#-OR BLOOD MONEY BUT THEN TURNS OUT THAT THEY HAD NO CLUE ABOUT HER AND SHE GOT HER INVITE FROM A RANDO ☠️☠️

[lyrakanefanatic]

just thinking about how confusing it’s gonna be once lyra explains the story of her father shooting himself. not only does it call out the hawthornes (we know this already), but imagine how knox and brady will react when they hear the word CALLA lilys come out of her mouth. they are going to automatically assume that calla had something do to with lyras father, and that will start a whole CHAIN of arguments.

not only that, but the hawthorne brothers will 100% recognize the “what begins a bet? not that” riddle and automatically start questioning grayson. then that’s going to set off the “okay 13 years after the incident regarding my father i decided to call up a special someone” story from lyra and THEN jameson will understand why grayson gave her the 1000 yard stare when he first heard her voice on the helicopter.

okay lowkey this would make a pretty funny situation. like imagine:

lyra, having finished telling the story about how her father shot himself: “-and then my mom and stepfather were there and it was finished. that’s all i can remember, anyway.”

jameson: “that’s terrible… but did you say your father said, “what begins a bet? not that” before he shot himself?”

lyra: “yeah, why?”

xander: “i swear grayson told us that riddle… what, two years ago?”

grayson, with all his brothers eyes turning to him: “..”

lyra: “….”

lyra: “so here’s part two-“

[jyoongim]

~BLOOD & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 

In this chapter: slow build up! Smut! Love-making, Creampie, slight breeding kink

this chapter is VERY long!!!

Chapter one Chapter three

Chapter two

The sound of voices filled your home as the ladies chatted in your parlor.

“Oh honey is that peach cobbler? Why you would think it was Sunday with the spread you made.” Agnise said as you came from the kitchen with the dish and placed it on the dessert table, causing all the ladies to turn to you.

You had finger sandwiches filled with ham, beignets, one too many cakes, banana pudding, sweet tea and lemonade.

You were in a baking mood and since it was just high noon, you kept it lite for today’s meeting.

You let out a laugh “oh it was nothin’. Thought we deserved a treat since the last time we saw each other. We housewives deserve a little sugar sometimes.” The ladies giggled at your comment.

Grabbing a sandwich, you took a seat by Rosie, “Now what were y’all talking about while i was in the kitchen?”

”Abi was telling us the Smiths youngest was found in bed with that scrappy gent that worked down at the mill” Rosie said, sipping her tea. You gasped, hand over your heart “Ain’t that girl engaged to um oh what that boy’s name?” You snapped your fingers trying to think

”David Johnson” Abigail snickered “Just know Old smith threw a fit. I heard her mother went crying to the church shouting. Ooooh must have been real bad”

Agnise chimed in “Also Harriet told me that Elaine is expecting…and it ain’t her husband’s” shocked gasps filled the room. “Elaine? As in love the church, has three youngins Elaine? Oh that poor woman I don’t know how she do it” Rosie shuddered. Abigail smirked “Yeah poor Elaine, so who’s the father?”

Agnise chuckled “Take a guess”

Literally you, Rosie, and Abigail looked to each other puzzled.

”Pastor Brown from the next town over”  Agnise said.

squeals and laughs erupted from all of you.

You shook with laughter as you took a deep breathe. “Ok ok enough of that. How have y’all been?”

Rosie was running a boutique, New Orleans finest clothes and it was really taking off. She talked about how some cheap fabrics came in and she ain’t have a clue what to do with them.

Agnise happily chirped about how her two oldest had got accepted in some fancy school on the other of town.

Abigail complained that she thought the maid was stealing her clothes, claiming too many of her fine dresses were missing out of her closet.

”Oh dear how is that handsome husband of yours? I was hoping to the man when I was coming in.” Rosie said smiling. 

Rosie and Alastor were the closest besides Mimzy. He often dropped by to have her make your clothes and tailor some of his suits.

”Oh you know how Alastor is” you waved your hand, “he set out early this morning to the radio station. We’re suppose to down to Mimzy’s club tonight”

Agnise and Abigail looked at you shocked “That ol rigity joint? Oh darling no. That man makes good money, why y’all going down there?”

You had met Agnise and Abigail when you were in school.  They were a bit more Polish than Rosie who didn’t mind a good time.

”I think that lounge is rather charming. The music is good.” You defended.

”Well enjoy it now, I had a dream bout fishes and you know what that mean” Agnise said, giving you a knowing look.

You blinked, then blushed, taking a sip of tea. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you feigned dumb.

She smirked, red lips curling “You’ve been hiding news from us haven’t you?”

Abigail looked at you, “Are you?”her honey eyes roamed over your figure.

”Ladies no! I’ve told y’all me and Alastor haven’t discussed children. We don’t have time for that” you said pouting at their accusations.

”What man don’t want his own running around? The two of you been married for a few years now, i had half expected at least something.” Agnise said.

”Alastor has just settled in good as radio host. What kind of wife would I be if I just randomly suggested having a little one running around? No I couldn’t.” You gripped your cup, looking down.

You and Alastor hadn’t really discussed children. You figured you would wait a few years to get settled into your marriage before thinking of children.

With alastor’s career taking off, you didn’t have it in you to just spring the notion on him.

You didn’t mind. It was quite nice not having to clean and look after a baby.

BUT 

You did want to potentially have children with Alastor.

The house would be a lot livier and you thought Alastor would make a great father.

”Y’all ain’t getting any younger dear!” Agnise said “i mean unless there’s a another woman invovled”

Rosie let out a hiss, glaring at the woman “Oh shush that! Alastor wouldn’t do that! He loves his wife too much to even look at another woman”

Agnise shrugged.

Abigail patted your hand “Honey don’t listen to her. I am sure you’ll have a whole litter running around afterwhile. Not having children ain’t all that grand.”

You pouted. That did not make you feel better.

Rosie seeemd to pick on up your down mood and interjected

”We came to discuss books! Enough of this husband and children talk! So we left off at Charles securing the mistress!”

The little gathering went on without a problem, but the comments and conversation still bounced in your head. 

Alastor wouldn’t seek out another woman just because I haven’t…right?

You and Alastor’s intimate life was fine to your knowledge.

 The man wasn’t the most affectionate, but he did try. 

He was loving and gave you anything you wanted.

THATS what any wife wanted right?

Not having children didn’t seem to make him any less doting with you.

But you still felt that nagging doubt as you tried to reassure yourself.

”Bye now! Tell Nathaniel I said hello and Abi please just see if the maid took your dress!”you hollered from your porch, waving the ladies as they smiled and walked down the street.

You sighed. Rosie had stayed behind and was cleaning up.

”oh Rosie you’re a guest please let me” you said grabbing the dirty dishes.

”I’ve been here so much this is practically my home girl please.”she laughed as she grabbed the tablecloth and put in in the hamper.

”Those two are certainly a handful. Don’t take what they said to heart. They are just bitter their husbands don’t love on them like yours” she chided.

You hummed. Rosie was right. What did it matter that you didn’t have kids? That didn’t change anything.

”I know Ro but I feel like I’m failing as a wife. But i promise I’m fine I swear” you quickly said as she gave you a look.

She looked at the clock “Oh my well look at the time! Do give Alastor my love dear”

You gave her a hug and walked her out, waving her goodbye as she waltzed down the road.

You were now alone.

The house was quiet and you had cleaned up everything so you wouldn’t have to look at the mess in the morning.

You rolled your shoulders, sighing at the tension and decided a quick nap wouldn’t hurt as you wait for Alastor to come home.

—————————————————————————————————

The sun began to slowly set through the trees as Alastor ran a bloody hand through his hair, the brown strands slicking back as he breathed deeply. The man had put up quite a fight, but luckily Alastor could quickly deal with his little problem. 

He had planned to take his wife out for tonight, but with the way he was feeling, he would rather be in your embrace and sleep.

He would stop and get you your favorite flowers as an apology and maybe cook for you instead. A soft smile appeared on his face as he imagined your face as he came in with flowers and kissed your soft lips as he propose hell cook for dinner.

Soft jazz would be playing and after the meal he would ask you to dance. Peppering your face in kisses as you laughed at him, thinking he was silly.

And maybe afterwards, he could indulge himself in you. A shiver ran through his body at the thought of your face contorted in pleasure. 

Oh yes he was sure you wouldn’t mind why he came home late

He hid away his shovel in an old storage house and changed clothes.

Getting in his car, he hummed along to the radio as he thought of what to make for dinner.

—————————————————————————————————-

Alastor softly closed the back door as he slowly set down the flowers and groceries. He peeked his head in the parlor and found you sleeping on the couch.

He quickly made his way upstairs, hid his clothes in the back of your closet, showered, and went back down stairs.

He grabbed the flowers and slowly slid beside you, pulling you into his lap.

You snuggled into his neck, eyebrows scrunching, waking up ”hmmm Alastor?” you groaned as he snickered. He pressed his lips to your plump cheek “Seems my darling wife had a very long day. Seems I got caught up at work and didn’t catch the time. But…” he pressed the flowers to your nose as you took a deep inhale of the flowers, smiling “I do hope you would forgive dear.”

Your heart fluttered at the man, standing to put the bouquet in a vase.

You caught sight of the time and gasped “oh no! I can’t believe I fell asleep for that long, lord on high I ain’t got a single thing out to cook.” You went to make your way to the kitchen, but Alastor was quick to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his lanky frame. “Don’t you worry about dinner darlin’ I got it. I had promised you a night out and forgot. So to pay for my offense Ill cook dinner and why don’t you go upstairs and put on something pretty  for me hmm?” He pressed a few soft kisses along the column of your neck, making your breath hitch slightly, before patting your ass to get you moving towards the stairs.

Once you made it back downstairs, the smell of dinner made your stomach growl.

Alastor was just setting th plates as you entered the kitchen. “Book club must have been something today, I see you baked a lot of goods today. Good thing I checked before thinking of making dessert” He turned to actually look at you.

Gorgeous is what he thought as he took you in.

You opted for a simple slip dress that fell just before your knees. How enticing.

 You accessorized with your pearls and even had your hair curled slightly.

He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around your waist and bring a hand to his lips, kissing it as he looked at you with utter devotion.

”My my don’t you look lovely dear” he whistled, twirling you around slowly.

You blushed and looked towards the stove “Dinner smells great Al, what did you make?” He ushered you to the dining table and pulled you chair out for you to sit before fetching tonight’s dinner.

Shrimp and grits in one bowl and jambalaya.

For dessert he took a piece of butter cake that you made earlier and chilled sweet tea and lemonade.

You moaned in delight as the flavor of the jambalaya burned your mouth. “Oh Al! You added a bit more spice this time but it goes good with the grits. oh i love your jambalaya.” You praised him.

You practically danced in your seat as you ate causing Alastor to chuckle.

”I never tire of your praise for my mother’s recipe my dear. I must say this cake might just be my new favorite” he said.

You decided to fill him the latest gossip you heard today from the ladies

”Rosie sends her love by the way. Oh you would not believe what Agnise told us today…” you started.

Alastor had a lazy smile on his face as you talked animatedly about todays gossip. He nodded along and even gasped at the details you shared. You made him swear he wont repeat it anywhere, including on the radio.

You took a sip of lemonade ”Agnise made a comment that she was surprised we haven’t had kids yet. Can you believe that woman?” Alastor tilted his head “I wouldn’t put it pass that one. Well what did you say?”

Alastor asked taking in your reaction as you pouted, swirling your fork in your grits before stabbing a shrimp. You sighed “I told her that we just weren’t ready. I mean you just got settled in at the studio good. Then the nerve of that woman to say that you were probably seeing another because I wasn’t putting out.” You mumbled that part, feeling  pinges of doubt start to rise in you as you looked at him.

Alastor scoffed “darling I only ever had eyes for you” he reached across the table to grasp your hand, thumb fiddling with your wedding ring. “Nothing will make me look at you different. To me, you’re perfect. You are much more than I could ever deserve” he smiled at you. “Do you want children darlin?” He asked.

You blinked, a warm blush crept up your cheeks “I-I mean it might has crossed my mind once of twice, but I-I dont know” you looked away, feeling shy.

Alastor grinned “I think you would make a wonderful mother my dear. Through I will admit having to share you i dont know about that” he laughed “buuuuut if having children will make you happy, who am I to say no?” His voice dropped an octave as he smiled at you.

You were shocked. You hadn’t thought that Alastor would be open to having children. But you didn’t just want to have kids because of social pressure. You wanted it to be something you were sure of…

”Its a big responsibility if we have children Al”you whispered. He hummed, shrugging “Dear I make more than enough that our children will have comfortable upbringing, besides Ill be there the whole step of the way”

That reassurance made your heart swell.

You smiled, a soft laugh bubbling out of your chest “Then I guess well see what happens then huh?”

You finished dinner, Alastor leaving the dishes to soak and you giggled as he dragged you upstairs. “Alastor! Hahaha dont you have work tomorrow?” You entered your shared bedroom and squealed as he lavished your exposed shoulders in kisses.

He groaned in response as he unbuttoned his shirt as his hands gripped at your hips.

”what do that have to do with us delving into the throws of pleasures darlin? Its been quite some time since I’ve paid you proper attention.”

Your back hit the duvet as he situated himself between your thighs. Your dress bunched at your hips, exposing your lacy garter. His hand toyed with the fabric, lips curling in a smirk “Were you planing to seduce me dear?” You shook your head as you curled your arms around his neck, pulling his head to meet his lips.

”Hmmm lets keep the pearls and garter on” he grinned down at you.

”Nngh! Ah! Ah! Ha! Ah! Oh god!”you cried out as Alastor thrusted into you. Your fingers gripped at his hair as you moaned into his neck, kissing over the red bruises forming on his skin.

Fingers flexed on your thigh, keeping your leg pressed into your stomach. The only sound that filled the room were your sweet moans and his soft grunts and the slap slap of his dick burying into your cunt.

Alastor’s back muscles flexed as you raked a hand along his back, groaning as your nails left burning trails into his flesh.

”One more. You can give me one more can’t you darlin?” He asked huskily as he snapped his hips into yours.

Your body buzzed as your third orgasm approached. The pearl necklace that hung around your neck, bounced with your breasts as Alastor nipped at your neck. One of his hands crept up your chest to play with one of your nipples. Tugging and pinching the perk peak as your cunt clenched around him.

”I can’t wait to see you pregnant ma cher. All nice and round, carrying my child.”

A sharp pinch had you whining “These lovely tits of your full of milk god I can’t wait to taste it” his head shifted to your chest, his warm mouth taking the mound into his mouth. Teeth and tongue teased as his thrusts picked up pace.

”A-Al! Oh! Oh! P-Please!” You threw your head back in pleasure.

Alastor couldn’t help but let his twisted feelings take over, a hand wrapped around your throat, applying slight pressure as you whined.

He brought his face back to yours, nose brushing against yours as your swollen lips enticed him to suck and bite at them. He maneuvered both your thighs to be pressed against your stomach, giving him leverage to hammer into you soppy heat.

”You want me to give you a baby darlin? Hmm? Want me to fill the needy cunt of yours and spill my seed into you?”you moaned, eyes glazed with lust.

Alastor smirked “Use your words baby. C’mon” a harsh thrust made your toes curl.

”y-yes please please Alastor give me a baby!” You cried.

A wild look was in his eyes 

“Oh ill give you all the babies you want. I’ve wanted to see you swollen with my child since our wedding day. You’ll look so pretty baby. All filled with my cum and swollen. Yeeesss what a lovely sight you’ll make”

His thumb worked tight circles on your clit as your back arched into him as your orgasm ripped through you. Alastor slammed his lips on yours to swallow the loud moan that tried to spill from your lips.

He grunted as his hips shuddered. Chasing his orgasm as he rode yours out. With a hiss, his dick twitched and soon warm cream painted your gummy walls.

With a sigh, he coaxed his tongue against yours as he gave you a few more soft thrusts.

Panting and flushed, your legs fell limp as he pulled out and smirked at the mess he had made of you.  A white stream slowly pooling out of you.

Spent and feeling the blissful afterglow, you curled into the covers, wincing at the stickiness between your thighs. Alastor pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead “normally Ill clean you up, but since were trying no need.” He brushed a curl out of your face as you began to fall asleep

”Alastor?” You said tiredly.

He hummed, as he ran his hand up and down your arm, admiring the red bruises on your neck and shoulder

”I love you”

He grinned as you dozed off.

”I love you too dear”

———————————————————————

Soooo what did you guys think??? Bit of a slow burn yes? we got a peak into what Alastor was doing hehehee

@nightshadelm @th3-st4r-gur1 @amurtan @lunaramune @southern-bayou-beau  @karolinda007-blog @simphornies @yourdoorisunlocked @nettaw @purplecatsandhearts @catherine1206 @jellibean2018 @thewinchestah @wonderlandangelsposts @alishii @readergirlstuff @missgurlsstuff @yuzurixx @darkovergrownforestnymph @dasimp777 @markster666 @alastorsgirl48 @alastor-simp @alastorsaries @preciousbabypeter @alastwhore666 @strawberrypimp666 @stawberrypimpsimp @queenariesofnarnia @peachedtvs @peachedtv @tpks @siiv3r @hazelfoureyes @okay-babe @aconfusedworld @chewbrry @altruisticalastor @yunimimii @dievia3 @alastorsdear @alastorsdarlingdoe @t0byisher3 @dennsfz @twismare @nanami1chu @yoongibabs @menthatilove @smoky000 @luzzbuzz @stygianoir @kiralaufeyson84 @for-hearthand-home @luzzbuzz

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ My wife

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Intro (Infected) - Sickick

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: Simon’s wife gets taken hostage by enemies. They use you for ransom. Simon is not impressed. He’s willing to cooperate as long as they leave you unharmed. But they don’t, and Simon is out for blood.

Word count: 2.869

Masterlist

Down on my knees for protective Simon… anyway

Simon enjoys the moments when he can return to your open, welcoming arms. Where he can turn the Ghost part of him off and be Simon Riley. The person that you deserve. Every time he comes home he makes sure that Ghost is in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to bring that part of him back home to you. A calculated, ruthless, and cold killer. He refuses to show you that part of him as much as possible. No, he only shows you the softer side of him. The side that’s capable of treating you right, the way that you deserve. He’s driving home from base. He touched down a couple of hours ago and sat through a long boring debriefing. He couldn’t help but be unattentive during the debriefing. All he had in his mind was you, his perfect little wife who was waiting for her husband to come home. He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other is leaning out of the window. His sleeves rolled up, exposing his tattoo sleeve to other drivers who care to look. He taps the wheel on the beat of the music playing quietly in the background. He’s driving over the speed limit but he can’t be bothered. The sooner he gets home to you, the better.

Soon he pulls up into your driveway. He notices that the lights are off both inside and outside the house. He arches an eyebrow. Usually, you’d leave the light outside on. In case he comes home when you’re already asleep. It’s your way of welcoming him home when you can’t do it in person. He thinks nothing of it. Maybe you have forgotten it this time. You’re human after all. He marches his way up the front porch and pulls out his key to open the front door. He immediately notices something is wrong. The front door is slightly ajar. Barely noticeable. He pulls out his combat knife from his vest and holds it up as he opens the door slowly. He stalks his way inside. He stays alert with his eyes peeled. The moonlight illuminates the house just enough that he can traverse his way through the house. But dark enough that he can stay in the shadows, like a ghost. He walks by the living room. Coming to an abrupt stop when he notices a bloody handprint on the doorframe. His heart sinks. He knows it’s yours. He can clearly tell that it’s yours, he doesn’t even need to take a closer look. He checks everywhere for you. The bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, but no sign of you. He grows more restless. He looks for any clues of where you could’ve gone.

He clears the house and sighs in frustration. He takes off his mask and puts it down on the dinner table. He ruffles his hair and runs a hand down his face. He walks towards the kitchen to grab a drink so that he can clear his head. While he walks to the cabinet to grab a glass he notices a note on the kitchen counter. His attention switches to the note and he roughly grabs it off the counter. His heart sinks even further as he reads the note. He tightens his grip on the counter while he reads. They want a ransom out of you. He can feel his anger grow. They’re asking for a hefty sum but he can’t seem to care. He doesn’t care about the money. He cares about the fact that someone took his wife right under his nose. Someone laid their hands on you. His eyes harden. He will make them pay.

He wastes no time. Within an hour he withdraws the money and shoves it into a duffel bag. He slings it over his shoulder and walks over to his car with big strides. He throws it onto the passenger seat and slams the door shut. He walks around to the driver's seat and gets in. He puts the key into the ignition and starts the engine. The car roars to life and not a minute later he speeds off back to the base. He’s not stupid. He won’t go there defenseless. If shit goes down he needs to be able to keep you safe. If it takes a couple of bullets in between several pairs of eyes then so be it. He doesn’t care. They fuck with his family, they’ll feel his wrath. He steps onto the gas. When he gets stuck at red lights he’ll tap the steering wheel impatiently, occasionally slapping it in frustration.

When he arrives at the base. He hastily steps out of the car and marches his way through the base. Not giving two shits about the noise he’s making at midnight. He walks by Price’s office and sticks his head out at the commotion going on outside his office door. “Ghost?” He asks in confusion. Simon doesn’t look at him but stops briefly, acknowledging him. “Where are you going?” Simon breathes heavily. He does not need to be interrogated right now. Not when you need him. “They took my wife.” He spits out in anger. He storms off to the gear room. Price in pursuit. “What do you mean they took your wife?” Simon ignores him. He doesn’t have time for this clownery. If anything, he walks faster. Wanting to get back to you as soon as possible. He swings open the door violently. He walks over to his gear and gets ready. He splays out his weapons on the table. He angrily puts his vest on. He reaches for his mask before he growls. He forgot his mask at home, it’s still on the dinner table. He grabs the spare one from his locker and slips it on.

Simon Riley is no more, he’s been replaced by Ghost. Price puts a hand on his shoulder. “Ghost, talk to me.” He says with an authoritative tone. Ghost turns to face him. He has a deadly look in his eyes. One that seeks bloodshed. “They took my wife for ransom.” He explains calmly. Price arches an eyebrow. “What do they want?” He asks. Ghost averts his gaze back to his gear on the table. He blurts out the amount of money they asked, as if it isn’t a big deal to him. Price is astounded. That’s a hefty sum for one man to pay off. Ghost tucks a few hidden knives in his vest and his boot. Holstering his pistol on his leg and concealing it. Price looks at him sternly. “You don’t have the authority to carry this out.” He warns him. Ghost turns to him and glowers at him behind the mask. “Respectively, Captain. I do not give a damn. I’ll do it off the books.” Price narrows his eyes at him. “Simon, think this through.” Ghost scoffs, “Simon won’t save her. Ghost will.” He says coldly. Price sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes. “The money.” He points out. Ghost growls. “I have it.” Price looks at him shocked. “It’s a lot-“ he begins before getting interrupted. “John. Quite frankly. I am not emotional about the money.” He gets closer to Price and glares at him. “But I am emotional about the fact that someone laid their hands on my wife.” He feels the anger coursing through his veins. He slams his palm down on the table. “MY WIFE!” Price doesn’t flinch in response. He expects this kind of outburst from Ghost. He is a man who holds a lot of patience. But that same patience will fly out of the window once his loved ones are involved. Ghost breathes heavily through strained breaths. “I want a pound of flesh.” He mutters coldly. Price nods. He steps away from Ghost. He looks at him sternly. “Off the books.” He gives him a pointed look. Ghost nods and leaves the room quickly. He has wasted enough time already.

He rushes towards his car. He gets in once again and glances at the duffel bag. He doesn’t care. He just hopes they won’t renege on their promise. In exchange for the money, they’ll let you go. He starts the car and speeds off to the warehouse they’re keeping you. His mind races while he drives. The bloody handprint on the doorframe. They hurt you. You bled. Your battered and bruised figure is going through his mind. He growls in anger. He slams his fist onto the steering wheel. “Damn it.” He scowls. The first mistake was coming after you. They’ve laid their hands on his wife. That’s the second mistake. He can only hope that you’re mostly unharmed. For their sake. If not? All hell will break loose.

When he reaches the warehouse he puts the car into park sloppily and grabs the duffel bag. He steps out of the car and slings the bag over his shoulder. He checks his gear once more, checking whether his pistol and knives are still concealed. Once he’s satisfied he stalks his way inside. He pushes the door open. Immediately all guns are pointed at him. He throws one hand up lazily, showing them he won’t harm them. At least, not yet. He slowly shrugs off the duffel bag and puts it down on the floor. He straightens up again and throws both hands up. He analyses all of them. It would be unfortunate if he had to fight through them to get you. There’s quite a lot of them. He lets out a deep breath.

“You have the money. Let her go.” He speaks up warily. He doesn’t trust them with those guns. Especially when they’re all standing very close to you. The burliest man scoffs. He turns to a scrawny-looking guy. He waves the pistol towards the bag. “Check it.” He looks at Ghost and narrows his eyes at him. “Every pound better be in there,” he points the gun at you. “Or I shoot a hole through her for every missing pound.” You whimper in fear when he points the gun at you. He can see out of the corner of his eye that the scrawny guy is counting the money. He keeps his eyes trained on you and the man pointing the gun at you. He glares at him. “Point that gun away from her.” The man smirks. “I don’t think you’re in the position to negotiate here.” He turns to you and trails the gun down your neck. “She won’t get hurt if you have the money.” He says coldly to Ghost. Ghost grits his teeth. “The money is there, I assure you. Point the gun away from my wife.” He snarls out. The man rolls his eyes but lowers his gun from you. Ghost’s posture relaxes slightly. He keeps his eyes on you. He’s trying to reassure you that everything will be fine with his eyes. The guy finishes counting the money and turns towards the man. “Everything is accounted for.” This pleases the man. He pulls out a pocket knife. Holding it in between his index finger and thumb and raising his hand. Showing Ghost he won’t hurt you. He cuts your binds and lifts you by your arm. He throws you in the direction of Ghost. “Now scram.” He orders Ghost. He didn’t need to be told twice. He wants to get you out of here as soon as possible.

While you stumble toward Simon he catches you. He checks you over quickly. He notices various cuts in your arms and legs. Bruises littering your body. He can only imagine what else they’ve done to you that is covered up by your clothes. He stands up wordlessly. He would princess carry you. But he wants to make sure he has at least a hand available to pull out his pistol in case they try anything while he takes you out of here. Instead, he whispers to you to wrap an arm around him and lean on him. Let him carry your weight. You do just that. He quickly gets you out of the warehouse and ushers you into the car. He opens the door to the passenger seat and gently sets you down. When he’s sure that you’ll be alright in the car. He pats your leg comfortingly. “I’ll be right back, lovie.” He says softly. As if he’s talking to a wounded animal. You look at him with worry. You reach a hand out to his gloved one. He laces his fingers with yours. “Where are you going?” You ask quietly. Not wanting for him to leave you. He shushes you, “I’ll be right back. I need to take care of something.” He says vaguely. You know exactly what he means, but you let his hand go. Knowing he won’t be content until he knows that those men have been taken care of. “Be careful.” You tell him. He nods. He rolls up his mask so his mouth is revealed. He plants a kiss on your forehead. “You know I am, princess.” He leans away from you and rolls his mask back down.

He leaves you behind and walks back to the warehouse. He saw the power box at the side of the building before he entered the building. He makes his way to it and cuts the power. The lights immediately get shut off. He sticks to the shadows as the moonlight illuminates his path. When he gets inside, chaos ensues. Multiple shouts could be heard. All centered around one man, Ghost.

“Where is skull face?!”

“Find him!”

“Someone turn the power back on!”

“Spread out!”

He smirks. Big mistake. It makes his job so much easier. He makes quick work of them. Emerging from the shadows. Killing them quickly before stepping back into the cover of darkness. He deals with everyone, except for one man. The one that pointed the gun at you. The man growls, realizing that all of his lackeys got taken out when they stopped answering him. Ghost stalks him. “Goddamnit! Where is that son of a bitch?!” The man yells out in frustration. Ghost points his pistol at the man’s leg and shoots. Pain crashes over the man. He clutches his leg in pain and crumbles to the floor. He looks around in a panic. Ghost has concealed himself again in the shadows. “I’m right here.” He says menacingly. The man hears him and whips his head in his direction and points the gun at him. He was about to shoot before he realized. There’s nothing there. Ghost shoots his arm. Making him drop his gun. The man cries out in agony. Ghost emerges from the shadows once more. Revealing himself to the man. The man scrambles with his other arm for the gun. Ghost steps on his hand and kicks the gun away from him. Ghost leans down towards his face. The moonlight framed his mask. Showing the true terrifying notion of wrath. He glares down at him. “It’s one thing to take my wife. It’s another to use her for ransom. I couldn’t give a damn about the money. But it was a mistake to lay your filthy fucking hands on her.” He snarls at the man. He whimpers in fear. Ghost is livid, rightfully so. Ghost narrows his eyes. “Not talking? That’s alright, I’ll make you beg for your life.” He stands up to his full height. Crushing the man’s hand in the process. He drags the man by the collar and drags him to an isolated room in the warehouse. No one will come to his rescue. No one will know what transpired here. After all, it’s off the books. The man’s screams echo through the warehouse before it eventually dies down. Blood splatters onto Ghost’s mask.

***

A couple of minutes later you see Simon walking towards you. With his mask in his hand, he looks a lot calmer now. He pulls his gloves off his hands and holds them with the other hand. He throws them in the back of the car and gets into the driver’s seat. He sits down and lets out a deep exhale. He starts the car and turns to you. He abruptly pulls you into his embrace. He breathes your scent in. He clutches you tighter. “Bloody hell, lovie. You scared me.” He says softly. He pauses before continuing. “When I came home and saw you weren’t there. My heart sank.” You wrap your arms around his torso, trying to show him you’re alright. If not, only a little shaken up. “You came for me.” You say in a small voice. He pulls away from you. He looks you in your eyes and caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Never doubt that.” You nod. After today, you definitely won’t doubt it ever again. He gives you a small smile and sets the car into gear. “Let’s go home, get you all fixed up yeah?” You smile slightly. “That sounds perfect.” You say softly. He nods and drives off. You have some cleaning up to do but that’s alright. He has you back now and can drop the mask. He can be Simon Riley again.

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

The way Taylor talks about how she thought this person was going to be the one and saw her future with throughout the album only for things to end and her feel like she was almost deceived in a way is heartbreaking.

“There was danger in the heat of my touch/He saw forever so he smashed it up”

“You swore that you loved me/but where were the clues?/I died on the altar waiting for the proof/You sacrificed us to the/gods of your bluest days”

“When your impressionist paintings of heaven/Turned out to be fakes/Well, you took me to hell, too/And all at once, the ink bleeds/A con man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme”

“You shit-talked me under the table/Talking rings and talking cradles/I wish I could un-recall/How we almost had it all/Dancing phantoms on the terrace/Are they second-hand embarrassed/That I can't get out of bed/Cause something counterfeit's dead/It was legendary/It was momentary/It was unnecessary/Should've let it stay buried/Oh what a valiant roar/What a bland goodbye/The coward claimed he was a lion/I'm combing through the braids of lies/"I'll never leave"/"Never mind"

“You said I needed a brave man/Then proceeded to play him/Until I believed it too”

“Hand on the throttle/Thought I caught lightning in a bottle/Oh, but it's gone again”

“Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand/Oh, still I dream of him/Please/I've been on my knees/Change the prophecy/Don't want money/Just someone who wants my company/Let it once be me/Who do I have to speak to/About if they can redo/The prophecy?”

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Princess

Azriel x Reader

One of the series I'm currently working on, hope you enjoy it.

Princess masterlist

General masterlist

Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse and death, description of reader.

Prologue

Y/n felt like she would pass out any moment now, the iron smell of blood filled her senses, her stomach twisting and the tears pouring down her face like a stream.

She couldn’t see the bodies, the guards of the winter court were standing in front of her shielding the view, she didn’t know if she wanted to thank them or curse them out for keeping her from seeing her parents one last time. A lady doesn’t curse. Her mother’s words ringed in her ears. A lady is polite.

She closed her eyes and took a few steps back exiting the house.

“We will take them now” a guard told her, and she nodded in response.

She was shopping dresses for the ball her cousin had invited her to. It was the perfect opportunity to meet high ranked faes her mother had told her. Guilt filled her body, she should’ve been there, with them. Who would do that? Enter a small cottage to steal… everyone knew that her family was poor, and when her father managed to sell some of the vegetables they grew in the covered part of their garden -so snow wouldn’t ruin them-, all the money would be used to buy clothes for her. Her parents always called her their saviour. She was beautiful, almost black hair, eyes sweet and brown like honey, gold in the sun. High cheekbones and full lips. She was a stunning female and that meant they could wed her to a noble fae thus she was their saviour. Ever since she was a little girl, she was trained to be a good wife, her only skills were keeping the house clean, cooking and being gentle and obedient. What would she do now? She wasn’t trained for anything else. She smoothed her dress and turned her back when the guards carried her parent’s bodies away from the house. The females of her street entered her house, rugs in their hands and buckets filled with water and essential oils to clean and take care of the smell. She always helped everyone in need and now it was time for them to pay her back for her kindness.

She didn’t know how long she stayed outside, snowflakes landing on her face leaving a rosy shade as they melted. She was used to the cold, it was even comforting for her. When the females were done cleaning, she walked inside nodding her head at the looks of pity she received. Her house was spotless, not a hint of the brutal act that took place there a few hours ago. She noticed that someone had even baked a pie for her. Her mouth watered but as she approached the pie she only felt nauseous, how could she eat right now? She shook her head and sat on the couch staring at the snow outside from the window there.

The next morning found her in the same spot, her tears had dried. She stood up and walked to the kitchen. You need to eat; males prefer healthy females who can carry their heirs. Her mother’s words again.  She stared at the cold pie and ignoring her nausea she took a bite. She finished her food and cleaned the kitchen. She had to get to the ball, that’s what her parents wanted. So, with a deep breath she walked to the bathing room and stripped her clothes, the water was cold but she didn’t mind, she was numb. When she was done, she walked into her room, the dress she bought was laying on her bed, probably one of the females found it where she dropped it and left it here. After getting dressed and pulling her hair in a high bun she stared her reflection in the small mirror of her room. She looked good, only her eyes were dull, but she was sure no one would notice, males didn’t care about those things as long as she had a smile plastered on her face.

It would take a few hours to get to the big house where the ball was held. Her cousin was waiting for her outside in her small carriage. She smoothed the dress and left the house not looking back. No one was standing back there waving goodbye and wishing her luck anymore. As she climbed into the carriage her cousin had a sad smile on her face, she ignored her and made herself comfortable. The ride was filled with silence and after a few hours they arrived. Y/n was staring the house in awe, it was a beautiful three-story building with a huge garden. They were in the middle of the forest, the snowy trees only making the scene more magical.

The inside of the house was just as magnificent, everything decorated with gold ornaments, the floor so shiny someone could think it was a mirror. Blending in wasn’t that hard for y/n after all she was trained to be anything a male would want, a glass of wine in her hand, a sweet smile on her face and….as she turned to walk around she was met with a hard body, spilling her wine on the male’s feet.

“Watch where you’re fucking going” he hissed. He looked the same age as her, blond hair, blue eyes but filled with spite.

“I’m so sorry” she stuttered.

“Clean the mess you created. Now.” He ordered and she quickly grabbed the nearest cloth she could find, kneeling in front of him to clean his shoes.

“What the hell are you doing” a female voice said from behind. Y/n turned around slowly. Relief filled her face when she noticed the blonde female staring at him and not her.

“Why do you care” he growled.

The female grabbed y/n hand and pulled her so she was standing.

“Next time I see you treating a woman like that it will be your last day on this world” she said in a calm voice that sent shivers down y/n’s spine. The male paled and hurried off to his friends.

“Girl what was that?” the blonde asked her wide eyed.

“I spilled my wine on him…. It was my fault” y/n muttered.

“He would get over it, just an apology was enough” she scoffed. “I’m Mor by the way”

“Y/n. And I just wanted to please him, he could be a nice husband”.

Mor blinked. A look of horror when she realized that y/n was one of the girls trained to be perfect wives. Kallias had informed her about those types of girls and how he was planning to stop it.

“Cauldron boil me, who trained you like that?”

“My parents” y/n replied, her bottom lip trembled. “They were murdered yesterday” she continued.

Mor stared at y/n, her heart filled with rage.

“Do you have anyone else?”

“No… but I’m trying to find a husband like my parents wanted me to.”

“Okay, you’re coming with me. I’m not leaving you here alone with all these brutes” Mor replied making y/n gasp.

“Where?” she asked bitting her bottom lip. She was nervous but her eyes flashed with excitement.

“To the night court” and with that Mor grabbed her hand and darkness swallowed them.

When the darkness disappeared, they fell into a big balcony.

“Sorry I forgot to tell you about the drop” Mor smiled apologetically.

“It’s okay” y/n replied and turned to see the view. A beautiful city laid beneath them, buildings crafted out of white marbles and townhouses with green copper roofs and white chimneys. A river that started from the top of the hills and ended in the sea. The city was full of light and noise, y/n didn’t think that a city could be this beautiful without snow. She kept staring not daring to blink in case she missed anything. Mesmerizing. The only word that came into her mind. Mor was grinning next to her, amused by the way the young female was frozen in her spot, her eyes wide and a small smile on her face.

“By the way, stop being so okay with everything” Y/n snapped her head to Mor caught off guard when the blonde spoke. “You were okay with leaving with a stranger, and also okay when said stranger dropped you on a balcony endangering your life since you weren’t ready” Mor continued.

“I’m just being polite” y/n responded frowning. The blonde female just shook her head and started walking. They were met with glass doors that led into a dining room where several faeries were sitting enjoying their food and wine. All eyes were on y/n in an instant.

Mor cleared her throat. “Hello everyone, I brought some company” Y/n immediately felt uncomfortable, everyone was dressed so casually and here she stood in a pink dress of tulle, the skirt floating around her like a tent.

“This is y/n” Mor spoke again, and the female straightened her posture not sure if anyone spoke in the meantime when she was lost in her thoughts.

“I’m Rhysand” one of the males spoke and Y/n almost choked on air.

“The high lord of the night court Rhysand?” her hands were shaking, and she now regretted the choice to follow Mor here. Everyone burst into laughter by her reaction.

Rhysand smiled “And this is my high lady Feyre, her sisters Nesta and Elain, Cassian the General and commander of my armies, Amren my second in command and Azriel my spymaster.”

Y/n’s eyes were frantic from one face to another but what finally caught her attention was the hazel eyes of the spymaster, she studied him, her eyes moving from his face to his wings and hands -scarred hands. He caught her and removed his hands from the table, her face burned in embarrassment, and she moved her gaze back to Rhysand who kept staring at her waiting for what she had to say.

“Uhm my name is y/n, I’m from the winter court” she stuttered.

Rhysand’s gaze turned to Mor who finally spoke again “She was raised to be a good wife and her parents were murdered yesterday so you can understand why I think she needs protection.” Azriel snorted and Nesta gave him a questioning look “That means she was raised like a princess the worst thing she ever did was washing a dish probably and she has no idea about the world outside her pink bubble” he explained. Nesta’s face hardened and y/n stared at her shoes. “And dear Mor decided to bring her here to protect her without asking anyone first” he continued and stood up abandoning his food as he disappeared into the hall.

“Please excuse Azriel” Feyre spoke “He has been through a lot, you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish for, let me show you the guest rooms”

“Thank you” she replied and followed Feyre. The last thing she heard was Mor reassuring Rhysand that she wasn’t a threat.

Now she entirely regretted following a stranger, but she knew that in order to survive in this world she needed to stay here even if Azriel and Nesta made her life a nightmare.

Just a thought I had yesterday. Do you think I should continue this story?

[separatist-apologist]

What Died Didn't Stay Dead

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara has been promised to a brutal prince who imagines himself a god. Setting sail across pirate infested waters, she and Nesta Archeron hatch a plan to escape her arranged marriage before they arrive.

A gift for @alohaangels, whose kind words softened some of my grief.

Read on AO3

TW for depictions of sexual assault- reminiscing on the event, but it is graphic so please take care of yourself.

--

It was a mistake.

Surely some sort of joke. 

Gwyn’s eyes scanned the piece of paper before her, looking for some tell-tale clue that would mark the missive as some kind of cruel joke. Some nobleman’s idea of amusing himself with a ruined man’s daughter. 

Lady Berdara,

I have made my intentions plain to your guardian, and with her blessing, I intend to make them plain to you as well. I have been unable to stop thinking of you since the ball, hosted now several months previously. Your beauty follows me, an ever present guest I would not be rid of, distracting as your visage is. 

Allow me to speak freely—I would like to be wed with haste if possible. I have enclosed two tickets to Alsfeld for you and a lady of your choosing. Send word, make the passage, and I will meet you at the Port of Alsfeld.

Say yes. I will accept no other answer.

Yours, faithfully,

Prince Edward II

Gwyn looked up at Merrill with disbelief, immediately frustrated to find her guardian looking back with a look of supreme smugness. 

“I told you,” she said, rising from her chair to walk toward the window. Gwyn had been living under care since her family had been slaughtered, casualties of the ongoing and bloody war being fought by Edward the Senior. She’d been minor nobility, then, though part of the landed gentry all the same.

“This is a joke,” Gwyn replied, pushing away the rising tide of memories. She wished she had perished, then, and often cursed the unknown, faceless man who had spared her a bloody death right at the last second. 

“It’s not,” Merrill replied, smoothing out the folds of her heavy cobalt gown. “He was taken with you at the ball, and he’s taken with you now.”

“I have no dowry,” Gwyn reminded Merrill, who must have already thought of that. “I work for my keep.”

“Money was set aside for you. I have been safe guarding it,” Merrill told her. Gwyn didn’t know what to say to that—she’d been told for years that her father had squandered everything, that the only way to continue living under Merrill’s grace was to work. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You have an education, don’t you? Room? Board? Fine clothes and regular meals?”

“I��am grateful,” Gwyn forced herself to say, hardly grateful at all. She was angry—always so, so angry. The feeling was nothing new, just as swallowing it wasn’t, either. She knew all the right words, steps to a dance she’d long memorized. “I am so grateful for you.”

Gwyn wasn’t, though. Merrill had never been kind—a poor substitute for her already flighty mother. At least then she’d had Catrin.

Now she had no one and nothing but memories tainted in blood, smoke, and so much fear. And, apparently, a marriage she could not wiggle free from. Gwyn wracked her mind for anything that might save her—Edward was a prince twice her age who’d ordered her into several dances. His breath had smelled rank, his fingers tight and clammy, and he’d leaned in too close for her liking as he droned on and on about his many war victories.

Did he even know his family’s war was the reason she had to rely on the charity of others?

Gwyn doubted he cared. 

“What about his last wife?”

“The Catholic?” Merrill scoffed. It was a rumor, of course—meant to discredit a woman so he could have a divorce without upsetting the general populace that loved her so. “Locked in a convent, last I heard. She gave only daughters and  he needs sons.”

“I’m supposed to do that?” Gwyn gaped, blood turning to ice. She had to swallow against the torrent of memories rising through her, threatening to spill over the ornate cream rug in the form of her breakfast. She’d promised she wouldn’t—that a man would never again touch her like that, certainly not if she invited him to, and even that was questionable.

It seemed she had no choice. 

“You’ll be his wife,” Merrill said dismissively, clearly tired of the conversation. It was the longest they’d had in waking memory, which meant at any moment Merrill was going to give Gwyn a verbal order to do as she was told, and a silent order to shut her mouth and be grateful.

Gwyn had no gratitude left in her. Certainly not for a man who intended to use her and then discard her if he tired of her. 

“He has a wife—”

“He doesn’t,” Merrill snapped, tossing a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder. Was she bitter it wasn’t her? Gwyn would trade her. “Nesta Archeron has agreed to accompany you to Alsfeld and I expect you to go upstairs, pack appropriately, and smile at your good fortune. Not many men would consider marrying you given your past.”

“My past.” Gwyn dropped all pretense, her words hollow, voice flat. 

“Yes, Gwyneth, your past. You should be overjoyed that a man wants you at all, let alone one so esteemed as the prince.”

“You told him?” Gwyn felt betrayal clawing at her neck. “That wasn’t yours to share!”

“The dowry he demanded was impossible to meet,” Merrill sniffed, eyes icy and unforgiving. “He was entitled to less knowing you were ruined.”

Ruined.

Gwyn rose from the chair she’d been sitting in, skirts ruffling loudly in her ringing ears. How Gwyn hated when Merrill said that to her—as if she were little more than a lamp that had broken and not a whole person that had been stolen from.

She couldn’t speak—she knew she’d cry, her anger making a mockery of her. Inclining her head, Gwyn merely made her way through the parlor, past the servants she’d once been close with. They wouldn’t meet her gaze, though she swore their mouths twisted with pity. She was the last to know, as usual, and it showed. 

Making her way to her small bedroom, Gwyn flung herself onto the padded window seat to peer out at the sea. How long before she was on one of the ships in the harbor with only the wretched Nesta Archeron for company? She’d only met the woman once and Nesta had been so wildly unpleasant that Gwyn had immediately dismissed her without another word.

Now they’d be trapped aboard a ship together. Gwyn sighed, turning toward her dresser. She had a large carpet bag and a trunk—she’d put personal things in the bag and the rest in the trunk, assuming someone was going to rifle through the items in the trunk. Better to not give anything away.

Truthfully, Gwyn had very little. Merrill had never deigned to give her anything of value, always with the admonishment that she ought to be grateful. Gwyn’s gratitude died with Catrin, leaving behind only her rage. How a prince had found her fascinating enough to marry was beyond Gwyn—the night they’d danced, she’d been wearing one of Merrill’s gowns, promptly returned while it was still warm. 

What would he do when he realized she was practically a servant? Maybe it didn’t matter—perhaps he’d outfit her in finery and remind the populace that, technically, her father had died a decorated war hero. Nevermind he’d been cowering in his final moments, on his knees begging not for the lives of the daughters being dragged away by laughing soldiers, but his own.

Gwyn’s anger grew hotter. She threw her items in the trunk, not caring if they were wrinkled. She let it consume her, balling up gown after gown so she could throw them with force into the trunk until she felt a little calmer. Less fury. She reminded herself to breathe, the same exercises she’d once done with Catrin.

It had been Catrin who’d once been filled with anger and Gwyn who had peace. She’d find her sister, raging about some injustice, and remind her to breathe until they were both smiling again. Catrin’s rage had sent her running from the house to try and save the children next door—and she’d been the first of the two of them to die. Wherever she’d hidden them, however they’d escaped…Catrin refused to say.

Gwyn, trembling and scared, a mere three minutes younger though sometimes it felt like three years, had obeyed when Catrin ordered, don’t say a word!

“We can break you,” the soldier had laughed, reaching for his belt. Catrin had turned her head, arms held over her head by another soldier. She’d screamed and fought, writhing like a wild, desperate animal while Gwyn silently sobbed, watching—knowing she would be next.

Tell us, the soldier had ordered, turning to Gwyn.

Don’t, Catrin had ordered again, fiercer than before. They’d placed a blade to Catrin’s neck and demanded again. Gwyn had looked at her sister, but Catrin only widened her eyes.

“Be brave,” Catrin had whispered.

The last words ever spoken between them. They’d laughed as they cut her throat, and laughed louder as Gwyn screamed, dragged to the same bed her sister bled out on. Gwyn hadn’t been brave at all—she’d begged them to kill her, too.

And they would have, had that man not come kicking in with that lethal looking sword. Walking to her dresser, she found the cloak he’d draped over her folded up at the bottom. Throwing it away would have been the better thing to do, but in the aftermath of what had happened, she’d simply tossed it in the back of her wardrobe. Afterwards, she’d had it washed, unable to stand the smell of whatever cologne that man wore mingled with blood and sweat. She could have thrown it away then, too.

She picked it up, admiring the well-made fabric and the heavy, silver and cobalt clasp that would have kept it pinned around her neck. Gwyn hadn’t dared to wear it, but it felt…wrong…to be rid of it, now. It was a relic of the worst moment of her life. She hated that stranger, his face concealed by a mask, though what little she might have seen had been blurred by blood and tears. He’d carried her out after brutally, and mercilessly, slaughtering every man who’d come into her house. 

He’d tried to take her somewhere, but she’d started screaming again and so he’d left her huddled in a heap beneath a tree with a silver dagger laid at her bare feet. He hadn’t said a word, merely vanished back into the ether. Perhaps he’d been a long forgotten god come to seek vengeance. Or perhaps he’d simply been a mercenary unable to witness his brethern pillaging and raping. 

She’d never know. 

Still, sometimes she caught herself thinking about him, wondering where he was and why he’d intervened in the first place. Gwyn had the dagger, though she didn’t know how to use it, and tucked that into her bag along with a necklace that had belonged to Catrin she didn’t dare wear. She hadn’t been brave.

She didn’t deserve to.

Gwyn skipped dinner that night, which caused Merrill to rant through the halls about how spoiled and ungrateful she was. Gwyn blocked it out with a book, curled back in the window seat as she waited for the inevitable. She couldn’t sleep, chasing the sunrise with drooping eyelids. Merrill wasn’t far behind, bursting in with more energy than Gwyn was certain she’d ever had in her life. 

Gwyn had never liked the small city she’d been isolated in. It was just big enough to give the illusion of privacy but small enough that everyone knew everything. Busybodies to the very last, which meant that as Gwyn was paraded through the busy early morning, all eyes fell on her, even if just for a moment. They’d flit in her direction before fans extended and women began chattering behind them, their peals of laughter echoing over the sounds of horse drawn carriages and booming voices announcing the prices of fish and produce. 

Gwyn wanted to be the kind of person who’d stare back, eyes shooting daggers as she did. She wasn’t, though, even as her anger and humiliation seemed to reach a writhing fever pitch in her chest. She imagined all the things she’d say, should she have the opportunity—the way she’d cut them into ribbons until they felt as small as she did—but she kept her eyes trained on the muddy cobblestone streets before her. Causing a scene would only result in more problems for Gwyn, who always seemed to be blamed, regardless if something was actually her fault. Merrill simply did not like her, and resented being vaguely related to her father and therefore, responsible for her care. 

Gwyn might have liked the docks and the quieter bustle filled with mostly men who didn’t seem to care a single jot about her, were it not for the icy stare of Nesta Archeron. She was alone, standing on the curb with her arms crossed over her chest. 

Great.

Gwyn did look at Nesta, hoping her expression conveyed a do-not-try-it-with-me,but who knew how Nesta took it. Nesta was a Duke's daughter and came from wealth so obscene, Gwyn didn’t dare think about it. What horrible lord was waiting for her in Alsfeld—and who was worse, Gwyn mused privately.

It was fun to watch Merrill dip into a respectful bow while Nesta stared down her nose, unimpressed and maybe even bored by the whole display. “Lady Archeron,” Merrill demurred, looking as if she’d prefer to be anywhere else. “You’re looking well.”

“You don’t,” Nesta replied in that brutal way of hers. Gwyn had to bite back a laugh, reminding herself that once Merrill left, Nesta would turn that mannerless behavior on her. 

“Well,” Merrill said as the salty air tangled a strand of her hair. “Take care of yourself, Gwyneth. If you have need of me, please write.” Gwyn nodded, certain Merrill would never respond to any letter. This wasn’t goodbye—it was a washing of the hands. Merrill had done her duty and now she was free of it. 

“Remember duty,” Merrill added, perhaps guessing the slant of Gwyn’s angry thoughts. Nesta arched a brow but said nothing, lip curling over perfectly straight teeth as she watched Merrill flounce off.

“Her hat was ugly,” Nesta declared the moment Merrill was out of earshot. The own hat, perched neatly atop Nesta coiffed golden brown hair, was very fashionable with its light pink feather and the way it tilted ever so delicately. It paired well with the deep plum of her gown that seemed out of place right before the docks. Gwyn certainly felt underdressed in green, her gown from two seasons earlier and just a tad too big. She felt inadequate in new and frustrating ways.

“So is yours,” Gwyn snapped, stepping around Nesta as two burly armed, barrel chested sailors took her trunk toward a wooden ramp that led to the ship she supposed they would sail on.

Nesta blinked. “I told Elain it was ridiculous,” she grumbled, though she didn’t remove it. Nesta merely marched in step with Gwyn, following the men now charged with their care. Gwyn had expected a sharp tongued insult, not agreement.

“Why did you let her talk you into it?”

Nesta shrugged delicate shoulders, spine impossibly straight as she walked. She looked like the one who ought to be marrying a prince—not Gwyn. Gwyn looked like her maid at best, which annoyed her further. There was something she was missing to this whole arrangement, something that would come back to harm her before she pieced it all together. 

“She can be very bossy when she sets her mind to something,” Nesta said, as if Gwyn knew anything about the Archeron sisters. They were sheltered and spoiled, appearing in the city only when something grand was happening. They otherwise kept to their estate, though there were rumors about how wild the youngest of the three were.

She sounded like more interesting company than the scowling Nesta. One thing, Gwyn supposed, was how unafraid Nesta was to give orders.

“Take us to our cabin,” Nesta demanded the moment their feet were on the softly swaying deck. Two sailors exchanged a glance but otherwise said nothing at all—they merely gestured for the pair to follow them.

“We’re not to be disturbed,” Nesta began, her words seemingly well-practiced. “You may bring our meals to us directly, but otherwise no man is to enter our chamber.”

“Who would stop us?” one of the sailors asked, clearly bitter about being bossed around by a woman.

Gwyn’s own temper got the better of her. “I will.”

Whatever they saw on her face kept them from saying much more. Gwyn waited until they were taken into a large stateroom they were clearly meant to share. Nesta turned, and the sailor, guessing her irritation, threw up his palms in defense. “You can share, or you can sleep in the bunks with everyone else. Your choice, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed before slamming the door in his face. “Must you be so…” Gwyn trailed off, unsure what she even meant to say. Nesta understood, though.

“Because otherwise they think they can take liberties. That we’re helpless and soft and sweet—that we won’t say anything if they touch us. Now they know we’ll scream, and when we arrive at port, we’ll tell someone. They’ll think twice.”

“And with Merrill?” Gwyn demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

“Her presence offends me,” Nesta said with a shrug, as if it were a given. Gwyn couldn’t help but laugh, one hand on her stomach to keep herself from doubling over.

“Mine, too.”

“She thinks herself a great humanitarian, but she’s not. She made a lot of money taking you in, for all the good it did. Look at your dress,” Nesta said, reaching for Gwyn’s sleeve. Gwyn slapped her hand away, embarrassed and self-conscious.

“What are you talking about?”

Nesta stared for a moment, hand cradled to her chest. Those icy blue eyes seemed to be a little sad for only a moment before the emotion vanished, replaced with her usual steely gaze. “Lord Rhysand paid her a hefty stipend for your education. His father and your father were friends, I suppose.”

“No one…no one told me that,” Gwyn managed as anger and betrayal clawed up her throat. “I was working.”

So a Duke paid for Gwyn’s education, and her father had left an inheritance, all pocketed by Merrill. Gwyn turned for the door, ready to march off the ship and throttle Merrill but Nesta grabbed her wrist.

“There is no point. She’s not capable of shame.”

“So she gets away with it?” Gwyn demanded with outrage. “Does no one face consequences except me?”

“She doesn’t have to get away with it,” Nesta said slyly. “I overheard father talking, and he seems to think your marriage will elevate Merrill in a way few ladies ever achieve.”

“Of course it does,” Gwyn grumbled, sitting despondently on the floral patterned bed. “She probably orchestrated it herself.”

“I’m sure. That doesn’t mean you have to marry him,” Nesta continued, holding Gwyn’s stare. 

“He’s a prince—”

“So?” Nesta demanded. “When we arrive, simply say no and stay with me and my aunt. With the new laws that require a ladies consent, you can simply decline.”

“He’s not just some spoiled lordling,” Gwyn whispered, though the idea was spreading through her like wildfire. 

“He’s only a man,” Nesta replied, sitting beside her. “He’s not a god.”

But Gwyn knew what men could do when they didn’t get what they wanted—when they felt thwarted, especially by a lesser woman. It would become a matter of principle to punish her. To control her. He had a navy at his disposal, an army willing to kill on command, and more gold than anyone in the realm. If he wanted to find her, he would. 

And when he did, he’d punish her for daring to defy him.

Still.

The idea had roots.

—-

Azriel heard the sound of boots echoing off swaying wood before he saw Cassian in the doorway. His friend flashed a grin, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ship sailed this afternoon.”

Azriel shifted in his chair, boots reclined on his desk while he toyed with his favorite dagger absently. Turning his gaze from Cassian, he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Armed?”

“Barely,” Cassian replied, his amusement plain. “It’s a merchant ship.”

“Whose?” Azriel didn’t want to make too many enemies of the merchant class, some of whom paid money for safe passage and protection from other privateers. 

“Archeron,” Cassian said. Azriel frowned, though it changed nothing. Rhys wasn’t one of them—not really. He could make his demands, could provide them with funding, could play pirate lord when it suited him, but he wasn’t out there day to day.

He didn’t know how hard Azriel had worked to organize this ambush. How he’d intercepted that letter. The spying he’d done, the dominoes set into motion. It was now or it was never. The walls of the palace were impenetrable, even to him. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Azriel decided. It didn’t. He’d rather beg forgiveness than ask permission—Rhys would do the same, were he in Azriel’s position. “Sink the ship.”

“Aye, Captain,” Cassian said, his grin returning.

Azriel’s gaze turned toward the window overlooking the sea. With a soft exhale, he smiled, too. 

Soon.

[alicerosejensen]

Find me pt.1

Warning: kidnapping, mention of blood, two-person narrative (Leon v reader), castle with bioweapons, angst, trauma, dark, forced relationships, hints of sexual violence.

Summary: half a year. That’s exactly how long it took Leon to get on your trail and try to find you. He is ready to do anything to get you back, but hope fades every day.

A/N: I'll probably still post this when I get inspired. The warnings will vary depending on each chapter. You can think of this story as a big reference to another Capcom game.

I apologize for any mistakes because English is not my native language.

Feedback is welcome, but no insults please.

Prologue here.

His eyes closed by themselves from lack of sleep when Leon looked at the received data, which for him is now equal to the treasure, or more precisely, the key to the treasure is to you. Ingrid said that this could turn out to be a false trail, the threads that he had been looking for for so long turned out to be either a waste of time, or led to a dead end stopping the whole thing. And only now, six months later, a single clue that appeared literally out of nowhere makes you drop everything and try to find you.

Hannigan looks at the audio file trying to determine whether it is a fake or not. She runs it through a lot of programs trying to make sure that it's not gluing while Leon is standing next to her, clutching the back of the chair she was sitting at.

"Tell me this is a real recording," the tone of his voice was almost pleading and at the same time scared as he heard your recorded crying over and over again.

"Yeah." Hannigan's hesitant voice made Leon lower his head and look at the woman who continued to click her fingers on the keyboard.

"Hannigan?"

"We don't know when this recording was made…Maybe it's a trap. Another false trail that will lead nowhere. We've checked everything Leon! We found a car with DNA traces, but the trail ended. There were no witnesses, no recordings from the cameras, it was as if she had fallen through the ground."

Leon froze. The arguments were weighty, but what does he have besides this record?

"What's the point of being trapped after six months?" He sees Ingrid biting her lip trying to squeeze out as much data as possible. "If this was a kidnapping for ransom or luring me out, they would immediately get in touch, but nothing. So it wasn't me or the money that was needed, but my wife."

"However, we have not been able to find a motive. I checked all the documents, passport, parents, records from the hospital where y/n was born - there is nothing that could give us a tip. It's all clear."

"Or we don't see something," he sighed.

Leon was sure that something was missing. But it was not on the surface, but somewhere in the depths, which is not so easy to get to. When he was informed about the shots in his house and found a mess with a syringe lying on the floor, he really had hope that he would be contacted very soon. He waited a week, then a second without leaving the search, because with the current level of technology it is impossible to completely cover up all traces so that they lead nowhere, and in the end Ingrid quickly found a car with traces of your hair and drops of blood on the back seat, but that was it. You became one of those who mysteriously went missing.

But no one asked for money, no one sent any extortionate emails or calls. At one point, Hannigan even put forward the theory that you could have initiated your abduction yourself, but he refused to believe it. Why would you leave like that if you could just break up with him, even though on the day you left, Leon was ready to swear that everything was fine between you.

So it just didn't make sense.

Leon speaks softly. He is pacing the room, waiting for additional information, at least from where this recording was sent to him. The sound of the keys echoes in his head and Leon rubs his face tiredly, stopping his gaze at your photo.

"There was a drug in the syringe, there was her blood on the needle and on the floor, in total two shots were fired from the Matilda, one into the closet and the other into the ceiling... traces of a struggle..." Leon quietly wondered out loud, trying to understand what he could have missed, but it seems more there was nothing left that he could grab onto.

"Leon?" Ingrid suddenly called and Leon was next to her in one sharp movement. “I think I found it!”

A map and tracked coordinates appeared on the screen, presumably from the place where the recording with your request for help was sent.

"This..."

“Not low beam”

Leon twitched anxiously, seeing the designated forest area, looking meaningfully at Hannigan, who rested her chin on her hand, not believing what she found. At one time, intelligence discovered Ashley in a godforsaken Spanish village, but she was kidnapped with the aim of infecting her with a plaga and sending her to Graham, and what Leon saw on the map defied any logic. How did you end up in a mountain range in another country?

“This is Leon’s mistake. There is nothing there, mountains and forest, another mistake, someone made a cruel joke.”

“Not if there is any hint of civilization there.”

It was an unnecessary risk. Hannigan is still trying to find at least some information about the nearest village in these places. On the one hand, it’s an ideal place to hide a person, but on the other hand, there are no guarantees that you will end up there and that Leon won’t go to hell in a meaningless search. Suddenly you have been dead for a long time, although Ingrid’s female intuition tells her that until he finds your body or at least clear evidence of your death, Leon will continue to sniff out the trail of his beloved, like a devoted bloodhound, even if there are no traces left.

You are not the daughter of the president, only the forces of Leon and Hannigan are sent to search for you, the latter helps him only out of the kindness of her heart, and no one will send reconnaissance to find at least something that indicates that you were even really in this place. But Leon worked as an agent for too long, he saw the underside of this world and in theory assumed that there might be a house or village in which you are being kept for some unknown reason, but even if it’s all a trap and you are bait, then Leon is ready to go there.

"Nothing, Leon," Hannigan's annoyed voice must cut off hope. He himself sees no signs of human life on the screen. “No one even reports missing people in populated areas”

“I don’t have anything else anyway, right?” he answers confidently, taking his phone to get the exact coordinates “The fact that there is nothing on the map and no one reported missing tourists means nothing. There are places that someone hides very well.”

“This is your personal mission… I won't be able to help you there. I can book tickets, find someone to help with the weapons, but no outside support. You'll be on your own there.” Ingrid drawled sadly, hoping that he would come to his senses or at least weigh everything again before taking an unjustified risk, "You don't know what awaits you there, perhaps there is nothing there except trees, wild animals and mountains. Let's check it out again?!"

"For six months!" he exclaimed, "I've been trying for six months as a bloodhound to find at least something that can shed light on the kidnapping of my fiancee. I have the coordinates and her message for help, which you yourself confirmed was not falsified. Even if I can't find anything, I'll at least try. She wasn't taken away for money or to get back at me… there's something else there, and if she's there…" Leon poked his finger at the monitor, "then she's completely alone there. Defenseless and vulnerable to any danger if they want to harm her."

There was an oppressive silence. It was useless to convince Leon to wait at least a little longer before rushing headlong for a single straw, but she had already delayed him enough. All Hannigan could do for him was squeeze out any crumbs of information about the area, record it, and help with the equipment. At least the technical component. And if they both believed in God, they could pray for a successful return.

"Allright, have it your way." she spread her hands in surrender.

The awakening was painful and difficult. However, between brief glimpses of wakefulness that quickly ended with another dream, you could feel Leon's gentle touches all over your body. His breath on your neck and lips was like an apologetic kiss. You tried to dodge, as you usually did in the morning when you were still asleep, but he was persistent, after which you vaguely heard laughter through the veil… Heavy, broken, unlike Leon's usual laugh. Random images flashed before your eyes, and the last thing that made you fully wake up was the bang of your head on the floor and the sound of a gunshot, after which you abruptly opened your eyes, looking straight at the dark ceiling, trying to figure out what happened.

Tick tock tick tock

The sound of the clock ticking filled the space, remaining for a while the only thing your mind could focus on. Your head was pounding painfully as you stared madly at the dial, standing a few meters away from you, barely discerning what time it was. The lump on your forehead throbbed unpleasantly and may have caused a concussion after that bastard hit your head on the floor with all his might so that you lost consciousness. Feeling with your fingers the place where the skin painfully swelled, you painfully hissed down immediately removing your hand, stopping it and tried to breathe deeply trying to put the latest events in chronological order.

However, nausea rolled in waves, forcing you to squeeze the bedclothes in your hands and finally realize that the environment in which you are unfamiliar.

A dark room lit by a single fireplace in which a fire was still burning warmed the space making it less frightening, but the pouring moonlight from the window made the soul shrink from the horror of the unknown. You slowly looked around realizing that you were lying on a huge bed with a giant canopy of a delicate green shade on silk bedding of the same color. Everything seemed so unreal. As if it were a nightmare and now someone will jump out from around the corner at you and you will wake up realizing that nothing terrible really happened, but after sitting on the bed in one position for several minutes without moving in the hope of waking up, in the end you realized that you were no longer sleeping.

Your eyes involuntarily began to look at paintings by unknown artists. A portrait of a woman sitting at a small table with a human skull on it, an aristocrat with noble features as if carved out of stone, ordinary landscapes… You put your feet down on the cold stone floor, immediately shuddering and slowly wandered to the window to understand your location, but all you saw outside was an endless forest area without a hint of roads.

Listening to other sounds besides the annoying knocking of the clock and the fire, you hugged yourself by the shoulders, thinking that it was definitely not worth shouting just yet. The room you were in was clearly made in the Gothic style and in the current situation it only caused discomfort, given the fact that upon closer examination of the paintings you were able to understand that in front of you were originals and not reproductions. Old Varnish should have been removed a long time ago, perhaps it made these stories less dark, but this is clearly not something that should be thought about now. Turning around in search of some kind of closet to throw on something warm, you could see clothes neatly laid out on a dusty chair: a white shirt with wide cuffs tapered at the wrist, which was probably worn with a short tapered floral pink vest without sleeves, reminiscent of a corset with lacing on the chest, dark trousers and elegant boots next to them that look like they are made of real leather. The sole is small but looks comfortable and is just your size.

Examining the clothes in your hands, it was impossible not to notice the quality of the fabric, for the shirt was clearly silk, and besides, next to it, on an elegant carved table, someone had carefully left a metal box with decoration and a fresh red rose, which until recently seemed , bloomed in some garden, filling the air with its aroma.

You lowered your hands, taking the box in your hands, carefully opening it, as if a spider or other crawling crap might jump out of it, which always filled you with uncontrollable horror, but nothing catastrophic happened. Inside was a cameo brooch, decorated along the edge with fifty small stones resembling diamonds, and at the bottom hung a drop of pearls. Leon once gave you something similar, but it was in no way comparable to what was now in your hands. It was clearly worth your year's salary. It’s not like you had a choice… in the corner of the room, of course, there was a chest of drawers, but you couldn’t find anything in it except snow-white sheets, and you didn’t really want to walk around in negligence. Considering the fact that you were given no choice and that at least the clothes looked comfortable, you decided to comply, scared by the fact that everything fit perfectly as if it was tailor-made for you. You even caught the brooch on your vest because someone probably left it here on the table on purpose.

“Well, at least I feel a little better,” you thought, sighing as you found the mirror. The lack of light made it difficult to judge how bad the bump on his forehead was, but perhaps that was for the best. There were still no footsteps or sounds in the room behind the wooden door, but so you quickly put your hair in a not-so-neat bun so that it wouldn't get in the way while you explored the area and tried to figure out what happened to you after you were attacked and left here.

Perhaps you should find a phone and contact Leon or the police directly… There must be some connection, right? Looking back again, trying not to pay attention to the slight dizziness and nausea, your gaze lingered on a metal plate hanging directly above the fireplace with some kind of inscription engraved on it, but you did not look at it or at other objects in the room. . Not now… all that mattered at that moment was to find someone or something that would help you navigate and call for help.

With a soft tread, almost quietly like a cat, you pushed the door forward and it gave way, making a slight creak, forcing only to pray that it would not attract unnecessary attention, your head poked out looking around. Cold stone walls like in a medieval castle pressed down on consciousness, the wind blew down the gloomy corridor so that even clothes did not save too much and you wanted to throw some kind of jacket on top, but you took a step forward rejoicing that there are familiar lamps here, even if they shine a little badly, but it was better than if there were candles here.

However, the candelabra here were also really empty. When you were completely out in the hallway, you couldn't figure out which way to go to the right or to the left. It was too dark on the left and you wanted to go there the least, so you wandered in the direction where the wind was blowing, listening carefully to everything, trying not to fall off any stairs, although it was not very bright here, but still your eyes could distinguish the situation well and in the end you went down somewhere to a single door. Pulling the handle, it turned out that the door was closed on the other side and except for the old junk lying under the stairs, overgrown with cobwebs in places, there was nothing, which obviously made you turn around and go upstairs again, turning into that dark corridor where you initially did not want to go, but it seems that the choice was small.

Of course, you could go back to the bedroom and wait for a miracle or trouble, the latter seemed like a more obvious scenario, but still you can't leave everything on its own, even if you find yourself in the most non-standard of all situations. Eventually, after passing through the already familiar room again, you breathed a sigh of relief when you realized that the corridor was not at all as long as it initially seemed, and the door at the end was fortunately unlocked and led you to some long well-lit balcony. Your heart was beating wildly from fear of the unknown, but you still walked forward with your hand on your chest, walking to the other end, passing by some more locked rooms, stopping only at the moment when you clearly noticed a bright scarlet stripe on the floor as if something was being dragged… … like a corpse, and the red streak seems to be blood. Your feet were rooted to the ground as you looked around in a panic, looking for potential danger. Despite the disgusting silence, no one was nearby or someone simply did not want to be noticed earlier than expected, so at your own risk you decided to follow the bloody trail that ended abruptly. There were stains on the floor as if someone had tried to wash them earlier, perhaps they didn’t have time to do it or… Well, Leon always said that you have a rich imagination, which no one from your family ever argued with, so you decided not to give it free rein just yet because that otherwise it will drive you crazy.

It was all just disgusting. You realized for sure that you were in some kind of castle or giant mansion that clearly needed cleaning in places, and the worst thing was that all the rooms here practically remained locked. After an hour of wandering through the dark corners, you were damn cold and lost in addition, despite the fact that you found nothing and could not go anywhere except a couple of chambers, although mice ran through there a couple of times and spiders wove a web in the corners, which horrified you, forcing you to quickly slam the door and scream several times. No one really showed up. On the one hand, it was calming, but on the other it was aggravating.

You need at least some kind of map to figure out which part of the building you're in at all, but all you've found is useless trash and increased anxiety. Breathing exercises generally helped, which was why you were on the verge of hysteria. There must be at least a landline phone here! Panic was rolling in and my eyes started to water, I just wanted to call Leon and beg him to take you away from here because every rustle or shadow made you jump on the spot. And if someone really chases you? Where to run to? You don't have a mountain of muscles like Chris Redfield and you're not even Leon's equal. Your brain was clearly no longer trying to think of any plan, and it was at this moment that somewhere in the distance you heard a clock tinkling. It was dark outside, you couldn't see a thing, which made you think it might be midnight.

Startled, you looked around again and still decided to follow the sounds, hoping that they would not lead to your death. Another dark corridor gave way to a lighter one, which led you to a wide oak carved door, which made you even momentarily happy as you entered the wide hall with snow-white marble columns and an almost mirrored floor where a mosaic in the shape of a sun was laid out in the middle of the hall. Everything was luxurious and at the same time forgotten, but the clock that brought you here with a loud blow really showed midnight and it was a real antique! You were ready to swear to God that such a miracle could only be bought by a wealthy well-connected collector. Nearby there were several tables similar to those in your room, and although they were very dusty, in the vases that stood on them smelled sweetly of fresh flowers.

It wasn’t so gloomy here anymore, which helped relax a little. With sincere curiosity, you looked at everything that lay on the tables, and would like to turn the porcelain figurines of animals in your hands, something like this always caught you, causing memories to come flooding back against your will, how during your travels Leon could not tear you away from the souvenir shop where you emptied his card with great generosity, but this was not the case. And although you kept your eyes glued to everything you saw, your feet carefully walked down the steps until you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard loud clapping of hands.

You looked up at the source of the sound but didn't see anyone, however…

"So you've already woken up, my dear?"

[lowfunctioningoptimist]

My Wretched, Bastard Sister

Platonic!MicahxSister!Reader

(Before 1899) Summary: This part details how you met your half-brother Micah and the life you lived prior to joining the Van der Linde Gang. Warnings: References to Physical ab-se, verbal ab-se, neglect, angst, unhealthy relationships (co-dependent), viol-ice, blood, reader is written as a half-sibling for immersion.

The only thing you share with your brother is a father and a name. You don’t look much like him at all, which is a blessing you’re unaware of. Before your father took you, you lived with your mother. She was the daughter of a farmer who was disowned for falling pregnant out of wedlock. His name was Micah Bell Jr., and he left not long after bedding your mother in the family barn.  All her misfortune was put unto you, for she blamed you and you alone. Mother was cold at best. Her beauty helped her earn money, but not a husband. Your presence made it hard for the wealthy bachelors around town to take her hand. Over and over your mother would scream at you for ruining her life, how she didn’t want you there. 

The day Micah Bell Jr. came riding back into town felt like divine providence to your mother. 

You were a girl of only twelve when she dragged you into the saloon where the Bell Boys were said to be staying in. He was an ugly man, your father. Tall, grey-haired, with wild eyes and a wide mouth with his front teeth missing. At either side of him were his two sons, Micah Bell III and Amos Bell. Micah Jr. couldn’t remember your mother at all. He and his eldest son mocked you both as your mother shoved you forward. Mother insisted that you were his bastard and that he should claim you, take you away. All your father seemed to care about was if you knew how to cook a meal. When your mother said yes, you were riding out of town with them that same day.

The father who stole you had no love to give. He made clear right away that he only claimed you because you could be useful. Micah III didn’t want anything to do with you. Your eldest brother was in his late twenties when you came into his life. Micah always looked a bit older than his years to you. You suppose that’s the consequence of hard living, but Amos never looked that way. Micah barely spoke to you. Which you often preferred. When Micah did speak to you, it was to explain how much he hated that his father had a bastard. How he hated having some little girl following him around. Some bastard sister that folks would confuse for being his bastard daughter.  He hated you, but he never beat you. Not like your father did. It wasn’t long after your father took you that he started to give you, “discipline.” 

Amos was the gentler of your half-brothers. Alone with you, he would be kind. With the other two, he kept silent no matter what he saw. Together you would talk in hushed whispers of a simpler life. One of kindness and quiet in the far-off west. Amos had been father’s beast to blame until you showed up. If he didn’t seem terribly guilty about it, it was because he was relieved. He left in the middle of the night after an argument with father turned bad. Micah seemed all too delighted to share that Amos didn’t even look back as he ran off.

Not long after Amos left, father died of a broken neck. His horse had bucked him off his back as he and Micah were riding back to camp. That was the story Micah told you, anyway.

Since then, it had just been the two of you.

Micah is fond of reminding you that he could have just left you to die at that tiny camp father had set up. You didn’t have a horse, or a clue. And it wasn’t uncommon for them to be honest for days, leaving you to hold up camp on your own. Who knows how long you would have just sat there, waiting? When you ask him why he came to get you, he just says that you “have your uses.” He wasn’t wrong about that either. You can cook, clean, sew clothing just fine, and you’re loyal. 

Years would pass by like a prisoner’s dirty nail on a cell wall. Slow, purposeful, without a clear end or goal. You grew from girl to woman but never felt all that different inside. Hair in two braids and clothes mended thrice with patches of other garments because Micah never lets you go into town to shop. Still trembling when Micah would raise his voice or fist, even though he had never struck you before. He leaves you at camp with a loaded rifle each day and expects a long list of chores to be finished before he returns. Although you always complete your tasks perfectly, he never seems grateful or impressed.

At camp, he likes to have a few drinks by the fire and tell you stories. Tales of the past, ranging from mere hours ago to decades. Micah talks and talks, you just listen. You really don’t say much at all. He says that it’s something he likes about you, "If you weren't so ugly, I could make some coin in marrying' you off. Quiet women are a rare find in these modern days."

Micah doesn’t sleep well most nights. You often saw him sitting by the fire wide awake, staring off into nothing. Sometimes, you try to sit up with him. 

As nasty as he could be, you relied on him. You could shoot a gun, but you weren’t a cutthroat criminal by any stretch of the imagination. Micah was your defender, the breadwinner, and the Knower Of All Important Things. Between the two of you, he could read the best, so he would buy a newspaper and read it aloud to you if he was in a good mood. Aside from that, Micah didn’t really act much like a brother. He treated you like an indentured servant. Had you a kinder life before meeting him, that might’ve hurt you. Instead, it was all normal to you. 

In 1897, Micah took two bullets in a robbery gone bad. He had one bullet in his shoulder and another in his left thigh. Micah was able to ride back to camo before he passed out. Your brother fell from his horse a bloodied mess, babbling incoherently about bankers with pistols and that he couldn’t think straight. Without another thought, you went to his side and worked to stop the bleeding. When morning came, Micah awoke to you sitting at the side of his cot. You gave him a small smile and before you could ask him how he felt he demanded to know, “Why’re you still here? I figured you woulda hopped on Baylock and been halfway to California by now.”

You replied, “I can’t leave my brother.”

He let out a scoff that made him flinch, healing shoulder wound and all, “Ain’t there another one further west?”

“I stayed cus’ you’re the brother who didn’t leave me, Micah,” his mouth slammed shut at your words. For the first time in all the years you traveled with him, you had rendered your brother speechless. “We only got each other, don’t we?” you reached out to take his hand. He let you, for a moment. That perplexed look in his pale grey-blue eyes looked almost childlike. Vulnerable. It lasted about as long as your hand holding his. 

Micah snatched his hand back and sneered at you, “How ‘bout you get to fixing your good brother something to eat ‘stead of holding my goddamn hand? I’m starving!”

He was quiet for a few days after that. Angry. Things felt a bit different between you two. Micah went back to being a bully and a taskmaster, but he didn’t scare you as much anymore. You had seen behind the curtain and inside of his soul. In that brief moment where his eyes had gotten big and his heart slipped to his sleeve, you saw why he really came to get you after father died. 

Micah was afraid of being alone and afraid of needing somebody all at once. What a sad way to live, you thought.

Things were mostly back to normal until about a year later. The night that Micah saved a man’s life. Something you aren’t sure he’s ever done before. And from this uncharacteristic act of kindness, you and your half-brother would enter the Van Der Linde Gang. 

[angelfandomfan]

note: I think i will start writting maybe a little thing Warnings: Bad english (because i'm french and it's my first time writting a story IN ENGLISH), blood, maybe death, kidnapping mention yay, weak ALSO, IF SOMEONE WANT ME TO WRITE SOMETHING ELSE- ASK MEH

Yandere!hunter X monster reader -----------------------------------------------

It is a story about a big scary monster that lived in the woods, a monster that had three eyes and wings that looked like demon's wings, the monster eats children! Says the old woman, some peoples belived for this story; and you did. Before being turned into one.. Before, you were a beautiful lady, with a lot of ease in your life, you had enough money to live easily, you were kind to everyone.. helped everyone.. before knowing that they were just using you- Just because THEY were lazy, the day you turned into a monster is when you helped an old lady and you suspected her to be a witch because of course she was showing some clues and when you hold here hand to help her, you got an huge pain and you just turned into a monster, so you just ran into a forest. And now that peoples saw YOU in your monster form, they were scared, so scared that now they engaged a hunter to kill you! TO KILL YOU! SERIOUSLY!! The so called hunter, you heard from eavesdropping was called Lucian, and he was now tracking you in the woods, you had before a lot of hunters that tried to kill you but they all died because of their own traps or because you pushed them on a trap because you were doing self defence, and people just won't understand! You had to suffer because of THEM, OF. SIMPLE. VILLAGERS.

You really were angry at them, but you couldn't do anything because YOU are the so called monster, but why, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SUFFER?, YOU DID NOTHING WRONG. So, to calm yourself you decided to go toward a lake and to drink in it, but why? Because now that you turned into a "monster" you could now drink water directly from the lake, and also because you were a part deer, that crazy right? you had antlers. FUCKING. ANTLERS.

At first you were scared, to find out that you had antlers, but now.. not really like you got used to it. So now let talk about Lucian Lucian, is a tall, muscular guy and he's also a serious person, you also tried to stalk him a little but you don't know how but he always manage to find you, but you always run away before he could do anything. Lucian, him was dumbfounded (or dump, idk) the first moment he saw you, oh gosh you were so beautiful, a beautiful skin and eyes, oh gosh he just want you.. to possess you.. just for him. He doesn't care that the villagers will be mad at him, he just want you.

The first time he met you, he was walking through the woods to hunt you with his crossbow and when he saw a sort of deer on two legs he aimed it and then shot, but then the moment he shot he saw your visage, your beautiful face. Oh gosh he was so sorry that he hurted you with an arrow of his crossbow, if he knew and saw your face before shooting, you wouldn't been hurt.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

And he kept saying this to his mind until he finally stops, you were bleeding because of him.

And so Lucian kept stalking you, over and over just to know more about you. He was scared to scare you if he tried to talk to you, so he was just stalking you, and he liked when YOU were stalking him, oh gosh it was so cute. And he decided to give you food everydays, again and again, until you finally start eating the food he was giving you, on a plate, and little by little he was getting closer to you, before he was 15 metters from you, then 10, then 5 then 2, then 1. Oh gosh, he really liked to be SO close from you, and that you didn't run away, little did you know that he was feeding you something that was making you weaker every days you were eating the food, you were feeling weak, and Lucian just told you that you were maybe not digesting at all because you didn't eating this food long time ago. But that in reality, Lucian was making you weak only to be able to kidnap you with you that won't be able to escape. So he did this, the day where you were finally extremelly weak, he picked you up and started walking away with you, oh gosh you were going to be with him forever. "You will never be able to escape me, my little deer~"

[darkbluekies]

Oh, oh, I got an idea! How do you think the Yandere characters will do if they found out their s/o got kidnapped! Kinda like how the mad doctor kidnapped Yandere Doctor's s/o??

Warnings: killing, mentions of suicides, violence, manhandling, dismemberment, kidnapping, arson

Silas: 

All hell will break loose once he understands what has happened. Everyone — even his own men — will be scared for their lives. Silas is angrier than anyone’s ever seen him before and the slightest wrong step will result in death. He will cause blood baths wherever he goes until he gets you back. The gang that has taken you will be sorry, Silas will make sure of that. He’ll grab every kind of weapon he can get his hands on before leaving with his men to go get you back in his arms.

“Alright, you shitheads, I’m going to fucking come for you. Touching my baby will be the last thing you’ll ever do. I’m going to make you regret the day you were born. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this …”

Dr Kry: (oneshot where this happens)

He’ll be absolutely terrified if he doesn’t know where you are. This man will never stop looking for you. He’ll not eat, not sleep, not drink until you’re back in your room. This man is smart, he finds clues where others don’t. Dr Kry is a person who never gets down and dirty, his murders look like suicides or accidents. But when he finds the one that has taken you from him, he’ll beat them bloody until they’re on the verge of death. Then he’ll leave them to die. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’m going to find you and I’m going to make sure you come back where you belong. Whoever took you from me is going to suffer. I’m going to kill them, don’t worry, you’ll be safe and sound in my arms soon …”

King Edmund:

This man is ruthless as he is, but if someone dares to take you away from him, he’ll cause havoc. Every kingdom will know about your disappearance and they’ll fear what Edmund is going to do. No one is safe from his wrath. Edmund will burn down villages, he’ll throw people in dungeons, he’ll have public executions — everything to find the peasant (or royal) who took you. And when he finally does … they’ll be tortured for days and days on end until he finally has had enough and kills them himself. 

“The one that touches my queen will be sorry for a long, long time. The kingdoms shall feel my wrath. I’ll burn them all down if I need to. No one takes my queen from me …”

Jerry:

This woman lives for revenge, but not these kinds. You should never be involved. If someone decides to kidnap you, Jerry will turn the world upside down to get you back. No one’s safe from Jerry’s anger. She’ll even hurt her own boss if he gets in her way. Her boss will help her get you back (mostly because he’s terrified of Jerry’s temper) and then, it’s over for whoever was stupid enough to think they could keep you away from her. Jerry is going to cut off limb after limb of the people that separated you from her with a smile on her face. 

“When I’m done with those people, they’ll be lucky if the police will ever be able to find all of them to give them a funeral. Because I sure as hell won’t let them. They’ll be so unrecognizable that they’ll be unsure which name to put on the gravestone! And when I have Y/N back, I’m going to cuff them to my wrist and plant a GPS chip in their neck. They’re mine only. No one else is allowed to touch them.”

Hedwig:

She thought you were safe. She really did. You’re a nobody! She realizes that the one that kidnapped you wanted her to get money, but figured that taking you would be a better way to get a bigger ransom. Hedwig will pay whatever price to get you back. Nothing’s too high. She’ll bring one body guard with her to the meeting place where she can exchange the money for you. She’ll hug your manhandled body tightly while you cry. 

“It’s okay now, sweetheart, you’re safe now. I-I’ll take care of you. I was so scared to never get you back. Don’t cry, my dear, those assholes will get what they deserve. I have my ways, don’t worry. They’ll never see the sunlight again.”

[cilliansmesoftly]

the cowboy hat rule

summary: you and austin are at a bar and you put on another guy’s cowboy hat.

warning: smut, sexual harassment, angst, friends to lovers, alcohol mention, cowboy!au austin, fem!reader

“austin, c’mon! we came here to have fun!” you whined to your best friend, hand tugging at the denim jacket he was wearing. you’d been trying to get him to come to the dance floor with you since you arrived, but he wouldn’t budge.

“go on, doll. i might come in a little bit.” he laughed as he watched you pout. you huffed a breath before turning to the crowd and making your way to the dancing line. austin watched as you jumped right in, dancing with all the other people who grew up on the same line dances. he watched as your hair was tossed over your shoulder when you turned, facing away from him. his eyes traveled a bit lower, much to his disdain, and marveled at your hips and your ass. those jeans you wore never failed to make his heart flutter and make blood rush his cheeks.

to get his mind off of you for a moment, he turned away from the railing and walked towards the bar to get another beer. he adjusted his cowboy hat sitting atop his head as the bartender passed him the glass bottle. he lifted it up to his lips, taking a sip, and turned to check on you. and what he saw nearly made his blood boil.

there you were, dancing with the group of people, but a man was behind you. his hands were splayed around your waist, dragging to back to him. you were laughing, so cutely innocent at his intentions.

austin sighed, closing his eyes to relax himself and to remind himself that you weren’t his. you had the freedom of flirting with shitty dudes at bars. just as he was calming down, he opened his eyes to see the man placing his cowboy hat on your head, smiling smugly. you were smiling, adjusting the hat. you had no clue, and the thought just aggravated austin more. this guy really believed he was gonna take you home.

“oh, hell no.” austin muttered to himself, swigging the last of his beer and laying down some money on the counter before walking to the dance floor.

“austin!” you cheered, arms outstretched for him. he smiled tightly at you, moving his cold gaze to the man still touching you. without even looking at you, austin grabbed the hat off your head and l pushed it into the guy’s chest, making him take a few steps back.

“what the fuck, man?” he slurred, obviously drunk.

“don’t even fuckin’ think about touching her.” austin seethed, turning to face you. your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but you allowed austin to guide you away from the man.

“she wanted it, man! you saw her wearin’ my damn hat.” the guy called out to you both, austin stopped in his tracks taking a deep breath. “you can’t tell me she didn’t know the rule. a pretty little thing like that, she was asking for it.”

that pushed austin over the edge, turning around with his fists clenched. he face the guy, squaring his shoulders before punching him, a gnarly crack was heard and you gasped as the guy fell to the ground.

“austin!” you grabbed his arm, dragging him away from everyone. “what the fuck?”

his eyes never strayed from the man, his jaw clenched and eyes dark. he was huffing, chest heaving until you brought your hand to his cheek and his eyes softened as he turned his gaze to you.

“c’mon. we’re going home.” his voice was thick, accent barely peaking through. despite his hard exterior, his hand softly clutched yours to guide you out of the bar and into his old, beat up truck. he opened the door for you and closed it before walking to the drivers side and resting his hands on the steering wheel.

“are we gonna talk about that?” he ignored you, turning the key in the ignition and leaving the old bar in a cloud of dust. you sat silently, staring at your hands sitting in your lap. the radio was on playing an old george strait hit which did wonders to ease the tense silence between you two.

before you knew it, you had arrived at austin’s house. it was always tradition for the two of you to have a weekend together. your busy work schedules never allowed the time to hang out during the week.

austin threw the truck in park and took the key out of the ignition. you turned your head towards him, silently begging for an explanation. he nodded to himself before taking a deep breath and looking out of the window to avoid your piercing gaze.

“you know the hat rule?” he asked. his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“no.” you stated softly. despite living in the south all your life, you never really got into the whole ‘cowboy aesthetic’ you didn’t know many staple songs, you didn’t know all the line dances, and apparently there was a rule about a man’s cowboy hat.

“wear the hat, ride the cowboy? it’s basically… it’s basically a way for a guy to claim you without having to ask.” his nostrils flared at the thought of you with him. he couldn’t help but imagine his hands all over you, in places his hands should be. “i know you’re upset about me losing my temper, but you think i could just sit there and let him do that?”

“austin.. i didn’t know. you think i would’ve let him if i knew?” you scoffed, how could he be mad at you if you were clueless to their whole cowboy gang rules? “why are you so upset about it anyways?”

“y/n—”

“am i not allowed to be with other guys?” you were getting angry now. austin had always drove the men away that you even found the slightest of interest in, but you never understood why. he had his other girlfriends, though they’d never last long. after the breakups, he’d come running into your arms. he’d take solace in your presence and you’d comfort him in any way he needed. you’ve had feelings for him for all your life, but you never thought he felt the same. being his best friend was enough for you, but you were starting to hate that he never wanted you with any other guy except him. “you always drive away any man that breathes near me.”

“cause i like you!” he yelled, making you flinch. he sighed, grabbing your hand from your lap and turning to face you. “you have no idea how long i’ve been in love with you, y/n. i wake up thinkin’ bout you, i go to sleep thinkin’ about you. it’s- it’s a fucking sickness. every time i even think about someone else having you, i just— i get furious. i understand if you don’t feel the same way, but please, please don’t abandon me. i’ve gone my whole life with these feelings, i think i can manage.”

you were shocked, your eyes looked over everything about him. his freckles, his eyes, his plump lips, his nose, everything. everything that you’d ever wanted to hear from him just spilled from his lips. you didn’t know what to say or what to do. your hands were moving before you could stop them and grabbed the hat off the top of his head before placing it on yours, cheeks tinting pink at your boldness. you didn’t need to say anything because austin had already pushed forward to capture your lips with his. his sighed into it, this was everything he’d ever wanted and more. it was better than he imagined. he could taste your chapstick and he could smell the perfume you put on, slightly putting him in a trance.

austin’s hands found your waist, dragging you over to sit on his lap. you giggled as you accidentally hit the horn, throwing a leg over his. the tip of his hat was hitting his forehead and austin tipped it back on your head. his tongue traced against your bottom lip, a whimper from him that was muffled against you as his tongue massaged yours. his touch felt electric against you and you could feel his cock hardening through his jeans.

“let’s go inside, yeah?” you mumbled against his lips, breaths heaving and hearts pounding. he nodded, pulling the handle on the door. you expected him to put you down, but he just carried you to the porch, unlocking the door with one hand and the other supporting your bottom. he guided you to the kitchen where he set you down on the counter. your legs stayed wrapped around his waist as he brought his kisses down to your neck, licking, sucking, and biting the soft skin and most definitely leaving marks for you to admire the next morning.

you felt austin’s hands drift their way to the jeans you were wearing, unbuttoning them slowly and taking the zipper down. he pulled them down your legs, his fingertips, barely grazing you, left goosebumps on your skin and you hurriedly kicked them off your ankles and onto the kitchen floor. he leaned back to admire you for a second, cropped white tank top riding up with all the wiggling you were doing and letting him catch a glimpse of your stomach. he eyed your delicate panties, a bow at the hem that was driving him crazy and the wet spot over your core that had him nearly falling to his knees.

“so gorgeous, honey.” you blushed at his words, hands shielding your face from his eyes. “no, none of that.” he grabbed your hands and kissed your palms. you leaned up, capturing his lips again and you moaned when you felt his bulge grind against your clothed clit. the noises coming from you sent austin into a frenzy, leaning away from you again to undo his belt and his jeans, pushing them down his legs. he toyed with the hem of your panties, admiring the innocent bow once again, then tugged them down your legs at an agonizingly slow speed. you wanted him all over you, wanted to feel him, kiss him, love him. you wanted it all, and you wanted it now.

“god, austin. fuck me.” you heaved, back arching off the countertop in pleasure. austin laughed breathlessly, shaking his head.

“i’ve waited my whole life for this, i’m gonna soak it all in, angel.” your heart swelled at his words, you knew he was right. but you just had to argue.

“why take it slow? gonna have me for the rest of your life.” his head dropped against your chest, a groan coming out against the material of your tanktop.

“you’re gonna kill me.” he shook his head against you, kissing your clothed chest. he moved down, kissing the bare skin of your stomach just above your naval. you were squirming when he finally set his sights on your core and he laid his arm over your hips to keep you still. “such a pretty pussy, honey. all this for me?” his finger gathered the wetness at your entrance, pushing it into you and you bit your lip to contain the curses begging to spill out.

“all for you.” you said breathily, leaning up on your elbows to watch him begin to thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling the two digits to stretch you out.

“so tight.” he muttered before latching his lips onto your clit and sucking at the bud, your arms collapsed underneath you and you laid back on the cold counter. your legs wrapped around his head, ankles crossing behind his neck. the cowboy hat on your head tipped in front of your eyes as it hit the counter and you moved to take it off, but austin hummed around your clit, the vibration making you clench around his fingers. “leave it on.”

you moaned again, legs clenching around his head even tighter. your orgasm was approaching much faster than you intended, with his tongue doing wonders on your clit, his fingers moving in and out of you at a perfect pace, it was hard to hold back. he could tell you were close by your sounds, your movements, your core clenching his fingers harder and harder with every thrust. just as you were tipping over the edge, austin pulled his fingers out, leaving you a gasping mess. you whined, but it was short-lived as austin moved up to take the hat off your head and kiss you deeply, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to push you into him.

he couldn’t get enough of you, he felt crazy. he felt like a crazy, starved man. he knew once he got his fix, his hands, his mouth, his mind would never leave you.

“take me to the bedroom.” you whispered against his lips and he pulled you up, lips still attached, and carried you bridal style to the master suite. you giggled as he plopped you down on the soft duvet, your hair splayed behind you. austin smiled down at you making you blush and turn away.

“don’t get all shy on me now, princess.” he laughed, hand rubbing up and down in your bare leg. he stood straight and took off his jacket, leaving him in just a plain white t-shirt. you could see the muscles of his toned stomach through the material and you had to clench your legs at the sight. you leaned up, now sitting on your knees with him standing in front of you, and played with the hem of his shirt. “take it off if you want to, honey.” you bit your lip at the sweet name falling from his lips, raising the hem of his shirt higher and higher until it was thrown to the ground. you marveled at the sight of him. his chest, with hairs littered about, had freckles all over from days spent in the sun. his stomach was lean with abs that made your mouth water. but your favorite sight was his happy trail, hairs going from the bottom of his belly button down to what you wanted most.

“can i take these off, too?” you looked up at him through your lashes, toying with the elastic band of his underwear. he nodded, breathing heavily through his nose. you tugged the band down his legs and he kicked them off. his cock was a sight, the tip was leaking precum from the arousal you caused him and so, so pretty. the tamed hair around his pelvic bones made you ever wetter. your hand wrapped itself around the shaft and you brought the tip to your lips, kissing away the bead of his arousal. austin sighed loudly, leaning his head back. you went further down on him, but you couldn’t fit it all. you slowly jerked off what you couldn’t fit and bobbed your head around what you could. austin was a whimpering mess, hands finding comfort in your hair and, most likely, tangling it.

“god, i’m already close.” your eyes were watering as you took him deeper. a few minutes later, you felt him twitch inside your mouth and you picked up your pace. you looked up to see austin shaking his head before he gently pulled out of your mouth. “wanna finish inside of you.”

“jesus christ.” you moaned, laying back down on the bed. austin kneeled between your legs, jerking himself off for a second before finding your entrance. he looked into your eyes for consent and you nodded. he pushed in gently, eyes shutting tightly and jaw clenching.

“feels like you were fuckin’ made for me, angel.” he said through gritted teeth. once he bottomed out, you both let out a breath of pleasure. austin’s slow hands wrapped around the thickness of your thighs before bringing them around his hips, hinting that he wanted you to wrap your legs around him. you did as hinted, locking your ankles at his lower back as he pulled out ever so slowly and started thrusting a slow pace to get you used to him.

“faster.” you whispered, your hand reaching the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. he sped up, his cock hitting any and all angles inside you. you were a moaning mess against his lips, your heavy breaths mixing with his. your foreheads were pressed together and the eye contact between the two of you was searing and almost too much to bear. you lifted your hips to meet his quick thrusts, making austin whimper and tuck his face into your neck. “fuckin’ me so good, honey. you feel so good.” you praised, which apparently austin liked because his hips snapped roughly into yours, hitting that sweet spot inside of you. you moaned loudly and the sound reverberated off the walls and came back to your ears.

“want you to ride me.” austin groaned in your ear and you nodded against the side of his head, pressing a kiss to his cheek sweetly. he turned you both over, keeping his length inside of you. as you sat down against his thighs, he hit even deeper. your feet were planted on the bed on either side of his thighs and you started to bounce on his cock, moving your hair to the side to get it out of your face. austin leaned up, chest pressed against yours, and brought his lips to yours. his hands grabbed your hips and rocked you even harder against him. you pushed his head back, kissing his neck and leaving lingering tattoo kisses against the smooth skin.

your orgasm was already building, the coil in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter with every perfect thrust. your legs were getting tired and austin could tell, so he leaned up fully, laying you down and fucking into you harder. he felt you clench around him, driving him crazy.

“perfect cunt clenching me so tight. you close, angel?” he asked gruffly into your ear. you moaned in response, your nails scratching down his back and leaving bright red marks. “me, too. hold it for a second, baby.”

“c-can’t.” you stuttered, your legs shaking and eyes tearing up at the overstimulation. “i w-want you to cum inside of me.” you whispered to him. austin moaned again, biting the skin on your neck. his thrusts fell out of pace and his cock twitched inside of you. with just a few more thrusts, your eyes clouded over, your body shook, and your climax reached its peak. you locked your legs tighter around austin, holding him close to you so he couldn’t pull out. whispering sweet praises into his ear, he groaned and you felt his warm seed spilling into you and he fucked it into you further. he collapsed against your chest, hearts beating in sync and so full of love.

“i love you, y/n.” he kissed the bare skin of your chest, his cheeks blushing a rose color.

“i love you more, aus.” he leaned up to kiss you before he slowly pulled out. you whined, but austin pressed his lips to yours to muffle the noise.

“i know, honey. i’ll be right back. gotta clean you up.” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose before disappearing into his bathroom. you could already imagine the ache your body would feel tomorrow, but right now? all that mattered was that your boy was finally yours. he belonged to you and you to him. it was perfect.

the waiting, the pining, the yearning, it was all worth it to you, because now you finally had him and you knew neither of you would let the other leave your arms ever again. and all of this… just because of a dumb cowboy rule.

[ivestas]

the lady of crime alley

Summary: Jason had heard rumors of a woman who ruled Crime Alley and all of its underworld connections, so he pursues her for a favor. 

Tags: jason todd x fem!reader, canon typical violence, unedited

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: i’ve been on a red hood comic binge and i always thought his narration was corny in the best way, so i hope i was able to emulate that through this fic hehejejjejehe (also i use ‘tugging at your pigtails’ as a metaphorical descriptor, not an actual physical attribute of reader!) alsoo, please send some batfam requests! 

Jason had heard murmurs of the woman who was the true ruler of Crime Alley and all of its underworld connections. 

At first, he dubbed it a win for feminism, because women too can be major players in crime worlds! 

But then it got annoying real fast, because for some reason, you were real good at hiding your trail; every turn he went, the moment he thought he caught a glimpse of you, you were gone moments later like ash in the wind. 

It took him five of your men and his a few hours of continuous beating to get the vaguest clue of where exactly you resided; he spent the rest of the week nosing his way through that misty trail, his irritation growing by every second he had to march down Gotham’s shittiest streets, and it didn’t help that his red hood hardly had any breathing holes. 

He was trying to keep his cool—he really was!—but the more you seemed to toss at him your half-starved homeless men at him, the more brutal the remnants of them became. 

“God fuckin’—jesus, just tell me where the lady is!” He spat. “I just have some questions, that’s all, why does she keep sending you guys—“

“We’re telling you nuthin’, that woman’s an angel and you ain’t gettin’ yer dirty mitts on ‘er!” The man—a ragged, gaunt-looking guy—heaved, blood pooling out his mouth. "You’ll never see ‘er—!” 

“You just wanna talk?” 

Jason’s head snapped up, hand still wrapped around the man’s throat. 

In the warehouse which he had 'accidentally’ beat everyone half to death, a woman stood at the entrance. Though it was night, the moon was bright enough for Jason to make out some of her features. 

She’s easy on the eyes.

Suddenly, all the pent up irritation that had been writhing under his skin dissipated. 

He’s a sucker for hot women. 

“Hey,” He rose from the man’s body, standing tall. “You must be the ‘true ruler of Crime Alley’ or whatever—it’s a bit of a dumb name, don’t you think?” 

You were silent, face scrunched. 

“Jeez, tough crowd—”

“What do you want, Red Hood?” You sounded mildly annoyed, as if he’s just some pesky kid tugging at your pigtails or something. 

You took a step forward into the warehouse, arms crossed. “Talk. You have my attention now.” 

“Oooo-kay, great! So, I kind of need help with something—a favor, if you will,” he raised his sword. It was busted and dull, practically just a dented piece of iron than an actual blade. “I need a replacement for this—” he grinned. “—And all the information you have about Black Mask and his connections with Joker.” 

“...are you dumb?” 

“What?” 

“Do you actually think I’m some ruler of Crime Alley? You weren’t joking?” You laughed, eyes wide. 

“You’re not?” 

“No! I’m not the fucking ruler of anything! Come on Red Hood, is critical thinking not your strong suit?!” 

“Hey, hey, c’mon lady, go easy on me—“

“I’m just the woman who gives the people here a place to stay! That’s it! Is this the reason you’ve been up my ass?!” You scowled at him. Were you a model, because you even made pissed look delicious. “Beating up a bunch of homeless guys ’cause you thought I was a fuckin’ mob boss or something?—yeah, mob boss of the homeless? Seriously?"

He raised his hands. “Okay, when you word it like that, I feel dumb.” 

“You are dumb—anyway, do me a favor and stop beating up the guys here? Please!?” You hissed, your hands balled into fists. “Because I’m the one that fixes up their wounds and I don’t have the money to keep buying gauze and shit.” 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll lay off—though you coulda just have talked to me earlier?” He muttered the last part but you somehow still heard.

“You think I’m gonna go talk to the ‘Red Hood’? The guy that kills on his free time?” 

He sighed dramatically. “Touche—and it’s for a good cause! I only kill people that—“

“Yeah, yeah, don’t list me your commandments to be on your fuckin’ hit list, God you’re annoying.” 

He laughed. “I have a feeling I’ve pissed you off—”

“You beat a bunch of guys I take care of half dead. Pissed is hardly covering it.”

“—and you know what? I don’t like pissing off pretty women—I said it! I don’t like it. So, I humbly apologize.” He swept his leg and arm in unison into a grandiose bow. 

You scoffed, going to one of the unconscious men and pressing your fingers to his pulse. “I only accept apologies in cash.” 

“Oh, okay, that’s much easier,” making his way to you, he tugged off one of his blood-soaked gloves and rummaged his pocket. A couple hundred dollar bills were in there. 

He extended them to you. “These enough to soothe any hiccups?”

You carefully moved the unconscious man to the ground. From the pockets of your giant jacket came a small bag with a bottle of antiseptic, bandages, and a bunch of other shit. 

You then looked at him, brows furrowed. “That’s... a lot of money.”

“Is it?” 

“Yeah? Do you have enough money for yourself?” 

Jason stared at you for a moment before barking out a harsh laugh. That earned him a frown. “You’re worried? About me?” 

“No, I just don’t want you to beat some person up for their money if this is all you have—“

“Baby, I’m rich, I shit gold bars, just take it.” 

You glared at him for a second before snatching the money, shoving it into your pocket before tending to the man. Pushing up his shirt, Jason saw his body was covered in lacerations and bruises. 

Jason whistled. “Damn, didn’t think I was that strong.” 

“Fuck off.” You sprayed some antiseptic. The man groaned. 

Jason sat. He should be going off and looking for more trails of Black Mask, but he didn’t really want to—not right now, anyway. 

Even if you’re not some mob boss or whatever, you were still intriguing, and he’s a curious guy, he can’t help but want to watch you some more. 

However, he was quick to notice how stiff you were under his gaze.

His head tipped to the side. “Hey, do I scare you?” 

You ignored him, running a rag along the guy’s body. Blood stained the white cloth instantly. You lifted the cloth and looked at Jason. 

“This is the worst you could do. Beat someone. Maybe flay them. Then they die.” 

He hummed. 

“So when you say ‘scare’, I assume you mean the idea of you beating me or whatever—killing me, or torturing, your shit.” Your eyes went back to the beaten guy, continuing with the cleaning. “You don’t.”

“If that’s the case, then why’d you avoid me?” 

“Because I had shit to do, that’s why.” You unraveled a gauze. “Not everything’s about you—eugh, I can’t lift him, hey, since you’re just sitting here, help me a little—yeah, just like that, thank you,” you swept the gauze under the man’s back then brought it back up. You repeated that motion. “But yeah, not really scary. Death is just—well, death.”

Jason nodded along. You were weird. 

He liked weird. 

When you were done, Jason put the man back down.

“Well, I gotta go now, duty calls and all.”

“Okay.” You got up, moving to the next guy. 

“Bye?” 

“Just leave.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[eetherealgoddess]

Hi! I love the way you write Kazutora and I'd like to request this specific brain rot I've been having about a female reader getting mugged by him and accidentally dropping and shattering her phone before she can give it to him, so he forces her to make up for the time and money he just lost, if at all possible with ar knife or gunpoint :)

Can’t believe I never thought of this even though I think of pervert Kazutora all the time. Also I think you meant noncon by “forcing her to make up for time and money,” so that’s what I wrote. Hope you enjoy!!♡︎♡︎♡︎

ꨄHow to Survive a Mugging ꨄ

Oneshot - Slight Yandere Mugging Au

Hanemiya Kazutora x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

How to Survive a Mugging

Your hand trembles as you attempt to pull your phone out of your leggings’ pocket while the knife is held against your throat from behind. You had just been going for a walk, something you haven’t done in a while. You had walked for at least an hour in total, ready to go back home for the day. Deciding to make a shortcut, you went through an alleyway so you didn’t have to walk back in the same long direction you took from the beginning. Unfortunately, cutting through an alley was one of the biggest mistakes you had ever made.

The arm wrapped around your waist tightens as you fidget in the stranger’s grip, the breath on your ear intimidating as the sharp object is held against your neck. You hadn’t brought your purse so you left your wallet at home. Considering you had no money on you, the only thing you could give the mystery man was your phone, something you hadn’t wanted to give. So when you grabbed it you purposefully dropped it to make it look like an accident.

“Shit!” He hissed against your ear.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m just really scared!” You cry out as he turns you around and shoves you against the wall. You stare in shock at the beauty on the man’s face, as well as his hair that is messily pulled back. His expression holds a stoic expression as the knife is against your throat once more, his other hand planted on the wall beside your head. You could only eye him with discomfort as you glance at your shattered phone. Fortunately, you’ll be able to transfer whatever you need into a new phone, content with not having given it to the stranger. Your eyebrows furrow when a smirk forms on his face.

“You did that on purpose.” His eyes shift to your chest before they run down your figure. He makes eye contact with you before he releases a chuckle.

“You’ve wasted my time. I should kill you.” His smile drops, giving you a cold look as the knife touches your skin. You flinch as you swallow against the cold object. You could already see from where he had used it on someone else, the dry blood that stained it prominent. Your heart pounds against your chest as your fingers fidget against your palms.

You thought about fighting back but you had no clue how to. You were terrified and ashamed at how weak you are as an adult woman. You knew the dangers yet you’ve been too lazy to learn how to fight or at least have the resources to take a few classes. You thought about pushing him away, though you run the risk of your neck getting sliced, so you stay in place.

He pulls back from you slightly as the smile grows on his face. He drops the knife to his side as he stares at you, his tattoo prominent against his neck.

“Wanna make it up to me?” He teases, a thumb caressing your cheek as his palm rests against your cheek. You don’t respond, seeing where he’s going with the statement.

“Get on your knees.” You shake your head.

“Please don’t make me do this!” He only chuckles as a hand meets your shoulder.

“Your begging only makes me want it more. Knees.” He demands with a close eyed smile. You had no choice but to comply.

“Pull it out.” You angrily unzip his pants as well as yank them down, tears threatening to fall in humiliation. He grabs your hand with the hand that isn’t holding the knife.

“Woah there, relax.” He chuckles. “I’ll slice your hand off if you’re too rough.”

You remove the erection from his underwear. A hand on your chin forces you to look up.

“Treat it like it’s yours, yeah? Any teeth and you’re dead. Understand?” You glare at him while nodding your head.

Leaning in, you drag your tongue along the mushroom top, circling it as you taste his precum. His hand rests on your head as he bites his lip. You ease his head in as you suckle the tip, him eyeing the lips surrounding his cock.

“Fuck.” He whispers under his breath, slightly thrusting his hips forward to ease the rest of his cock in, your lips meeting the base as he moans. He pulls your head back until the tip is at the edge of your lips before pulling you back to his base. His mouth is slightly parted with a red hue on his face, orbs eyeing you under heavy lids.

“Look at me.” You comply as you bob your head back and forth, accelerating your speed as you give your all in an attempt to finish him off fast. The squelching sound echoes through the alleyway, a mixture of saliva and cum dripping from your mouth as you take him into your throat. Your hands grip his thighs as he thrusts into your mouth. His head falls back before he thrusts harder, bringing his attention back on you when he looks down.

“Yeah, just like that baby. Take this dick.” He whispers as his hand grips your head. Your eyes shut as his thrusts become overwhelming. Fingers pinch your nostrils as your eyes shoot back open.

“I’ll fucking smother you with my cock if you don’t look at me.” He chuckles with a dazed expression. “If you wanna breathe, you better listen.” He says before releasing your nose and placing his hand back on your head. Tears stream down your face as his grip tightens, fucking your mouth harder as his hips thrust against your face. Moans leave his mouth as his body tenses, golden eyes narrowed at your own orbs.

Your nails piercing into the skin of his thighs causes him to groan louder, the sting mixing well with the warmth around his cock.

“M’ gonna cum.” He mutters before shoving his cock into your mouth, holding it in place as semen shoots down your throat causing you to swallow it all. You grunt as you try to breathe normally again once he releases your head and pulls his cock out of your mouth. He demands you to put his pants back on, watching you with amusement. He leans over, the tip of his knife poking your chin forcing you to look up at him.

“You’re my new cockslut. Let’s get your phone fixed since we’ll need that to talk.” You look at him with confusion.

“I-I thought you were gonna let me go.”

“I never said that.” He puts his knife away. “Let’s go.” He grabs your wrist, forcing you to get up from the ground.

[pez3639]

Help all i can think about is the Berzatto Family and White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes. It’s literally so depressing.

More thoughts below the cut :)

I was following the pack all swaddled in their coats

As the youngest, Carmen was used to just following his family. Sugar in front of him, then Michael, and sometimes Donna. He watched his family from the back of their heads. He watched what they did and tried to follow them the best he could. That was his identity for so long until he became a chef. All he based himself on was his family because he could never truly escape the chaos of them. He didn’t know who he was but he did know that all he had to do was follow them. He wanted to be like Michael until he wasn’t allowed to work with him. Then he trailed off. He went away, trying to piece himself together, but it didn’t work. He was still following Michael. He true passion was, at its heart, making his brother proud. He followed Michael until he was pushed away. In his attempt to find himself, he just cemented his need to make his brother proud. He was alway following them.

With scarves of red tied round their throats; to keep their little heads from falling in the snow

The scarves is what they held closest to themselves. For Donna it was her own self loathing. For Sugar it was her constant anxiety. For Mikey it was his substance abuse. Carmy didn’t have that. He was wide eyed and could be read like a book. His family kept their ways to protect themself while he was bare. He had nothing to shield him from the biting cold of life. Nothing he could use to hide behind. His family used their problems to keep their heads up. They weren’t allowed to show their struggles. Michaels had become so hidden that it took his life from him. His drug addled brain was what kept him warm in Chicago winters. Donna had the fire of hatred. And the boiling pot of fear protected Nat from frostbite. But nothing could stop Carny from struggling in the freezing temperatures of his mind and world.

And I turned round and there you go

Carmen had had enough. He was tired of being submissive and having fingers cold to the touch. He couldn’t stand watching his family march on all while he shivered. So he went the opposite direction and picked up a chefs coat on the way. He never had a clue to where he would end up until he set his sights on the culinary arts. If he couldn’t be someone in the outside world, he could lead a pack inside the kitchen all while being warmed by the fame of a stove. It was here where others began to watch the back of his head. It’s where he ignited his passion but also sparked the same habits of his family. He hated himself. He was constantly in a state of fear. He could always taste birth tobacco at the back of his throat no matter how many Michelin meals he prepared. His family watched him drive away only for him to crash and burn. But Michael and Nat couldn’t save him from the wreck. He pushed them so far that they huddled between themselves without Carmen.

And Michael, you would fall and turn the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime.

Carmen looked back from the wreckage of his life to only see Donna and Natalie. There was no Michael. There will never be another Michael. He shot himself. Carmen didn’t know what fueled it, but he knew Michael was gone. Not gone like his father, no. Gone for good. He put a big red stain in Carmens brain that can’t be washed away no matter how many hours he spends scrubbing at it. The blotch speed further and further as time went on. He skipped the funeral. He inherited the forsaken restaurant. He found Michael’s note and the hidden money. The blood will continue to spread until it overflows into his soul. He still has Natalie and Donna and sometimes Richie. But there is no more Michael. Only a gunshot and his body becoming covered with the cold Chicago snow.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I’m so sorry i couldn’t get this out of my brain until I wrote it. Please do request anything you’d like to hear. I’m gonna try and start a full length x reader fic for carmy soon. I hope this hurt you as much as it did me. thanks pookies <3

[hazelsmirrorball]

My Girlfriend is a Werewolf II | Hazel Callahan 

Pairings: werewolf! Hazel Callahan x fem! Reader 

Summary: People are going insane trying to kill the new werewolf in town due to the fact they have a big bounty attached to their head. Y/n desperately needs the money but Hazel is a little defensive of the fact that the trio wants to kill a werewolf.  Warnings: death, blood, werewolves. Not proof read. Sorry for any mistakes, English isn't my main language.  a/n: Part one and two back to back!!! Something for halloween! Hope you guys like it! I really love reading ur comments, they really make my day <3

part one

The news that Y/n L/n had become an orphan spread like wildfire. News outlets covered the pair's death, getting to the point where there dead bodies were the cover of various news articles and news reports. It was a constant reminder to Y/n that her parents had been brutally killed and it was a constant reminder to Hazel that she killed her girlfriend's parents. 

Everywhere she went she could see the scared and lifeless eyes that looked at her, their screams as they begged for mercy kept her up at night. When she tried to get her thoughts onto something else she thought of her beautiful girlfriend and how her sweet innocent eyes resembled her parents. How she was the cause of her misery and her pain. Hazel had promised she was going to protect Y/n forever not be the reason for her suffering. Hazel knew that if Y/n found out who killed her parents they were done, the last piece of sanity she had would be gone forever. The only thing that actually made her human was going to slip out of her fingers. 

 People started to assume that the wolf that killed her parents knew about Y/n’s plan with her friends, it was like it was giving a warning to her family. Y/n felt guilty, like it was her fault that her parents were dead. Hearing those rumors made her think that maybe it was a warning, someone at school knew about their plan and how they wanted to kill the wolf to get the money. Hazel was right, she didn’t need to cross that territory, even if she was in desperate need of that money. 

Y/n had been devastated, she hadn’t left the comfort of her house for the past two weeks not wanting to see her reality. She found herself searching all over the house for clues or something to ease her pain. She had gained the courage to enter her parents room finding all types of weapons near a pin board table rested against the bed. Y/n spent the whole day reading the notes her parents left picking up the bits and pieces that they got wrong perfecting them. Y/n her hand hovered over each of the weapons deciding what was best for her vengeance. 

Her parents were dead because of that damn monster, and that piece of shit was going to pay. Y/n was going to kill that werewolf with her bare hands and nothing and no one was going to stop her. So she found herself at the school parking lot watching from afar how Josie, PJ and Hazel were in a conversation. Y/n took their appearances in as if she forgot how they looked the past two weeks. PJ and Josie look normal, maybe a little tired because of the lack of sleep but aside from that their familiar bruises from the fight club was still apparent. Y/n’s eyes turned to Hazel, she looked like she hadn’t slept in months. Her hair was barely brushed and her eye bags were dark. Hazel looked completely unhealthy mirroring Y/n’s appearance. 

Y/n walked towards them placing the duffle bag harshly on top of Hazel’s car making the three girls jump. Y/n harshly tried to open the duffle bag as PJ looked at her on edge. 

“What the hell, Y/n? You can’t sneak up on people like that. There’s people diy…” PJ stopped herself quickly knowing that even for her she was going too far. She let out a long sigh and walked towards her to pull her into a hug but Y/n pushed her away pulling a gun out of the bag. Both Josie and PJ fell to the floor while Hazel's eyes stayed glued to the floor not wanting to face Y/n. 

“What the fuck, Y/n! Since when do you own a fucking gun” Josie exclaimed looking up from her arms. Y/n pointed the gun down while waiting for the girls to stand up. PJ and Josie hesitantly stood up wanting for Y/n to say a word. 

“I found this in my parents room. The bullets are filled with wolfsbane. Wolfsbane is like this herb that will burn and weaken a werewolf. If it reaches their heart it kills the werewolf. It’s like their biggest weakness” Y/n said while showing the bullet to her friends. Josie and PJ stared at the bullets while Hazel looked at Y/n worriedly, knowing where this conversation was going to start. 

“But why did your parents have wolfsbane? Were they hunting your parents or..?” Josie started but Y/n shook her head passing her some letters. She let out a sigh as she placed the gun inside the bag once again. Hazel looked in the bag inspecting everything that was inside while the girls looked at the letters. 

“My parents were thinking about killing the werewolf to get the money. They had been doing research ever since the first killing. I guess they stopped for a while but when they saw that in a few weeks they were going to take away our house they decided to say  fuck it to the plan, which got them killed.” Y/n said, while playing with her lips. Hazel looked up from the bag closing it. 

“So what do you want to do? Take all those things and kill that mother fucker?” PJ exclaimed while smiling maniacally but before Y/n could even agree Hazel stepped in shaking her head. 

“Are you guys fucking insane? What the hell is going to get you guys to drop the werewolf thing. It’s killing people and you guys aren’t professionals, forget that damn money and stay home” Hazel exclaimed angrily, taking Y/n by the arm making her look at Hazel. 

“Oh, that’s easy for you to fucking say Hazel” Y/n replied dryling staring directly in her eyes. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean” Hazel inbetween gritted teeth as her grip on Y/n’s arm became tighter. 

“News flash Hazel not all of us had money coming out of our asses when we were born. Now if you don’t want to be helpful than fucking leave, Josie, PJ and I will go take care of that werewolf while you stay inside like a little pussy” Y/n said taking her arm out of Hazel’s grasp and sending a glare her way. Hazel let out an unhumorous laugh turning towards Y/n. 

“Go ahead, get killed like your parents.  See if I fucking care, at least now you’ll be with them in better conditions than right now” As those words slip out of Hazel’s mouth she instantly regretted it. Y/n’s face fell as PJ let out a gasp. Before Hazel could even get out a river of apologies Y/n took the duffle back and headed away from the parking lot, leaving the three girls frozen in their places.  Hazel saw as Y/n bodies disappeared into the wilderness in front of them knowing how the night was going to be. 

The cold airy night breeze hit Y/n’s bare skin as she looked around the forest. She hated how vulnerable she felt knowing that being here meant that a few feet away from her was where her parents got killed and surrounding her had to be the werewolf that killed them. Y/n placed her duffle back down as she pulled the gun out circling the area around her. She was getting her revenge and the money. She was going to live the happy life that her parents wanted her to live. She will live near a beach with Hazel and her friends. All she wanted was to be happy. 

Her thoughts got cut off by some branches breaking behind her, she slowly turned with her eyes closed, the fear finally clicking in her body. She fluttered her eyes open seeing the wolf in front of her. It took slow steps approaching her, different from all the news articles that said they were violent and vicious. To her it looked like a cute puppy getting to know their new owner instead of a vicious monster that had killed her parents. 

As it got closer to Y/n she didn’t hesitate pulling the trigger while closing her eyes. When she didn’t hear anything come out she looked inside noticing that there were no bullets she desperately searched for the duffle bag but all she could feel were the branches and leaves surrounding her and in an instant she felt her body being completely pinned down against the floor. Y/n started hyperventilating as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Y/n looked into the werewolf's eyes. Hazel was right, she should’ve listened to her. 

Before Y/n could scream for help the yellow eyes that glow in front of her changed into a familiar pair of blue. The once big weight that was on top of her as she saw how the vicious monster turned into her beautiful girlfriend. Y/n noticed how Hazel sent her a small smile but instantly she pushed her away not wanting to look her in the eyes. Hazel noticed that look, Y/n was disgusted, disgusted by her. Hazel slowly reached for Y/n hand but she quickly backed away in fear. 

“Don’t touch me, Hazel” Y/n said barely audible but thanks to her super hearing Hazel was able to hear her. 

“Please don’t do this, Y/n. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise” Hazel replied as tears started forming in her eyes. She started to get closer but Y/n quickly picked up a silver knife covered in wolfsbane showing it to her making Hazel stop dead in her tracks. 

“Don’t you dare get near me. I won’t hesitate to stab you with this, Hazel” Y/n said while closing her eyes in pain, not waiting to see who really was the werewolf that people had been searching for months. 

“I swear I am not going to hurt you, Y/n. Please I love you, I would never do anything to hurt you” Hazel exclaimed loudly as she looked at Y/n with sad eyes. Y/n let out a dry sarcastic laugh as more tears spilled from her eyes. 

“You would never do anything to hurt me? What about my fucking parents. They are dead and it’s all your fucking fault. I’ve been blaming myself these past few weeks trying to find a way to get revenge of that wer- on you. You killed my parents Hazel. How do you care about me and would do anything to keep me safe. You are a fucking monster” Y/n yelled picking her things up as she held onto the knife tightly. Hazel stayed in her spot seeing how Y/n walked even further. All she could hear was the faint noise of Y/n words repeating what she said. 

Hazel Callahan was a monster. 

previous part

...

thank you so much for reading

[elli3luvs]

I had this random fic idea where reader and ellie go to a spiritual/metaphysical shop. ellie finds it so cute how the reader is so excited about buying books and crystals. the crystal reader really wants is a little pricey so she decides not to buy it but ellie goes back for it 🫶😭 (sorry for this horrible explanation but if ur looking for ideas i thought this was a cute one)

a/n: thank you for requesting!! i did this in headcanons i hope that's okay <333 i absolutely love going into the crystal shop that's near me even though i have no clue what anything really is haha so this was fun to write!

ellie would have zero clue what you were talking about when you mentioned a "crystal shop"

she was like ???

but anything for you! so she loaded you up in her car, buckled you in, turned on the loudest music ever, and drove through the city to get you to where you wanted

she really enjoyed the vibe of the store, the plants and incense burning was 100% up her alley

ellie took a couple interior design notes as she walked around

you were bouncing off the walls excitedly touching the crystals that were out and then pointing at the ones that were on display

"this is rose quartz, it's the crystal for love!"

ellie would furrow her brows and say, "you don't need that, though. im right here."

like!!

you just roll your eyes, "but it's pink?"

ellie just crosses her arms knowing she can't win if its pink

you looked around some more but a stone caught your eye

it was behind a glass display so it was more expensive

it was a hunk of lapis lazuli and it was gorgeous, the light caught it perfectly showing how it sparkled

you were staring at it for a full minute before you turned to get ellie's attention (who was looking through the sapphic love spell book btw)

"ellie look at pretty that is."

she is also intrigued by it, "woah... how much is it? that would look good on our mantel."

you tried not to get giddy at how domestic that sounded while you looked for the price tag behind the glass

when your eyes met the number your blood went cold

"holy hell, it's 2,500."

the two of you gawked for a bit at the absurd price until you decided to take your smaller stones to the register

bye bye to the stunning lapis lazuli... until you met in a different life

well that's what you thought

until you came home a week later to the exact crystal sitting on your mantel with a proud ellie staring at it, hands on her hips

"whaddya think?!" she exclaims, eyes twinkling

you punch her shoulder but it wasn't even hard enough to make her budge, "i think you are insane!! that was a horrible financial choice."

she laughs, "money is fleeting but a huge chunk of.... lapel lachuli? now that... that is forever."

ellie didn't even know the name of the crystal but all she knew was you looked at it a little too much

that's all she needed to know