.

You stand at the wooden panel door within the hospital. You reference the name scrawled on your note in your hand and compare it to the name plated on the door.

You knock and enter when prompted. Sitting behind a desk, 40s-50s something with slicked blond hair is a man. He's scribbling onto a notepad and looks up when you enter.

“Hello, sorry did we have an appointment?”

“No, sorry!” You lower your head and smile bashfully, pressing your way inside and closing the door behind you. “I hope I'm not inconveniencing you. It's…not a medical issue.”

He straightens, then tenses a little, but maintains his smile.

“Well…have a seat I suppose.”

You do.

“Thank you. I swear it'll only be a few minutes. I need guidance, and if you're willing I think you're the best person to offer it.”

You give him the opportunity to interject but when he doesn't, you continue. “There's someone in my life that I care very deeply about. He's just been arrested for connection to the Jigsaw murders. But…it's not him. I know it's not.”

Gordon nods and passes a pen between his hands. “Detective Lieutenant Mark Hoffman.”

Your eyes widen.

“Yes. You know him?”

“Not really. We've only met a handful of times.” Gordon puts down the pen, leans forwards on his elbows. Sighs. “Sometimes, we think we know people, know them to the very marrow of their being, and then the next moment they're a stranger.”

You look at the floor. “I know. But I've known bad men. I've been with a very very bad man. And Mark is not a bad man. He's hotheaded, and can be misguided sometimes but his intentions are good.”

“May I say something that might upset you to hear?”

You obviously want to say no. Your hands are starting to shake.

“Sure.”

“That same thing could be said about Jigsaw. John Kramer or any of his accomplices.”

“But not him. Doctor, isn't there someone, anyone in your life that you would do anything for?”

And though you don't know it, in that moment, he thinks of Adam Stanheight.

“There was once.”

“And?”

“I couldn't save him.”

Your throat begins to close up.

“I need to. Please.”

Gordon pushes back from the desk, seems to go over something in his head before clasping his hands together.

“I know someone who may be able to help. May. I can't legally give you any personal information but if you can find it, give her a call. Jill Tuck. John Kramer's widow.”

You recognize the name upon hearing it.

“She's a clinician, right?”

Gordon doesn't respond, doesn't even nod, but doesn't deny it.

“I hope I was able to help.”

You smile. “You did, in some measure. I really appreciate it.”

You get up to leave.

“Can I ask you something before you go?”

You turn.

“Of course.”

“What happens if you're wrong? I hope you're not. But, what if?”

You falter. “Not even a possibility I can entertain.”

Gordon nods in an understanding you don't know. You thank him again and leave the office.

You worked very hard to get Jill's home address. Not wanting to bombard her at work, you got the name of a reporter from Gerri, who got you Jill's address. Probably from some past or current harassment over her dead husband. You feel guilty for being the next in line.

She's in a nice complex and you knock on the door. After a moment of waiting, you hear approaching footsteps and the door opens. Your eyes widen when you recognize she's the woman you served at work.

“Oh, hi! Um, are you Mrs. Jill Tuck?”

She leans on the door. “Miss. And yes.”

After a moment, you shake your head.

“I know you. From the restaurant.”

“Oh yes, you're that nice waitress. What can I help you with?”

God, you really hate to do this to her now.

“I'm really sorry to do this but I'm desperate. Someone I care for very deeply needs my help. And I was told you'd be the best person to ask.”

She adjusts her posture and you notice that she keeps a sturdy blockade between you and her apartment.

“What's this about?”

“Mark Hoffman? He's a detective-”

“I know who he is.”

It's a clipped response.

“Oh. Well, he's been arrested. I need to prove his innocence.”

“And who told you to come to me?”

Her bubbly demeanor from the restaurant, even the positivity when she opened the door, has given way to a coldness. You understand, but it's still jarring.

“I don't know if I should say…”

“If you managed to find where I live, I think I deserve to know.”

“Dr. Lawrence Gordon.”

“Ah.”

You shake your head. “I'm sorry. I think coming here was a mistake.”

“Look. All I can say, and if the police ask I'll tell them the same thing, is that I don't know anything about Jigsaw other than he was my husband. I don't know about any accomplices.”

You look at this woman and really see her. She's gorgeous, a kind face, weathered by what was likely the relentless stress of having a serial killer for a husband. You also distantly recall hearing something once about a baby, when everything came out…

And to think, here she is, collected and living.

“Okay. I'm sorry to have bothered you. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.”

She closes the door and you take yourself back down the hall. Another dead end. You check your watch and curse at the time, running out of the building and hailing a cab. You're almost late for work.

Half a shift in with decent tables and tips to match, and running drinks from the bar when your night manager catches you.

“Jesus, Jake! I'm not paying for these if you make me spill them.”

You're half joking but the look he gives you is full serious.

“I'm getting pretty tired of cops showing up around here. Got one asking up front.”

Your stomach knots and you return the drinks to the bartop. Wiping your moist hands on your apron you peek around the corner and blanche when you spot Gibson. And you have half a mind to go duck into the kitchen when he spots you and beckons you over.

He gets a good look at you, rubbing his jaw. He looks as worn as he did when they arrested Mark.

You lead him outside into the cool night air. The neon sign of the restaurant hums above you and casts yellow onto the wet pavement.

“What is it?” You ask and wrap your arms around yourself.

“You're being called in for questioning. Is it okay if I drive you?” He hooks his thumb in the direction of his car. You smudge a hand across your cheek and sigh.

“Can I finish my shift first?”

He looks at you, his eyes softening a little, before he nods.

“Sure.”

You do finish your shift and throw your apron in your locker before walking out with Gibson. He actually opens the passenger door for you, something that gives you pause, before seating himself behind the wheel.

“Sorry it's so late,” he mutters and cranks up the heat.

“It's fine,” you lie. You did make him wait, and you're still a little surprised he did so in the first place. “I've actually been wanting to talk to you. I need you to tell me what evidence you have against Mark. And if you need incentive, I would be very happy to go to the chief and tell him about you assaulting me if you don't give me what I want.”

You're at your wit's end about helping Mark and you know that until you know for certain what they have against him, you don't have a leg to stand on.

Gibson's hand, still on the stick, positions it back to parked. He turns to you.

“When I take you to that room, I'm going to give you that evidence for free. You can even tell the chief too. I won't try to stop you. Believe it or not, regardless of my unprofessional and inappropriate behavior choices, I have no ill will against you. The disdain I harbor for Hoffman carried over into our interactions and I regret it.”

You're stunned into silence. He's looking at you, too, not avoiding your eyes.

“I say all of this so that hopefully you'll trust me when we get in that room. You can hate me, you can tell me to go fuck myself. But before that, can you at least listen?”

In the short time you've known him, Gibson has proved an enigma to you. Bad temper, bad mannered, but quick, sometimes smart. Downright nasty in some situations. But in the moment, when it counts…

“Yeah…okay.”

He doesn't lead you to the interrogation room. Instead, he takes you to a conference room with warmer lighting and comfortable seats. There's coffee ready, and the blinds are pulled. And sitting across the table is a woman you've never seen before. Her curly black hair is pulled up and you can very clearly see the scars that mark her face and neck, like she'd been cut relentlessly.

“This is Special Agent Perez with the FBI.”

The rises to shake your hand. When she smiles at you, you manage to remember watching the TV reports. One of the first federal agents on the Jigsaw case.

“Holy shit. You're- I thought you were gone.”

“I took a sabbatical to distance myself from…Peter. but when Jigsaw started killing again I came back in.”

Peter… Strahm. The supposed official Jigsaw accomplice. Those details you were a bit shaky on.

Gibson invites you all to sit.

“I figured it would help to have her here. Make this a bit easier.”

You look between them. She seems warm and inviting judging by her resting face giving you attention and a soft look in her eyes. And…he's put another woman in the room with you.

You blow out air. He's really trying.

“Okay…What evidence?”

Perez speaks first. “Let's start with Peter- Agent Strahm. The FBI had reasonable suspicion of him due to…physical evidence being left at the scene of an earlier trap. But, through some medical dating, we were able to determine that the particular piece of evidence would have only been left after Peter was dead. In short-”

“You ruled him out.”

“Yes.”

You look between them again.

“So you're saying he was framed.”

Silence. They're waiting for you to connect the dots.

You do.

“You're saying he was framed by Mark.”

Perez nods. You clench your fists around the fabric of your pants and focus on your breathing.

“So what about this new evidence?”

It's Gibson's turn now. He's sitting next to you and softens his posture to face you. “DNA samples, personal items, both found at the newest crime scene. Irrefutably Mark's.”

You're staring at the woodgrain of the table. You can't seem to blink.

“So that's it? That's enough to damn him? If Strahm was set up, why couldn't Mark be set up? Why do you get to believe Strahm but I can't do the same?”

For a moment, they're a little shocked at your words, stuttering between them before Gibson takes over.

“Well, with all due respect, you're not a detective or an FBI agent. And Agent Perez new Strahm for years. You've known Mark for a month. You've put in a lot of effort to gather support for Mark, but what have you found so far? Who's vouching for him?”

Your head begins to shake.

“No. I'm sorry, but no. I don't believe it. It's too easy.”

Perez leans further over the table.

“Have you heard of Occam's razor? That sometimes the simplest answer is the right one?”

“But, he cares about people. About his sister, about me.”

“Enough to kill his sister's abusive and murderous ex? To kill your ex?”

Ted.

“No…”

He promised.

“Let me ask you this. Has he ever acted out of the ordinary? Kept strange hours… acted violently or maliciously? Said strange things?”

“Yes but…”

“Is it possible you've suspected this and you don't want to believe it?”

Tears are forming and you don't think you can hide the wavering in your voice.

“I think… I think I should call a lawyer.”

“Why?”

“Because these questions- they're scaring me. Confusing me.”

“You're more than welcome to call a lawyer, but is a lawyer going to be able to ease your mind? These are the facts, this is what we know is true. Everything we know points to Hoffman, more than likely, being an accomplice to Jigsaw, and now taking on the mantle.”

It can't be true. Your hands move from your trousers to the table top, shaking against the smooth surface. You're suddenly very hot and Perez must notice this because she pours and slides you a glass of water. You consider it, reach out fingers, then draw back knowing that you can't possibly hold it.

“…can I see him?”

Gibson stutters.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

You feel the tears return. You aren't entirely sure what you think talking to him will do. Maybe just seeing him will unlock the vice grip threatening to squash your heart? That this internal pain is the only thing you can consider managing?

“Please? I won't repeat any of what you just said, I promise. You can be in the room. But I need to be able to look him in the eyes.” They're silent, avoiding your eyes. “Gibson, please.”

He clicks his teeth, nods at the table.

“I'll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

Gibson walks out of the room, leaving just you and Perez, who reaches a hand to yours. Not to hold it, but like an extension of sympathy.

“Hey, I know what it's like, to go through life with everyone telling you that the person you trusted more than anything is a killer. It's hard. You're gonna get through it.”

You pull your hands back into your lap.

“You have the comfort of knowing for sure it wasn't Strahm though. And isn't it a comfort?”

You don't mean to harden your glare but it can't be helped. She knows this.

“It is, for what it's worth.”

The Chief agrees to five minutes between you and Mark with him in the holding cell and you a safe distance away, with Gibson's presence. You note that Perez is not invited.

Mark's sitting on a bench inside when you enter. The must've gotten some of his clothes from the lockers because he's changed into a shirt and jeans. You wonder if they've given any attention to his wounds or kept up with his pain med dosages.

He doesn't move when he sees you and it's suddenly very difficult to move your feet so you end up almost shuffling with Gibson at your back. You stop in front of Mark, plenty of space between you and the bars.

He looks up at you. Doesn't stand, doesn't speak.

“How's your leg?” You ask. He doesn't break away.

“Still hurts.”

You turn to Gibson.

“Have you been giving him pain meds? The hospital said-”

“We know. We have.”

You nod and turn back to Mark.

“Mark-”

“Don't ask me.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“I have to.”

“You know what my answer will be.”

“Maybe, but I need to hear you, to see you say it.”

He doesn't move.

“Mark, did you kill-”

“Let me finish-”

“No, I can take accusations hurled from everyone but you.”

Your mouth drops. “I'm not accusing-”

“How many times and ways can I say it before you people get it? I didn't kill anyone!”

When he stands up your back hits the wall. You've heard him shout before, but never like this…never at you.

“It looks really bad from here, Mark.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning you should maybe calm down instead of scaring the one person you've got on your side,” Gibson snaps. Mark stills. Sees you and the way you've turned yourself inwards.

“I- I'm sorry. I'm tired. It's not an excuse but there it is. Hey,” he comes closer to the bars. “Thanks for coming. I mean it.”

How badly you want to go to him. But even if Gibson wasn't standing right there waiting to prevent it… you're not sure you would.

It's almost like every once in a while you suddenly remember who Mark is and always has been. He's a cop, he knows he has power, he has a temper. He can be kind and loving or he can be cold. It's confusing to see both battling for control in front of you.

You turn to leave without thinking. Gibson is surprised but follows you out. You press the back of your hand to your mouth to stifle your crying when you hear Mark calling after you.

Occam's razor. Sometimes, the simplest answer is the right one.

And the answer was just staring you in the face.

#mark hoffman #fanfiction #mark hoffman x reader #saw fanfic

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