#I deserve to be locked up for my crimes actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samsno1 · 11 days

Note

Hi, idk how often you do requests but could you do a mid season Sam fic. The reader is with the FBI with the unexplained cases and she meets the brothers. It would be funny if they tried to convince her that they are also with the FBI and she somehow catches them in their lie. They work together in the case and Sam and the reader end up falling for eachother. Thanks you so so much!!!!

Caught

Sam Winchester X F!Reader

this took me so long to write i'm so sorry. i don't reeeeally like the ending but i did the best i could. i hope this is what you expected bby <3

Summary: You were assigned a complex case and you end up meeting two very weird men who were, apparently, also FBI agents but...why are they named after famous rockstars?

Warnings: FLUFF, descriptions of murderer, murder scenes and violence (usual supernatural shenanigans), sam is an 'intimidating woman enjoyer™', use of Y/N, the writer (me) has no idea how fbi works because she isn't an USA resident, NOT PROOF READ, english is not my first language

W.C.: 8,8k

enjoy!

You had climbed the ladder in the world of criminology considerably fast considering your age. Getting into the FBI in your late 20s was probably one of your biggest achievements and, of course, men tended to make disgusting comments about how such a young woman got such a difficult job – including claiming you opened your legs to get this far. You didn’t mind, actually, it added to your ego to be above those guys – as if they even deserved to be in a job that required empathy towards the victims.

Still, even your superior was shocked at the case he found. A couple had been killed inside their room without any signs of forced entry. All doors and windows were locked and nothing inside the house had been stolen; the bodies seemed to be torn apart from the inside out since there were no knife or bullet wounds and he put you on the case. He thought you would have the abilities to deal with something like this – ‘you’re a prodigy’ he had said – and the guts. The crime scene was absolutely vile; there was blood everywhere and their faces had the skin peeled off to the point their cranial bones were visible. You had seen some stuff, but nothing like this.

The first thing that you did when you got to town was talking with the local police so that you’d learn more about the town’s history with murderers – especially the unexplainable ones. They told you something close to an urban legend: the house that the couple was renting was cursed according to the locals. Decades ago, three kids got killed by their parents in rage, who committed suicide afterwards. They never found the kids bodies and the case went cold after a few years, the police giving up on finding their remains. You found that absolutely unacceptable, giving up on children like that should be a crime, but it wasn’t up to you. Ever since the assassination, every person that rented or bought the house died in unexplainable ways and the police had started to practically ignore or do the bare minimum on the case.

“We’ve been having problems with that house for years” Said the sheriff, a man with a grown out beard, deep eyebags and average height. Not what you would expect for a sheriff given his dismissiveness towards you and the mess his office was. “The previous sheriff also received complaints from townsfolk regarding the place but we could never find out anything. There were no clues, no suspects, just…nothing” He finished, his arms waving around tiredly.

“This is probably why they put the FBI on the case” You said to yourself, guaranteeing the man wouldn’t hear you. You took notes on your notebook, your legs crossed as you sat in front of the sheriff, his table between both of you. You could sense his eyes on you and feel his unasked question floating around in the air. “Anything else, Sheriff?” You asked, looking up from your notes.

He seemed to wake up from his thoughts, shaking his head lightly at you. “No it’s just…Why do you need three FBI agents to work on this?” He asked, on edge, a worry line prominent in his aged face as he squinted at you. Three? You furrowed your eyebrows and leaned back on the chair, closing your notebook.

“I’m not aware of the other two working alongside me” You say. You thought about what your boss had told you and didn’t remember him saying anything about partners, especially two. You usually worked alone most of the time, functioning better on your own. Then again, this was a difficult case, maybe they thought it was better than one federal agent working on this.

“They came by earlier today, asking about the same house and the murderers. They were tall, one of them was…very tall and had long hair. The other one was less serious and, honestly, unprofessional. I think they said they were agent Page and Plant” The sheriff filled you in and now this seemed like a joke. You raised an eyebrow. You had a peculiar taste in music considering it was the 2000s and your father barely listened to anything further than the 90s, resulting in you growing up to know most of the rock bands that were at their highest from the 60s to the 90s. That included Led Zeppelin. And it would be too big of a coincidence for both guys to work together with last names such as those.

“I’ll talk to them about the case, thank you very much Sheriff” You say, raising yourself from the chair and extending a hand to politely shake his. You walked out of his office with a question in your mind and thought about looking up Page and Plant on the database to see if anything showed up when you got to your room tonight. For now, you had to take a look at the crime scene while it was still daylight.

–

Your car’s engine died down as you turned the key. You opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, adjusting your suit over the white button down you wore underneath. You shoved your car key in your pocket and, when you looked up, you saw another car that easily stood out from the others around the street – a black Chevrolet Impala which you couldn’t guess the specific year just by looking. It was a very beautiful car and you secretly praised in your mind whoever owned it – it seemed well taken care of.

You walked to the crime scene, taking your badge in hand to show it to the police officer that took care of the place when you saw two men, also in suits, talking with one of the officers – two tall men, one had longer hair. The officer approached you as you got closer and you simply showed your badge to him before he nodded and lifted up the ‘crime scene’ tape for you to go underneath. You ducked down and mumbled a thank you as you made a beeline towards the two guys.

You wondered what you were going to say and how you were going to question them about their identity without seeming like you’re assuming anything. As you walked closer, they were finishing their conversation and were turning to leave making you almost bump right into them. They stumbled back and you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Who are you?” The shorter one asked you and you took the badge out of your pocket again with a sigh, making sure he reads your name and sees the picture of you that clearly stated you were a federal. He hummed and looked towards his partner, a silent conversation going on between them. You interrupt.

“And you?” You ask and they get their own badges out. You extend a hand to the taller one, silently asking you if you could take a look at it. He gave it to you willingly, which was one less red flag to take into consideration. You looked through everything and it all seemed alright…until you looked at the name on the bottom. Jimmy Page. Is this serious? You look up at them with a judging look and you see the tallest swallow harshly. “Your parents were big Led Zeppelin fans I assume” You say.

“Yeah, yeah they– ha– they were” Jimmy says in a way that’s not believable at all, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The shorter one closes his eyes and shakes his head discreetly in disappointment – which doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You give Page his badge back and turn to – apparently – Plant.

“I didn’t know that I would have partners in this case, but maybe it’s for the better. What did you find out about the case? Just so we are on the same page” You look between both of them. Plant nudges his partner in the ribs and, before mumbling somewhat of a curse to Plant after practically jumping in place, Page starts to explain to you about their side of the investigation. He seemed professional enough, with a notebook in his hands as he told you everything they could make up from what they knew so far, even sharing with you his assumptions. You were impressed as you started telling him about what you thought – a weird case, too many murders, few clues…Plant stayed quiet most of the time until about halfway through your conversation he said he was going back to his car and you took that as a hint to call it a day.

“Well, I think we are going to work well together, Agent L/N” Page says with a polite smile and you nod, smiling yourself. You took one of your cards where your professional number was written on along with your name and offered it to him. He gently took it from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Just in case you have anything else to share” You said and he nodded, a strand of his hair falling over his face, which he mindlessly put back with a brush of his hand. “It was great meeting you, Agent Page”

“You too” He said and, sensing the end of the encounter, you started to walk back to your car. You still couldn’t shake the thought of those two being too suspicious for your liking and you were determined to look them up and see if Agents Jimmy Page and Robert Plant actually existed. You walked fast, your heels knocking against the concrete and you didn’t notice Page’s eyes on you, lost in the movement of your hair as you walked away. What woke him up from his trance, though, was his partner honking and signaling for him to hurry up. He rolled his eyes and walked to his own car, stealing one last glance at you. You turned your head back right on cue, giving him a polite smile and a small wave. He awkwardly waved goodbye back and started to walk to the honking Impala.

You had assumed the unknown car belonged to them and you had written down the plate in your notebook discreetly – just in case. You were impressed by their ability – well, Page’s ability – to analyze crime scenes but you weren’t stupid. You couldn’t just erase the fact that you had no idea who those two were and you were determined to find out, one way or another.

–

Meanwhile, in the Impala, Sam got inside the car in the passenger’s side, almost hitting his head on the roof – like he did most days. Dean was impatiently waiting for him to get in until he saw something clasped in his brother’s hand, his eyes quietly scanning the white paper. In Sam’s distraction, Dean reached for it before he could react. “Hey!”

“You got her number? Wow Sam, never thought of you like that” Dean teased as he looked through your name written in cursive writing and your phone number right under it. Sam snatched the small card back from his brother and shoved it in his pocket, glaring at Dean.

“Shut up man, this is her professional number, she gave it to me so we could talk” He defended as he put his seatbelt on. He mindlessly brushed a hand through his hair again, getting it out of his face as he heard Dean chuckle to himself as Baby’s engine roared to life. Sam looked back to his brother and waited for more teasing to come – as it always did.

“Yeah, talk.” He said, the double meaning in his words floating around in the air but being ignored by Sam. Dean pressed his foot on the pedal so the car would start to move as he shifted into gear. “Besides, she’s an actual FBI agent, don’t you think she’s going to suspect that we aren’t?”

“Dean, I did go to law school, I can manage my way out of this” Sam said with a mischievous smile. He really thought he could, he knew he was smart and he was a damn good liar – he lied in college for a very long time about who he was and what his family did. Not something to be proud of but it came in handy, especially when both him and his brother were in trouble. He had practically lied his whole life about who he truly was, not entirely giving away specific details – especially those who involved his family. Sometimes he regretted it – like he did with Jess – but it was always safer not to know, for both parties. Or so he thought.

“Don’t think she’s stupid–”

“I don’t think she’s stupid–”

“Let me finish” Dean scolded, raising a hand to silence his brother, his eyes still on the road. It was often funny to pay attention to their brotherly behavior and how anyone could know who was the oldest just by these simple interactions. Dean raised his hand and Sam silenced, listening, like how it was when they were kids. “Don’t think she’s naive, she is in the FBI, working alone on a case. I don’t know much about federals but I’m sure that’s not for everyone”

Sam stayed quiet. He knew Dean was right but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Still, he really didn’t think you were stupid, it was impossible to. The way you talked about the case in detail, relating your point of view and what you could gather in a few hours was more than enough evidence to show him you deserved this job more than anyone. He wasn’t used to seeing women in this field, but everytime he did he was convinced that men were definitely unfairly placed higher. Yet, he still didn’t want to get arrested again so he needed to convince you that he and Dean were legitimately federals.

The conversation drifted away in another direction as Sam stared out the window and replied to the small talk Dean made with him every now and then – when he didn’t crank up the volume once Metallica came into the radio playing Creeping Death while they were talking. With a chorus of ‘Die, die!’ being sung by Dean while he beat his hands on the steering wheel to the drum rhythm, Sam’s mind drifted away and he fell asleep with a head against the window, the tiredness of sleepless nights catching up to him.

–

These fuckers. You thought to yourself as you stared mouth agape to the pictures of who you learned were actually Sam and Dean Winchester – not Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. Two brothers, presumed dead a couple years ago.

Your coffee sat cold over the wooden table of the hotel you were staying the night at. You had already changed into your pajamas and taken a hot shower when you decided to take a look at the case again. Two hours later you remembered the two men you encountered and, when you looked a bit deeper in the police files, the results were horrifying. It actually wasn’t that hard to find out about them, a quick look through the FBI database and you found their exact faces – even if Pag- Sam’s hair was relatively shorter then now. You were beyond pissed, especially at yourself, how could you not have known this? How could you let yourself get played like this? Just because the tall guy was a bit of a nerd and kind of cute? Ugh!

You started pacing around your room, not knowing what to do. Confronting them could kill you, they were murderers after all, according to the database, they had killed civilians and federal agents equally as much. You were strong, both physically and mentally, but there was no way you were escaping two guys that were over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds each. You had to play smart, you had to catch them in a weak moment and then. Bingo. You stopped in your tracks and – like a lightbulb lightened up above your head – you had the perfect plan. You had to wait until the next day for you to execute it but it was going to be worth it. You sent their mugshots to your phone through your e-mail and any other evidence that you could use against them.

You still felt slightly weirded out about them. They didn’t seem dangerous, they didn’t freak out the moment they saw you and they were confidently adding to the investigation with actual useful analysis. You were looking deeper through their files and found out they lost their mother in a fire at a very young age – the youngest wasn’t even one year old yet – and their father had died a couple years ago, in ‘06. They had a pretty sketchy life, living off stolen credit cards and fake identities but something interesting you found out was that Sam Winchester actually went to college, he went to Stanford and your eyes widened at that. You wondered what made him quit, maybe his father dying and his brother needing him, maybe he got kicked out, still, going to college after having a childhood like that was more than impressive.

You kept reading about them until the late hours of the night and you only noticed you fell asleep over the papers you left on the table and your computer when a phone ringing startled you awake. The noise echoed inside your head and, as you lifted your head, the sunlight getting into the room through the curtains hurt your eyes. You only noticed how bad you’d slept when you felt a pain shoot through your neck and down your back as you turned your head to look for the phone – great. You groaned and felt around the table with your hand until you felt the square shape of the device and its humming. You clicked to answer after slightly clearing your throat so you’d seem less sleepy and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello, Agent L/N speaking”

“Hey Y/N, how are things going?” The voice of your boss made you unconsciously straighten your back and swallow harshly. You looked at the time on your computer and your heart fell to your stomach. 11:36AM – shit!

“Hey Sir, everything is running smoothly. I’m currently collecting evidence and later I’m going to the morgue so I can look through the autopsy”

“That’s great, you always do a great job kid” He said and you could feel him smiling on the other side of the line. You felt bad for kind of lying but you had been worrying about other stuff last night.

“Thank you Sir, I’ll report back to you as soon as possible” You reply.

You talked for a while longer as you disclosed the case and, when he finally hung up, it was already past noon. As you got ready for your day, doing your daily morning routine as quickly as you could, you felt your stomach rumble when you got out of the shower, reminding you that you hadn’t had breakfast. You decided then that it was better to stop at a diner or somewhere so you could eat something to go on with your day – since it was already lunchtime you couldn’t necessarily call this brunch. You finished getting ready, putting on your shoes and grabbing the keys to your car while you looked up the closest place to eat something quick.

You drove to the nearest diner that had a decent rating and stopped at the parking lot. When you looked around, you couldn’t believe your luck – or rather the lack of it. The infamous Impala was parked a couple meters from you in all its glory. You audibly sighed but you couldn’t just find another place to eat as quickly, besides, you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Maybe eating at the same place as them was actually a good strategy. You grabbed your wallet and locked your car, confidently walking towards the diner entrance.

The bells dinged above your head as you got in, some eyes looking your way with the noise – including Sam’s. Him and his brother were sitting in a booth in the far corner of the diner, Sam turned in the direction of the door and Dean facing away from it, in his brother’s direction. Sam had his laptop open in front of him as he ate a salad, Dean was eating a burger. Thay had probably been talking before you came in because when you came through the door Sam went quiet as he looked over his brother’s shoulder and Dean kept talking, hunched over his food. You couldn’t listen to their conversation but you gave Sam a slight smile and a nod, your stomach turning as you faked sympathy, as if you didn’t just friendly greet a murderer. He nodded back and that's when Dean slightly turned to look behind him and see you, nodding as well.

You started to walk towards their table, the weight of your hidden gun on your hip more than evident. Just keep calm, you were trained for this. You decided to keep to yourself that you knew their true identity, after all, you were one step ahead of them and, deep down, you knew they could be useful. Their intelligence was beyond impressive – faking your death wasn’t something easy to do. You stood above them with a gentle smile.

“Hello agents, mind if I sit with you?” You asked as politely as you could. Sam scooted almost instantly, changing the placement of his laptop to the side of the window. You didn’t miss the eyebrow raise his brother gave him.

“Hey Ms. L/N. No, not at all, make yourself comfortable” He said, smiling at you. He has dimples you mentally stated.

“Yeah, please” Dean agreed, stretching a hand to the seat beside Sam. His voice was slightly muffled thanks to the food in his mouth and you internally cringed as you could see the chewed food when he talked.

“Thanks. No need to call me by my last name, you can just call me Y/N” You simply said as you sat down, looking almost immediately to the computer screen open in newspapers that dated a couple years back. Murders in the same house all with the same time frame from each other. “I see you work even while you were supposed to be on your break, careful not to burn out Agent Page” You said, looking at his side profile. He seemed embarrassed as your sweet voice got to his ears and awkwardly laughed.

“You know…you don’t need to call me Agent Page, that is just an alias, call me Smith, Sam Smith. That’s Dean Wesson” He said. Huh, claiming aliases, smart move Winchester. “And yeah, I’ve been taking a look at the history of the place, apparently–”

“It’s timed killing” You finished. You scooted slightly closer, pointing your finger to the screen where the date of the newspaper was written at. “Every two years on the same date someone was brutally murdered in the house.”

“Yeah and inside the same room too” Dean pointed out. That you hadn’t noticed. A waiter coming to get your order interrupted the conversation you three were having to get your order. You quickly looked through the menu deciding to eat the quickest and most nutritious stuff there could be at a diner. You thanked the boy that took your order and he walked in long strides towards the kitchen. You came back to the talk you were having with the two brothers and Dean continued. “The master suite. And always couples, someone seems to hate true love” He joked.

“Apparently. Have any ideas for suspects yet?” You asked. If you were going to play pretend you might as well acquire some useful information with it. The boys shared a look between them that they thought you wouldn’t catch, but you weren’t FBI for no reason.

“None yet, still looking into it” Sam said, suddenly seeming on edge, shifting his placement on the booth. You were good at reading body language, it was one of the main qualities that got you in the FBI, interrogating criminals was easy exactly because they couldn’t lie. When you learned their behavior and played your way into their head it destroyed them because even if they were silent, even if they didn’t say anything, you knew what they were lying about – flinching when you mention a certain name or changing the leg they were crossing under the table when you named an address. So, Sam couldn’t hide from you earlier, imagine now that you were inches away.

“Really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and turning your torso slightly more in his direction, leaning your elbow on the table. He was trapped. You thought about confronting them here, questioning them about their identity in public but you thought better – they definitely had guns on them and two beats one. Either way, you’d put him in a challenging situation, confronting him without even disagreeing verbally. He felt intimidated and now seemed unsure of his own conclusion – how you loved playing these games.

“I mean there’s barely any clues” He laughed nervously. “I was going to call you to see if you had any idea”

“I don’t either, as you said, no leads” You said. The waiter arrived with your food right then and you politely thanked him, drifting away from the conversation you were having with Sam as you started to eat. This time you weren’t paying attention and Dean questioned Sam with a look. What is she on? And the youngest shrugged. You swallowed your food with a pleasant hum, just now noticing how hungry you truly were. “I was thinking we could go to the morgue, if you haven’t already. Take a look at the bodies, see if we find anything”

You were purposefully playing right into their game, faking cluesness and at the same time taking advantage of their abilities to solve the case. It was more important to you to solve whatever was going on to bring peace back to this town than to arrest the brothers who were supposed to be dead. You’d learned that men tended to believe that you were stupid very easily, that you had no idea what you were doing and you started using that to have your way with them. With big doe eyes and feigned innocence you could get very far.

“That’s where we were going later actually. It’s good if you tag along” Sam tells you.

“I would even if you didn’t want me to” You said, joking, but not really. Your tone was humorous but your smile was bitter. They didn’t seem to notice though and Sam even chuckled slightly at your sarcasm. You noticed the dimples in his cheeks and how boyish his smile was, full of bright white teeth and sincerity. You almost felt bad for being rude until you remembered they were killers – even if they didn’t look like it. Sam didn’t seem the type to brutally murder someone, Dean seemed too stupid to be able to get away with it for so many years, even faking his own death and walking around normally – you’d bet he was the one with the idea to put the name of famous rockstars as FBI aliases.

By the time the conversation was over, so was your food. You left enough money for the bill and a tip and stood up from the booth. “Okay, well, let’s go, we have a lot to do today boys” You said, adjusting your suit, unnecessarily dusting it off. You eyed Dean’s plate, the mess he made similar to how a child would eat. You would have laughed if you were in a more friendly situation. You looked at Sam and with a smile you said: “Don’t be late pretty boy, I’ll be waiting for you”

Then you turned around, politely nodded goodbye to Dean and started walking away, holding back a laugh. Sam stood still, stunned as he stared at you walked out the door, the bells above you ringing twice – one for when you pulled the door, the other after you let it smoothly close behind you. Dean was staring too, his bright green eyes filled with confusion. Once he turned to look at Sam he saw his younger brother completely zoned out, looking in the direction where you once were. He snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face, who immediately looked at Dean.

“Pretty boy?” Dean questioned, holding back a smirk as Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dean…”

“She’s got you man. I get it, strong and intimidating women, I understand, I understand”

“That’s not it, she seems…off” Sam points out, looking at the door once more to make sure you wouldn’t come back and leaning closer to unnecessarily speak in a lower voice to Dean. “I think she might be an it, the monster we are looking for”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

“The way she’s acting is, I don’t know, weird”

“Look Sam I know you’re not used to having women hit on you but that doesn’t mean they are monsters” Dean teased, Sam gritted his teeth.

“Dean, I’m serious!”

“Okay, alright, we are going to investigate then” Dean said, raising his hands in fake surrender to his brother’s scolding. “But it doesn’t make sense to me. Didn’t we consider it to be a vengeful spirit?”

“Maybe, or maybe we are dealing with something completely different”

“Alright smart-ass, but if you’re wrong you owe me a six pack”

Sam scoffed but he wasn’t one to turn down any bet. He had thought your behavior was weird the moment you stepped foot in the diner. The questions you asked, the way you would constantly question his abilities, there was something going on and he could sense it. Besides, he liked betting with Dean, especially winning, so there was no way he wasn’t accepting his brother’s challenge.

“Deal” Sam said, hitting his palms against the table and standing up, ready to leave and go to the morgue. Dean followed his movements and stood up with a cheeky smile, taking out his wallet to pay for the food.

–

At the morgue, you waited about 5 minutes until they arrived. When they walked up to the entrance you were waiting at, Sam and Dean saw you in a much more serious state as you read through your notes and made annotations here and there. The noise of their footsteps made you look up and put your little notebook back in your pocket and place your pen behind your ear. You crossed your arms in front of your body and waited for them to get closer. Your heels were starting to hurt the bottom of your feet from standing too long in the same place and you were overwhelmed with different emotions – towards the men and yourself.

You weren’t necessarily scared of Sam and Dean, you were trained not to be, but it was never in your plans to be alone in a city with federal criminals, it would be downright ignorant not to be at least nervous with the situation. You were keeping yourself friendly without giving away any hint that you might know who they were, debating internally which would be the worst case: if you confronted them or stuck beside them for longer – what’s that say again? Friends close, enemies closer.

“Hey, Y/N” Sam called you and you turned your lips upwards in some-kind of a smile. He mirrored your expression and you caught his dimples again, your eyes wandering around his face. You broke the stare when Dean cleared his throat and, when you looked at him, he had his eyebrows furrowed, giving Sam a side-eye – more like a diagonal one, since, well, Sam was a big guy. In your own trance you hadn’t noticed how Sam was also looking at you like you were a beautiful piece of art – damn it, focus.

You also cleared your throat and that seemed to wake Sam up. “Hello Sam, Dean” You said, nodding to each “Shall we go inside? The longer we take the further the killer goes, come on” You turned your back to the and started walking inside the morgue. Dean waited until you walked further and held Sam by the elbow, making the youngest look at him in confusion.

“Stop that” Dean whisper-yelled.

“Stop what” Sam whispered back.

“Whatever your eyes are doing, I’m gonna puke if you keep that up”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You stop it, you’re reading too much into it”

“Hey, you are the one that said she might be dangerous and, honestly, you are kind of a monsterfu-”

“Dean!” Sam pushed his shoulder to shut him up.

“C’mon you were hypnotized, maybe that’s what she does, or you are just in love” Dean shrugged his shoulders, holding back a grin. He loved making Sam mad.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Let’s go now or do you have any other stupid remarks?” Sam didn’t wait for an answer as he followed the direction you went in. Dean mocked his brother, mimicking Sam’s words to himself in a high pitched tone and went along.

You were already putting your gloves on when they came into the room, the dead bodies laying before you - or at least what was left of them. The lower part of the couple’s bodies was covered beneath the pale blue blankets and both torsos were exposed. It was an awful sight and, if you were about ten years younger, you would’ve puked. Everything was dilacerated, they were practically disfigured, their faces barely recognizable. Huge gashes adorned their bodies that even cleaned up still looked absolutely vile. Behind you, Dean hissed.

“Wow” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, very brutal, whoever did this wanted them to feel the pain” You said, snapping the latex gloves against your wrist and grabbing the file about the autopsy in your hands. You skimmed through the words and placed it back on the table where it previously was, turning back to the bodies to see Sam already looking through them, Dean putting on the blue gloves the mortuary offered. You approached Sam’s side and crossed your arms as you watched him work, his hands roaming through the deep rips on the skin, he seemed to come to the same conclusion you did. “It’s not a clean cut, see” You pointed out and he nodded, turning to you.

“Yeah, the skin is–”

“Ripped, not cut” You paused “How can someone do this and just…get on with their lives?” You thought out loud. You discreetly looked up to Sam’s face to see if he had any reaction to your words, to see if his face faltered when you mentioned how psychotic it would be to keep going after killing someone, to see something, anything…

His face was blank.

“You’d be shocked at what…people can do” Sam replied. He seemed to hesitate before saying ‘people’, a hard swallow, a thought behind his eyes and you marked that in your mind for later.

“Sam, I work in the FBI too you know, I’ve seen shit” Maybe you were harsh, maybe you were just defensive or maybe the years of being brought down by men in your field made you snap at his words when they weren’t that deep. He seemed to catch on to your aggressiveness and stumbled over his words to try and reword his phrase.

“No– I-I know it’s just– I mean–” He couldn’t get the words out. You softened at that, noticing your defensiveness was, in fact, exaggerated. You chuckled at him and waved your hand dismissively.

“I get what you meant” You said and he seemed to calm down, giving you a slight smile. Dimples. Again. You turned back to the bodies in front of you and reached for your pocket to get your notes. You started patting with your other hand for your pen through the other pockets and when you didn’t feel the distinctively cylindrical shape of the object you started to freak out. Where’d I leave it…

Sam noticed your squirming and when he saw the notebook in your hand he knew exactly what you were looking for. He held back a chuckle as he watched you try your hardest to remember where the pen was, the concentration in your eyes almost touchable.

“Hey” Sam called and you turned your head to him. He reached his hand up, close to your cheek and you could sense the heat radiating from his body. You froze in place as you thought that you were caught, that Sam’s intelligence overpowered yours and he figured out that you knew who he was. Well, you were wrong. Sam caught the pen you had put behind your ear between his fingers and slid it off of it, watching as your hair fell back into place. You wanted to bury yourself whole inside the ground as you felt heat spread through your face. “Here” He said, with a cheeky smile.

You took the pen out of his hand, your fingers brushing lightly against each other “Thanks” You mumbled. You started writing away what you figured from the autopsy but you couldn’t get your mind off of how close Sam had gotten. The warmth that he emitted was captivating, comforting even. How could you even think that? You were a professional, what the hell! You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you had a job to do, lives to save. Sam was a killer, you put killers in jail. That’s it.

“Okay so…” Dean spoke up, breaking your embarrassment “...We can discard any murder with weapons like guns or knives, those can’t do…this” He made a face and pointed towards the wounds. You nodded in agreement as you wrote it down. When you looked up at them again they were sharing a look, having a full conversation without even speaking. You weren’t a professional in facial expressions but you could read the room, you were being kept in the dark about something. You decided against confronting them, unneeded drama in the current settings because, indeed, the longer you took to solve this case, the closer the killer was to killing other people.

“So, I have no idea if you already did but I didn’t look further in the room where the murder happened. I think I’m going to go back to the house and see if the local cops missed anything” You said, not waiting for an answer as you pocketed your notebook again and started taking off your gloves. You didn’t request their company as you were, first, still trying to figure out why they were so adamant about solving this case, second, you had to figure this murder out, and third, you needed to find a perfect moment to confront both of them. “See you around agents”

“See ya” Dean waved at you as you walked away, Sam didn’t say anything. You knew they were going to follow you, you felt their silent conversations lingering in the air as you left the room, discarding your gloves. In your head you could see them communicating with lifting eyebrows and shrugging shoulders – they were so obvious; and predictable.

–

“We are going after her” Sam said to Dean after he heard you leave. Dean nodded as he started taking off his own gloves, side eyeing his brother. Dean wasn’t stupid – he only acted like it – he knew that there was more than one reason for Sam’s eagerness to follow you.

“So…” He started and Sam knew there was something he might not like hearing coming. “Are you going to play the brave soldier saving the damsel in distress?”

Sam stopped and looked at Dean, absolute confusion adorning his features. “What?”

“Man c’mon, you can’t be thinking that she is the monster now can you? Look, I did the tests while you were…pining over her” Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean didn’t let him speak. “There was holy water in her drink at the diner, the utensils she was using were pure silver…”

Sam was shocked that his brother thought that quickly, he didn’t even notice…Okay, maybe he was infatuated by you a little too much.

“She could be a ghoul,” Sam argued as a last resort.

“Already looked her up, no one that has that beautiful face has died around here. I’ve looked through the FBI database too, she’s there” Dean said. Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the tiniest bit of relief knowing that you were really human. You were, in fact, beautiful, stunning even. Maybe Dean was right, maybe he did like you, a lot.

“Guess I owe you that six pack then” Sam said.

“Hey, I get the six pack, you get the girl, seems like a fair trade” Dean said, raising his eyebrows tauntingly with a cheeky smile on his face. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Either way, we have to go after her because if this ghost decides she’s next on its list, we need to get there before she gets hurt” Sam said in all seriousness as he started walking out of the room, going towards the exit. Dean followed suit, the Impala keys already on his hand.

–

They arrived at the house a minute or two after you. You were waiting in the house’s living room as you heard the rumbling of the old car’s engine. You had your weapon ready and loaded as you heard them open and close the door of the house. As soon as they turned the corner, you lifted your gun.

“Stay right fucking there! Don’t you dare move or else I’ll actually kill you, for good this time!” You screamed at them, gun in hand pointed towards Dean’s head. They widened their eyes and stopped all their movement. Sam opened his mouth to try and talk and you shifted the gun to point at him instead. He shut his mouth again and you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. You were fuming, anger making your hands shake lightly.

“Did you really think you were going to fool me? Who do you think you are– Better, who do you think I am?” They stood as still as a rock. “Sam and Dean Winchester” You said their names, venom running through your tongue as you did, your gun pointing respectively at each. “You better start talking or I’m popping your heads off, speak!”

“Okay, okay, look we can explain” Sam started.

“You fucking better”

“We are not dead” He said and you looked at him like he was stupid. “Me and my brother we faked our deaths but we had a reason, a much bigger reason”

“You killed people”

“We didn’t, at least not intentionally, we do the exact opposite, we save people Y/N”

“How? The deaths are there, if you are telling me the truth and really save people you do a terrible job at that” You countered. You admitted you only said this to get under their skin because if anyone knew that saving everyone was impossible was you, a federal agent.

“Put the gun down and we can talk” Dean spoke up, talking to you calmly and moving his hands slowly to try and reason with you. You were reluctant but something in their eyes, their actions towards you didn’t indicate any imminent danger. Maybe you were being stupid and, at the end, you’d be lying in a ditch, lifeless, left there to rot but you wanted to give them a chance.

“If you try anything funny I’ll claw your eyes out with my bare hands” You said and Dean, even shocked, nodded slowly – you were exaggerating but you felt the need to. You sighed and put your gun back in the waistband of your pants and saw the boys breathe in a deep breath of relief.

Sam and Dean exchanged those looks again and finally looked at you. Sam was the one you wanted to talk to, you felt deep, deep down that he was going to tell you the truth and that he was actually a good guy, that all that he did until now wasn’t just an act and he was really nice.

“Me and Dean we…We hunt monsters”

Well, now your hopes are shattered. What the fuck.

You just looked at him like he was clinically insane and waited for him to continue.

“I know it sounds crazy” Because it is “And it probably is but it’s the truth, we don’t think whatever killed that couple was a human, this is why there’s no DNA, not a single clue and why the case is hard. I assume you were assigned it because you are smart and a good agent but this is not your kind of case”

“It’s ours” Dean added and Sam agreed with a nod.

You were dumbfounded. They sounded so serious as they explained to you about the tons of different supernatural beings that existed, things you only ever heard of in fictional books and horror movies. Halfway through the talk you looked physically sick, your face pale and eyes dissociated completely and Sam quickly got a chair, ushering you to sit down. He was looking at you with such a guilty expression, like he felt bad for lying to you.

Once they stopped talking you spent a good five minutes absorbing it all as you stared at your hands folded over your lap. You thought you knew things, you thought you could solve everything, that all you needed to do was analyze everything to its minute details and you’d find a solution. Truth is, you were completely oblivious all this long, so many things that you had no idea existed causing trouble around the world, things worse than humans could ever be. You were an idiot.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked after a while, making you look up at him. “I know it’s a lot to process…” He said, carefully laying a hand over your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

“I’m going to be fine” You said harshly. Sam felt the slight disappointment in your voice and frowned as he looked down at you. He had seen tons of different reactions to ‘the talk’ but this one was one of the worst, where the person feels upset with themselves for not knowing about this sooner, the kind of reaction he saw mostly on authority figures such as cops and federal agents like yourself.

You stood up and his hand fell from your shoulder. You needed to make this right, paranormal or not, this was still your case and you were solving it one way or another.

“Show me how you do it” You said, turning to look at Sam. The phrase got Dean’s attention as well as a sudden tension fell upon the room. Sam looked at you with confusion “This case is still mine, I want to learn how to get rid of…whatever killed that couple”

Sam exchanged looks with his brother. “I don’t think this is a good idea Y/N, you can get hurt” He said. You rolled your eyes and stepped closer to him, less than a foot between the two of you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m a federal agent, you don’t get to tell me I’m going to get hurt when I literally hunt and kill people if needed” You said angrily pointing your finger at him accusingly “Your little Ghostbusters roleplay doesn’t scare me”

“Okay, can you two stop? Let’s get out of here and go study about the house to see if we find anything about someone who died here who might want revenge” Dean said, approaching and looking between the two of you. “Please”

–

After spending two hours in the nearby library you finally found something. The one responsible for the killings was someone named Alicia Meadows who died in the late 60s, not little kids – it seemed like even the own urban legend the locals passed around was wrong. She was a woman who lived in that house with her husband and kids. One night she found her husband in their bed with another woman and went crazy, killing them both with a shotgun and then shooting herself. Ever since then she’d been killing couples who stayed there, the trauma of the cheating made her assume that everyone who laid in that bed on the same date, every two years, she found her husband and his mistress was also having an affair.

You three soon found out where she was buried and, after the brothers explained to you and made you swear not to arrest them for grave violation, you were driving to the cemetery.

As Dean was digging up the casket you stood beside Sam. “Do you guys do this everyday?”

Sam looked at you with a smile. “No, sometimes we behead vampires too”

You looked at him wide eyed and chuckled. He laughed with you, his face looking ten times more beautiful under the moonlight and the fucking dimples, the damn dimples. Silence fell between you as the sounds of the night – and Dean’s digging – took over. You wanted to talk more, you wanted to know more about Sam because the little you thought you knew was actually a lie. He was nice and, according to the FBI files…

“You went to law school?” You asked him. He sighed. Well damn Y/N so much for breaking the ice, good job.

“I did but…I went back to hunting soon after, you can’t run from this type of job you know?” He chuckled dryly. It was clear that was a sensitive subject for him to talk about.

“If it helps, you would’ve made a good lawyer” You smiled at him. “Besides, you look great in a suit”

He seemed stunned for a few seconds, were you flirting with him? He didn’t get to figure out because Dean made a dramatic pained sound as he straightened his back, breaking the casket open. The putrid smell of death rose and you scrunch your nose. Sam helped Dean get out of the hole and started showering the bones in alcohol and salt and you watched as Dean threw his lighter in making huge flames rise up. You jumped when it happened out of shock and Sam held your shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back, the flames roared loudly with what seemed to be the anger of the woman.

Dean started gathering their stuff and you turned to Sam. “So, is this it?”

“Yeah…pretty simple actually” Sam shrugged. He looked at the fire and you could see the flames dancing in his eyes. You found Sam handsome ever since you laid your eyes on him but now, after a whole day by his side, the light touches you shared throughout the day and the care he showed towards you you wondered if it’d be too bad if you kissed him right now.

“Sam” You called him lowly and he turned to you. You stepped closer and you could see his hands clenching and unclenching by his side, as if he was holding back the urge to touch you. Your faces were inches apart and you could now see every little detail about him. The light stubble that adorned his face and the blush of red in his cheeks that you didn’t know if it was because of the heat of the fire or because you were this close.

You smiled at him and in that moment Sam couldn’t hold himself back. He closed the distance between the two of you as one of his hands cradled your cheek and the other was gently placed on your waist.

You let one of your hands place itself on his neck as you reciprocated the kiss. It was electric and warm, his soft lips over yours felt like a sweetness you didn’t know you were craving to taste. Your heart was beating fast and Sam slowly dragged your body closer to his with the help of the hand he placed on your waist.

When you pulled away you slowly opened your eyes to look straight into his and let out a stupid giggle – like a teenager after kissing her crush. Sam chuckled back as his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly.

“I've wanted to do this ever since the diner” He admitted and you bit back a smile.

“Really?” You asked.

“Really”

The moment was interrupted when Dean honked the Impala, impatiently waiting for you two to finish whatever you were doing so he could go back to the room and finally sleep. Sam showed him the finger as Dean yelled a curse back making you laugh at their stupid teasing.

“Let’s go Sam, Dean’s impatient. We can finish our talk at the motel” You said, your words full of innuendo making Sam turn back to you. You knew you got him when you felt his hand squeeze your waist for a moment before letting go.

“Oh yeah?” He said with a grin, looking down at your mouth and back at your eyes. You nodded.

“Yeah”

A/N: Likes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading XoXo

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spidernuggets · 4 months

Note

Hi hope you’re having a good/night can you do a Jason Todd x detective fem reader. She meets Jason , but she meets him when he’s red hood at a crime scene.

Jason Todd x FemDetective!Reader

"So you're the guy that's making my paperwork pile up higher than the Empire State Building."

"Christ, another one?" One of your coworkers said as the limp, dead body was zipped up into a body, and evidence collected and put away.

You shrug a shoulder, writing down in your notepad a list of suspects and witnesses involved in this new murder, which was also linked to other recent killings.

"Adam Matthews." You state the victim's name.

"Drug dealer?" Your coworker asks, looking at the substance that Matthews had on his person being bagged for evidence.

"Mm. He was a cook for a drug dealer who tested on homeless kids or orphans. But Matthews was also known for being an accessory for other murders, kidnappings, and was guilty for sexual assaults," you state, sighing, putting your notebook away.

Your coworker fell shocked. "How the fuck is he not locked up?!" He yells.

"Links with richies," you scoff. "Well, he's dead now. His long, overdue debt it now paid." You always believed these kinds of people never deserved a second chance. All the previous murder victims were similar to Adam Matthews. So, others may call you crazy, but you were thankful for this anonymous killer going out of their way, killing scumbags like Matthews.

"I'm going to scout around the area, Parks," you told your coworker as he nodded and went to discuss with the other officers around the area.

You shone your flashlight around the narrow alleys, searching for any clues or evidence you could use to help solve the crime and catch the murderer. Or in your eyes an anti-hero.

Just as you were about to turn around and return to the scene, you heard grunts and strings of profanity coming from behind one of the dumpsters.

Your hand hovered over your gun in your hip holster, walking towards the sounds.

You swiftly turned to see the source, hand on the handle of the gun, and saw a certain, outlawed vigilante leaning on the dumpster, holding his arm, his body stained with blood.

His helmet lay in between his legs, his domino mask remaining on his face.

"What the fu- Red Hood??" You exclaim.

"You mind?" He groans, holding his hand out, trying to avoid the flash shining in his eyes.

"Shit, sorry," you reoly, turning it off and placing it on your utility belt. Your head tilted to the side, seeing that Red Hood was struggling to wrap his arm up. "It's loose," you say, referring to the bandage- or rag that he was tying around his bicep.

"Wow, really? Didn't- fuck- didn't notice," he says, cursing once more when the bandage fell down.

You roll your eyes, crouching beside his and taking the bandage from his, unwrapping his arm and rewrapping it tighter as it should be.

"So you're the guy that's making my paperwork pile up higher than the Empire State Building." You mutter, tying the bandage to stay in place.

"Sorry, little cop lady. Just doing my job." He hisses.

"It's little detrctice lady to you. And I'd appreciate it if you made your little killing sprees a little more discreet. Eventually, the actual cops are gonna catch your ass," you snicker, getting up.

"As if I let them." He bites back.

"L/n. Where are you?" Parks says through your walkie. "Did you find anything?"

Red Hood gets up, putting his helmet back on, looking down at you, waiting for your response.

You click on the button to reply. "No. Nothing here. Coming back now."

The white glowing eyes pierce through yours as Red Hood chuckles. "Hiding a criminal? Haven't taken a look through the law book in a while, but isn't that illegal?" You couldn't see it, but Red Hood grinned, amised at this new encounter.

You shrugged. "I'm only doing this because I know I can't stop you, even if I wanted to. Besides. If these ass rat criminals kept scurrying around, the papaerwork would be much more than you're making." You smirk.

He laughs. "So you're saying you don't want to stop me?" He crosses his arms.

"Have a good night, Mr. Hood." You bid him goodbye, walking back to the crime scene.

"And to you too, little detective lady," he says, quietly hoping to run into again after he puts lead into the head of his next target.

"Jeez, I thought you died or something. You were gone for a while, are you sure you didn't find anything?" Parks quickly asks you.

You quickly wipe away the blood on your palms from Red Hood's wound onto your black jeans. "Save the interrogation for the suspects, Parks. Nothing there but dead rats and graffiti."

You walk off, almost missing the shine of a red helmet running off on the roof of a building in the distance as you smirk to yourself, also secretly hoping Red Hood would cause another casualty to meet him again.

Parks was about to walk off, too, almost missing the tiniest splotch of red on your white shirt as he raised an eyebrow.

I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE IT SO SHORT!!!

I didn't want to leave this ask in my inbox for too long and forget about it 😭😭

BUTTTT if you or anyone else wants!!! I can make a part 2 where Reader and Red Hood begin a constant meetup after every death Red Hood causes (only to those criminals who deserve it, obvi). And Parks becomes suspicious of Reader and threatens her or that Reader's job is put on the line!!!!

I was going to add this idea in, but I'm really bad at making long fics cuz I always wanna get it over and done with and I'm so impatient 😭

HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT ANYWAYS 🙏🙏

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runningfrom2am · 10 months

Text

i'll tell her you stopped by

happy birthday to one of the most talented, intelligent, hard-working people on this planet <3 kezie it is such a treat to get to be your friend and i’m so so glad we met and im just so lucky you picked me! you’re amazing and i hope you have the best birthday ever bc i know you deserve it :)

so, obviously, this one goes out to @keziahcore / @winterrrnight bc i love you so so much

summary: rafe just wants to hangout while you study- is that really a crime? (aka: three times he tried to sneak in while you were studying, and the one time he succeeded... kind of)

pairing: soft!rafe x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

tags/warnings: soft!rafe (bc ik how much you're a sucker for it kez ;)), highschool!au, established relationship, not much else? idk one mention of teen pregnancy (it's just mentioned, it doesn't actually happen lol) so stay safe out there y'all

a/n: this is doubling as my day seven for obx week bc it is a 3 times/1 time but i'm posting a lil early bc it's my girls birthday :)

masterlists // nav

requests

join my taglist here

One

The first time Rafe tried to sneak in to see you, you were studying in your room. Headphones in, you were absolutely dead to the world as your boyfriend took the classic approach of throwing small rocks up to your window, the stones dinging off the glass repeatedly with no notice from you. He tries calling, again, but your phone is still on silent. You didn't want any distractions- as much as you would have loved to see him, you were busy.

After about ten minutes Rafe is startled by the back door to your home opening, jumping back from the sudden sound.

"Rafe, you gotta go, buddy. You'll distract her. Head home." Your dad says, gesturing to the side of the house for him to go around.

"Yes sir. I, uh, I'll go." Rafe nods at him, giving him a quick salute before quickly heading for the gate.

Your dad sighs with a fond smile on his face, shaking his head as he closes the door again and locking it behind himself.

Two

The second time, a few days later, Rafe was coming to your house with a better plan. Making noise wasn't an option, so he had to be extra careful as he scaled the siding of the back porch, trying to get up onto the roof to reach your window. You shared fond memories of climbing out when he was over, when you weren't busy with exams, sitting on the shingles and looking up at the stars and out at the vast and infinite ocean. However, Rafe had never tried to reach your window from below before.

He made it up, just barely after almost falling no less than three times. He brushed off his knees and stood up, creeping past your parent's window towards yours. He can see you now, your room dimly lit with the flashes from Gilmore Girls playing on your TV and a candle flickering next to your bed as you sit there reading. He smiles to himself, almost there when he hears a window sliding open behind him. "Rafe, honey, is that you? It's late." Your mom whispers and he silently curses himself, quickly turning back to face her as she leans over the window's ledge.

"Hi Mrs. Y/L/N. How are you?" He asks, awkwardly glancing over his shoulder towards your window again.

"I'm well, Dear, but it's too late for you to stop by. Y/N has a test early in the morning, and she needs to focus right now." She smiles sympathetically at him. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, of course. I'll go home." Rafe nods, giving her a quick wave and watching his step as he heads back to the pillar he climbed up from.

"Hey, no, don't climb down that way. You'll fall and break your neck, come in and use the door." Your mom chuckles, stepping back so he can fit inside the window of her room.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you." He says, looking toward the light seeping through your window one more time before climbing in to follow your mom down to the front door.

"I'll tell her you stopped by in the morning." Your mom nods at him, gently closing the door behind him as he says a quick thank you.

Three

Maybe Rafe had been overcomplicating his break-in attempts. He realized as he drove home that night that night was that the one thing he hadn't tried, was using the door. Well, the back door. Which is why he was determined this time for his plan to work. Especially since your parents wouldn't be home. Although, they had told you not to have anyone over.

You had told him earlier in the day that you would be busy that night, and he knew that just meant you had homework. No harm in him joining you, he swore to himself that he would just be silent company, he was more than happy to watch Gilmore Girls again while you went over readings and notes from earlier in the week.

At this point, he knows where to step on your back deck in order to not make a sound. Or, that's what he thought. The light is on in the kitchen, and it's about eleven o'clock- no one should be up except for you anyway. With the first step he took onto the deck, the board creaked and his eyes flew up to the kitchen window to double confirm to himself there was no one there, but he was unlucky today. He makes solid eye contact with your big sister, now standing in the kitchen with a mug in her hand. Your parents must have asked her to stay with you while they were away- despite you being far too old for a babysitter.

There's a solid three seconds of eye contact before Rafe or your sister make a move, but it happens all at once when she breaks his gaze to look at the door, seeing it was unlocked. She looks back at him, and in a split second Rafe is bolting for the door as your sister drops her mug in the sink and sprints for the door, reaching it and turning the lock right as Rafe grabs the handle.

Through the glass she laughs quietly at him, shrugging and mouthing 'too slow' to your boyfriend on the other side of the window.

"Come on, this isn't funny." Rafe groans, pulling at the handle hopelessly.

"I can't let you in. I promised my parents, sorry." She shakes her head with a slight laugh.

"Please? I promise I won't distract her. I won't tell them. Come on." He begs, voice muffled by the pane of glass between them.

She shakes her head again. "Nope, she's not getting pregnant under my supervision. Not happening. Go home, she'll see you tomorrow."

"Ugh, fine. You're no fun, I get it." Rafe raises his hands defensively, stepping back from the door.

"Boohoo, Rafe. Go throw yourself a pity party at Tannyhill." Your sister mocks him, rolling her eyes with a smile and closing the curtain over the door as he sulks away back through the yard.

One

Rafe was so caught up in the idea of a romantic surprise to visit you late at night, throwing pebbles at your window or climbing up to it and letting himself in, even overlooking the idea that hearing someone walk in the back door when you're meant to be home alone may scare the life out of you. Another thing he hadn't tried was just asking you.

"Hey, can I come over later?" He asks you, walking you from his car up to the school.

You look up at him, about to nod before you think about it. "Well, I'd like to hang out but I think I should get ahead on my chem homework." You resign to answering, not pleased with it either.

"We can study together, like a date. Come on, it'll be fun." Rafe insists, slotting his hand into your free one.

"That's what I'm afraid of." You giggle, squeezing his hand gently and swinging them between you. "Studying isn't supposed to be fun, it's supposed to be productive."

"I can be productive." Rafe nods, smiling at you smugly.

You squint at him, unsure of how true that is. You give in anyway. "Okay, fine. I'll unlock the door for you."

"Yes! Thank you, it'll be good. I promise you won't regret it." Rafe smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek before dropping your hand to open the front doors of the school for you.

"I better not." You laugh, shaking your head at him as you pass him in the doorway.

That night, you crept downstairs after your parents had gone to sleep, and as promised, unlocked the front door. Nonchalantly, you walk into the kitchen to make a cup of tea while you wait for Rafe to arrive.

Rafe was already outside, having parked down the block and watching from behind the neighbour's fence to see when your silhouette would come down the stairs and up to the door, remaining only for a few moments before turning and walking towards the kitchen. He gives you a moment before throwing his backpack over his shoulders, and standing up straight ready to head up to the door.

You're just pouring your tea when you hear the front door crack open, quickly turning to go meet Rafe at the door so you can head straight upstairs- curbing the risk of your parents seeing him.

Rafe slowly, delicately closes the door behind him as you walk up, eyes drawn to the small handful of flowers he holds- freshly picked from the neighbour's garden. Your cheeks burn as he holds them out to you, smiling as you take them silently before gesturing for him to follow you upstairs.

Your mother let her book fall into her lap as she listened to hushed giggles and whispers coming down the hall, quieting as they faded away towards your room. She smiled to herself and shook her head, lifting the paper back up once more to continue from right where she left off.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @lovelyxtommy, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn,

#rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #obx x reader #obx imagine #obx #obx fic #obx netflix #obx fanfiction #outer banks

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salaciousdoll · 1 year

Text

Walk Away- Mikey Sano

━━ ༉⁩༊ Pairings : Manjirou Sano x Fem!reader, Rindou Haitani x Fem!reader

━━ ༉⁩༊ Encapsulation : Manjirou was tired of you and did the only thing he could think of, but was it worth the pain in the end?

━━ ༉⁩༊ Warnings : Angst, heavy angst, no comfort( for Mikey), cheating implied, vi0lence, small t0rture descriptions( not on reader), oc names Yasire’, chubby reader, black reader, overall just angst and hurt, everyone in Bonten doesn’t like you except Rindou and maybe Ran, Rindou is a sweetheart in this, Rindou has feelings for you, Divorce talk/ settlement

━━ ༉⁩༊ Word Count : 3.6K

( This is an old ass draft and I wanted to post it to clear out my drafts so enjoy the heartbreak 😉)

You loved Manjiro Sano so much that you put aside anything and came to his aid, but would he do the same? Yes and No.

You were laying down on the bed waiting for your husband. You honestly were getting worried because it’s 4 am and he never is out no later than 2 am. He did call you and say that he was heading to the club with his men and that you should get some sleep, but you couldn’t help but to worry about him.

You were watching the 4am news when suddenly you saw something you wished you didn’t see, “ Breaking news, there was a violent shooting around 2 am this morning, leaving multiple deaths and 2 wounded heavily, sources says this is the effect of the gang violence between Bonten crime organization and CG crime organizat-”, The news reporter says with visuals of one of the nightclubs Bonten owns. It was a terrifying sight to see and you had to call Manjiro.

Meanwhile in the Bonten headquarters, Mikey was getting his wounds fixed while Kakucho was beside him doing the same thing. This was the worst hit they’ve gotten and they just knew someone was a traitor, and Ran was the first to point it out, it’s usually Sanzu. Bonten was secured and locked with the safety of their own club, so why would their enemy suddenly attack them when they didn’t even make it known they were showing up to the club they least visit.

Mikey was on the phone with Yasire’, his ex- wife. She was the one he truly cared and loved this entire time. Kakucho and the others even liked her more than you because she actually helped him, meanwhile to them it felt like you were a show off type of woman. They knew he needed someone like Yasire’ and not you.

“ Are you okay, Manjiro? Do you want me to come over there?”, Yasire’ says into the phone, already getting her keys.

Mikey almost smiled at that and was about to answer when suddenly your name popped up and he just let it ring as the doctor was patching up his stomach. He felt sick of you and he needed you to get out of his mind and life because you were draining him and he didn’t even have a reason for why you were draining him.

“ Mikey?”, Yasire’ asks, wondering why he suddenly showed the expression of irritation. He smiled again once he saw her face and voice on the other side of the FaceTime call, “ Huh, baby? Right, what were we talking about?”

Sanzu happily answered for him, “ Invite her over, I want some of her snacks out of her bag, the other one doesn’t carry good snacks like Yasire’ does.”, Sanzu says, earning a heavy sigh from Rindou.

Rindou was the only one who thought that you didn’t deserve this. He honestly thought you were great for Mikey. Mikey always smiles and laughs with you, but then again he does that with Yasire’ too. Only with you his smile and laugh was fake, anyone could see that but you, it seems. Rindou also thought you had a funny and beautiful personality matching your pretty ass face and body doesn’t matter what size you are either, they all needed a you in their lives, Mikey just didn’t cherish what he has.

Mikey chuckled, actually chuckled before speaking, “ Come over, we missed you.”

Yasire’ smiled before saying okay and hanging up the phone. She knew about you and still didn’t care because why would she, after all you took Mikey from her and now she took him back.

Mikey smiled at the phone and couldn’t wait for Yasire’ to come. Oh, how much he loves her. God, he wished he would choose differently.

You, on the other hand, was on your way to Bonten headquarters after getting a text from Rindou saying that they’re all okay and that Mikey’s fine and was here at the HQ. You originally texted all of them and the others ignored you or blocked you, meanwhile he didn’t.

You honestly didn’t know why Mikey didn’t answer his phone. You suddenly remembered that he doesn’t kiss you goodbye or say that he wants to take you out or make love to you like he always did for these past few months.

Maybe he was cheating? No. No. No. he’s hurt right now and you’re thinking about that, what was your problem? Is this why he hasn’t been really speaking to you, have you become insecure about this relationship with him.

You scratched the thoughts out your head and continued driving to their headquarters.

Yasire’ was already there and was now hugging everyone, “ Oh, I missed you all, how did you all get caught like this in the first place, you look like hell.”

Ran smiled while pouring himself a drink, “ That's because we were fighting for our lives cherry head, why red anyways?”

Yasire’ was about to answer when she got pulled on Mikey’s lap making him grunt in the process because of his wounds, “ Mikey! Anyways, because I wanted to try a new approach, you like it, slick back?”

Everyone laughed at her corny joke while Ran held up his glass, “ That's up for your husband to decide, isn’t that right Mikey?”

Mikey huffed before nodding, “ Mhmm, you look so damn good, I wish I could see you everyday and everynight, instead I’m stuck with her.” The way Mikey said her was supposed to offend you , but the others felt the venom from that word and felt like he was talking to them.

Mochi chuckled, “ Damn, Mikey, you really don’t like y/n, huh?”

Mikey chuckled a little before rubbing a hand over his face, “ You have no idea, she adds on to my stress and doesn't even know it. She constantly worries and nags about me like shut the hell up and just fuck me. Shit! She can’t even do that right.”

The men and the woman laughed at his response. Yasire’ spoke up, “ Why don’t you just drop the bitch, if she can’t even satisfy you why are you even with her?”

Mikey kissed Yasire’ on her lips a few times before answering, “ Why can’t I be with you? I never stopped loving you and hated that she was a temptation I couldn’t resist, now I’m trapped with the most boring and weakest person ever. Believe me, I gave the bitch a hint but she doesn’t even see it.”

Everyone laughed until suddenly they stopped when Rindou got up and paused from where he was standing looking at someone with full remorse for something he didn’t even do. Everyone looked from where he was looking and gasped when they saw you with the most tired expression they saw on your face.

You didn’t even want to cry in front of all of them because you knew they were faking with you since the night of that party. He never even holds you like that so you just silently stared at every last one of them.

Yasire’ and Mikey were too busy gripping and kissing each other to not realize everyone got quiet. They didn’t notice until Takeomi spoke up, “ Why are you here?”

You cleared your throat and walked in further with your hairstyle and clothes slightly wet from the rain outside, “ I wanted to see if you all were alright, looks like you all are, nice to see you Yasire’. I’ll be getting my clothes out of your room Mikey.”

“ Oh, don’t bother, I threw them out, I paid for them didn’t I? So you could kindly walk back out of here. Don’t make this harder than it has to be y/n.”, Mikey says with his usual threatening and dark voice.

You stepped back before taking one last look around the living room and at everyone before holding eye contact with the sympathetic eyes of Rindou. You smiled at him letting him know you forgive him and it was not his fault.

“ Okay.”, You say before turning back and heading out the door and past security. Meanwhile, the men and the woman were cheering loudly as you heard Mikey’s last words, “ Don’t let that woman anywhere near this place again, understand? If she comes back, kill her.”

You felt it, you felt the salty tears coming out your eyes as you got in and started the car. You tried to get your tears out of your eyes before you started driving, so you sat there. Just like that, Yasire’ won after all these years. She never liked you since you met Mikey and supposedly stole him from her when in reality, they were broken up. You were neutral but her—she hated you.

You seen the glimpse of admiration in Mikey’s eyes when he looked at her in contrast to his dull black eyes when he looked at you. You thought you were helping him since he was back to eating like the old Mikey and his eyebags weren’t as heavy as they were. Turns out you weren’t the one helping at all, it was Yasire’ all along.

You pulled out the driveway when suddenly Rindou came out and everyone else came out after him and started waving at you in mockery. Meanwhile, he wanted to comfort you. He was closer to you than he was to Yasire’, he was going to call you later for sure.

You hurried and pulled off with anger, sadness, and resentment filled in your heart and tears streaming down your face. You tried to wipe them as you moved down the road. You stopped at a red light and collected your tears before an expensive car rode past since it was turning at the other light, firing bullets aimed at your car. They’ve been watching you since you came out of Bonten’s HQ. They didn’t know who it was in the car because of the tinted windows, all they wanted was revenge.

Three bullets hit you, one in your arm. Another in your side and another one in your shoulder. You thought this car was bulletproof since Mikey said it was, turned out he lied about that but why? Did he want you dead that bad? Damn!

The car pulled off and someone who was walking nearby called an ambulance for you. You felt like this was your last day on earth. What a shitty way to leave this world huh? When you meet with the afterlife, you gotta ask them why they chose this death for you.

You started thinking about your family and friends.

“ Y/n would you help me with this”, your mother says while cooking in the kitchen for your birthday. You almost smacked your lips because you honestly hated cooking with her, she’s too strict in the kitchen.

“ Get that paprika out of the cabinet and put it on this meat, when you put it on the meat, sprinkle just a good amount, not too much, not too little now.”, You mother says as you did what she told her.

Your little niece and nephew came running in the kitchen laughing and playing when your mother held up the spatula cursing them out, “ Let me tell y’all something, stop running in my goddamn kitchen, y’all better be lucky I didn’t put on the cake yet. Now, would you two please go sit down somewhere.”

You laughed at them playing and hitting each other while leaving the kitchen before your mother spoke up again, “ I tell you, those two act just like you and your brother and sister did. All three of y’all irritated the hell out of me, but I love you all to death. Always remember that.”

You heard a deep voice call your name, but you just wanted to keep walking to the end of the path where the light was until you suddenly got dragged back. In reality, you were now being carried to the ambulance truck with Rindou by your side with tears in his eyes while his brother called everyone else in the background.

You felt a hand reach for your hand as they strapped you to the stretcher and multiple sayings of “hang on” and “ I’m gonna be right behind you”. You knew the voice and wanted to smile but couldn’t because you needed to breathe.

Rindou felt like he couldn’t even think because you just got hurt by the enemy and Mikey or anyone else aren’t really believing it. The only reason he knew it was because his brother had everyone on speaker.

When he heard Yasire’ giggle, he lost it, “ Ran! Hang up the phone, there’s no use in talking to stupid bitches, now let’s go before I really put a hit out on Yasire’, I’m feeling murderous right now and she’s gonna be my main target and right now I don’t give a fuck how mi-”

“ Ok!”, Ran yells before hanging up the phone quickly. He smirked at Rindou, “ I knew you liked y/n, I knew it.”

Rindou ignored him and got in their car while Ran got in the passenger seat. He pulled off thinking about you and only you. Did he like you? Only time will tell now.

When Rindou found out you were in a coma, he went on a binge of drinking and partying. He couldn’t handle it, he wanted to tell you everything he’s been meaning to say to you the day you came back after the vacation that you and Mikey had. He could see the sadness upon your posture, but it didn’t match your facial expression which showed happiness and gleefulness.

Another thing he hated is when the guys talked about you in an I’ll manner in front of Yasire’ and other women they were around. He especially hated it when they did it in front of him too. He always leaves the room when Mikey speaks about you. He used to hide his words but later on, Mikey words became more bitter making him have to bite his lip in order to not get killed, so he just leaves the room.

He visits you everyday and was the only one to visit until now when he saw Mikey with flowers and the rest of the men he mainly be around behind him when he entered with his own flowers and stories to tell. He never told Mikey and the others anything about what hospital you were at, only his brother, which means his brother spilled the beans. He had to because of the look he’s giving Rindou now.

Yasire’ was nowhere to be seen because just a few days ago, they learned that she was the one who put the hit out on Bonten. She was working beside her husband from Bonten’s rival gang. She used Mikey and Bonten, but had to pay the price in the most nastiest way.

Her face was torn off and fingers were gone, Rindou was the one torturing her this time while her husband now has flies flying over his body from Sanzu torturing him while laughing at his pleas. Mikey was stunned that he turned away and left the room. He was double crossed and this is his first time too.

“ Y/n, look I brought these flowers for you. I was hoping you’d be awake, but you’re in a coma…Tell me Rindou, why are you bringing my wife flowers and hiding where she stays?”, Mikey asks prior to turning around to face an irritated Rindou at the entrance.

Mikey continued not even letting him get a word out, “ She’s mine. Don’t you dare think about getting with her or near her. How dare you try to hide her in a unknown hospital when we own the fucking hospital Rin, how stupid could you b-”

Rindou couldn’t respond because he was watching your fingers move and finally your strangled voice called out to someone he never thought you would say.

“ Rin.”, You say before Mikey eyes widened at his wife speaking, only calling out the wrong name. Everyone else sighed in relief when they heard your annoying little voice again. They may not have liked you but that didn’t mean they didn’t have some “respect” for you.

Rindou hurried and grabbed your hand as you turned your head to him with low and tired eyes, “ Rin? That’s you? Thank you for watching over me and talking to me. You were the main reason I held on for this long. By the way, how long has it been?”

Rindou smiled before sucking up his tears, not wanting to cry in front of his comrades and his boss, especially over his wife who he didn’t get a chance to divorce yet, “ It’s been two months, n/n.”

Everyone paused because he never called you a nickname before so why now. Did he have a death wish?

You tried to smile but ended up coughing, which made him hurry to bring the cup of water to your mouth, but you laughed because they were little coughs, “ God Rindou! I’m okay, I just need to breathe, slow down and sit down, I’ll talk to you soon.”

Rindou nodded before sitting down and moving his leg up and down anxiously. He knew he could either be turned down or shot for you. He didn’t want any of that.

You slowly moved your head to Mikey, “ You. Why are you here? You cause me this pain, look at me Mikey! Look!”

Mikey couldn’t look at you because he turned the chair to the wall and sat down, staring at it with silent tears. He couldn’t face you, not after putting you through hell and back.

“ And you all! Why the hell are y’all here, hmm? Did you come here to laugh or take pictures, which one?”, you ask, trying to keep your sentences short so you don’t have to do a lot of talking.

Sanzu being the smart ass he is spoke up, “ I mean we could have but then I don’t want anyone like y-”

Mikey stood up at the same time as Rindou and they both scared Sanzu because of the look they were giving him. Mikey pointed a finger to the door, “ Out. All of you!”

Most of them sighed before touching your covered feet or tilting their heads on the way out, meanwhile Rindou stayed where he was making his brother, who was the last one to stop to try to grab him. He suddenly snatched away from Ran and declared he’s staying no matter what. Ran sighed before stepping out and closing the door— standing right beside it just in case anything goes down between his brother and his boss, Mikey.

Mikey gave Rindou a stare that had malicious intent and you could feel it, so you spoke up, “ What could you possibly say that he can’t hear?”

“ Y/n, let’s not do this and just come home with me.”, Mikey says, taking your hand.

Rindou laughed before speaking up, “ How dare you? How dare you act like you care about her just because the other girl slipped up and fucked you over. Now you want to come back to her.”

Mikey snapped his head to Rindou, “ I’m speaking to my wife! Are you going against me!” Rindou did nothing but laughed until you spoke up, “ He's Not going against you, Mikey. Rindou, baby, can you step out for a minute? I’ll yell if he tries to strangle me while I’m at my weakest.” It was a joke but Rindou took it seriously while Mikey's facial expression dropped in disbelief and sadness. Did you always think he’ll do that to you? And why are you calling Rindou baby?

Rindou smiled when he saw you nod your head before stepping out with a smile on his face at the word baby until he was slapped in the back of his head by Ran, who was shaking his head at his little brother.

Inside the room, You and Mikey stared at each other in utter silence.

He was about to speak when you suddenly spoke before him, “ I want a divorce!”

He was stunned as he gulped down his fear that was laced as spit, “ Y-”

You shook your head, “ No, don’t argue, just agree and get out. It’s for my mental health and I refuse to be with someone who treated me like shit because let me ask if she would’ve never betrayed Bonten, would you still be with her?”

Mikey tried to walk to you but you held up your hand, so he spoke instead, “ Y/n, plea-”

“ Manjiro shut the fuck up and answer the fucking question!”, You yelled in anger and exhaustion.

Mikey gulped before looking away and nodding his head confirming not only his answer but his divorce too. He was letting you go because he knew he was bringing you pain when you said your final words to him.

“ Great! That’s all I needed. The divorce papers will be sent to your office. Goodbye Mikey, it was a glorious ride, now see yourself out please and send Rindou in.”, You say not caring about his hurt expression.

Mikey slowly trudged to the door and opened it but not before stopping to say one last thing while Rindou was standing at the door opening, “ Have a good life y/n, you were the one who made me happy all this time. I was blinded before and now I’ve gotten my happiness taken from me again.”

He then looked at Rindou with hatred and admiration in his eyes, “ Take care of y/n for me, Rindou.” On his way out he thought heavily about you and Rindou. He wanted to know what was so special about Rindou, he found out while sitting on the bench outside the hospital with tears in his dead eyes : it was the love and care he gave you that he couldn’t give you. He will always hate himself for giving you and Rindou the chance to love each other, but it’s for your own good.

━━ ༉⁩༊ Tagging: @dejwrites @eiflawriting @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @bontens-angel @bontensbabygirl @celi-xxmoon @ushijimasslut @Nalyana @cryingchild83 @mikeys-gf @anyahlator

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x black!reader #tokyo revengers angst #mikey angst #mikey sano x reader #rindou x reader #rindou haitani #rindou haitani fluff #fluff #angst #black!reader #fem reader #chubby reader #anime men x reader #anime men #anime x black!reader #x black reader #tokyo revengers

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ghosts-and-glory · 5 months

Note

Gonna be honest, no idea what that last asker was talking about when they said Narinder deserved purgatory more. The guy is messed up, don't get me wrong, but the sheep genocide was completely out of his control. There isn't even any evidence that he got locked up for anything other than inventing a way to revive followers!

Narinder is much more palatable than the bishops and the fandom tends to forget that making him pissy/angry all the time is actually pretty ooc (ESPECIALLY considering the time it took between updates). He liked you as a god, he was mad for a while as a follower, AND THEN HE SAID HE RESPECTED YOU AS A GOD BEFORE YOU EVEN FULLY FINISHED HIS QUEST LINE!

Tldr; Narinder isn't as bad as the bishops, torture is cringe unless it's character building :)

That cat spent a thousand years being punished, let him rest. He’s been punished for his betrayal, a thousand years of it. During the game his crime is trying to escape a prison that he would never be allowed out of. He’s given no opportunity to reform, no time to rest and no end in sight.

I do enjoy it when follower Narinder is a bitch, I just want him to be mean to me is that too much to ask?

I’m a chronic adhd rambler and I hate scrolling by long posts. More thoughts on Narinder under the cut.

I do think this bit of dialogue is telling.

If you resurrect he seems to imply that resurrection is what started him towards his betrayal. He points out specifically that that there are no other gods to stop you from playing with life and death, this action makes him see himself in The Lamb. His reaction to the funeral is more reserved. Maybe he’s disappointed, maybe he feels some level of relief that you wouldn’t repeat his actions, maybe a bit of both.

And there’s his dialogue after his defeat.

I was originally gonna say something about his murder dialogue but I got distracted by how fucked up he is. Narinder, baby, I know you’re the god of death but begging to die is not normal.

But yeah the point that he seems to respect the Lamb’s godhood kinda supports my game theory that the Lamb is more death than Narinder. At the end of his godhood Nari was corrupt, driven by revenge and power. Depending on your actions as the Lamb you are now either walking the same corrupt path as he did, respecting the natural order of life and granting rest, or a bit of both.

I do think its easiest to love Narinder out of all of the npcs in the game. Yeah okay he’s evil in that good tumbly sexler man kinda way but he’s also the character with the most content. He has the most dialogue, you meet with him the most, he’s got the hardest boss battle with unique mechanics. I get why he’s the fan favourite and why people like Narilamb, what gayer than being character foils? Nothing.

He’s my little meow meow and I’m mean to him cause I love him. Mwah.

#my post #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #I want to pick apart these characters so much #spinning nari in my head #Nathan Drawfee said tumbly sexler man and I haven’t been the same since #ask

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sarahowritesostucky · 1 month

Text

📖"Late Bloomer" (pt 1 of 2)

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x female reader

Tags: human trafficking, dark!Lloyd, significant undefined age gap, older man/younger reader, daddy/girl, dub con with significant non con elements, first time, innocence kink, loss of virginity, exploitation, dacryphilia, size kink, dumbification, misogyny, squirting, forced orgasm, p in v sex, light degradation, pet names, oral sex: m! and f! receiving, sexual awakening, age play vibes, little!reader, but not really: she's just drugged and really really dumb.

Word Count: 5754

Summary: She’s the purest thing he’s ever touched, this soft, tearful, quivering creature in his hands. He’s never felt such lust and violence at the same time. He desperately needs to ruin her. And yet somehow, also desperately, he needs to make sure he doesn’t hurt her.

A.N.: The age gap is left undefined. The OF is not the girl from the movie, which I haven't seen. I don't write characters as explicitly younger than 18 on Tumblr, after having a foul staff member equate any and all teenage pairings with CSAM.

That said, this fic is dark. It was started as a way to check off some of my hardest Bingo squares without actually going there, with the themes that were outside my wheelhouse or too ick for me to write. My MCU Kink Bingo card in particular, has a few of these whammies.

He imagines her as a rose: fragrant and velvet-soft. Imagines crushing her in his hand, plucking her petals off one by one, until there's nothing left.

Lloyd's always loved ruining pretty things.

The job doesn't go quite as planned, but Lloyd can be a go-with-the-flow, adapt-to-the-demands-of-the-moment type guy when he needs to be, he gets creative, and in the end it all works out alright.

The not-insubstantial bounty for the Russian perverts is regrettably forfeited when he loses his temper and gives them the brutal executions that they deserve. But that money can be made back if he finds a buyer for the yacht, he's managed to eliminate a few deplorables, and he's gained himself an unexpected prize, to boot.

Not a bad day for doing crime.

They shove the bodies overboard and retire for the night, headed for their rendezvous with the Powerbroker in Madripoor. Lloyd's men handle the cargo, already under strict orders not to touch the younger ones, whom Lloyd figures he'll arrange to have dumped off at an embassy once they dock in Jakarta.

Maybe he'll call up The Nomad Formally Known as Captain America and tip him off. Asshole has been on his tail annoyingly much, these past few months. Lloyd should send the righteous old fossil a reminder that there are way bigger scumbags plaguing the planet than his little band of hired guns.

The older girls seem relieved to have been liberated and they don't put up much of a fuss when they're divvied up amongst Lloyd's crew for the evening. Lloyd's personal pick, the poor thing whom he'd had to physically wrestle away from Yuri with a flare gun pressed right to her head, has been locked down in a stateroom to try and calm her down.

Despite what some people say, Lloyd's not an inconsiderate monster, so he does freshen up first, showering all the blowback off his face and changing into something comfortable before heading below deck. He keys in the code for the room, which is large and lavish and looks exactly like something a Russian billionaire would design. All money, no taste.

The girl's on the bed. She's still crying, but it's a pretty type of crying, rather than hysterical or snotty; tears that enhance rather than detract; the type of thing a man can really appreciate, if so inclined.

Lloyd steps into the room, takes a deep breath and reminds himself to take his time with this. No sense rushing it and wasting a good thing. He's going to savor every moment.

She squeaks when she sees him there. "Oh!"

"Shh, sh sh," he soothes. "There there now. Why're you crying, Buttercup? There's nothing to cry about. Not anymore."

He shuts the door behind himself with a gentle sound, but even though he's cooing a slew of placating nonsense at her, she still cries out in a desperate little, "No!"

"Hey, it's okay."

"Nnngh ... s-stay back!"

Lloyd's cleaned himself up since their encounter above deck, but the poor thing did just watch him collapse Yuri's face in with a pipe, so he shouldn't be surprised that she's scared. "I'm not here to hurt you," he says, then pauses when he sees that it's the gun in his hand that she's staring fearfully at.

Oh. Right. That makes sense. He'd had the muzzle of the thing pressed against her temple not too long ago, after all. Maybe he should've left that out of sight.

It's not like he'll need it to subdue her. Moving slowly and pointedly, he sets it down and holds up his empty hands. "There. It's not even a real gun, see? It was all for show, just a flare gun. It can't hurt you."

(Eh. True, it had been for show, but not so true that it couldn't have blown her brains out if he'd wanted it to. Whatever. Details.)

"It was just a little bit of drama, you understand? To make things go the way I needed them to up there. Men like that only respond to one thing." She blinks at him and he offers her a gentle smile. "L. Hansen. Freelance contractor, or rescuer, in your case. You're welcome."

"And ... those guys?"

He tuts. "Fish food, now. They've been taken care of." He takes a step closer, keeping an eye on her in case she's thinking of bolting. She still isn't here by choice, after all. As far as she knows, Lloyd is just the least bad of all the bad guys.

(Which isn't un-true).

He joins her on the bed, where she's still curled on her side, the odd sniffle and overwhelmed hiccup escaping her here and there. "Hey, hey, hey now." He crawls up beside her and forces her onto her back, which isn't hard to do with the fragile state she's already got herself worked up into. He shushes her fearful whimpers and tucks her hair behind her ear with a tender look. "You're real pretty when you cry, Angel, but I promise there's no need. Not anymore. That's all over, okay? I've got you now. You're safe."

The sweet thing sniffles and blinks up at him through clumped lashes. "I am?" she asks, the instinctive trust in her voice making Lloyd's cock thicken in his pants as he realizes that she's got about two brain cells to rub together. "Y-you promise?"

Oh, this is gonna be so fun.

He smiles down at her. "Yeah, Cupcake. I promise. You're completely safe with me." He taps her dainty little ski slope nose with a finger. "I bought you, remember? So that none of those nasty men can ever touch you again, only me. That's the rules."

For a second, the girl's chin wobbles, her eyes welling with uncertainty and the threat of more tears. But Lloyd's had enough of her being upset, doesn't have the patience to spend half the night calming her down when he's already exerted himself so much for her benefit already. Five guys are dead, his bank account is a couple hundred grand lighter (at least temporarily), he's lost the bounty he came for in the first place, and there are going to be a fascinating array of bruises on his body by morning. All this trouble, all this work for her. He's tired now, his day is over, he wants his payoff.

"Hey," he says firmly, holding her chin between two fingers. "I said: calm down. You're safe with me. Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore. You're just going to have nice things and feel good from now on. I'll take care of you."

She sniffles. "You will?"

Wow. She really is as dumb as advertised. Lloyd hums. "Sure will, Cupcake. Only nice things. Just so long as you be my good girl and do what I want. And that'll be easy as pie, because I'll always tell you what I want."

She bites her lip and lets it slip back out slowly between the grasp of her teeth. And the best part about it is that she's not even trying to be coy: she's literally just this clueless. "But," she hedges. "... what do you want?"

He smiles down at her and palms the side of her face. "Just you, Buttercup," he purrs, arousal and anticipation making his pants tight as he takes in just how beautiful she really is, with her porcelain-smooth skin and soft jaw, her baby-fat cheeks and wide, watery eyes. She really is like a doll come to life.

Lloyd can't wait to wreck her.

"What's your name, Princess?" he asks, coaxing her with a kind expression that she gravitates towards. "Hm? You can tell me. I'm Lloyd."

She giggles and looks away. "That's a funny name."

"Is it?" He laughs along with her and nods. "Yeah I suppose it is. I didn't pick it, unfortunately. But I'm going to pick your name. Something real beautiful and delicate, just like you. I'm thinking some kind of flower. How bout that?"

An adorable little frown pinches in the space between her eyebrows. "What? But, my name is - "

"I know, I know," he cuts her off, already knowing what she's going to say. He sticks his bottom lip out at her in a playful pout. "But that's such a little girl's name, don't you think? We should pick something new, since you're starting over new with me. Something more ... fitting."

He lets his eyes drag up and down her faintly curved form, the body that somebody above deck decided would be best appreciated in a tiny cotton top and pair of pink panties. If it wasn't so cute, it'd piss him off: those creeps dressing her in little girl undies in their effort to hock her along with the rest of the wares. But anyone with eyes can see she's not like the other merchandise.

Lloyd trails one finger over her hip and into the valley of her waist, appreciating the particular season of life she's in. She's limber and nubile, body almost grown into itself. A still-green sapling that's not quite done taking shape, with branches that are still soft enough to be trained this way or that as she approaches womanhood. She's malleable, moldable. Ripe for the picking.

The night above deck may have ended up in violence, but Lloyd came on-board peaceably, under the guise of a buyer, and it hadn't slipped his notice that her age was pointedly left off the dossier. It means she's quite a bit older than she looks, and the sellers hadn't wanted to lead with that.

Despite the pleasure Lloyd got out of ripping those perverts' nuts off, he still knows the business, understands the concept of maximizing one's buyer pool. Sex traffickers gonna sex traffic, and all that. But even still, there's a reason he didn't mind forfeiting that bounty. He's no hero, but he's done his bit to help. Now he fully intends to reap the benefits that've fallen into his lap as a direct result of a bunch of Russian perverts also happening to be lying salesmen.

"I'm keeping you for myself," he tells her, with another affectionate tap on the nose. "You're a very special, beautiful girl."

Her eyes widen at what she clearly perceives as a compliment, and she leans closer in a way that's so honestly naive, it makes Lloyd wonder if the dealers "enhanced" her with anything, pre-sale. He won't complain if they did, he doesn't mind a braindead bimbo, but it'd be nice to know if this is all chemically assisted, or just a natural gift. The thought nearly makes him snicker when he has it: Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's Maybelline lobotomy.

"You're special," he tells her again, trailing his fingers over her bare shoulder. "A real natural beauty."

She shakes her head bashfully. "No, m' not. I'm ... plain."

He scoffs, though privately he's thrilled (girls with low self esteem always give the best head.) "Honey, you wouldn't be in this room with me if you were 'plain'," he deadpans, not missing how she shifts and glances down at her body self-consciously. "Trust me, Sweetcheeks: men don't spend the kind of money that I just did, if what they're buying isn't astoundingly precious."

She squirms and her lashes lower onto heat-stained cheeks. "I dunno," she mumbles, embarrassed as she obviously recites someone else's words: "M' a late bloomer."

Lloyd laughs. "Well hey, that's okay. Nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. I'm glad."

"You ... are?" She peeks up at him and Lloyd smiles.

"Yeah, Baby. I am. Don't you know the best part about having a flower is getting to watch it bloom?" He thumbs at the little Botticelli cleft she's got in her chin and savors the shudder that travels through her body at that, enjoying the reaction, how hopelessly vulnerable she is. "You know," he muses, turning into her more and pressing her into the blankets. "I think that's going to be your name: Blossom. Would you like that?"

"oh—"

He cuts off that small, surprised sound by kissing her—slowly. He doesn't do much with it at first, because he wants to soak up her inexperienced reactions; wants to feel her hot little gasp of surprise and the softness of her lips pressed to his, her body stiffening and then liquifying underneath the foreign touch of a man. She doesn't know how to handle it, squeaking against his mouth and pushing up against him as his body presses her down.

"It's okay," he whispers. "You're just perfect, Little one. A perfect, tender blossom." His hand migrates to her waist and digs into all of that give, violence and lust bubbling to the forefront of his mind at how fucking delicate she is. He imagines her as a rose: fragrant and velvet-soft. Imagines crushing her in his hand, plucking her petals off one by one, until there's nothing left.

He's always liked ruining pretty things.

"Please," she whispers, trembling. Fuck.

He licks at the seam of her lips and lets his hand drag over her belly while he whispers: "I can't wait to see you bloom, Little flower." Dips inside with the tip of his tongue: "Watch you open up for me." Cups her over the front of her panties: "Watch you unfurl."

"Oh." She sighs, hips juddering reactively up against his palm and then squeaking at the jolt of pleasure it sends through her. Lloyd gives her more pressure and smiles right in her face as she gasps.

"That feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yy-yeah, but—oh! n-no ... wait, wait, I can't." Her hips kick up again and she whines at her own body's reactions. "Nnn, wait ..." Her hands grab at Lloyd's wrist where he's cupping her, but when he doesn't stop rocking his palm she grapples up at his shoulders instead, giving adorable little pushes that do absolutely nothing other than spur him on.

"C'mon Angel, none of that," he chides, slotting his leg forward in place of his hand so that he can reach up and coax her hands away from fighting him. He envelops her wrists and gently presses them into the blankets at either side of her head. And Jesus fuck, her wrists are tiny. He could hold both of them in one of his, easily. "Relax, Baby. I'm not gonna hurt you. Just want to make you feel good."

She whimpers when his clothed thigh grinds up against her core, her eyes getting watery again. "Ooh ..."

"Yeah. It's okay," he soothes, giving her another kiss, this time a little deeper, guiding her a little more while she writhes against the pressure of his thigh. "There you go," he praises, pretending that he doesn't know that her writhing is still part struggle. "See? Doesn't that feel nice?"

"P-please," she says, "I-I can't."

"Sure you can." He releases one of her wrists and laces their fingers together. "Just relax. I've got you."

"But, I've never," she cries. "Please, I don't ... I've never ... "

"Oh, Sweetheart." Though he'd figured she was a virgin, hearing her whimper it up at him so sweetly has his cock throbbing against the seam of his joggers. He nuzzles her cheek and coos, "You trying to tell me you've never been with a man, is that it?" She keens in embarrassment and he shushes her. "Hey, that's okay. That's perfectly okay."

She sniffles and squirms against him. "Nnn. But I'm not ... I-I don't know how. And you're a ... a ..."

He chuckles. "I'm a what?"

"... a man," she whispers, face flaming.

"Yeah, I am. But that's good, Honey. Dont'cha think? Every girl needs a man to teach her things, at some point. And it's that time for you."

She mewls helplessly in her throat and shakes her head, not noticing that her crotch is still grinding up on him as she does. "But what if I ... what if I can't ..."

"Don't worry," he tuts. He thumbs fondly at the damp corner of an eye until she peeks up at him. "I told you, Petal: I want to see you bloom." She colors beautifully at that and ducks her chin, and Lloyd dips down to kiss her again, not letting up until he feels her body soften to it a little bit more. She seems to realize what her hips are doing and freezes, but he just grabs her and guides her back into the rhythm, groaning when she starts up again. "There you go. Good girl."

"Lloyd ..."

"Don't be afraid. We'll take it slow, okay? I'll guide you, show you everything you need to know."

She sniffles and shivers, still teary-eyed, but she isn't pushing against him anymore. "Will it hurt?" she whispers.

Lloyd's cock gives a mighty throb and his eyes darken. "No, Blossom," he promises. "It won't hurt. Cause I'm gonna open you up real gentle and slow, show you how it can feel so, so good, okay?" He nudges her nose with his when she doesn't answer. "Tell me you understand, Little flower."

"Mmm." She's so shy, so reluctant and sweet. It makes Lloyd's cock ache worse than anything. "... Okay," she eventually whispers.

He hums knowingly and gives her one last peck on the lips before pulling back to undress. He goes slow enough not to spook her, but fast enough that he isn't drawing it out needlessly and scaring her any worse. He's prepared to hold her down if she starts struggling again, but that's not how he wants this to go. He really does want to watch her unfurl.

Her eyes widen and she stares at him with parted lips as he strips out of his clothes and his body is revealed. She seems stuck in place; a deer in headlights, fascinated and terrified—even more so, once he gets his cock out.

He angles it downward and gives himself a slow, tight tug, watching her watch him, soaking up the look of a girl who's having her first real sexual experience. She bites her lip and stares at his hand on his cock, eyes flitting between the weeping tip and his fist, his heavy sac and powerful thighs and back up again. Her brow is pinched and she keeps dragging her lip through her teeth, and Lloyd's balls ache at how tender it is to get to see her appreciating a man's body for the first time; losing this one, innocent part of herself. The very first petal to fall.

Still, he feigns ignorance with a coaxing, "You ever been naked with a man like this, Baby?" He knows that she hasn't, knows what a frightened and turned on virgin looks like. The poor thing is trembling in her skin, completely lost for what to do. Her mouth works like she'll answer verbally, but when she can't seem to make that happen, she just shakes her head a little instead.

"Mmn. Mm mn."

He nods in understanding. "Okay, Blossom. That's just fine." He lies over her again, abandoning his cock and touching the bottom hem of her little top. Fittingly, there are tiny, pale pink rosebuds printed on it. "Can I take this off?" he asks, tracing up to her ribcage and back down from over the cotton. "Hm?" He holds her gaze as he starts gently edging up the fabric. Her belly quakes and she whines nervously, but she lifts her arms for him when it's time, and he praises her with another quiet 'good girl'.

She's wearing a little bralette under the top, with lace edges and a delicate material that provides absolutely no structure. It doesn't even quite conceal the soft shade of her nipples peeking through. Lloyd groans lowly and skims his hands over them. "Fuck, Petal." She inhales noticeably at that, and he shoots her a grin. "Aw, you like that one, huh?" he teases. "My little flower Petal." he ghosts his fingers over her breasts, back and forth, until her nipples are fully pebbled and poking against the thin fabric. "So pretty," he murmurs.

She squirms, flustered, arms pressing in against her sides like she's fighting the urge to cover herself. "They're not ..." she starts, biting her lip and not finishing what she was going to say as her face flames.

"What?" Lloyd coaxes.

"Just ... they're not ... very big."

He doesn't bother to school the displeasure from his face, his eyes darkening as he growls in disapproval. It works in that her eyes pop up to him, wide and questioning. He shakes his head and lets his weight come down more, holding her down with his body and palming greedily at her little breasts. "No," he agrees roughly, rubbing and groping her. "They're not very big, are they?" He leers and pushes the little excuse for a bra up over them. "Sweet little mountain peaks," he teases. She squeaks and tries to cover herself, but Lloyd isn't having it. He knocks her hands away with a warning look. "Don't do that. I want to see you. All of you." He helps her slip the bralette over her head, tossing it aside and returning to take both of those chubby little swells in his palms, cupping and pressing them together as much as they'll go. "Jesus," he curses softly.

They're small and underdeveloped, more mound than slope, jutting out from her chest in youthful defiance. They're so innocent, so cheeky and plump. The sight of them makes that base, destructive desire surface in him again; the urge he sometimes gets to devour and claim and take, to ruin something that's so pretty and good. Lloyd wonders if that's what makes him a sociopath. "Such pretty tits," he praises, then lowers his face to seal his mouth over one, puffy nipple.

She squeaks, frightened at first, but she must be sensitive there because all it takes is one or two firm sucks and she's loosing the most gorgeous, helpless moans. Her hips kick up and Lloyd hums around his mouthful. He gives her more pressure through his thigh, pleased when she grinds up with real purpose.

"Yeah," he encourages. He pulls away and glances up from the level of her chest to find her staring at him with that same, pinched expression, but sloe-eyed instead of wide-eyed, now. Cupping the swollen tip of her breast and swiping out with his tongue, he watches as it makes her face absolutely crumple in desire.

"Ohn, god."

"See?" he says, nodding at the next uncoordinated roll of her hips. "It's all gonna be okay. Just gotta let me show you."

As turned on as she is, she still sniffles, her eyes flitting over him, afraid of what she doesn't know, unable to conceal her nervous interest. He can see her trying to look down and catch sight of his cock again, and he rumbles in approval and lets it drag against her hip. "You want to touch it?" he teases, then chuckles when she clamps her eyes shut and shakes her head with a stubborn little, uh uh. "Aw, that's okay, Sweetheart. You're shy. That's to be expected."

"M'not."

He laughs at her and gives her breast one last, affectionate kiss. "Don't lie, Buttercup. It's fine. Lots of girls are like that, you know. Nervous about touching, unsure, need to feel good before they can really let go enough and explore the way they want to. So how about ... I help you relax first?"

"Mmn." She whines and refuses to look at him. "... How?"

He sinks down her body, hands dragging over her waist and hips, holding her down with a chiding little tut when she squirms a little too much. "Shh. There's a girl." He forces her legs open and shoulders his way in there, and that's what seems to get her to still. He kisses her belly with a pleased hum, right at the top edge of the panties, where there's a tiny silk bow and green peapod detail. Lloyd groans at the sight of it and gives it a little kiss. "Have you ever had an orgasm, Sweetpea?"

"What?!" She huffs in embarrassment and tosses her head. "Noo. I, I don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” he teases.

“That."

"No?" He smirks and looks down to where there's a telling wet patch on the gusset of her panties. "Hm. You mean you don't touch yourself?" As inexperienced as she is, he still finds it hard to believe that a girl could get to her age without exploring. He places a coaxing line of kisses down the inner crease of her thigh. "Not even a little bit? Maybe sometimes at night?”

“I … I don’t …”

“Don’t what?" He blows gently against her. "Don’t ever wake up from a dream with that tight and achy feeling deep inside your tummy?”

“Ohh.”

“Don’t let your hands start to creep down here? Don’t rub a little to try and make it feel better?"

She whines again and squirms, though it's not a fight to get away so much as it is pure nerves and embarrassment. She even seems a little mad at him for teasing her so much. It makes him chuckle and push her thighs wider so he can really get his face down there. "Oh, no. Don't pretend you haven't touched this little flower. You've closed your eyes and let your hands wander." He takes one of her hands in his and brings it down, ignoring her grunt of protest and guiding her to cup herself. Instantly, her fingers go to her clit, and Lloyd snickers. "Yes, you’ve touched. But you haven’t made yourself cum?"

“Please,” she begs. “It doesn't work. I just … I can’t.”

“Aw, you can’t?” He pouts along with her in mock sympathy. “Well what've you tried, babygirl? Maybe you're just not doin' it right."

"Nnngh." She bites her lip and stares down at their joined hands with flushed cheeks. "I don't ... I dunno, please."

He releases her hand and pushes it out of the way. "See, that's what you need a man like me for. Too desperate to figure out how to make that itch go away by yourself. Poor, confused little thing." She makes an angry sound in protest, but it's easily subdued by another firm grab and press of her hips down into the blankets. He snickers at her token outrage. "Shh. That's alright, Blossom, that's alright. Just one more first I get to give you. I’m looking forward to it." He gives the waistband of her panties another kiss. "Girls aren't like boys, you know. You don't just wake up one morning, pulling at your pud. It's more complicated than that. You have to learn what feels good, learn how to get yourself worked up." He looks up her body and offers her a tender smile. "That's why it's important to have a teacher, Sweetpea. Someone who knows these things, someone who can guide you."

She sniffles. "You can?"

"Sure I can. Here, let's try a few things, why don't we? See what sorts of touches you like." He wants to rip her panties off yesterday, but forces himself to remember the plan of taking things slow and savoring every moment. He's only going to get to do this once, after all. So he waits for her barely-there nod, and then grasps the top edge of the panties right over that obscene little fucking peapod, and gives a jostle, gently tug-tug-tugging the fabric up against her mound, pulling it just enough to get the seam angled over her clit.

She gasps at the sensation, a surprised little "oh!" escaping her lips.

Lloyd hums. “S'that feel good, Sweetheart?"

"Nnnh."

"Hmm. Yeah. You like a little gentle pressure like that? Are you a glancing touch kind of gal?" A few more exploratory, barely-there tugs and he can tell that she is, even though she clearly has no concept of what that means. He drops the panties and lets his fingers trail along the crease of her thigh, relishing every twitch and shiver he gets from her.

Somebody has waxed her bare beneath the fabric, and Lloyd sneers in distaste and purposefully doesn’t let himself think about why that is. "Oh, yes," he says when he sees that the wet spot on her panties has grown. "You like to be teased." She keens in protest, though she's thankfully past the point of outright denying the obvious. Lloyd rewards her with a press of his face against her crotch, inhaling and letting his nose dig into her clit from over the fabric. “Mmhm. Slickin’ right through your panties.”

"Oh!" Her hands suddenly appear in his hair, scrabbling, clutching. “Oh, oh no …”

He laughs a hot breath right against her cunt. "That's okay, Princess. That's good. I like that you’re sensitive.” He gives her one last kiss from over the underwear and then curls his fingers into the waistband. “Wanna take these off?"

"Nnoo," she moans, while doing absolutely nothing to stop him as he pulls them off her.

He eases them down her legs, gently shushing and praising her for her obedience when she lets him settle his shoulders back in between her legs after tossing the panties aside.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, hooking one hand under her thigh to push and make room, the other sliding over her soft belly. He tugs her closer to his face, inhaling her scent and groaning at finally getting to see her.

One good thing about a bare pussy: there’s no hiding the state of it.

"Blossom," he breathes. "Look at you. You're soaked."

She is. The delicate petals of her sex are already spread and slicked, puffy and swollen with arousal. He groans and lets his tongue dart out for a quick taste, reveling in the sweet tang of her, the way that she gasps and her belly tenses underneath his hand. She’s trembling, squirming, trying so hard not to hump up against his face, not to make noise even though it’s obviously what she wants to do. “It’s okay,” he tells her, dipping down for another long lick through her folds, nudging her clit with his nose, his mustache.

“Ohn!” she cries, but the sound cuts off into a desperate yelp at the end as she tries to silence herself. "Nnnh!"

He makes an admonishing grunt where he’s got his face buried against her. “Hey,” he snaps, when he glances up and sees her fingers in her mouth. He knocks her hand away. “Quit it.”

“I’m not! I’m—”

He hauls her in harshly and sucks her clit into his mouth until it elicits the squeal he was looking for, a tortured little ‘ognfuck!’ that comes from deep in her belly. He pops off with a satisfied growl. “There. Like that. That’s better.” He softens his tone when she whimpers and kisses the hood of her clit. “It’s okay to enjoy it, Petal. I know it feels good. So stop trying to hold it in, okay? You gotta let me hear you.”

“Please,” she whispers, eyes shining down at him. Fuck, the tears are back. “Please, please,”

“Please what, Princess?”

“Nnn! I – I need …”

Aaand her voice is back to warbling and overwhelmed, prompting Lloyd to grind his dick against the mattress just for a little fucking relief. This girl is sweet in every fucking way imaginable, and now she’s trembling and welling up with tears again, just the way he loves to see. Only this time it’s not in fear. She’s finally losing control of herself enough to let go and open up—unfurling for him, just like the flower he knew she was.

“Tell me, Petal,” he murmurs, tickling her with his mustache again. “C’mon. Tell me. Tell me what you need to cum. Do you even know?”

“Please, nngh, please …”

He nuzzles her clit and laps languorously at her drenched slit, over and over, proactively tightening his hold on her hips so that he doesn’t get his nose broken when she inevitably starts bucking. “Ohn … god!”

“Mmm hmph,” he hums, having ventured out to start giving her jabs with his tongue, forcing the muscle into her quivering little gash, over and over, teaching her what a good tongue fucking really feels like. “Mmm, mmmph.”

“Oh, please, ohn!” Her hands clamor through his hair, messing it up as she sobs and jerks, trying to get more of his tongue in her cunt. Lloyd can’t help laughing a little bit over it, breathless and turned on by how easy she is. He goes back to suckling on her clit for a moment or two, before easing off and peering up her heaving belly with a smug grin. “So sensitive,” he coos, holding her down when she thrashes in embarrassment. “Stop, stop,” he chides, laughing, climbing back up her body and pinning her beneath his full weight.

Her legs spread for him without conscious thought, welcoming him in even as she’s still making her angry little huffs and puffs for being teased. He kisses her, amused, forcing his tongue inside to give her a taste of her own arousal. “And that was just my mouth,” he purrs, bringing a hand up to grope at one of those fat little breasts. “Was barely even inside you. Just think about what it’ll feel like with my fingers, my cock. You want that?”

She cries out when he plucks her nipple. She shakes her head. “Nnn.”

“What? 'Nnn'? S’that s’posed to be a no?”

“Nnnh. Yes.”

He laughs. “Aw, Cupcake. I already told you I’m gonna treat you real nice, make you feel good. Now why you gotta lie to me?” He lets his hand slip down between them, cupping her between her legs. “Does this feel like a no? Hmm?” She whimpers and he smiles and shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t, does it? Mm mn.”

She’s mewling and grinding up against the pressure of his hand despite her stupid little protests, so he hums and slips a finger down through her folds, lets the tip of it tease at her entrance. Fuck, she’s wet. “Never had anything in here?” he asks, already knowing the answer before she gives another pathetic whimper and shakes her head.

“Just … just tampons.”

“Tampons, huh?” He dips the tip of his finger, in and out, gut clenching as he feels it mouthing at him, feels all that slick. “When’s the last time you bled?” he asks. He’ll grab a condom if he needs to, but he’d rather not need to. “Hm? Come on now, don’t lie to me.”

She won’t meet his eyes, but after enough coaxing she admits that she had her period just a day ago. Lloyd nods, glad that he doesn’t have to worry about protection. Not that it isn’t fun to fantasize about knocking such a sweet little thing up, but that’s not the itch he’s scratching right now. It'll be a treat just getting to watch her bloat with his seed, before that creampie slides right back out. “Okay, then, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, finger still teasing softly right at the edge of her entrance. “I want you to look at me, girl. Want you to look right in my eyes, and relax for it.” He brushes his lips across hers. “I promise this isn’t gonna hurt.”

He eases his finger in, and the tiny little ‘oh’ and relieved sigh she gives up as he does it, is everything. Her wide eyes meet his, blinking. “Lloyd.”

“Yeah.”

“I … I …”

“Relax, Blossom.” Lloyd’s got big fingers, and she’s clamped down tight as fuck from her nerves, but she’s so fucking wet that it doesn’t even matter, his finger slipping in past the knuckle until it’s all the way seated. Her searing heat envelops him and presses onto his palm, bringing that destructive, sexual urge bubbling right back up to the surface of his mind.

She’s the purest thing he’s ever touched, this soft, tearful, quivering creature in his hands. He’s never felt such lust and violence at the same time. He desperately needs to ruin her … and yet somehow, also desperately, he needs to make sure he doesn’t hurt her.

A single, overwhelmed tear breaks from her eye and tracks down her temple, disappearing into her hair. Lloyd’s mouth all but waters at the sight of it, but she doesn’t seem to notice it, too preoccupied with the feeling of him inside of her body. She’s teetering right on the precipice between terrified and fascinated as she learns this new touch, and Lloyd could bust a nut just watching it.

“Good girl,” he praises, letting his palm cup her sex as he keeps his finger buried and starts to give her gentle, gentle pulses. “See? Didn’t I tell you?”

To his utter delight, she exhales shakily and nods. “Yeah,” she whispers, biting her lip and looking down her own body to where he’s touching her. “Yeah. I … it's ... you’re …" Her eyes slam shut as his finger curls. "Oh god.”

“You’re okay. Look at me.” He rocks his hand more, giving her pressure through the heel of his hand and dragging over that soft spot inside. "Look at me, Petal."

It takes her a moment, but she manages, peeking up at him with her brow pinched and moaning softly, her hips juddering up into it.

Lloyd smiles, lines up another finger, and soaks up her expression as he plucks off that next petal.

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yourheart-inmyhands · 9 months

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Just had a thought a continue of my archon ask

How about there reaction to reader accidentally killing there attacker

-🌮annon

You can ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable

i didn't really go into detail about the whole murder part, more so the aftermath so no worries :D i hope you enjoy

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including mentions of murder, delusional behaviors, implied being held against will, psychological bullying, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti would use this to his advantage, helping you dispose of the body and discard all the evidence. This is how he keeps you tied to him, by saying he’ll expose your secret to everyone with no shame.

He didn’t care how you felt about him, now there was really no leaving him. He had helped you get rid of a body after you accidentally murdered someone, there’s no coming back after that. You can’t even blame him for it because he made sure he that he left no traces behind, but your dna was under the nails of the attacker, your fingerprints were on the murder weapon that he conveniently forgot to burn, and you were the last one seen with the deceased. If anything, the second you act out of line he’s threatening to expose you to everyone. He’d never actually do it, but he’s very good at making you think he will.

Yandere!Zhongli would simply sigh in frustration. Of course he’s more than willing to help cover up your crime, after all he doesn’t wish to see his beloved rotting away in a cell. He never lets you live it down though, using the haunting memory of it to constantly beat you down mentally.

“Don’t go acting all innocent now, you’ve already killed a man, breaking a vase should feel like nothing to you. You’re a murderer after all.” Zhongli’s smile was pleasant and gentle looking, but his tone was anything but. He stood over you as you knelt on the floor, weeping over his reaction to you breaking a prized vase of his. Of course he had expected you to accidentally break it at some point, having replaced all his original artworks with replicas, but he had still found joy in bringing up your haunting little secret every chance he got.

Yandere!Raiden would do nothing personally. She’d instruct some of her faithful servants to handle it, keeping you locked inside Tenshukaku with her for a while. She doesn’t bring it up, but you can tell with the way she looks at you, that she’s upset with you.

Another silent meal, another long hour spent awkwardly eating your food as she sat across the table from you staring you down unblinkingly. It wasn’t that she stared at you, it was something you had actually grown rather used to, but the way she stared at you. Like a mother catching their child sneaking desserts before dinner or a father catching his son playing with his tools. That look of sheer disapproval. You didn’t know how much longer you could stand it.

Yandere!Furina is conflicted. On one hand, she doesn’t want her citizens to think she favors you above justice, but on the other, she knows you’ll be deemed guilty and locked up and she simply can’t bear to be without you. So she calls for a private hearing and keeps the case under tight surveillance. Of course, the family of the victim has no idea that the whole trial is fake, has no idea that the way you cry as you're dragged out of the courtroom to an awaiting prison is all an act, one very carefully constructed by Furina and her closest confidant, Neuvillette.

Furina feigns heartbreak as she watches you get hauled out of the courtroom. She’s decided to overrule your sentencing and punish you herself in your shared home. In the basement of the lavish manor she had a special cell prepared for you, where you would fulfill your shortened sentence. This is so that you understand the severity of your crimes without her having to give up her time with you. Furina doesn’t think you deserve to spend any time behind bars, considering it was an accident, but she’s the Archon of Justice and the family of the deceased demanded something be done.

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kiwanopie · 1 year

Note

Tell us more about lord crime sakusa please 🙊❤️

1.4K more crime lord!Sakusa lore + more lore for reader

Lemon sugar soap and airy high notes, your buoyant little song is cut in two the moment you see it in your living room.

The moment you see him in your living room.

Your face immediately drops. Freezes and then lours in broadening terror, until fright is stained across your face. Tears welling as you step back - you’re more exposed in your pajamas shirt than you ever were in those skimpy little getups they make you wear.

Because he’s not supposed to be here. He’s not supposed to cross that straight little line you’ve drawn. All the effort - the horrible things you’ve done to make sure those two sides never touched. Making yourself invulnerable, untouchable, non-existent. Breaking your back to make yourself as elusive as possible, and now he, Sakusa Kiyoomi, the most feared man in all of Asia is sitting in your living room.

He’s sitting in your living room.

You don’t even try to care about how utterly devastated you look, tears already running hot down your cheeks. He just threw all of that hard work in your face. Your peace of mind in your face. He’s not supposed to be there. He’s not supposed to be here. This is your safety. This is your everything.

Fresh flurries of earlier shower aroma whiff into the empty air of your living room as he stares at you from the couch, little hearts curling into the air and drifting in his direction. You smell like bundt cake.

Sakusa clears his throat as the tendons in his jaw flex, trying and somewhat failing to keep his body language as confident as possible. “I’d like to-“

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The way your voice trembles only sets jagged edges onto the way you address him. “You’re not…” You shake your head. “You’re not supposed to be here-“

He raises his hands in an attempt to placate you. “I know. I’m sorry-“

“How did you find my address…?” Or get past your motion sensors. Lay a hand on the door knob without your blink camera alerting you, or break into your home without your dog so much as barking. “How long have you-“

Your eyes flicker to the aforementioned dog, who’s lackadaisical amble speeds to a giddy trot at the sight of the intruder. Tail waving contentedly as he raises his two front paws to perch them on Sakusa’s lap, and turning your world upside down as the grief in your stomach tightens.

Sakusa rubs distractedly along his floppy ears. “A while.”

He has the decency to look guilty about it at the very least. A little stiffened in his slouch as the apples of his cheeks turn a soft flowery. He’s in his usual two piece suit he wears during work hours. Save for the jacket thrown over the bridge of your couch, and the few relaxed buttons on his crisp button up; few enough to turn his collar loose.

“There’s a better way to do this. I know that.” Sakusa claps his hands in his lap. “But I knew this was the only way to get you alone.”

Your feet brush against the edge of the carpet as you slowly retreat - like a frightened rabbit. “What are you-“

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

But even still you lock up as he stands, long legged strides now moving in your ever shrinking direction. All the more smaller when he’s tall enough to touch the ceiling with his arms bent. Fit from youth and exercise, veins in his hands and scabs on his knuckles. You don’t even realize through your terror that he’s only in his socks, padding your wooden floors in an effort to show you the respect that you deserve.

You notice his cheeks are actually a thin rouge now that he’s close enough. It softens the perpetual scowl oftenly carved into his face. “I’d… like to offer you a proposition.”

Sakusa tries to keep his composure at a glance of those misty doe eyes. You’re breaking his heart by looking so frightened. “I know how miserable you are working as a scout, and how much you despise being involved with those people - or even this business altogether,”

He surmised at first. It’s hard to imagine a pretty thing like you being treated kindly by an ugly trade like this. Short bruises on you that are close to healing nearly every time he sees them, but it’s a given that they’re renewed in his absence. The cold stare of your mask. Frigid and resentful the way you avoid the eyes of your employers the few times he’s seen you with it off. You’re young and beautiful, wilted and wounded on the inside as is everyone else with an early start to this profession. It’s only common sense that you’d be unhappy.

But then the Azure Dragon contract happened. And your reputation of being clinical and concise was disrupted by a slaughter that would even make a man like him a little queasy. - He had heard there was some bad blood between their leader and the people at your organization. Something buried in the past, but as all disputes with your employer's enterprise it was kept secret with that trademark air of taboo wafting around it. He was there when you were informed of the contract, he could see it in your body language. Locked up and afflicted, so much ire in the air that he could all but taste it. On watching you step out of the room, the first thought that crossed his mind was:

“It was a mistake to send her.”

“Hm?” Your handler lifts her head from the string of documents laid out on her desk.

Sakusa’s eyebrows cinch as he points his gaze toward the door. “Why not send a more… unkempt scout? She doesn’t seem right for a role like that.”

And although obscured by a mask, the look of quiet contempt on her face is visible in her tone. “All my scouts are killers, Sakusa-san. Especially in my elite class.”

“Yeah, but-“ But he stops there. There’s no way to make a gut feeling seem like an appropriate rebuttal.

Though still, She seems intent on making sure he leaves with little to no peace of mind. “She’s the one who asked for it, if that makes you feel any better. The women in our lineup very seldom leave their business unfinished.”

At hearing that, that piquant taste of ire sours to a pungent note of despair.

He wasn’t surprised when news came that the clan had fallen. After a few days of radio silence, Seiko Akie’s head was found perched on a spike, the word “COWARD” etched into the skin on his forehead.

What an ugly path to take. He thought. For you it was. For the goodness that still radiated off of you, for all the times he’s seen you hesitate at the sight of depravity, for your integrity. For anyone keen enough to look between the lines it’d be written all over you ~ that you had your limits, and even the few you’d crossed would fall further of the butchering that took place during that contract. You were being corrupted. What little good in him only shone through seeing the surplus of genuinity you had in you and if that was gone…

If that was gone…

He’s not going to let that happen. “I wanna give you a way out of it. All of it. I could make it disappear.”

“…What…?”

Sakusa’s gentle as he gathers your palms in his, tender over soft silken skin, unroughened even through your years of work. He holds you like you’re jewelry. Treasure sparkling in his grasp as he looks down at you with the kind of adoration you could only sing about. “I’ll buy out your licensing and have my lawyers write out an order that would make you completely inaccessible to them. I could even get your name wiped from their record just to be extra thorough about it-“

“What? W-Why?” Your tears still fall down the tops of your cheeks. “Why would you… do that for me…?”

He swallows hard. It’s strange to see a man like him look so meekend. “Because it would be right. Because that’s what you want, and it would be best for you.”

You stare at him a watery moment.

And then soberly, so removed from your current devastation that you almost sound like a different person. Wrought with the kind of baseline aprehensity that should come from a seasoned business woman, at least in this line of work.

You ask: “What do you want for it?”

He inhales deeply.

And he promises, swears on his life and the lives of all who he has ever cherished - that this’ll be the first and the very last time he’ll ever disappoint you.

He answers: “I want you to marry me.”

#crime lord!sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu x reader #hq sakusa #haikyuu!!#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #sakusa scenarios #sakusa x reader #sakusa drabble #msby sakusa #sakusa fluff #sakusa fanfiction

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months

Text

Brinkwhump Linkdump

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then San Francisco (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

Once again, I find myself arriving at the weekend with a giant backlog of links, triggering a linkump, the 15th such dumpage, a variety-pack of miscellany for your weekend. Here's the previous editions:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Let's start with the latest incredible news from KPMG, the accounting and auditing giant that is relied upon as a source of ground truth for a truly terrifying share of the world's economy. KPMG has a well-deserved reputation for incompetence and corruption. They first came on my radar in 2001 when they sent a legal threat to a blogger for linking to their website without permission:

https://memex.craphound.com/2001/12/05/reason-4332442-not-to-ask/

The actual link was to KPMG's corporate anthem, which remains, to this day, a banger:

https://web.archive.org/web/20040428063826/http://chkpt.zdnet.com/chkpt/uknewsita/http://anthems.zdnet.co.uk/anthems/kpmg.mp3

Don't miss the DJ remixes (and the Nokia ringtone!) that the internet thoughtfully provided when KPMG decided that it didn't want the world to know about "Our Vision of Global Strategy":

https://web.archive.org/web/20011128153057/http://corporateanthems.raettig.org/

Now all this is objectively very funny, a relic of the old, good internet from one of its moments of glory, but KPMG? They were already enshittifying, even in 2001, and the enshittification only intensified thereafter. Nearly every accounting scandal of the past quarter-century has KPMG in it somewhere, from con-artists selling exhausted oil fields to rubes:

https://www.desmog.com/2021/06/03/miller-energy-kpmg-auditors-oil-fraud/

To killer nursing homes that hire KPMG to audit its books – and to advise it on how to defeat safety audits and murder your grandma:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/09/dingo-babysitter/#maybe-the-dingos-ate-your-nan

They're the architects of Microsoft's tax-evasion plot:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-irs-decided-to-get-tough-against-microsoft-microsoft-got-tougher

And they were behind Canada's dysfunctional covid contact-tracing app, which never worked, but generated tens of millions in billings to the government of Canada, who used KPMG to hire programmers at $1,500/day, plus KPMG's 30% commission:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/31/mckinsey-and-canada/#comment-dit-beltway-bandits-en-canadien

KPMG's most bizarre scandal is literally stranger than fiction. The company bribed SEC personnel help its own accountants cheat on ethics exams. The corrupt officials were then given high-paid jobs at KPMG:

https://www.nysscpa.org/news/publications/the-trusted-professional/article/sec-probe-finds-kpmg-auditors-cheating-on-training-exams-061819

I mean it when I say this is stranger than fiction. I included it as a plot-point in my new finance crime novel The Bezzle (now a national bestseller!), and multiple readers have written to me since the book came out a couple weeks ago to say that they thought I was straining their credulity by making up such an outrageous scandal:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

But all of that is just scene-setting (and a gratuitous plug for my book) for the latest KPMG scandal, which is, possibly, the most KPMG scandal of all KPMG scandals. The Australian government hired KPMG to audit Paladin, a security contractor that oversees the asylum seekers the country locks up on one of its island gulags (yes, gulags, plural).

Ever since, Paladin has been the subject of a string of ghastly human rights scandals – the worst stuff imaginable, rape and torture and murder of adults and children. Paladin made AU423 million on this contract.

And here's the scandal: KPMG audited the wrong company. The Paladin that the Australia government paid KPMG to audit was based in Singapore. The Paladin that KPMG audited was a totally different company, based in Papua New Guinea, who already had a commercial relationship with KPMG. It was this colossal fuckup that led to the manifestly unfit Singaporean company getting nearly half a billion dollars in public funds:

https://www.theguardian.com/business/2024/feb/24/incredible-failure-kpmg-rejects-claims-it-assessed-the-wrong-company-before-423m-payment-to-paladin

KPMG denies this. KPMG denies everything, always. Like, they denied creating "power maps" of decision-makers in the Australian government to target with influence campaigns in order to win contracts like this one. Who knows, maybe, this one time, they're telling the truth? After all, the company whose employees gather to sing lyrics like these can't be all bad, right?

The time is now to lead the way, We share the same the idea That may win by the end of the day. Our strength is here to stay. Identity, one energy, One strategy, with sympathy. These are the words that will lead us into a new world.

https://everything2.com/title/KPMG+corporate+anthem

You may find it strange that I'm still carrying around the factoid that KPMG once threatened to crush a blogger for linking to its terrible corporate anthem, but that's just my "Memex Method," which helps me keep track of literally everything that seemed important to me through most of my adult life:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

One of my favorite quips from the very quotable Riley Quinn is that "leftists are cursed with object-permanence" – that is, we actually remember what just happened and use it to think about what's happening now. The Memex Method is object permanence for 20+ years worth of stuff. A lot of those deep archives never see use, but there's a surprising number of leading indicators buried in the stuff that happened in years gone by.

Take James Boyle's 2014, XKCD-style comic about the experience of driving a notional Apple car:

https://www.thepublicdomain.org/2014/11/07/apple-updates-a-comic/

Apple, it turns out, spent the next decade working on just such a car, and while that car has now been canceled, Boyle's comic correctly anticipates so much about the trajectory Apple's products took. It's uncannily accurate – real "don't invent the torment nexus"/"cyberpunk was a warning, not a suggestion" stuff:

https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/torment-nexus

But no matter how many times we insist that the torment nexus shouldn't be created, the boardrooms of end-stage capitalism continue to invent them. Take HP, the poster-child for enshittification, edging out even KPMG in the race to turn everything into a pile of shit. After years of tormenting people to punish them for wanting to print things, HP has announced a new service that so mustache-twirlingly evil that it lacks verisimilitude:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2024/02/hp-wants-you-to-pay-up-to-36-month-to-rent-a-printer-that-it-monitors/

Here's the pitch: HP will sell you a printer that you don't own. In addition to paying a monthly fee for your ink – which you pay no matter whether you print or not – you will also pay a monthly fee just for having HP's printer on your premises. You are absolutely, positively forbidden from using third-party ink in this printer, and must use HP's own ink, which sells for about $10,000/gallon.

But while you aren't allowed to use this printer in ways that are bad for HP's shareholders, HP is absolutely free to use the printer in ways that are bad for you. When you click through the signup agreement, you grand HP permission to surveil every document you print – and your home wifi network more generally – and to sell that data to anyone and everyone.

What's more, HP reserves the right to discipline you with punitive credit-card charges if you disconnect this printer from the internet, on the basis that doing so makes it harder for them to spy on your printer.

I'm sorry, this is just more torment nexus shit, the kind of thing you'd expect to drop on Apr 1, not Feb 29, but I guess this is where we are. I can only conjecture as to whether HP's businesses strategists are directly taking direction from my novella "Unauthorized Bread," or whether they're learning about it second-hand from a KPMG consultant who converted it to Powerpoint form and charged $1,500/day for the work:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

All of this cartoonish villainry is the totally foreseeable consequence of a culture of impunity, in which companies like HP and KPMG can rob, cheat, steal (and sometimes even kill) without consequence. This impunity is so pervasive that the exceptions – where a rich criminal faces real consequences – become touchstones: Enron, Arthur Anderson, Theranos, and, of course, FTX.

FTX was arguably the largest-scale corporate crime in world history, stealing more than $10 billion dollars, mostly from rubes sucked in by hype and Superbowl ads. When news that FTX founder and owner Sam Bankman-Fried was convicted of fraud and was in for a lengthy prison sentence made a huge stir, because criminals like SBF usually walk away from the wreckage with their hands in their pockets, whistling a jaunty tune.

One of the very best commentators on cryptocurrency scams generally and FTX/SBF in particular is Molly White, whose Web3 is Going Just Great feed is utterly indispensable. White's newsletter, "Citation Needed," dives deep into the wrangle of SBF's sentencing:

https://www.citationneeded.news/issue-52/

Bankman-Fried's parents – prominent law professors at top law schools – helped brief the court this week on their son's punishment. According to them, SBF faces 100 years in prison, but should be sentenced to 5.5-6.5 years at the most. Why? Because he is a vegan, who is not greedy, and feels remorse, and cares for individuals (recall that SBF presented himself as the avatar of the batshit "effective altruism" philosophy while privately admitting that he used this as a smokescreen).

The most bizarre note in the 100-page filing is SBF's mother declaring that her son is an "angel of mercy," apparently unaware of the grisly meaning of that term:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angel_of_mercy_(criminology)

America's prisons are a travesty and I wouldn't wish them on anyone, but that's not the argument SBF's parents are making; rather, they're arguing that their special boy doesn't deserve the treatment America metes out to poorer, less white people who merely steal hundreds or thousands of dollars. A crook who steals ten billion should be handled the way a casino handles a whale – with concierge service.

The problem is, there are so many of these remorseless, relentless crooks that there's no way we could scale up that white-glove treatment when we finally round 'em all up and make them pay. Writing for The American Prospect, Maureen Tkacik tells us about the ransomware attack that shut down America's pharmacy system last month:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-03-01-zoomer-hackers-shut-down-unitedhealthcare/

The attack brought down Change Healthcare, part of the monopolist Unitedhealth, which serves as the "pharmacy benefit manager" to a vast swathe of American pharmacies. PBM is one of those all-American finance scams, a middleman garlanded with performative complexity put there to make you feel stupid for asking why independent pharmacies all have to pay rent to this malicious, unaccountable – and now, manifestly incompetent – gang of crooks.

Tkacik's breakdown of this scam – and how it rendered Americans' ability to get the drugs they depend on to go on breathing – is characteristically brilliant. Tcacik is fast emerging as my favorite Explainer of Scams, a print version of John Oliver or Adam Conover. You may recall her work from my post last week on how private equity has taken a wrecking ball to America's hospitals:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/28/5000-bats/#charnel-house

I always try to finish these linkdumps with some upbeat news to carry you through the weekend, and this week brought two genuinely wonderful – and totally underreported – pieces of amazing news.

The first is that Starbucks has sued for peace in the war against its workers' unions. Hundreds of Starbucks stores have unionized in recent years, but not one of them had a contract. Instead, Starbucks had waged dirty war on their own workers, from denying gender-affirming care to unionized employees to simply shutting down whole stores after they voted to unionize:

https://www.cnbc.com/2022/06/14/starbucks-union-company-threatens-that-unionizing-could-jeopardize-gender-affirming-health-care.html

But the workers held fast and after years of this, Starbucks has caved, promising contracts for all unionized stores and an end to its campaign of terror against workers seeking to unionize more of its stores. In a postmortem for Jacobin, Eric Blanc rounds up "seven lessons from Starbucks workers' historic victory":

https://jacobin.com/2024/02/starbucks-sbwu-contract-bargaining/

This is the kind of listicle I can get behind. According to Blanc, the Starbucks unions won by deploying worker-to-worker organizing, a tactic that many of the new unions that are shaking up formerly impossible-to-organize jobsites are using (Blanc has a book about this coming from UC Press called "We Are the Union: How Worker-to-Worker Unionism Can Transform America," so he should know).

Other tactics that made the difference for Starbucks unions: new digital training and support tools and partnering with established unions for support and infrastructure. Blanc also calls out the success of "salting" – the venerable but largely disused tactic of union organizers applying for a job at a non-union shop in order to organize it.

Blanc also mentions government policy, including the outstanding work of NLRB general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo, a shrewd and committed tactician whose understanding of the technicalities of labor law have let her push for bold measures. For example, in Thrive Pet Care, Abruzzo is arguing that when a company refuses to bargain in good faith for a contract with its union, she can step in and order them to honor the terms of a contract at comparable unionized competitors until they produce a contract of their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

Abruzzo is one of several smart, competent tacticians in the Biden administration who are working to kneecap corporate power. Another is Rohit Chopra, chair of the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau, who just announced another bold, important initiative that will help Americans fight corporate corruption and get a fair deal:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-03-01-public-option-credit-card-shopping/

Chopra is taking aim at credit-card comparison sites that purport to show you where you can get the best deal. If you're an affluent person who doesn't carry a balance, this might not matter to you, but if you're an average working stiff, high interest rates can gobble up a massive share of your paycheck. What's more, credit card margins are higher than they have ever been:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/blog/credit-card-interest-rate-margins-at-all-time-high/

The most expensive credit cards come from the big, monopolistic banks, but you wouldn't know it from the leaderboards produced by Credit Karma, NerdWallet, LendingTree, and Bankrate. All of these sites take bribes from the big banks to list their credit cards above those offered by credit unions – who are typically 10% cheaper than the big banks' cards.

The new CFPB rule prohibits this fraudulent ranking, but the Bureau is going even further. They're using their administrative powers to force banks to report their rates to the Bureau, which will publish them on a publicly funded, neutral website – what David Dayen calls "a public option" for shopping for credit cards.

This policy makes a perfect bookend to the last CFPB initiative I wrote about here: a rule that forces banks to allow you to transfer your account to a rival with a couple of simple clicks, importing all your history, payees, and everything else you need to switch to a better bank:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/let-my-dollars-go/#personal-financial-data-rights

Combine that ease of switching with reliable information on which banks will give you the best deal and you get something that will directly transfer millions and millions of dollars from giant, wildly profitable banks to low-income people who've been tricked into paying them punitive interest rates.

So that's it, this week's linkdump. I promised you I'd end on a high note, and I did it. The world may be full of all kinds of terrible things, but workers and regulators are scoring big, muscular victories in battles where the stakes are real and important. Have a great weekend – we've earned it.

And remember!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/02/macedoine/#the-public-option

Image: Stacy (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/notahipster/4402860361/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

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silentglassbreak · 4 months

Text

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

I’m getting some of the most amazing comments and reblogs, I thank you all so deeply!! I love this story so much. I love where I know it’s going, so please trust me?

Warnings: Good ol' fashioned misery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86

Part 4 - Graveyard

I could feel how flighty she was, like a feral cat that could scurry with any sudden movements. I held my hands out, trying to ease tension, and failing.

“Baby,” Her face was unreadable. Something between bewilderment and pure shock, but also seething rage, possibly. “nothing happened.”

She stared at me, waiting for me to say more, but I didn’t.

“That’s all you’ve got?” She was mocking me, and my stupidity. Good. I deserve it.

“Yes. Because that’s all there is.”

Her eye roll was as dramatic as they come, nearly making her head spin.

“Well, she was sure worked the fuck up, Noah. Sounded like a little more than nothing.”

The evenness in her voice contradicted her body language. She was now stood, hands in the air, confrontational.

“She’s insane.”

Her eyebrows jumped, a look of disbelief on her face.

“A girl essentially professes her love to you, and you call her insane?”

Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Leena, I’m not just being an asshole here. She has actually fucking lost it.”

I tried to mimic her calm, hoping this would steer the conversation on a healthier course.

That hope was thrown out when her voice jumped several decibels.

“Oh fuck you, Noah!” I could see them now, the hot, angry tears, rising to the surface, not quite ready to spill over. “People aren’t just so fucking obsessed with you that they make that kind of shit up!”

My eyes were staring at her, a frantic anxiety now rising inside me.

“She did! I’ve never, not fucking once, given her any ideas! She’s fucking mental, Mileena!”

“What happened at the club, Noah?” Her voice was back down, her hands hanging helpless at her sides.

“Nothing happened. We talked, and she spilled a fucking drink on me, and herself, so I-“

“Back up.” She put her hand up. “Don’t gloss over the details. Walk me through it.”

I shrugged hard. “I was alone, sitting on the couch, and she came over to talk to me. She had already had a few, and was pretty drunk when she approached me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustration bubbling. “She spilled her drink on both of us.”

“So you were sitting pretty close together?” She raised an eyebrow, her arms again crossed in front of her.

“Jesus, Mileena, it’s a club! It was loud!” I threw my hands in the air and eyed her, irritated. “Since when are you the jealous type?!”

Her mouth fell open, and I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth. What a stupid fucking thing to say. Of course she’s not. That’s not what this was.

“The jealous type?!” How do I delete the last ten seconds? “You think this is me being jealous?!”

Ctrl + Alt + Del?! End Task?!

“You’re the one that’s fucking insane, Noah!” She turned, grabbing her phone off of the nightstand. “Let me show you how your behavior changed since that night.”

She unlocked her phone, opened our thread, and began scrolling. I didn’t even need to be close to see, my texts were back to back, five to six at a time, or paragraph long messages. She switched to her call logs, which was just my name over and over the past several days.

I would like to hand in my resignation to life now, please.

“Since that night, you’ve been blowing me up, and being extra affectionate, and clingy.” She scoffed, locking her phone and tossing it on the bed. “First I thought you just missed me but-“

“I did miss you!”

“You felt fucking guilty, Noah!” Her voice was nearing a scream. “Now quit pussy-footing around it and tell me what fucking happened that night!”

I sat down in the bed, and took a deep breath.

“Please believe me when I tell you, nothing actually happened.”

She stayed planted, several feet away.

“We left the club, I gave her a ride because she was going to Uber, and that wasn’t safe.” She was deathly silent. “Car ride took about thirty minutes because of traffic. We just listened to music, sang the songs on the radio.”

“She made a bit of a pass at me before she got out, saying something like she wanted to get to know me better? Or something like that. I don’t remember verbatim.”

“Then?”

“I went back to the club.”

She shifted her weight, leaning back on the desk against the wall. “That’s it? That’s all?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “No.”

She visibly tensed, so I just went on.

“She texted me later. Said she left her vape in the car.” I looked up at her, trying to earn some kind of emotion. I was met with nothing but ice. “So I went to go get it.”

“She couldn’t get it herself?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. She could’ve. She offered.

“I found it, and took it to her room.” Her face almost looked like it was turning a sickly shade of green. “She opened the door, in her underwear, and a crop top.”

Her fingers were gripping the edge of the desk so hard that it was likely to snap if she didn’t let up.

“She invited me in. I left. Went back to my room. And avoided her ever since.”

Her hands eased ever so gently, but she didn’t let up her gaze. Seeing she wasn’t satisfied with that, I swiped my own phone from the table, and opened to Rachel’s text thread, handing her the phone.

“See? Nothing.”

She scrolled, eyes reading the one-sided conversation from the last few days.

“Only other thing I can tell you is that Folio told me that she said some shit to him at the bar, that she liked me? Or wanted to sleep with me?” I sighed. “I don’t know, and I don’t really care.”

She nodded, locking my phone, but still had yet to speak. She was thinking, going over it in her head, checking for holes, but there were none. That was all of it. I didn’t do anything wrong.

“I have only one question.” She handed my phone back to me, and I just nodded. “In the hall, she asked you if you considered it, going in her room. If you thought about it.”

My stomach dropped, my mouth went dry, and my heart stopped, all in the same fraction of a second before her next words came out.

“Did you?”

Where do I go from here? My brain, my heart, and all of my senses screamed at me to lie.

But I couldn’t.

Last time I lied to Mileena, I was drinking. And she left me. And who would know? Who could prove me wrong?

But…I couldn’t.

“Yes.”

I saw something, I can’t say what exactly, break behind her eyes. A tear finally spilled out over her cheek, and I saw her jaw clench under her skin. I felt as though I had just cut a cord on a rope bridge that held me up, and now I was just falling. Plummeting.

“Oh…” Her voice was so small now, and I felt something inside me shredding. Screaming. I’m such a fucking idiot.

Good one, Sebastian. Way to take it to your grave, dumbass.

But this was a grave, that I somehow ended up in, that I didn’t even fucking dig. It was fucking aggravating.

I stood up, reaching for her, but she flinched, putting an arm up between us, and squeezed her lids closed. More tears leaked from her eyes, and she only cracked them open for a second.

“Can you, uh, give me a few minutes?” She averted her eyes away, and I backed away from her out of respect. “I’m just…” She waved her hands around her head. “processing.”

I nodded. “Of course.” Shrugging, I pulled my shirt off. “I can take a shower? And we can talk more after?”

She only nodded in response, wiping her face.

I made my way into the bathroom, leaving the door open. I decided to take a quick shower, trying to wash the anxiety off of me. It was out in the open now, the fun part was working through it, and reminding Leena that no one else compared to her, and my idiotic brain was never going to turn on me like that again.

Imagine my shock when I stepped out of the bathroom, and my hotel room was empty, her bag, phone, and shoes gone. I ran over to my cell, opening it to call her when it began ringing, Nick’s face flashing.

I opened the call with haste. “What’s up?” My voice was frantic.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?!”

My fist was slamming into the door harder with each swing, the phone up to my ear telling me I was getting voicemail, again.

I growled, and beat on the door harder. “Open the fucking door, Rachel!”

I felt a set of hands on my shoulders, tugging backward.

“Noah! Calm the fuck down!” I fought back against Folio, as the door to the room swung open.

Rachel’s eyes were still thick with sleep, her hair hanging in a low ponytail. This time, she was fully clothed. Hilarious.

“You fucking psychopath!” My logical brain was gone, and I was fully primal, as I lunged toward her. Several hands had me around the waist, arms, and one on my chest. Nick’s face came into my line of vision.

“Noah, stop! Fucking stop!”

“No! She’s fucking insane! She knows what the fuck she’s doing!” I was baring my teeth like an animal, my hands balled into fists.

She stared at me, terrified, eyes blown wide and nearly hiding behind the door.

“W-What are you talking about?” Her words were timid, which only enraged me further.

“Don’t pull that bullshit! You knew she’d hear you! You manipulative bitch!”

A hard slap came across my cheek, and I glared over at Nick, who had taken a defensive step back.

As angry as I should’ve been, I was instead brought back to reality, realizing it was at least 1AM, in a hotel hallway.

“You good, dude?” My eyes stared at his, my body softening with each passing second. Eventually, the hands holding me loosened, and I shrugged away from them.

I nodded at Nick, who pushed my shoulder down the hallway toward another door. “C’mon dude, let’s go talk.”

“Is he drunk?” I could hear Rachel’s voice behind me, and I snarled, almost turning around before I heard Folio.

“Oh shut up, Rachel. You’ve done enough.”

Safely inside the room, I sat heavily on the bed, and dropped my head in my hands. My friends stood around me, staring down at me.

“She left?” Folio’s voice was sad, and I just nodded, staring at the floor.

“She came and got Laura about half an hour ago. She was crying. Said they had to leave.”

I picked my head up. “Laura was in your room?”

Nick raised his brows at me. “Is that really your concern right now?”

I heaved a breath and flopped back onto the bed, covering my face with both arms.

“She’s not answering my calls.”

“Fill us in, man.” Jolly sat next to me.

I had to go through all of the details again, them all asking various questions. By the end, I was more calm, but still so fucking angry.

“I’ve got to get home, man. I can’t ride back with her.”

Nick nodded. “We can rent a car in the morning? Drive back alone?”

“Pfft, and leave us with the wicked witch?”

I snorted at Folio’s comment.

“What the fuck am I going to do?”

“For starters, I’m calling Sumerian tomorrow. Figure out our options, legally.” Leave it to Jolly to use his right mind. “For now, you need to stay away from her.”

Standing up, I moved toward the bedroom door, squeezing the handle before opening it. “Not a problem. Just keep her the fuck away from me.”

Back in my room, I promptly blocked Rachel’s number from my phone, electing not to send her a last scathing text message.

I then, profusely, called Mileena. I was met with voicemail, leaving a few in my endeavor to reach her. I must have done this for hours before finally falling asleep, fully clothed, on top of the comforter.

When I awoke, Nick was jostling my shoulder, a duffel hanging from his shoulder.

“Let’s go, Sleeping Beauty. I’ve got the rental downstairs.”

I obeyed, gathering my things haphazardly, and following him to the lobby, not bothering to stop to brush my teeth or comb my hair. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered.

The drive back to Calabasas was long, hot, and irritating. I was slumped in the passenger’s seat while Nick drove. About half an hour in, I finally spoke.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

Nick scoffed. “Please.” I glanced at him inquisitively. “She’s forgiven you for worse.”

I bumped my head back into the headrest repeatedly, groaning. “I hate this.”

“I know. But it’ll all work out, dude. Mileena loves you, and she’s a reasonable person.”

I nodded, accepting that answer.

“So…” He turned to look at me for a second. “You and Laura?” This made him crack a smile, that I returned.

“She’s fucking cool, dude.”

I slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Damn good baker, too.”

He nodded. “Yeah, she made me this cheesecake for my birthday? Fuck, man. Amazing!”

My mouth fell open. “Your birthday was five months ago!”

He laughed. “Dude, you miss a lot.”

I shook my head. “You little shit, couldn’t tell your best friend?!”

“Sure, if my best friend wasn’t always so wrapped up in his own drama.”

I punched a fist at his shoulder, laughing.

“Jackass.”

I opened the front door, and was met with overwhelming silence. No Angel barking. No TV playing. No voices. Nothing.

I moved slowly into the house, feeling an overwhelming nausea, as I bound up the stairs toward my room to deposit my bag. It was clear no one was here, but I didn’t know what to expect the further into the house I got.

The note was laying on the middle of the bed, but I didn’t pick it up immediately. I set my bag down and opened one of the dresser drawers, Leena’s pants drawer, which was empty. I then walked into the closet, where all I found were empty hangers on her side. I jogged down the hall to Addie’s room, where I found her walker, diapers, wipes, and clothes were gone. Even Angel’s bed that was always laid in the corner was gone.

My heart sunk, and I walked slowly back to my room, picking up the folded paper on the blanket, opening it to see her clean script.

Addie, Angel, and I will be staying at Laura’s for a while. Dad left this morning. When you’re ready to come see the baby, text Laura.

-Leena

I dropped the note, it falling gently back to the bed. Without thinking, my hand grabbed the lamp on the side table, slinging it at the wall behind the dresser, causing it to shatter.

“God damn it!” I screamed, my words echoing around the empty house. The tears fell hot onto the bed, my teeth grinding tightly together.

I let a few hours pass, taking a cold shower, and forcing myself to calm down. I ate a bowl of cereal, choking down each bite while fighting against the nausea settled in my gut. After I had gotten dressed, and relaxed enough to know I wouldn't explode at any given moment, I texted Laura.

Me: Hey

I didn't have to wait long.

Laura: Hey

Me: Can I come see Addie?

Laura: Of course

The drive to her house took about twenty minutes. I had rehearsed over and over what I would say to Leena, how I would convince her to come back home with me. How we could move past this.

But when I pulled up to the house, I was disappointed to see only Laura's car in the driveway, Leena's Tahoe nowhere in sight.

When Laura answered the door, she had Addison on her hip, who gave a large, single-toothed smile as soon as she saw me. Any hesitation and anxiety I had melted the very second I laid eyes on my daughter. I hadn't held her in months, and right now, all that mattered was her.

"Hey baby girl!" She reached her little arms out for me, and I scooped her up enthusiastically, planting a long, hard kiss on her cheek. She squealed in excitement. "Ugh, I missed you so much."

I squeezed her into my chest, her hands grabbing at my hair. She smelled so sweet, the baby scent still having a full effect on me. Laura moved to the side to let me in, and Angel ran up, barking in excitement.

"Hey buddy!" I squatted down, still holding Addie, and ran a hand over Angel, who licked me with fervor. "Been taking care of my girls?"

He barked in response.

I stood back up, and gave Laura a smile, not entirely sure where we stood. She returned it, a warm look in her eyes. I felt some relief, knowing I had someone on my side.

"Hey Noah." She gave me a one-armed hug, almost sympathetically, and shut the door behind me.

I walked over to the couch, sitting and letting Addie down. She began walking on wobbly legs toward her toys sprawled across the rug, Angel right behind, always watching.

"She's not here?" I looked up at Laura, who had sat cross-legged across from me on the floor. She just shook her head sadly. "Can I ask where she is?"

She just sighed. "She's asked me not to say. She wants to be alone."

I nodded, not surprised. "I don't know what to do Laura."

She leaned back on her palms, stretching her legs. "I wish I could tell you, hon. But I don't know. She's hurt."

I huffed, frustrated. "I didn't do anything. I was good, I didn't cheat on her, I didn't fuck around."

Laura eyed me, unamused. "Noah, you admitted you thought about sleeping with another woman." She put her hand up, gesturing to me. "Can you say you'd feel different if she did that to you?"

I considered this, realizing I hadn't thought about it that way at all. She had a valid point.

"Fair. I just want the chance to explain that it doesn't matter. I love her, no one else. I don't want anyone else."

Her eyes were so soft. Laura heard me, which I appreciated. Hopefully she could convince Leena of the same.

I spent two hours playing with Addie, and feeding her lunch, before Laura excused herself to the bedroom to take a phone call. I had just cleaned up Addison, and was removing her from the highchair when Laura walked back in, her phone in hand.

"Here, let me change her clothes, you take this." She handed me the cell and I looked down to see the call open, Leena's face on the screen.

I looked at Laura, who just nodded while she turned and took Addison in the next room.

"Hey!" My voice was so jumpy, I cleared my throat to calm it down. "Where are you?"

"I went to a meeting." Her words were stale, no feeling behind them.

"Oh, that's good." I stepped out the back door, pulling it closed behind me. "Are you going to come back? I really need to see you."

Her breath was loud on the other end, slightly ragged. "Noah, I don't want to see you."

What is the feeling when you feel like your skin is going to melt off, but your insides are completely frozen? Is there a name for that? Panic, maybe?

"You don't." It wasn't a question. She didn't respond. "Okay, uh," I kicked at the dirt under my feet. "I don't know what to say to that."

"I don't know if I can do this, Noah."

Shattered? Devastated? There's a fucking name for it.

"What do you mean?" I couldn't bring my words above a whisper, given the wind had been knocked right out of me. She wasn't saying what I thought she was, was she?

"There's always going to be a tour. Time away. Me home with Addie. A girl who throws herself at you. Lots of them."

"Leena-"

"And, it's just too hard, Noah."

Shaking. I was fucking shaking.

"No, babe-"

"I can't do it. Not now. Not with Addie. I thought I could. I really, really did."

"Leena, listen-" I was yelling now, but she just kept talking.

"I love you too much. And I love us. But we can't be us. Because you're a rockstar. And you have a career, and a life."

"I have you! And Addison! I'll quit right fucking now, Mileena! I will call Sumerian right now and tell them I'm out. Forever. I'll ghost write. I'll produce from home. I'll never tour again!" I was desperate. I was begging.

"No, you won't, Noah. You love it. It's your dream. I won't let you."

"I love you! I won't lose you over this! Rachel is nothing! Nothing!"

"It's not just her. How many more Rachels will there be?" I heard her voice cracking. "And I'll be at home, with Addison. We can't go on tour with you. I can't always be there. Noah, I just can't."

"Mileena, I'll do anything. Please."

"Take Addie for the night. Or a couple days. She missed you."

"God damn it Leena, stop and listen to me!"

"We can work out me having her while you're on tour. You can have her when you're home, or we can split the time if it's not a heavy year." She sighed. "We don't need to worry about custody."

"Custody?!" I was full-blown screaming. "Mileena! You're overreacting! Please!"

"I'm sure you think so. But you haven't been where I am. You haven't seen what I have! You haven't been left behind! I was, Noah! And I supported you! Through it all! I happily stayed home with Addison while you chased your dreams, and became the success you are! And when I finally have you back, I hear you almost slept with another woman?! You considered it?!" She stopped abruptly, her words blurring together, sobs shaking her words.

She took a moment to compose, which was fine, because trying to swallow everything she had just said was proving to be more difficult than I expected.

"I'm not going to do this." She paused for only a beat. "Take Addison. Let me know when I can come pick her up. The car seat should still be in your truck."

I couldn't speak, my mind was blank. My brain was flattened.

"Just be gone by six." And the line went dead, the phone beeping, signaling the end of the call.

Oh. That's what this feeling was.

Pain.

#noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #noah sebastian fic #fanfic

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