#This Bitch Deserved To Die!!!!! he just got what was coming to him!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

creepswrites · 1 month ago

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TIRED OF RUNNING (CH 2) | Sinclairs x Reader

THIS IS THE COOLEST OMG thank you so much for 1000 followers!!! :D i know this may be silly but this is a big thing for me and i'm super happy about this!! to celebrate, i finally finished ch 2!! i hope you guys enjoy and that it was worth the wait!

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: Before Bo could answer, they were interrupted by a soft groan of pain as your ex lifted his head to try and take in his surroundings. Lester wondered what it looked like to him - the walls covered in wax, the unbearable heat, the churning of the big machine that'd soon encase him in his own wax prison. He hoped the man was terrified. He deserved to be, after all he put you and the boys through.

WARNING: graphic violence, child abuse, suicide

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Vincent slammed the door of the car as he stormed up to the front of the house, ignoring Bo's weak protests as he followed hot on his twin's heels. "Vince, it ain't my fault Mama's sick! What, you want her to jus' waste away and die?!"

The other man spun hard on his heel, managing to glare daggers even behind the wax mask. His hands moved harshly as he signed and ignored the way Bo sighed with annoyance. "You KNOW how important college is to me! Or, more accurately, was. Mama wanted me to be successful, I shouldn't have let you pull me back to this hellhole."

Bo scoffed. "I didn't want ya back either, believe me. But I'm the only one providin' for this fuckin' family and her medical bills're pilin' up, Vince! The money Pa gave ya for school could be used to help her! Y'know, the only woman who ever gave a damn about you-!"

He was cut off harshly as Vincent's fist smashed into his jaw with a hard cracking sound. He grunted as he took a knee to the stomach and collapsed to the pavement. Vincent climbed atop him and wailed on his face in anger, trying to ignore the tears that stung his eyes as he unleashed years and years of pent up anger onto his twin. Besides, even if Mama was cognisant enough to ask him about the bloody nose or black eye, she'd never believe it was Vincent who put them there. Her sweet angel Vinny hitting Bo? Surely not.

Bo had always been the "evil" twin, after all.

By the time his anger ran dry, so had the blood caking Bo's face and Vincent's knuckles. They both panted heavily as Vincent stood on shaking legs, offering a hand to the other to pull him up. Angry or not, they were still brothers. And unlike Bo, he had some amount of compassion for others. Even if he'd just broken their nose.

He got a glare in response but Bo took the hand anyway. "You were always a fuckin' bitch," he grumbled as they both made their way back into the house. "You hit fuckin' hard too, the hell'd you learn to fight like that?"

Vincent made his way to the kitchen to wash off the blood. He pointedly kept his eyes off his twin as he scrubbed his hands, wincing slightly when they began to bleed again with newfound vigor. He searched the drawers for gauze and began to wrap his knuckles, fresh red staining the white wraps quickly. "I learnt from you." He signed once his hands were bandaged.

Bo just glared at him, pulling up a chair to sit in the center of the kitchen. "Gonna be hard to explain to Mama what happened, y'know."

Vincent let out a snort of laughter before setting up shop to bandage his brother's face. "She doesn't even talk anymore," he signed aggressively. "Doubt she'll waste her dying breath to ask who broke your face. Maybe she'll think you're handsome this way." He dropped his hands to grab peroxide and wet a cotton ball with it.

"Guess you'd be an expert in broken faces, huh?" Bo hissed out as Vincent dabbled at his face.

He just clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to smash all of Bo's teeth in as he cleaned up the cuts and blood from the other's face. They were silent after that, the only sounds in the kitchen coming from the leaky faucet and Bo's pained sounds. He didn't feel bad for breaking his face and relished in the fact cleaning him up hurt just as bad if not more.

They'd just finished bandaging his face when they heard their mother start screaming upstairs. Morphine must've run out, Vincent sighed internally. The twins locked in a heated staring match, a silent argument about who was going upstairs. With an exasperated sigh, Vincent finally relented and stomped upstairs to give Bo time to lick his wounds.

Pushing open the door to their mother's room was just as horrible as he remembered. Trudy Sinclair had once been a phenomenal artist, a great creator, and an average mother. Now here she was, reduced to a husk of a person hooked up to tubes and wires that kept her from immediately keeling over. The room smelt like a hospital all compressed down into one, tiny, suffocating room. Vincent was momentarily glad the mask hid his face so he could screw his face up in disgust without his mother seeing. She could only watch with wide eyes as her son's bloody bandaged hands changed her bags to get a fresh dose of morphine coursing through her veins as soon as possible.

He wondered if she'd ask him to put her out of her misery if she could still speak. Damn their father for dying before he could fix her vocal cords. Though maybe it's better she can't speak, he thought as he noticed how her eyes fixed on his hands. Who knows what she'd say if she could.

A large part of him didn't really care.

…

"Vince?" Bo's voice snapped Vincent from his stupor and he glanced over his shoulder, knives in hand. He gave a curt nod and Bo just sighed. The three met back up in the kitchen after arming themselves, listening to your ex wail on the door and heard his friends trying to sneak around to the back of the house. "Alright, I'll take the front, Vinny'll sneak 'round the side through the House of Wax. Lester, you got the back. We kill each and every one'a those fuckin' bastards but leave him alive. I got somethin' special in mind."

Lester cheered in excitement, checking the shotgun was loaded before tilting his hat. "See ya when the smoke clears."

"Don't have too much fun," Vincent signed with one hand as he retreated down into the basement to kill the lights. The dark would give Lester good cover and let Bo get the chance to surprise the ones at the door. He slid the knives into their holsters at his sides and fiddled with the breakers, shutting down everything in the town.

Time to go hunting. He hurried down the tunnel towards the House of Wax.

...

Their mothers funeral had been beautiful. Her open casket funeral had the whole town of Ambrose visiting, lamenting the loss of their talented artist. Vincent spent the day squeezing Lester's hand while he cried, fresh out of high school and still their baby brother. Bo greeted people and was a sociable host. Vincent had only been back in town for two months before their mother passed and a part of him was relieved to be here for Lester. Neither he or Bo were bad brothers to Lester but he knew Bo wouldn't be there for their little brother's emotional needs. Losing both their father and now mother over the span of three years hit them all pretty hard.

Bo played the role of the sociable host, greeting people and accepting sympathetic words with a hollow, tired smile. He'd occasionally shoot glances at his brothers who stood off to the side against the wall and silently admired Vincent's ability to pretend to grieve. He knew Lester's sorrows were real but he and Vince had long since made peace with their mother's death long before she even died.

He also knew Vincent still resented him for dragging him home.

When the guests began to clear out, the twins took a moment to stand over their mother's casket. Bo still looked nice in his fitted suit. So did Vincent, although he'd discarded the jacket ages ago. For a while, neither of them said anything. They didn't have to. Call it twin intuition or whatever, they were able to have a silent conversation in a language only they knew. Quietly, Vincent slouched over to bump their shoulders together in a gentle display of affection before quickly righting himself, like he was worried they'd get in trouble if they were caught getting along.

"Yknow, Mama said she wanted to make a whole damn museum outta this town," Bo broke the silence with a wistful sigh. "Said Ambrose was becomin' a dead town and she wanted to make a Town 'a Wax. Then she got sick, because of course she did."

"Your point?" Vincent signed.

Bo turned to look at him properly. "Let's give her what she wanted, yeah? Least we can do for her. She taught you all her tricks 'n you'll be able to do art again." He grinned at Vincent like he'd come up with something great. "Think about it, Vinny. The Town of Wax, just like Mama wanted! We could finally make her proud."

Vincent shook his head quickly, fidgeting nervously with the ends of his hair. It was beginning to grow out more. He liked it long, despite their Pa insisting he keep it short. "She never taught me how to make full statues like she could. I'd need a base of some sort to make people. Otherwise it'll just be too much wasted wax, since they'd have to be filled figures. I just can't do hollow structures." His hands moved slowly so Bo could keep up. While, yes, their mother did hope for Vincent to take over for her one day, their lessons had been cut short when she got sick. Besides, Vincent had always preferred painting over sculpting.

But Bo had a point. Fulfilling her wishes would be nice.

"Shit, yeah," Bo said as he crossed his arms in thought. And then an idea came to him. Dark, twisted, and certainly coming from years of resentment towards the woman who lay dead before them. "You jus' need somethin' human-like, yeah?"

Vincent nodded once.

"I bet we got ourselves a perfectly good base sittin' right here."

Lester slipped out the back, shushing Jonesy to be quiet. Her growls were loud in the dark, silent space as he listened to the sounds of footsteps. He prided himself on being a damn good hunter so he guessed, based on the amount of steps, there were about four people sneaking around either side in hopes of scaling the fence. Excellent.

The fences were old wood that were certainly in need of replacement at this point. The only reason Jonesy didn't get out every day was because she simply wasn't aware of their weakness. Lester was momentarily grateful for the bushes that surrounded the fences because it let him know that the two on the left were hopping over.

He stood up from behind the wrought iron backyard table and fired.

...

The day their dad disappeared had been a lot of frantic energy and screaming. Lester had only been sixteen at the time and Bo and Vince had just turned twenty-one. Mama's condition was getting worse and worse every day, her pain so terrible she couldn't even move from bed anymore. Her vocal cords had been shredded from her screaming and their Pa kept dodging the boy's attempts to get him to fix it. Some doctor he was.

But Lester didn't mind it so much anymore. Going upstairs to visit Mama in bed had just become part of the routine now. Bo had gotten a job at the autoshop while Vincent was off in college. It was summer break so he'd come back home to help with household stuff that their father insisted was a woman's job. He never bothered to help. All he did was drink and disappear into his office to do nothing.

He wasn't stupid. Vincent and Bo weren't exactly quiet when they argued with their father about medical bills when they thought Lester couldn't hear them. He'd gotten a part time job cleaning roadkill to help pitch in but he knew it wasn't enough.

Their dad was already missing when they'd all woken up. They got the whole town to search the nearby forests, Bo took his truck around the back roads, and Lester searched with Vincent on foot. About an hour in, Bo showed back up at the house, ordering his brothers to get in the car. They'd just pulled out of the driveway when Vincent began questioning him with a flurry of hand movements. "Where is he? What did you find?"

"Vince, I can't look at you and drive."

"He asked where is he an' what ya found." Lester chimed in from the backseat, leaning forward to hover anxiously over the center console. He wanted a better view than the backseat windows.

Bo didn't answer and Lester felt his stomach sink.

Only a few miles from Ambrose, Lester spotted their fathers truck parked in a ditch and let out a quiet gasp. "Is that-?"

"Stay in the car, Les." Bo grunted as he and Vince got out of the truck.

"Fuck that!" He shot back, clambering out before Bo could lock the doors. "He's my dad too!"

Bo shared a look with Vincent and gave a resigned sigh. "Fine, whatever, keep up," he motioned for his brothers to follow. He led the way into the treeline, not even wincing when the stray twigs and branches sliced at his arms and legs..

After what felt like an eternity, they finally broke into the large, open field just past all the brush, Lester nearly took off running. Luckily, Vincent sensed that and grabbed him around the middle before he could get far.

Their father stood in the center of the field, one of his ornate pistols clenched tight in his fist and his head tilted up to stare at the sky. No one had thought to check the little glass case back home.

Everything happened in a rapid blur of chaos and terror from that point. Lester remembered Bo and their Pa getting into yet another screaming match while Vincent did his best to keep Lester from getting near the two. He'd clutched him to his chest and kept his back to Bo and their Pa, forcing Lester's face into the front of his sweater with a stern hold. He remembered protesting, wanting to go see their Pa and ask if he was okay. Vincent shook his head and held his head tighter.

Vincent's voice cracked and wheezed from disuse. "Don't look." He choked out with a cough.

The words sent a chill up Lester's spine and he clutched onto his older brother with as he tried to argue.

A deafening gunshot rang out in the open field and Lester shrieked in horror, fighting harder against Vincent's hold to try and see what happened. The heavy thud of a body ripped a sob from him and his brother's gentle shushing was doing nothing to soothe him. His ears were ringing and Bo was screaming but he didn't sound like he was hurt.

When he finally tore away from Vincent, his heart dropped to his stomach.

Their father lay in the grass, the green stained with bright red blood and brain matter. Bo was running a hand through his hair, tears streaming down his cheeks and blood splattering his face. How close had he been? Lester ran to him, narrowly dodging Vincent's attempts to hold him back.

Bo caught him this time, dragging him off and screaming at Lester to get back.

…

The intruder's screaming was quickly silenced as Jonesy began to tear at their necks. Lester whistled her to step back, not wanting to ruin Vincent's models too much. The other man always got so pissy whenever he had to play makeshift doctor to get them to a presentable state. A shot through the head was usually easy for him but all their running and screaming had him distracted. He cocked the gun with a heavy clunk and aimed at the other two on the right who were trying to run.

The gun fired again.

…

Lester stood in front of his father's grave clutching the antler of a deer. Blinking back tears, he let out a shaky breath. "Hey Pa," his voice a wet whisper when he finally managed to choke out words. "I, uh, talked with Bo 'n Vinny today. They, um, told me 'bout what life was like growin' up with you. How you used to stap Bo to a chair to get him to eat." He sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeves. "I used to look up to ya, y'know? Vincent always had Mama an' I know ya didn't like Bo much, so I," he swallowed back a whimper, "I tried to be your lil' guy, but…"

Tears began to fall as a sob wracked his body. "Damnit, why'd ya have to do Bo like that?! Thought he got the scars from fightin', not from you hurtin' him! Ain't no wonder he hated ya so much…"

Lester threw the antler at the gravestone, glaring through his tears as it cracked into pieces and fell to the dirt below. The sight only made Lester angrier, wishing he could've thrown something at his father before he became rot beneath wet soil. Maybe that would've taught him regret. Maybe. He didn't want to place bets on a losing horse.

"He wanted to save ya, y'know? Even in the end, he was beggin' ya not to do it." He grimaced at the memory, like the mere idea of saving their father now disgusted him. "Been a year now and I still… I still wish you loved us enough to stay. But we weren't good enough for ya, huh? Ain't never been, yeah?"

He fell to his knees in front of the grave, grabbing a piece of the antler and scratching at the stone, relishing in the way some pieces of the letters chipped off. Served him right. He didn't deserve to be remembered.

Pa said nothing in response and paid Lester no mind. Just like always.

…

Catching and killing the others had been painfully easy. In a matter of minutes, the three brothers had the bodies piled like wood in the basement, bullet holes in their heads steadily bleeding out. Whatever, Bo brushed it off, Vince'll clean it up later if it bothers him so much.

But one man stood apart from the rest. Very alive and tied to the chair with only a minor bump to the head. Just like he'd wanted.

"We got a lotta new faces for the museum," Lester called to Bo with a wide grin on his face. "'m still a damn good shot too."

"What will we do with him?" Vincent signed, ignoring Lester and gesturing to your ex.

Bo gave his brothers a dark smile. "Well, obviously, we can't keep 'im alive. But killin' 'im quickly is too kind."

Lester leant against the nearby work table like a child listening to something fascinating, his face resting on his hands that were propped up on his elbows. "Whaddya thinki' then?"

Before Bo could answer, they were interrupted by a soft groan of pain as your ex lifted his head to try and take in his surroundings. Lester wondered what it looked like to him - the walls covered in wax, the unbearable heat, the churning of the big machine that'd soon encase him in his own wax prison. He hoped the man was terrified. He deserved to be, after all he put you and the boys through.

"Where am I?" Your ex slurred out, trying to lift his head.

"Yer own personal hell." Bo said with an unkind smile. "Punishment for yer sins, I'd reckon."

"W-wha?" He mumbled, trying to think. The head injury was clearly making it difficult though.

Vincent grabbed his hair to tilt his head up for a better look. "Don't remember?" Bo spoke up again. "Pretty thing with two lil' tykes? Ain't ringin' a bell?"

His eyes widened and he swallowed. "You know 'em?" He stammered, glancing around the room. "They put you up to this? Listen, you don't know the whole story, they-"

"They're upstairs sleepin' without a care in the world. We're gonna make sure they get good dreams goin' forward, once you're dead." Lester loudly interrupted. "Vinny, feel like strappin' this guy up?"

Vincent pulled a knife out from his sheath and began to trace the underside of your ex's jaw with the point, like he was daydreaming about stabbing the knife through his tongue and up into his brain.

"Easy, Vinny," Bo said as though soothing an animal. "All in due time. Still got stuff to do, remember?"

"Stuff to- Stuff to do?" You ex stammered as fear finally made itself clear in his hazy mind.

Lester tilted his head with a sigh, sliding out of his seat to stand. "Y'know, he ain't very bright."

Bo shrugged. "Ain't our place to judge our guest's type. 'sides, ain't exactly like we're catches."

"Says you, 'm pretty as hell." Lester laughed, only increasing in volume when Bo smacked the hat off his head.

Vincent watched them with an exasperated eye roll before turning back to his new victim.

"Now, under normal circumstances, we'd let Vinny here do his thing," Bo said slowly as he began to search Vincent's assortment of tools, "But this here's a special occasion. We ain't take kindly to child abusers 'round here. So we're gonna give ya what's coming for ya 'fore you burn in hell."

Their prisoner began to fight against his bonds, shaking his head. "No, no, you don't get it, they tried to baby trap me! I never wanted kids, they forced me to-!"

Vincent didn't hold back the backhand he gave him, hissing under his breath at the stinging left behind.

"I'm gonna pretend I ain't just hear you lying to me," Bo said. The calm evenness of his voice never failed to unsettle his personal victims and he could tell your ex was squirming as his cheek began to blossom into a bruise. "If you're goin' to hell, you better go an honest man, yeah?"

Bo turned around, brandishing a pair of pliers and a wild, terrifying smile.

"Let's begin."

You jolted awake with a sharp gasp, covered in a thin layer of sweat that left you feeling sticky. Nightmares have become commonplace to you at this point. Your ex haunted your dreams, stealing away your boys or, god forbid, hurting them again… It never fails to leave you shaking and gasping for breath every time. Tonight, though, you'd dreamt of your ex and his friends showing up and your hosts throwing you out to the wolves, believing the sly, honey-sweet words of your abuser over your pleas.

The mere idea of that left you feeling sick and scared.

Despite that, a yawn escaped you as you shook your head as though to shake off the lingering fear of the nightmare. You gave a glance at the window and frowned at how dark it still was outside. The digital clock on your bedside revealed it was barely past 3am. God, it felt so much later than that.

You turned to look over at your boys, fast asleep in the little blanket and pillow cocoon you'd made them to sleep in so they could be on the bed. The blue night light cast dark shadows on their face and you stared at them until your eyes burned from lack of blinking. They were so soft and fragile, your heart divided in two just for these two boys. You'd burn the world down to keep them safe.

You pressed soft kisses to both their foreheads and slid carefully out of bed. The room was exactly as you left it, dark and only illuminated by a little star night light that must've once been Lester's. It was cute, you smiled to yourself. The blue walls were covered in posters for bands you didn't recognize and a few well-known horror films. He also had a small, ornate frame of pinned butterflies over the door. It suited him, the longer you thought about it.

Quietly, you opened the door and crept out into the hallway. The twins' bedroom doors were closed and you sighed internally that they were asleep. That meant you likely hadn't cried out when you awoke.

The stairs creaked and groaned as you slunk downstairs, wincing at every noise you made. In such a quiet space, the sounds were deafening.

"Y'alright?" A tired, low voice spoke up.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Lester talk. You'd forgotten he was set up downstairs and all the noise must've woken him up. You couldn't see him in the dark but you shot a smile in the direction of the couch anyways. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Nah," Lester sighed as though stretching, "Can't sleep, 'sall." And, with a soft click, he turned on the nearby lamp. Warm yellow light bathed the downstairs, dark shadows reminiscent of the ones on your boy's faces, you thought to yourself as you looked at Lester.

"I could make us tea." You hugged yourself to try and fight off that usual nighttime chill. "Might help us both sleep."

Lester gave you a nod and smiled shyly. "Yeah, yeah, sounds great Sweetpea."

When you disappeared into the kitchen, he let out the breath he'd been holding. Quietly, he grabbed his sheathed knife that he'd left on the table and hid it under the couch as he stood up to follow you. The kitchen was still dim, even with the light of the lamp stretching out into the quiet space.

"What's got you awake?" He whispered while creeping up behind you. "Kids causin' a fuss?"

You let out a sigh while rooting around for a couple of mugs. "No, no, just… Nightmares."

Lester frowned even though you couldn't see it. "What kind?"

"Bad ones," you said while pouring some water into the two mugs and glancing around for the microwave. "Ones where he comes and hurts me or the kids. Or ones where people throw me back to him despite my pleas not to."

"I'd kick his ass for ya, y'know that right?" Lester said, his voice much closer now.

You finally looked over your shoulder and you couldn't help the butterflies his words gave you. "Yeah," your voice was quiet and you loved the way he seemed to soften. "Yeah, I know you would."

"'m serious. My brothers would too. We ain't gonna let him getcha here, promise." He seemed insistent, which raised a concern for you. You got the feeling something had happened that you weren't aware of yet.

But anxiety suffocated you. "Did, um," you swallowed anxiously as you turned back around to drum your fingers anxiously on the edge of the kitchen sink, "Did he… come by?"

A beat of silence. It felt like it went on for hours when it was only a short minute, yet you felt suffocated all the same. "No." Lester said slowly, as though trying to choose his words carefully. "No, he ain't been here."

You didn't believe him.

Then you were presented with a choice. Play it cool or freak out. Neither of which were great options but you liked your odds better if you just played nice and pretended to believe him. All you had to do was play along until the fan belt Bo ordered for you arrived and then you could leave.

If your ex wasn't here in the house then that meant he was somewhere nearby. But, based on Lester's tone, he knew where he was and wasn't telling you. That didn't sit well in your stomach but you swallowed it down and nodded. "Okay. Good."

So the two of you sat against the counters drinking tea in the dark. He happily made small talk while you nodded and listened to the trials and tributes that came with being a roadkill cleaner.

He'd been in the middle of telling you a story about a fawn with a broken leg when the basement door swung open with a heavy thud. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you shrieked, staring at the shape moving in the beacon that was the yellow basement lights.

Vincent froze in place, staring at you through the eye holes of his mask. One of his hands was wrapped crudely in a bandage and the other held a pointed carving knife. On instinct, you ducked behind Lester while peering over his shoulder at the other man, watching Vince tilt his head almost comically.

"He says he's sorry for scarin' ya." Lester said with a chuckle. "Y'alright?"

"Sorry," you sighed, bumping your forehead in the space between his shoulder blades. "Just… high strung, I guess."

Lester hummed. "Can't imagine what you've been through. I promise, things'll be easier for ya from now on."

You couldn't help but feel that as an omen of some kind. Though you weren't sure if it was good or bad.

The next time you woke up, it was morning. Sunlight peered through the blinds and hit you in the eyes, making you wince as you yawned. It felt later than you usually slept in and it struck you that no one had woken you up wanting breakfast or attention.

Realizing the boys weren't with you, you shot up from the bed and took off downstairs. All you could focus on was your pounding heart and desperate need to find your boys.

You came to a halt when you heard laughter and voices. When you stepped off the stairs, you went straight for the kitchen and sighed with relief.

Peter and Mikey were playing at the table while Lester was making breakfast in the kitchen. Vincent had Peter in his lap who was coloring with crayons at the kitchen table while Bo sat with Mikey and helped him in lining up his dinosaur toys in front of the couch.

For the past few years since the boys came into your lives, your ex had outright refused on multiple occasions to bond with them. Peter and Mikey had learnt quickly that, when their father was around, they had to be silent and obedient.

So seeing them openly playing and laughing made you feel dizzy. While he was nowhere near, you still worried that your ex was going to round the corner and slap Mikey for getting his toys everywhere or yell at Peter for being too loud.

It felt like a weight had been lifted at the sight of them being happy.

Peter saw you and practically leapt off Vincent's lap and ran over to show you his drawings. "Dinosaurs!" He beamed up at you with pride and you could definitely tell where Vincent had done rough outlines to let him color in. The gesture was sweet and you couldn't help but smile.

"They're very nice!" You cooed as you gave Peter a kiss on the cheek.

"Breakfast'll be ready soon!" Lester called out over the sound of sizzling bacon. "Wash your hands, I ain't lettin' y'all get sick. Lord knows where Bo's been." He teased and grinned over his shoulder at his brothers. He softened when he saw you but quickly resumed cooking.

You let the twins pair off to wash up and joined Lester in the kitchen instead. "Didn't take ya for the cooking type."

Lester gave a little chuckle. "What, ya think 'cuz I clean streets, I can't cook? Mama taught me how, said it'd be good for me to learn so I ain't dependin' on her forever. Said I ain't allowed to get married to some girl 'n rely on her for everythin'."

"She sounds like a great mom." You said wistfully, approaching Lester slowly to watch him work. Eggs, bacon, pancakes beginning to stack up…

"Nah," Bo's voice from behind surprised you. Peter was in his arms, head slumped against Bo's shoulder as he stared ahead at nothing. "She wasn't all that great."

Lester didn't say anything to that.

You decided not to bring it up at breakfast.

"Store's jus' down the corner, can't miss it." Bo said, not even looking up from the television. He and Lester were watching a game when you'd offered to go get groceries as a thanks for them housing you and making you food.

They'd protested but, eventually, Vincent had suggested he go with. You hadn't liked the look they all shared but you didn't have time to dwell on it, too focused on trying to get Peter to stand still long enough to put his shoes on.

When you, Vincent, and the boys ventured outside, you were struck at how empty the town felt.

Even for a small town, you expected to see at least a few people walking around, right?

But everything felt deserted as you followed Vincent down the sidewalk towards the little general store. The boys stayed close, alternating between holding yours and each other's hands as you walked. Things got stranger and stranger the more you walked - street lights didn't work, there was no sound coming from any of the houses, and you swear that a woman across the street has peeked over at you twice in the past few seconds…

"Hey, Vincent?" You asked slowly, coming to a stop a good few feet away. Something was very, very wrong about this place and it was becoming more difficult to ignore. "What's… what's going on?"

He looked over his shoulder at you before tilting his head. You wished you had a way to communicate better but your sign language was rusty at best and his hands moved too quick for you to follow clearly.

You felt multiple pairs of eyes on you and you couldn't help but whip your head around before your eyes caught on the display case beside you. A few figures stood displaying different outfits outside what seemed to be a clothes store. You grimaced, never really being a fan of mannequins, and were about to turn away when you realized one of them looked distinctly like your ex, down to the terrible haircut and all.

Fear clogged your throat and you forced yourself to swallow yet again that day. It was a coincidence, surely, but it still deeply unsettled you. The boys were trying to hurry after Vincent but your grip was a vice around their little hands. "Vincent, I think I want to go ba-"

The figure's eyes darted down to meet yours.

You felt a scream in the back of your throat but all you could let out was a gasp. Stumbling backwards, you scooped up both kids in your arms as you tried to put distance between yourself and the figure. It didn't move - he didn't move - and that only made you feel sicker and sicker. "Vincent!" You shrieked, training your eyes on him where he stood unmoving. "What is this?!"

He stepped towards you, hands held up to placate you, and you felt all sense of fear begin to melt into relief as Vincent got closer. The tears of horror mixed with relief when he hugged you.

Your ex was dead. But you felt like this was just a new type of prison…

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kisskiss-slashslash · 2 years ago

Note

Slashers (plus Micheal) chasing their future s/o and mid chase they trip head first bc of a rock and their s/o just turns around and laughs at them. The slasher just get up and start chasing them again but there s/o can’t stop laughing

I think it’s a funny fic❤️

U don’t have to do this btw

Oh but I want to 😄 unfortunately I couldn't come up with a good scenario for Michael, sorry. If I ever get an idea for it I will add him to thia post

Slashers tripping and falling while chasing their future s/o

Jason Voorhees

Jason is unsure about chasing you, and that’s the only reason why this happens. Usually, when he is *really* determined to kill someone, something like that wouldn’t happen to him; not at Crystal Lake at least, where he knows every stick and stone by heart. He may get his weapon stuck in places, but tripping? No way.

But you… you are different. Really, you don’t seem like his other victims at all. Your only real “crime” is entering his territory in the first place. So yes, Jason isn’t quite as set on killing you. He might even let you get away.

He is debating with himself if sparing you would really be a good idea, when his foot gets caught on a small rock, and he finds himself face first on yet another rock, leaving him with a bloody nose.

You stop and look at him, your cheeks puffed up trying to contain your laugher. But when you try to speak, it just bursts out. Jason, of course, is not pleased, and immediately gets up to continue his pursuit.

Busy laughing as you are, you do not see the rope on the ground, and you quickly find yourself in the same position as Jason, face-first on the ground, with a nosebleed and a bruise on your face.

He catches up to you and you turn around. “I… guess I deserve it now, for laughing at you.” You see the blood dripping from underneath his mask and pull a tissue from your pocket. “Here. Sorry for laughing earlier.”

He hesitates before accepting, and once his bleeding nose is plugged up, he reaches out his hand to pull you to your feet.

Okay, it wasn��t nice of you to laugh at him, but you apologized. And that seals the deal for him; you’re a good one. You don’t have to die.

Vincent Sinclair

He actually trips over his own equipment. No idea *how* you got into his workshop while still breathing; you were probably trying to hide from Bo, only to find yourself face to face with his brother. Once he notices you, he of course grabs his ornate carving knifes and tries to attack you, only for the strap of his apron to get stuck at his chair, which causes him to trip over said chair while trying to untangle himself. And to put the cherry on top, when he hits the ground, his mask cracks and falls off.

You try to bite back your laughter. Unsuccessfully. Still, you decide to run before Vincent can recover.

He catches up to you in the living room of the house. Now maskless, he advances on you while you are alternating between giggles and sobs.

Then you can see him. And just kind of blurt out:“A pretty face like yours really shouldn’t be covered up by a mask.”

He lowers his knives, confused. Are you… *hitting on him*?

Freddy Krueger

Even in a world where he is god, Freddy isn’t quite safe from the little annoyances of every day life. This time, while making one of his usual quips, he makes a small misstep and lands on his ass.

You laugh, all of your fear going up in smoke, and with that, Freddy’s powers.

“Fucking hell”, he grumbles while he pulls himself to his feet. “What, you think I’m harmless just because I tripped, bitch?”

You are doubled over, holding your sides. “Oh really? Cause you don’t look that threatening right now, old man!”

He growls, frustrated that you are *right*. You are in his world now, but he can’t do anything because you’re not scared.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is pursuing you through the walls of his family’s estate, but underestimates his momentum while rounding a corner, which causes him to lose his balance and fall backwards.

You look at the sight, and while the laughter is bubbling up inside you already, you can’t help but feel the protectiveness you have started feeling towards your “charge” flare up.

He said he wouldn’t hurt you. He said he would be good. And really he has never hurt you, right?

Still chuckling to yourself, you walk up to him and offer your hand. “I think I win this round”, you say, trying to play it off as if you were only playing catch.

He looks up at you and allows you to pull him up. “You… were just playing?”

“Of course, would I be laughing otherwise?”

Brahms doesn’t quite believe that, but as long as it means you will stay, he won’t ask any more questions.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba does tend to be a little bit on the clumsy side, so it’s no surprise when he loses his balance while swinging the chainsaw at you. It clatters to the ground, and gets dangerously close to cutting *him* instead.

You quickly grab the handle and turn it off, almost out of reflex, as if the person about to be cut by it hadn’t just tried to kill you.

The ridiculousness of the whole situation makes you burst out laughing. “What am I even doing here?”, you choke out inbetween tears of laughter. Then you shake your head and look at Bubba.

“You okay? The chainsaw didn’t get you, did it?”

He looks at you like you’re a hero. No, he can’t eat you. You saved him. He has to tell Drayton that you’re a friend now.

#slasher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #freddy krueger x reader

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anisespice · 8 months ago

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12:34am — manjiro sano

Honestly, he should’ve seen it coming.

As soon as they were situated in a secluded area of the quaint, little ramen bar they occasionally visited, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that wouldn’t relent until it revealed itself. The next thing MIKEY knew, right after the server placed steaming food on the table and left the room, a gaggle of low-rate thugs came barreling in, guns drawn and aimed practically in his face with misplaced confidence. He didn’t even flinch, just set his chopsticks back down with a slow exhale through his nose.

“Can I at least eat a little before you try to kill me?” Mikey muttered, disinterested gaze briefly scanning over the opposition, sizing them up. Wack.

“Your last meal’s finna be this bullet, asshole. This what happens when you fuck with the Tokyo Vipers. We don’t care how tough you are, you’re gonna pay for what you did to Boss Nakashima!”

“Who?” Clearly, not the response they were looking for.

A stand-off commenced, his executives quick to pull out their own weapons, choosing a target with full intent to kill. The one guy focused on Mikey remained adamant to land one right between his eyes, resolve unshakable even with two or three guns aimed back at him. He��d give the idiots credit for boldness. Not everyday does the common thug grow the balls to try something with Bonten.

Unfortunately, they chose the wrong night to chase retribution.

“M-Manjiro…what’s happening?”

At the meek sound of your voice, he subtly reached for you under the table. You practically shook like a leaf, doe-eyes wide at the sight of a gun aimed at your lover with hands raised high as if you were also to blame—Definitely not the ‘simple night out’ you anticipated when he invited you to tag along. It was his own fault really, thinking simple was ever an option when it came to his reputation, not even for a night.

“A-Are they gonna kill us?” You cried, scooting closer to lean against his frame for more comfort. It made him relax a smidge, taking it as a good sign. “Please, j-just name your price, whatever the number, and it’s yours! You don’t have to do this-”

“Unless your money can bring back the dead, sweetheart, you can shove it up your ass!”

Mikey felt you jolt. Sparing you a side glance, his thumb caressed your thigh in small, reassuring circles. His poor baby, must be scared out of your mind. The blonde wanted nothing more than to shatter every bone in the bastards who put such an expression on your face.

“Let my girl step out. This doesn’t involve her.”

“The bitch stays. Want ‘er to watch you die.” The assailant hissed, thrusting the gun forward to bump against Mikey’s forehead.

His brow twitched in annoyance, grip around your thigh tightening ever so slightly as his mind filled with various ways to snap the guy’s arm without you bearing witness. The last thing Mikey wanted was you being afraid of him. You were a slice of normalcy in his chaotic life. Call him selfish, but he wanted you to stick around despite the ugly parts of it, hoping to hide it for as long as he could. Evidently, it was short-lived.

He knew he didn’t deserve it. You were too pure for a tainted soul like his, too soft for someone who’d been hardened by life, too—

“Bitch? ”

The whole room came to a halt.

All eyes had flicked over to you, uncertain if that bone-chilling tone came out of such a meek little thing, who not even seconds ago was visibly trembling. Now you were still as stone, delicate features no longer consumed by fear but contempt as you stared down the man with a slight tilt in your head. Even with tears clinging to your lashes, it was very unsettling.

You gave a hollowed chuckle. “Oh, you got me fucked up.”

The assailant blinked. “Wha-?”

“Shut up, let me tell you something,” you abruptly stood, nearly giving the Bonten men heart palpitations, fearing your next sudden move might be your last. Mikey, however, merely watched in stunned silence, hand that comforted you now hovering awkwardly as he blinked up at you. Jabbing a finger into the man’s chest, you hissed, “You can come up in here waving guns all you want, but I’ll be damned if some limped-dick, broke motherfucker calls me out my name.”

He gaped, then fixed his mouth to threaten you. “Sit your ass down before I make you regret ever meeting this scumbag, you little—”

With a quickness, you swing with a crisp thwack! to the side of his head. The room clamored about, even Mikey found himself blinking rapidly at not only your swiftness, but your audacity. With the opposition aiming their guns on you immediately, the executives instantly jetted their attention over to Mikey to gauge his reaction. He remained visual unnerved, save for the slight drop in his jaw.

“SHIT—FUCK,” the man yowled, stumbling back. With his ear ringing, vision blurring with tears, it was a wonder where you kept all that unbridled strength. Was this the same person who feared for their life not even moments ago? When he clumsily regained composure, he looked at you utterly stunned. “D—…Did you just fucking slap me? Have you lost your mind, you crazy—?!”

You raised your hand, making him flinch. “Say it again. I dare you.”

Flabbergasted. Shockandawe. Slightly aroused?

That was the consensus of every gun-wielder in the room, some more than others unable to mask the evident thrill from hearing such vulgar and venomous words drip from such a pretty mouth…Mikey being the first in line. Man’s still gawked with a glint in his eye that could only be described as carnal; since when had his kitten grown claws?

“GYAT.” Ran winced, then gave a snicker. That smack alone bounced off the walls, he just knew that had to smart. “Shake it off, buddy, shake it off.”

Sanzu, with a cackle, exclaimed, “Hit ‘em again!” earning a glare from the aggravated assailant, his gun now pointed at you and no longer on Mikey.

Kakucho grew anxious, the others just as on edge. If they didn’t take action soon, someone was bound to get trigger-happy. The situation was already unpredictable as is, but with your newfound attitude, things were sure to escalate fast. He gruffly voiced, “Boss, what’s our move?…Boss?”

Said blonde paid no kinds of attention.

Head void of any thought aside from your angelic form beneath the soft lighting standing your ground without an ounce of fear, one would think Mikey was in a trance. His bleak stare practically singed right through you, calculative as he watched your pristine facade unravel bit by bit—Such vicious words filled with vinegar and oil, a contrast to your usual peaches and cream, such discourtesy when you’re normally so well-mannered.

How long had you been hiding this side from him?

Mikey thought he had you figured out, from the moment you crossed paths he was certain he’d taint you, the walking cliche of a spoon-fed daddy’s girl who wouldn’t harm a fly, who dated bad boys just to feel something. But now? He wanted nothing more than to unravel you further, leaving you raw and exposed to reveal the devil horns you’d kept hidden behind a false halo.

And frankly, he wouldn’t mind an audience.

“Mikey.” Kakucho urged.

Said blonde hummed in acknowledgment, eyes lazily trailing off you and back at his number three, seemingly distracted. With a wordless exchange, he sighed. Just as things were getting interesting… Mikey reached up and gave the back of your thigh a tender squeeze. You turned to look at him, seething as you rebelled against his silent command. Oh, he’ll enjoy fucking that attitude out of you later.

“Sit down, [_____]. Think you’ve made your point.”

You sneered. “Like hell! My point’s been made when I have this dickhead crawling on his knees, begging for mercy—!”

Before you knew it, you’re grabbed by your thigh and pulled down into his lap. You yelped, arms instinctively shooting out to grab onto something until you landed with a small oof!

As you opened your mouth to protest, your breath hitched and the words catch in your throat at the cool feeling of Mikey’s gun now nudging against your clit through the lace of your underwear. A shutter ran through your body. Thankfully, your little display was enough cover for him to swiftly grab it from his side, playing it off as if he were restraining you.

He leaned in to speak low in your ear. “Cover your ears, baby.”

Goosebumps spread like wildfire across your skin, warmth simmering in the pit of your stomach from both frustration and excitement. Doing as you’re told, you pressed hands into your ears but kept your gaze on the offender in front of you. He was yelling about something, booming voice muffled but no doubt throwing out more threats. His group began to shrink within themselves once the severity of the situation caught up with them, and the odds no longer looked to be in their favor. You almost felt sorry for them; almost.

Before the poor bastard even knew what hit him, the smoking barrel of Mikey’s .45 was the last thing he saw before he hit the cold, hard floor with a hole in the center of his forehead. And just like that, bullets rained from every angle on your side of the room, bodies piling up one after the other until none were left standing. As quick as they came, there they went—Nothing more than stains on what was an originally calm evening.

Your heart pounded in your chest. Mikey could feel it elsewhere.

With his free hand having rested on your inner thigh, thumb dangerously close to where his pistol once was, he could feel a subtle pulse in your clit from the thrilling experience. While his men busied themselves cleaning up the scene, gathering corpses and making disposal arrangements, there was nothing left to distract him from prodding.

“It appears I’ve underestimated you. What other sides have you kept hidden from me, I wonder.” He said, tilting his head.

You whimpered as his thumb pressed against your throbbing little button, biting your lip before replying, “I-I just don’t like.. being talked to that way…”

Mikey hummed, nosing at your jaw. “My sweet girl. She got her feelings hurt, hm?”

It was hard to concentrate with him playing with you beneath the table in front of his subordinates, spreaking low and softly as he littered your sensitive spots with nips and warm kisses. With the little sanity you had left, you nodded. To your horror, you moaned quite loudly when he breached past your underwear to slip two fingers inside of you with ease thanks to your flooding arousal. But, you got over it the second he immediately curled them to hit that spongey area of your walls with a precision that nearly made you see stars.

“Your words, [_____]. You had a lot to say earlier, what happened?”

You gripped his forearm for dear life, jaw dropping as your legs subconsciously spread to give him better access. “Y-Yes!”

He cooed, arm flexing as he pushed his fingers deeper while his thumb stimulated your clit. Your back arched off his front, other hand reaching out to grip the table as you whined shamelessly at the ceiling. Neither of you paid any mind to where you were, or whomever watched, too caught up in the moment. Food had long gone cold and forgotten, bullet fragments scattered at your feet and blood splattered all on the walls. Even with his stomach growling angrily, all he could focus on was devouring you. “‘m sorry, baby. Let me make it all better.”

likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

#🍁wasabi #this walked so ‘block boy’ could RUN #tokyorev #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tr smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyorev smut #mikey x reader #mikey smut #manjiro sano #manjiro x reader

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last-herondale · 8 months ago

Text

Almost Pt. 2

Bucky POV (W/ FemReader)

Angst, heartbreak, sadness

Tw: some mild curse words

AN: Hellooooo. I had an idea for a part two! Two fics in one week? Who do I think I am? 😳 anyway here is Bucky’s point of view on what happened after part one! Will link below! Maybe this will be a new series? Idk feeling ambitious 🤣

Part 1

Part 3

Enjoy 🤘🏼

It had been six weeks since Steve’s party. Six agonizing weeks of silence. Forty-two days of not hearing your voice. One thousand and eight hours of not seeing you smile at my stupid jokes. Sixty thousand, four hundred, and eighty minutes of not seeing the light dance in your eyes whenever you saw me enter the room. Three million, six hundred thousand twenty eight, and eight hundred seconds since I saw you walk away from me during that party after confessing your love for me.

You said you needed time. I respected that. I understood that.

After you bared your soul to me, I told you what I thought you needed to hear. That I wasn’t good enough for you. That you deserved better. It was difficult to stand there and see the light die from your eyes as I said these things. It was painful to see you cry, knowing that I had been the one to cause you that pain. But it was devastating for me to realize that despite how much I loved you, how much I cared for you, that the words I said were still true. Agonizingly so.

I expected that this type of honesty would destroy our friendship. Even though I still held out hope in my selfish mindset that we could continue on like we had in the past. Spending our free nights together, laughing, joking, having fun together, sharing memories, crying, hugging, everything we used to do…

But of course, those dreams had not come into fruition.

When you volunteered to be shipped out of the country for a mission the day after Steve’s party, I knew it was to get away from me. And despite my frustration and worry about you leaving on some dangerous mission without me in the state you were in, Steve assured me that you would be fine. He didn’t know the extent of what happened, but Steve being the inquisitive son of a bitch he is, he was able to connect some of the dots at least. Surprisingly he didn’t lecture or judge me. I was expecting to get an earful from him about how I treated you, led you on, and hurt your feelings, but in return I got nothing.

The mission was only supposed to last for two weeks, but as the days grew longer, the whole team was on edge when the two of you didn’t return. Steve kept communications with Tony, and he would pass along the messages to the rest of us. “They hit a snag. They are safe but they are bunking down for a bit.”

I felt like I was on pins and needles. I just needed to know you were safe, that you were okay. I must have looked worse for wear around the tower, because even Nat noticed and had a conversation with me in my room. It was a little strange. Having her back in my apartment, alone, her fiery gaze still as piercing as it was when we were together. But those feelings I held for her were gone. Something else lingered there, a fondness for the time we had, but nothing more.

I knew she was your best friend, so I assumed you told her everything about what happened at the party, but when she came into my apartment with a stern gaze on me, arms crossed and all, all she said was.

“I don’t know what happened the other night at Steve’s party, but you need to stop moping and get a grip.”

“I’m fine. Stay out of it,” I said with an icy tone.

Nat just rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at me. “If you don’t feel anything for her, then stay away or get your shit together. She cares about you too much to walk away from you, Bucky.” Nat’s voice grew softer as she thought of you. “Whenever she comes back, and she will come back, she needs to heal. She cannot continue to be your emotional support puppet. It's draining her, James. Every time she returns from hanging out with you I see less and less of her return. She cannot continue to give you all of her heart when she is receiving none of it back.

“So for her sake, please, let her go.”

It was a hard thing to hear, but it was necessary. I stopped driving myself mad with when you would return. It was difficult, maddeningly so, but after another week I was able to distract myself enough with other things… other people. I did a few missions here and there, nothing that took me out of the country, but it filled some of the time I had to think about you.

I spent time with Nadia, the girl I had gone on a few dates with, the girl I had broken your heart over. Our relationship was purely physical. She was another distraction, someone to pass the time with. She didn’t seem to mind the distance I put between us. We weren’t exclusive by any means, and she was free to explore all of her options, but that was as far as that would go. Not that I could ever tell you this, even though I wanted to.

That was the shittiest part of it all. I missed you. Constantly. I missed talking with you about every single part of my day. I missed hearing about your day, or the silly little thoughts that swirled in your curious head. I missed spending my weekends with you, staying up until the sun rose, seeing you curled up in a ball on my couch, sleeping so peacefully. The ache in my chest never ceased, but I was able to drown away the thought of you for moments at a time.

And then you returned.

It was like a blow to the heart, seeing you standing in the kitchen, casually making yourself a bowl of cereal. Your skin seemed tanner than when you left. Clearly you had been somewhere where the sun kissed your skin for long periods of time. You looked beautiful, even just in your morning casual wear. You hadn’t noticed me yet. I was frozen in the entryway, trying to think of something intelligible to say to you, when Steve walked in through the other way. He too had not noticed me yet, his skin also sunkissed and a bit long.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before any sound could come out, I watched as my best friend slid his arms around your waist, turned you around in a swift and gentle motion, and kissed you. Ice filled my veins and it felt as if a rock had dropped in my stomach. I staggered backwards a bit, hiding myself more in the darkness of the archway as I saw the scene unfold.

Steve was kissing you. His hands were gentle around your waist, and although you were taken by surprise in the moment, you stood on your toes to be more on his level. You cupped his face and smiled. You were smiling. You looked…happy.

I slipped away back down the hallway and into my room before I could see more. The image of my best friend kissing the love of my life was burned into my mind. I sat on my bed in a disgruntled mess, fighting the strange waves of feelings that were swirling in my body.

You were finally back. You were safe. At that I was able to release the tension in my chest that I had been holding since you left. And then… Steve. What had changed during those six weeks you were gone? Was it serious? Did you love him? Did he love you? These questions paced back and forth inside of my brain until I was nearly dizzy.

It was the memory of Nat’s voice that stuck out amongst my own thoughts. “Let her go.”

You had been happy in that kitchen. Steve was a good man, too good to play with someone’s feelings if he didn’t truly feel something for them. Steve was good for you. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? The reason why I broke your heart in the first place? To set you free to find someone that would love you in all the ways I was incapable of doing. Why was I mad that you had done that? Why did I want to punch Steve for kissing you?

I clenched my fists as I sat on the bed. My body shook with so much emotion. In the torental storm that was my mind, I tried to focus on one memory. The only one that mattered. That night on the balcony. You had stood there, hair swirling in the breeze, more beautiful than the night sky. And you said it.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words calmed me. The memory of that night grounded me. Your tears. Your sadness. Your anger. I caused that. “I’m in love with you.” That is what you told me. And even though I wanted to scream it back, to shout it from the roof that I loved you too, instead I denied you. I threw it back in your face to save you from what I am. I hurt you, and this was my punishment. Seeing you pick up the pieces of that love that I shattered and give it to someone who would nurture that love.

I sat there thinking and thinking, until my head was pounding. I laid down on my bed, the image of you kissing someone else burning in my head.

“I’m in love with you too,” I muttered to myself.

Then, as tears began to silently fall down my face, I began to laugh.

#reader x marvel #marvel fanfic club #fan fic author #fic writing #james bucky barnes #fem reader #marvel #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #heartbroken #angst #angst prompt

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winchester-24 · 4 months ago

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I cannot die in peace until the next part of "Sam choose between you and Ruby". It's soo damn good.

Thank you! I am so glad you like it! Here is the next part <3 Happy reading!

Also, there is violence and mentions of sexual themes so reader discretion is advised :)

Imagine Sam having to choose between you and Ruby (Part 3)

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Sam quickly gets up and blocks your view of Ruby from you.

“Y/N, please let me explain.” He is holding his hands up, the blood now dripping from his mouth. You glare at him, reaching behind for Dean to give you the demon knife. Dean knows what you are asking for and gives it to you in a knife case that you can clip to the back of your lounge pants.

“Sam, clean your fucking mouth off, that’s disgusting, and you don’t have to explain shit to me.” Sam instinctively wipes his mouth, hurt at your comment, when Ruby walks around him, draping her hand on his shoulder, now wearing his t-shirt. Just his T-shirt.

“Oh, don’t be mad at Sammy, little Y/N; you left him; I was just there to pick up his shattered heart, finder keepers, don’t you think?” She teased at you.

“Oh, you mother fucker.” You growled and pounced. You reached out and tumbled her down to the ground, going to punch her in the face. You feel hands try to take you off of her and Sam yelling your name.

“Let the bitch get what she deserves, Sammy,” Dean says, and you feel the hands come off you. You guess Dean will keep Sam distracted. You grab Ruby’s hair roots and take hold of her head to slam her head into the ground. She manages to get her knee in between you two, then her foot, and kicks her leg out to get you from on top of her. She climbs on top of you and wraps her hands around your throat, trying to choke you. She smiles down at you and giggles.

“I understand why you didn’t want any women around him, Y/N. That man is a monster in the bedroom. I didn’t know a man could do so many things with his mouth, and when he was venting out his anger was going rough- it makes a girl so hot, you know?” She sent you a little wink and applied pressure to your neck. You growl and reach around the floor. You feel a stiletto, assuming Ruby’s, and grab the base of it. You swing your arm up, hitting her in the temple with the heel tip. She cries out and backs off of you. You scramble on your feet and kick her in the stomach just because you want to. How dare she try to boast about Sam in such an intimate way when she should have never had her demon hands on him. You look for a belt or rope or something to bind her up, but she catches your ankle and pulls you, dropping you back to the floor. You groan and look up, seeing Dean is still fighting with Sam, keeping him busy for you. You need to finish this up quickly. You roll over, still feeling the knife under your shirt and tucked in the back of your pants. Ruby tries to start choking you again.

“He was telling you the truth; I haven’t seen him in weeks. I made him addicted to my blood so he would get stronger and then left; I wanted to hear him beg for me, that he needed me. I was going to wait a bit longer, but then I got wind that you were back in the picture, and I had to make sure he was still choosing me, which you saw in the PG-13 version of what we do when we are together. He is strong because of me, and he will kill Lillith. We are going to do it together.” Your vision was getting spotty as she was applying more pressure. You were trying to grab her hands off you. “You won’t be around to see it though, Y/N, so sorry- I can’t have you spoiling my plans.” When you know there is no way she is letting up, you squeeze your hand behind your back and grab the hilt of the knife. You make eye contact and smirk. Her face falters along with her grip.

“You’re not going to do shit with him, demon.” You swing your arm up to stab the knife in her chest. She screams as the knife kills her. You hear Sam scream her name. She falls backward as you push with all your might into her. You follow her fall, not taking your hand off the knife until you see her eyes staring blankly back at you. You spit on her.

“See you in hell bitch.” You say. You turn around and see Dean holding Sam back. He looked at you, and anger clouded his eyes.

“Why the hell would you do that?!” He yelled at you.

“Watch who the hell you’re talking to like that Winchester.” You piped back. Sam turns and punches Dean, who falters. Clouded by anger and the high of the demon blood, Sam starts hammering on Dean.

“Y/N,” Dean groans out. “a little help?” He tries to fight off Sam, but he is relentless. Sam and Dean fall to the ground as you look around. You see the kitchenette and open the cupboards. Grabbing the giant frying pan, you turn and see Sam on top of Dean, punching him. You get behind Sam and swing the frying pan on his head, making a loud boing! Sound before he slumps over unconscious on top of Dean. He groans from pain and the weight of Sam on top of him. You help him roll Sam off, and he looks at your hand.

“What is this, Tangled?” He grumbles, referencing a Disney movie you made him and Sam watch with you a few years ago. Dean grabs his head and wipes the blood from his nose.

“Shut the fuck up.” You say, not being able to hide a small smile. “Hurry up and clean yourself up. We have to take him to Bobby’s.”

“What’s at Bobby’s?” He asks as he holds a hand for you to help him.

“The panic room, we should be only an hour out if you speed.” He nods and looks down at Sam.

“Hopefully, you Rapunzeled him hard enough for the drive.” You look at him and roll your eyes.

“You can be so annoying, you know that?”

You guys cleaned up the mess you made, threw Ruby in the trunk, and started to drive. You weren’t a complete asshole; you called a hunter you met from the roadhouse to finish up the hunt for you; you know you will have to repay that debt someday.

“What are you going to do with Ruby?” Dean asks as you start the trip to Bobby’s. You smile innocently.

“I’m going to burn her to a crisp.” Dean looks at you like you are crazy, then mutters

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Sam was out for three hours. When he woke up, he had a splitting headache and bruising from the punches Dean was able to land on him. He saw that he was not in the hotel but in Bobby’s famous panic room. He looked around and saw you were sitting in the chair across from him, legs crossed, reading a journal of some sort.

“You’re awake.” You say it without even looking up the page.

“What am I doing here?” You sigh and close the journal, setting it down on the little table.

“You’re sick. Ruby fucked you in more ways than one and now has gotten you addicted to demon blood. You are here to get better.” You stand and start walking to the door.

“You can’t keep me in here,” Sam said irritably. You whipped around and stomped up to him. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and got really close. Your eyes bored into his.

“If I had done what I originally wanted, you would be on the side of the road with only the clothes on your back to your name. However, your brother is like my own and wouldn’t want that. He would want your sorry ass to get better. So, you are going to sit here, go through this fucking detox, and maybe, just maybe, show your brother some damn gratitude for putting up with you and that whore for as long as he did. You’re sick, Sam. She has clouded your judgment and turned you into something you were always scared of becoming. The Sam I knew and loved would have NEVER let things get as far as they have. I burned your little girlfriend. She is still smoking in the back. Whether you like it or not, this chapter has been closed for you.” You shoved him back and walked over to the door again.

“Why do you even care? You hate me now.” Sam scoffed, but you could sense the heartbreak in his voice. You looked back at him.

“I do hate you, I can’t stand the sight of you, but I’m hoping the Sam I fell in love with- the Sam I am still in love with, the Sam that wanted to spend forever with me, is still in there somewhere, because I know for a fact you are not him, so I will keep you in here for as long as I need to in order to find out. Dean will be in with your dinner.” You banged on the door, and it opened. Dean was standing there to let you out. You exited the panic room without glancing back at Sam, and Dean locked the door. You two made it up the stairs. At the top, he stopped you. You turned and looked at him.

“That was a little harsh, don’t you think?” He said.

“That wasn’t even a fraction of the hurt I had to experience because of him. You wanted him to break- he is going to fucking break.” You turned and started out the door. You turned back to him, and he was still staring at you. “Are you going to help me bury this demon?” Dean nodded and followed you to bury this last chapter of your lives officially and literally.

Week one of Sam's detoxing was a bunch of yelling. He would yell for hours, cussing out you, Dean, Bobby, and everyone. You would go down there, and he would be in the small window. He would be seething, ready to argue. So, you two would argue. Whatever Sam wanted to yell about; you would fight back. If he wanted to fight about Ruby dying, you would yell back about how you loved to kill her, how you were so glad you were the one that got to stick the blade in her. You would tell him how you wished you could have killed her and how it was so satisfying to watch her burn.

If he wanted to yell about how you left, you would fire back about how he made that choice. He chose a demon, and her disgusting,because he hated when you used that word, blood over someone he spent years with. He decided to fuck someone who never loved him over a woman that risked her life for him constantly. How, when he had the chance to follow you, he chose to have pity sex instead.

The arguments would always end with him having nothing else to say and stepping away from the window, usually followed by him kicking or throwing something—Bobby has had to replace the chair in there two times and the table three times.

Most days and nights, you only yelled at each other for 20 minutes max. There were only two nights where you yelled at each other for hours. Those two nights, you would sit in your room and drink, cry, and pray to anyone and anything for your Sam to return.

Week Two was a lot of desperation and a lot of bargaining. He would try to convince Dean to let him out when Dean brought him his meals. One day, Dean went to open the door in a moment of weakness for his brother; you just happened to be coming down at the time with the drink that Dean forgot and saw what was happening. You rushed to keep the door closed and locked, which caused Sam to start yelling and cussing you out for getting in the way. Dean was taken off food duty after that.

When Sam realized Dean wasn’t coming back downstairs, he tried to bargain with you. He would promise anything and everything. He vowed to escape the hunting life with you, marry you, and throw his phone away. Cut ties with everyone. Anything to try to get you to fold, he would try. He would bring out the puppy dog eyes you loved so much. It was a mask, though- it wasn’t the Sam you knew. So, you would scoff at him. Call him weak, and that a child could act better than he could, drop his food off, and go upstairs without another word. Grabbing another one of Bobby’s whiskeys off the shelf, you would head to your room. Between you and Dean, his alcohol bill was rising exponentially.

Midway through week two and into week three, there was silence. You would bring the food down, neither one of you exchanged words, and you would go back up. One afternoon, you were bringing down food, and you peeped through the window and saw Sam on the bed, sweating and shaking a little. His eyes were closed.

“Sam?” You called out to him. He didn’t answer.

“Sam!” You said louder again. He didn’t answer.

“Dean! Bobby!” you yelled for the two men upstairs as you opened the door to the panic room. You leaned down and grabbed Sam by the shoulders, shaking him.

“Sammy, wake up!” You said with urgency. You felt his forehead. Behind the sweat, he was burning up. You heard the clattering of boots coming down the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Bobby said, stepping into the panic room, Dean right behind him.

“I don’t know he was like this when I brought his food down.” Bobby looked at Sam and felt his forehead the same as you did.

“The lack of demon blood must be finally getting to him. Any normal detox would have hit by now, but it’s not like we have a manual on how this addiction works.” He mutters. “I’m going to grab him some medicine, and hopefully that will calm his fever, but we will see. This isn’t exactly a black-and-white addiction case we are dealing with here. We have no idea how this could affect him.” Bobby turned and went to grab some medicine. You turned back to Sam, watching him shiver. Dean came forward and put a hand on your shoulder.

“He will be okay; I think we are making progress.” You sighed.

“I sure hope so.” Bobby came back with a fever patch that you put on his forehead, hoping that would be enough for now.

Sam woke up a few hours later. You were sitting in the chair that Bobby replaced multiple times when Sam threw his temper tantrums. The door was open, as you did not expect either Dean or Bobby to sit down with you while you waited.

When Sam woke up, he groaned and turned to his side. He half opened his eyes, and when he saw you, he rubbed them and opened them fully.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“What do you remember?” You countered.

“I remember not feeling good, so I laid down. I remember feeling like my entire body was itchy and every part needed to be scratched. I remember being super cold and hot simultaneously, and then that’s it. I blanked after that.” He slowly sits up and sits on the side of the bed.

“You had a fever. I guess you passed out because of it because when I came down here, you were unresponsive, just shivering, and your forehead was burning up. Bobby gave you a cool patch, hoping that would help, but this isn’t exactly textbook on what to do.”

“Why are you down here then?”

“I had to make sure you woke up.” Sam looked at you, studying your face. It felt like he was trying to read what you meant by that. You stood up.

“Well, since you are awake, I will leave you to it, which means sitting here and letting the rest of the detox work itself out. If you start feeling like that again, yell for one of us.” You started to make your way out of the room. Sam called your name. You turned to look at him, and for once, you recognized him. You saw your Sammy. The sweet, caring, and amazing man that you fell in love with. Your heart jumped against your brain’s wishes, ready to run back into him and never let him go, never let him out of your sight.

“Yeah?” You replied to him.

“Thank you,” he said back. Your heart was using all its strength to pull you to him, to forgive him right then and there, but you couldn’t, not yet.

“We will see if you say that after this,” you quietly replied, walking out and locking the door behind you.

But you had hope.

#supernatural #dean winchester #reader insert #sam winchester #sam x reader #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #ruby supernatural #supernatural fic #angst

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yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

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HEADKANONS MK1 | DARK!TRIO LIN KUEI |"-How would they react to the reader, on another man's lap? Do they have feelings for the reader."

TW: dark concept, yandere themes, violence, unhealthy jealousy, light smut, gn reader.

✧ BI HAN ✧

Bi Han would enter without even seeing half of the scene, if you want to fuck like an animal you won't be in the same place as this man. He would feel betrayed and would quickly take you away from the random ninja you were flirting with and practically fuck him there, you would look at Bi Han in disbelief as he would quickly silence the man in front of you with an armbar. You cried, you knew the grandmaster's feelings but didn't want a relationship, Bi Han was like a platonic friend to you but he didn't really understand that, leading to the situation you were in now, sitting on Bi Han's lap while the man generated a small ice knife by placing it on the unconscious ninja's neck and smiling coldly in the process.

"-Well, at least he's not dead...yet." -Bi Han spoke while placing small kisses on her neck. He wouldn't touch you there, but fury consumed the man, he would arrange a small favor for Sektor later that night, promising you that the ninja would not die, for being a Liu Kuei, and would get home safe and sound if you agreed to go out with the oldest. You innocent actually believed the empty promise. Sektor got rid of the man who was coldly killed by Bi Han, while the man angrily said that you were his alone. Well, you never heard from the man again and now you were in a "relationship" with the grand master.

✧ KUAI LIANG ✧

Disappointed and angry. Kuai fell in love with you in a short period of time, you filled his heart with hope and your light warmed him. He really blamed himself for not saying anything to you before that fateful scene. He would even get your attention and that of the man you practically mounted, you seemed indifferent asking him what he wanted. Liang would talk about how you were being a bitch in a fit of rage that would lead to the man you were kissing lashing out and being knocked down by the man with a simple punch. You stared in disbelief and he told you how different he thought you really were from other people, leaving you and the man there as Kuai Liang walked out of the bar, punching anything in front of him. He would try to make amends, if you accepted, he would give you his point, telling you how special you were and deserved better. If you believed Scorpio's talk, good for you, he would take the easy way out, break up with the man you were with and date you, trying to have a healthy, normal relationship. Or you could just ignore his feelings again and just find yourself in some lonely village, in a room with Kuai in front of you, looking at his small body sitting uncomfortably in a hard, disgusting chair. "-I'll make sure you only smell like me from today (Y/N.)" - Kuai said as he took off his shirt and threw it somewhere.

✧ TOMAS VRBADA ✧

Sad and confused, but with a lot of fury. He will see the scene by chance, the poor guy was just looking for you for training for the next mission the two of you were doing together, until he saw you practically taking off your clothes and kissing an unknown ninja. He really didn't want to believe it. He loved you, he knew you and him were never anything more, but he considered you two practically boyfriends. He would practically cry there, but with one caveat, the anger would consume him. Smoke would go after the man, taking you off of him and repeatedly punching the stranger, your screams were nothing more than something distant to Tomas, who only stopped until he saw the man passed out and disfigured. He would come towards you bloodied saying he didn't understand why you didn't choose him, Tomas looked deep into your eyes while crying saying he always loved you and you never realized. You were in shock, the man reeked of blood and tears were streaming from his now dilated, terrifyingly blue eyes. You hugged him thinking about what you should do with that practically dead man there, while Vrbada cried in his lap. He would stay with you too. He would fuck you hard and mark you all over. In front of the injured man who was groaning in pain on the couch, you would just let Tomas continue his touches while looking at your own reflection in the wall mirror. When Tomas finished, he promised you that he would take care of the man and told you to wait for your new "boyfriend" in his car. You learned that unexpectedly the man you liked was found dead in a ditch the next day. And now Tomas and you were dating. "-I'll never let you go, you love me, right (Y/N)?" -Tomas spoke with a psychotic look, squeezing your hand tightly.

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 1 month ago

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tear you apart

pairing: carlos x umbrella employee! reader

tags/cws: gunplay, oral m! receiving (at gunpoint), g in v (gun in vag), incredibly dubcon/possibly noncon, threats, degradation

summary: after carlos finds out the truth about umbrella's involvement in the raccoon city incident, he confronts a former colleague... with a gun, but make it sexy?

a/n: technically verging on dark content due to, well, the whole gun thing, but it's closer to pwp than anything and it's not as dark as it sounds (but still read at your own risk)

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 1.6k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @leonfucker3000 @rigorwhoring @withonly-sweetheart

Carlos walks into your office with a fire in his eyes that you've never seen before — pure vitriol. Each stride he takes towards you comes with a purpose.

He keeps his composure, stays silent and stoic, until the door is closed behind him, and he stands in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest disapprovingly.

"You knew about this," he says, "and you just let it happen?"

"Knew about what?"

"Everything— Raccoon City, the G-virus, those creatures running around and eating people, the fact that one hundred thousand people died because of us?"

"Whoa, hold on, what do you mean 'because of us'?"

"Umbrella did this, and we worked for them."

"No, the Birkins did this. It's not all of Umbrella's fault that this happened."

"You didn't answer my question before."

"What question?"

"Did you know about the G-virus?”

"Yes. I knew it existed, but I didn't know this would happen, nobody knew this would happen."

"But you knew it could happen?"

"In theory—"

"No, not in theory! People died. I almost died."

"I'm glad you're alive… and I'm not happy that people had to die."

"Bullshit. You know what I think?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're a cold-hearted bitch who doesn't give a fuck about human lives."

"Excuse me?"

"No, I won't."

He steps closer, closer, closer, forcing you to step back until you reach the edge of your desk. You stand there for a moment in silence, his large frame caging you in. You can see him hesitate briefly before grabbing a handgun from his holster.

"What do you have there?" you ask, not intending to be coy. You know what it is, but you pray somehow your senses are failing you.

"I used this in Raccoon City, to kill innocent people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time and got infected. Now, I'm gonna kill someone who's guilty."

"You don't have to do that, Carlos. You care about people, right? I'm a person, too. And I know you're mad, and I'm really sorry, okay? Please just don't– don't kill me."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I'll do whatever you ask."

He doesn't ask for anything per se, at least, not verbally. He gestures to you with the gun, then to the floor. Get on your knees, he means.

"Like this?" you ask, terrified as you kneel before him.

"Don't act like you haven't done this before."

Your cheeks burn. Of course you've done this before, you're an adult woman who sleeps with men, most people like you have been in this position before — the gun pointed at you is the only new addition. You shouldn't be so embarrassed.

"You don't expect me to believe that you got this job because you're just so smart and capable, do you?"

"I didn't—" you begin to protest.

"I wouldn't talk if I were you."

"Yes, sir."

For the first time today his face shows something other than rage — pride, satisfaction.

"Normally, I'd call you a good girl, but I don't think you deserve that title, do you?"

He waits. It was a question.

“No, sir."

"What do you think you deserve?"

"Is this a trick question?"

He sighs as he unbuckles his belt as if he's punishing himself somehow by doing this.

He slaps you on the cheek with his cock and says, "Make it good. Suck it like your life depends on it. 'Cause it does."

You're not new to the act itself, but past lovers — not that you could call Carlos a lover — have not been as well-endowed. But desperation makes you bold so you take as much as you can, almost more than you can, and get a little more than halfway before you start to choke. Spit covers your chin and tears paint your face but instead of showing you a shred of sympathy, Carlos takes his left hand — his right remains holding the gun, albeit with a lazier grip — and places it on the back of your head, forcing you down further, until your nose meets his abdomen and you can feel him in your throat. You'd be impressed with yourself in any other situation (you'd also smack him on the thigh as hard as possible for doing that without asking), but this isn't the time for pride.

For a moment, you think that the gun was all a distraction, just some added pizzazz, and he’s actually going to kill you by plugging your airways. In reality, he won't let you die of asphyxiation and waste the opportunity to drag this out — whatever this is.

Carlos pulls out abruptly, slaps you on the cheek with his dick again for good measure before telling you to stand up.

Your knees ache from being forced against the tile, so you're a little wobbly when you do.

The gun is still in his hands, so you do as you're told – and quickly. You're nervous in a way he's never seen before. You're far from meek, you never let any of the men you both worked with treat you as anything other than an equal. Carlos once admired you for your confidence and determination.

"If you had asked me a month ago how I felt about you, I would've said I looked up to you," he says with genuine disappointment in the reality that has crumbled around him like the city itself did only a few weeks before.

"I'm sorry," you say.

"Show me how sorry you are. Because I don't believe that shit for a second."

He doesn't give you any instructions this time because it's not your turn to act. He takes control, yanks your skirt down and rips your stockings.

"Hope that wasn't too expensive," he says.

It was, but you decide it's better to keep quiet about that.

"You know what I think about you now?"

"No, I don't."

"I think all those guys who called you a whore were right. I think you're wet right now."

The worst thing is that you are wet. It's not the act itself but the fact that Carlos, a guy you've crushed on for ages, is paying attention to you. You've liked him since the first time he stood up for you at work. He was the only guy who cared that you were getting harassed. Once, when a coworker called you a whore, Carlos took him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. You'd be lying if you said that 'grateful' was the only thing you felt in that moment. It was hot as fuck to watch him fight for you. Now you're the object of his wrath, now he's the one calling you a whore. Yet, all you can think when he's manhandling you is that you've never been this close to him, never felt his touch like this – you want more.

He pulls your panties to the side and swipes two fingers down your slit, and you try to hold back moans that your body desperately wants to let out. You can't hide your arousal entirely – your wetness gives you away.

"You got all wet from me pointing a gun at you?" He's somewhat curious, maybe a bit turned on, but hides behind a mask of disgust.

"Answer me," he says, grabbing your chin and forcing your eyes to meet his.

"Yes… I did," you whisper, fearing someone will hear you, despite the building being empty.

"Since I'm feeling generous, I'll help out."

He examines the gun in his hand, and at first you're terrified. He's going to kill you, you're sure of it. You feel a little stupid - but mostly relieved - when you realize he's putting the safety on. He's still a good man under it all.

He snaps you out of those thoughts with two thick fingers shoved inside you, no warning, no preparation. It's startling, but not displeasurable. You hope he mistakes your whimpers for noises of pain or fear, rather than the stifled moans that they really are. Then there's a third finger, a stretch, you wish he was preparing you for his cock, which you've already had a taste of, but it's for the other thing he's packing — the gun.

It feels unlike anything else. A mixture of pain and pleasure, though the second comes when he starts playing with your clit, nonchalantly, pretending it's an accident, a coincidence, not like he actually wants to see you cum. You should be horrified at the situation, but you can’t shake the excitement you feel when you realize that he wants to see you cum. He wants you.

Could you cum with a gun inside you? It depends on whether Carlos' thumb is rubbing your clit with increased determination, and it is. So, with only a shred of shame, you cum, calling out his name, and the look on his face says he's almost impressed.

You expect he'll want you to return the favor somehow, maybe he'll want you on your knees again, maybe he'll even fuck you if you're lucky. But, to your dismay, he wipes his gun off on his pants and puts it back in its holster before walking towards the door.

"Wait— where are you going?" you call after him, pulling up your half-torn skirt.

"Home?" he says as if it's obvious. "Did you really think I was going to kill you?"

"Yes."

"That'd be a little hypocritical, don't you think?"

"Well, thank you… for not doing that, I guess, and just so you know, I really am sorry…"

"I know," he says with confidence, leaving you alone to ponder what the fuck just happened.

#carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #liztober

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rubydubydoo122 · 1 year ago

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As much as I hate to say it, and as much as I love Jason ToddI'm gonna need DC to kill him again, and keep him dead this time.

Now before you come at me, let me explain why I think this. Jason Todd is a character that while alive will always be connected to Gotham, and because of his differing morals with Batman, he will always be in a cycle of conflict with him. We saw it in UTRH, we saw it in RHATO, we saw it in Gotham Wars. Because Jason isn't a villain (I feel like in UTRH he was an anti-hero, and any actions that didn't align with the morals he set during that time is because he was villainized by Batman) Bruce's actions feel overtly brutal (batarang to the neck, beating him so har his helmet broke, chemically altering him to feel fear) especially since it's towards his SON the one he claims to have mourned. It's a vicious cycle that isn't fair to Jason, and it's major character assassination of Bruce. It's overdone and I am sick and tired of it, but I do not see either characters backing down from their moral stances.

Now you might be thinking, just because Bruce and Jason don't get along doesn't mean they can't make up-- they've tried. Multiple time. Every time Jason and Bruce take a step in the direction of being close to each other again, Bruce becomes a control freak and abuses Jason like he's his own personal punching bag, and there's only so many times someone can forgive someone before enough is enough.

But I still haven't explained why specifically I think Jason should die again. And it's because of two reasons. Jason deserves peace, and as long as he's a ghost walking on earth, he won't be able to get that. Also because it would make Great Angst. We all know Bruce would break if he lost Jason again. He's going to push everyone away, and if you're going to have Bruce push everyone away, give him consequences for his actions.but we saw how protective Dick got during Gotham Wars. Just imagine Dick walking up towards Bruce and saying, "It might've been my fault last time for not picking up his calls, but this time, you can't deny that this, is all your fault." "How dare you! He was my son!" "You lost him once, and when he came back you treated him worse than any of the loonies in Arkham. You don't miss him at all. You only feel guilty because of your goddamned savior complex. You only treat him like your son when he's dead."

and while we're at it, maybe Tim can have a complete crisis. He had to pick up the pieces of Bruce in the aftermath of Jason's death last time, and look where that got him. All of his friends and family died. He was never truly recognized for guiding Bruce out of the dark, and we all know that Tim is one inconvenience from killing a bitch. Maybe this is it. I actually think it would be hilarious for Tim to take up the Red Hood mantle, Only to screw with Bruce. Because he knows that's what Jason would've wanted.

Have Damian afraid of what Bruce has become in guilt. Have Damians castle of worship for his father come tumbling down, because Damian always knew his father loved all of the previous Robins more than him, and if his father no longer wanted them, what was stopping Bruce from sending him back to the League.

Like DC if you're going to use Jason as a catalyst for an event, kill him off again. last time it was on a whim. This time, do it on purpose. This time, give his death a purpose. This time, make sure his death changes something, because god, Bruce has fucked up so much.

#jason todd #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #dead jason todd #bad dad bruce wayne #dc comics #I triple dog dare you DC #let my boy have some peace #let Jason RIP #maybe cremate him this time #he would hate crawling out of a grave a second time #unhinged tim drake #protective dick grayson #insecure damian wayne #rhato #utrh #gotham wars

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hades-in-bloom · 1 year ago

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Shower Thoughts

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: Leon has just returned from another soul-crushing mission—and you didn't happen to be home yet.

warnings & contents: heavy angst, our sweetpea is hurt; suicide trigger/thoughts; implied severe depression; assumed older Leon; implied military training on the reader; more hurt than comfort; mentions of death and violence, and blood; could be read as age gap but could be none; the reader could be of any gender; there's light at the end of the tunnel.

a/n: I was craving some angst but didn't plan it to go that far; oh well. Our sweet boy deserves all the happiness though—but author is a bitch. Also, I don't believe Leon would be seriously considering harming himself, but I do believe that he's an empathetic human being kidnapped in his youth to do a shitty job, so there could be a moment of weakness; otherwise, “we owe it to the people who died alongside us, so we have to continue living.” As always, proceed at your own risk. DNI minors & if mentions of suicide affect you. This is a work of fiction and shouldn't be used as guidance on how to behave in similar sensitive situations. Masterlist

***

Leon rubbed his hands under the hot tap forcefully, willing to wash off the blood; the water coming off his fingers was clean for a while, but he seemed not to notice it—after all, there was always blood on his hands, whether others could see it or not. The man only stopped when the touch started to hurt, his abused skin red from friction.

“Shit,” Leon grunted under his breath and turned off the faucet angrily, his breathing ragged. Others might say that it was adrenaline still rushing through his veins, but he knew it wasn’t it. For how long he’s done this job, he was past the prolonged adrenaline rush a while ago. Leon put his palm over his forehead, barely covering his exhausted eyes; his hands slightly shaking.

How many more people had to die before this shit would end?

He remembered them all, those he couldn’t save, and he only kept counting. Leon knew he wasn’t supposed to—saving ordinary folk was a luxury in his position—but it was hard for him to accept who he had become. The extensive bathroom mirror in front of him, he couldn’t level his gaze to take a look at himself, and when he did, his teeth clenched, and his glance shot into the corner of the reflection—there was his essential gear, a pistol and a knife, thoughtlessly dropped on the bathroom floor.

Suddenly, he felt exhausted. A carnal thought made him blush in a fever—wouldn’t it be so easy? Leon was never the type to look for easy ways out—but he was only of flesh and blood, too; isn't he only human? Despite what reports said about him always being “the survivor” and “the golden boy.” Screw the odds.

He picked up his gear from the floor, his palm sliding across the pistol barrel. Leon counted the bullets left in the magazine with another hand, pulling it back into the grip compartment right after; his facial expression was unreadable, deprived of emotion. In moments like this, the man wasn't sure if he could feel anything anymore.

Wouldn't it be so easy, after all? Maybe after that, he'll be able to wake up from this bloody nightmare.

Consumed by his thoughts, he didn't hear how the keys screeched in the lock of the apartment door, and you came in.

You noticed his jacket on the hanger, and your eyebrows shot to your forehead in surprise.

“Leon?” you called to him, dropping bags full of groceries next to the kitchen island; your body tensed in anticipation. You didn't expect him so early. After his assignments, he usually barged in the middle of the night and not in the light of day. You didn't complain, though. You missed him.

You gently knocked on the bathroom door when you heard muffled sounds from another side. “Hey,” your voice was calm and soothing. “Can I come in? Do you need help?” At this point, you got used to his bruises and stitches, caring only about him getting back home in one piece.

There was something more to his injuries this time.

“Shit,” Leon cursed under his breath again when you stepped into the bathroom, despairing of getting a word out of him. You were worried; he could see it on your face. You quickly noticed his scalded hands, the right one behind his back, hiding something. He looked like a curious teenager who got caught watching adult movies.

“Hey,” his lips stretched into an unnatural smile. “Sorry, I didn't hear you come in…”

“You should've called me,” you scolded him calmly, making a step forward. His body tensed and froze as soon as you stretched your hand toward him, and you held back a frown. “…I would’ve been home in a heartbeat.”

The man’s eyes were bloodshot, his lips chapped, and his breath ragged; and then you saw it—the reflection in the mirror betraying him—his long fingers clinging to the gun. Your mouth went agape, and you dashed forward with a precision of a trained police officer.

“Give it to me,” you hissed, your heart beating in your throat. You were scared—you haven't been that afraid of in ages. Leon gasped, bamboozled, and his hand easily let go of a weapon. You didn’t ask—you slapped him across the face, letting your frustration out. “Are you mad? What were you going to do with this thing?”

You would react differently if he wasn’t hiding it; somehow this bothered you more than anything. After all, Leon should’ve known that you wouldn’t fumble at the sight of a gun, which made his attempts to cover its presence even more pointless.

His cheeks flushed, and he gulped, incapable of looking at you; he was confirming your worst fears, and after giving him a long stare, your hand covered your mouth to stop you from sobbing.

“Moron,” you grunted under your breath. His head got even lower, and you saw a tear falling onto the lightly colored tile. It took you a moment before you grabbed him into an angry, desperate embrace. His hands wrapped around your waist, then one shot into your hair, pressing at the back of your head, pulling you closer. His face was buried into your neck, and his body shook violently as he let himself cry.

You held him painfully close as long as it was necessary. “I am sorry,” you whispered next to his ear while he clung to you like a drowning man to a lifeboat; you sounded hurt and angry—and hopeful. “I am so, so sorry.”

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itsclydebitches · 1 year ago

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The narrative H/C potential of switching Cazador and Orin’s kidnappings is just delicious to me. Instead of Astarion’s siblings waking him up and giving the party the chance to defend him, the player arrives back at camp (or finishes a long rest if Astarion is currently in your party) to discover that he’s just gone. No note, no sign of a struggle, nothing. Insert any hand wave-y means of abducting Astarion quietly here. The point is that this would wreck him.

Not just because he’s now back in the clutches of Cazador (though that’s obvious), but because you’re not coming for him. See, having Orin as your kidnapper is actually one of the more reassuring options, despite her murder-happy disposition. Even if she nabs a struggling character like Gale who might believe they’re unworthy of rescue for any number of reasons, Orin is one of the few baddies you simply have to engage with. Significantly, knowledge of that necessity is baked into the actual story-world. We see fighting her as a gameplay mechanic—defeat three mini bosses to reach the final boss—but that structure still exists as a Save The World quest for your party. No stone, no victory. No Orin, no stone. Ergo, they’re fighting Orin. So whoever is kidnapped knows that the party will show up eventually, even if it’s not for them. That’s it’s own wonderful, angsty assumption—“You came because it was the right thing to do, not because you care about me. My rescue was always a byproduct of saving the people who truly deserve it”—but at least there’s still reassurance in knowing you’ll see them again. All the kidnapped member has to do is not piss off Orin in the meantime and hope the party doesn’t die along the way. Not stellar odds, admittedly, but are they really any worse than what they’ve been dealing with all along?

Getting kidnapped by Cazador on the other hand... oh boy. He’s a missable boss, both mechanically and narratively. Who’s worried about him when there’s a fucking Netherbrain threatening all of Faerûn? Sure, sure, your Tav might have spent their journey helping every idiot with suitably convincing puppy-dog eyes, but Astarion is very much not a refugee tiefling/snake-threatened child/shadow-cursed hero/etc. He’s a chaotic, caustic bitch whose trauma is expressed more through biting fury than soft bouts of crying. Not only is he (in his own mind) not the sort of person people go out of their way to save, but would you even know where to begin? Depending on your approval rating you might still be iffy about Astarion’s past, as well as this upcoming ritual. Has Tav met any of the siblings yet? Do they know that Cazador’s Ascension would pose a threat to all of Baldur’s Gate? Do they have any means of finding the entrance to his palace without a former resident in the party (or convenient map marker)? Now, toss in the fact that, depending on how many long rests you’ve done, the party has only been traveling together for a matter of days/weeks. They know one another deeply (yay trauma bonding) but once separated that timeframe feels pretty insignificant, particularly to someone who has existed for over 200 years. Even if you’re romancing Astarion and he has more reason to believe that this short period of time was emotionally meaningful, he’s still admitted to manipulating you, to molding your emotions to best ensure his protection... but protection never extended to this.

Besides, Astarion has literally been here before. No heroes rescued him across two centuries of enslavement. Why would they rescue him now?

Except, it’s far worse this time around, isn’t it? Cazador isn’t merely his abuser, he’s now set to become an all-powerful vampire whose hold will truly be unbreakable. Astarion isn’t merely a slave to one individual, he’s now got a ticking time bomb in the form of a parasite set to enslave him to another. (And isn’t that something to chew on: him cursing the fact that the artifact’s protection still extends to him. At least as a Mind Flayer he wouldn’t feel anymore, would have a chance to fight back.) This time around Astarion isn’t just another beloved “child” of Cazador’s, he’s uniquely gifted in his ability to walk in the sun and resist commands. The hells only know what Cazador will make him do with that newfound power if he survives the ritual— or how Cazador will ensure Astarion’s continued “loyalty” while he does it. Worst of all though... now Astarion has had a chance to see what life could be like. Freedom. Agency. People who love him despite all the reasons they shouldn’t. Whoever said, “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” was a fucking fool. It’s so much worse to go backwards, to have lost not merely the life you dreamed of, but also the ability to pretend you never needed it in the first place.

Imagine that Astarion. Picture how broken he would be.

Now imagine the party kicking down Cazador’s door. The look on Astarion’s face when he realizes that despite the danger, the practical hurtles, the bigger stakes at play, the fact that it’s him... they came anyway.

#BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion

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leclerc-s · 7 months ago

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suffering since forever

series masterlist

natalia ruiz praying for all of you because at least i like my third wheel

arthur leclerc that's because joris has been stuck with you two since before you were couple

fernando alonso you can say it, since before they were sleeping together.

carlos sainz it's not like joris has a choice.

lewis hamilton and the rest of you do?

max jones-verstappen we don't. we do it subconsciously.

daphne jones-ricciardo like that makes it any better max.

rhys jones i bet it hurt when jorris got that wag of the year trophy and you didn't.

natalia ruiz who let the child speak?

isabella perez she says that because she's hurt.

natalia ruiz i'm not hurt by the 12 year old.

rhys jones I'M 15!!

lance stroll yet you act like you're 12

rhys jones i know your ass isn't talking esteban ocon anyone ever tell you that you're scary? rhys jones never to my face.

zoya torres joris doesn't deserve this heat. let's talk about freya's 3rd wheeling habit.

freya vettel shut your trap torres.

alex albon days like this make me glad that george and carmen love to go on double dates so we don't get stuck with any of you.

george russell and that's because i don't want to get stuck with them.

dulce perez fuck you guys we're delights.

pato o'ward i can't believe i ever thought you people were cool.

daniel jones-ricciardo WE'RE COOL!!

pato o'ward the only cool thing about you is your wife.

penelope trevino REAL!!

gael perez i think pato almost shit his pants when he learned daphne was in this group chat.

pato o'ward IT'S DAPHNE FUCKING JONES, WEY! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO NOT FREAK OUT?

daniel jones-ricciardo *jones-ricciardo!!

pato o'ward i couldn't care less bitchiardo! i will forever pray for your downfall so i can marry your wife instead.

isabella perez he's so real for that. HURRY UP RICCIARDO THE REST OF US ARE WAITING!!

daniel jones-ricciardo if i ever die let if be known that one of you bitches was behind my death.

daphne jones-ricciardo you people are unbelievable.

natalia ruiz i'll be first in line. i've been waiting for his downfall for the longest time.

daniel jones-ricciardo

this is all your fault.

whatever it is you think i did i swear it was arthur.

charles what did you do?

nothing! what’s wrong amour?

i have a baby screaming for 'unca jo' bring him back now.

ma cherie, i wish i could but i have a race.

okay? send joris and you stay in china.

we only need unca jo, notre petite étoile doesn't need her papa. (our little star)

i know that was a joke but it still hurt. don't tell me that!

you still have a few years left until she's a teenager.

ne pouvons-nous pas avoir cette conversation? je ne suis pas prêt pour ça (can we not have this conversation? i'm not ready for that)

seriously charles ask joris to call me, even zoya's music isn't helping.

i'll tell him to call. just come to china.

i will hop on the first flight to china, do not joke about that.

max said he's sending the jet to pick you up.

god bless sophie for her son.

not jos?

never that man.

natalia_ruiz posted new stories

unseen photo of baby jewel and her 'unca jo' 📸 - zoya because my fiancé and daughter have been stolen by his best friend. and another unseen photo but this time it's pre-baby jewel, joris has been a third wheel since day 1!

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @applopie @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @mypage-myfandoms @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @six-call @justtprachisblog @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @cool-ultra-nerd @kami10471633 @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @georgeparisole @dan3avocado @nikfigueiredo @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @weekendlusting @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @sarah-thatstings-ann @minmira95 @casperlikej @formulaonebuff @hopenshaw @ijustgomessitupx @hwalllllllelujah @doodlehunz @prongsvault

¡leclerc-s speaks! this one is a more wholesome one but it's still got it's sense of humor. can you tell i'm still watching greys?

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female oc

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manjiroscum · 2 years ago

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LILY OF THE VALLEY

Character/s: snow leopard hybrid!Rindou Haitani

Warnings: f!reader, mature language, explicit sexual themes, dark content, canon typical violence, blood, murder, dub-con, marking, mentions of mating, hybrid au, kidnapping, yandere!rindou, dom!rindou, sub!reader, cockdrunk reader, implied multiple rounds, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, breeding, blackmailing/threats, pet play, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: commissioned by @httn 💜 thank you love for trusting me with this! i hope you like it 🫶

Synopsis: Only fools come out to play with a feral cat.

WC: 6.1k

Crimson specks marred the freshly fallen snow akin to wine spilled all over a white linen cloth. The bullet wound on his thigh was slowing him down. Nevertheless, Rindou trudged up the small hill to reach the other side of the forest hoping he would escape his pursuers that were looking through his busted car for any signs of life. With his teeth gritted, the lost man was sure he might die today. After getting separated from Ran and the others, a car chase occurred as he fled from the warehouse when a bomb about to blow up the building was shouted out. In all his years of doing the same song and dance, one could say Rindou got used to the chaos that has intertwined into his life since the day he was born with the need to experience thrills.

But, fuck, he could never get used to getting shot or bleeding out. The first time hurt like a bitch and the second time it happened made him want to pass out. It was more irritating to face than shoot those who dare touch his tail. Now, Haitani Rindou was sure he will die. Whatever plan those bastards cooked up that would confirm his demise, he had to give them props because they might succeed. Car dead, his phone without any signal, the temperature dropping fast, and a forest that may span a thousand hectares was just the starter pack he needed to die in these woods.

Rindou can’t die here. It would just be pathetic. So pathetic that they might make jokes out of it. His death would only make people say he deserved it or it is the consequence of having an unpleasant lifestyle. And honestly, fuck them. He has to live. He has to get out of here and seek shelter before the frost bites his fingers, ears, and toes off. What would his enemies think? What would Bonten do? What would Ran do?

What should he do?

A million thoughts raced through his mind as his knees finally gave away. His eyes fluttered close for a moment, inhaling the cold air sharply that he was quite sure it could cut his nostrils like blades made out of ice. A trail of blood followed him from where he started all the way to the top of the hill. In contrast to the icy atmosphere around him, his lungs burned. During these times, delusions would enter his mind to distract him from the impending doom that was looming above his head. Death was now breathing down his neck as if they were old friends. Its voice called out to him through the chilly breeze that brushed past him and the strong trees that appeared like shadows of those whom he wronged and killed to survive. If he had to guess what hell looked like, this was possibly the closest description minus the flames. Why would such a cold environment bother him in such a way? This has never happened before. He could think of countless reasons why a hybrid such as he who was meant to thrive in such an environment was slowing down.

Ah, that’s right… He never had to be out much to do his dirty deeds. It was always his underlings. Pawns who would readily obey him for various goals. He and Ran, without fail, get away from taxing jobs. After all, meaningless fights never appeased their appetite for violence. Something always had to interest the brothers for them to act. Looking back on those memories of merely partying and finding someone to toy with, Rindou couldn’t help but exhale deeply. His lips were chapped due to the lack of moisture in the air.

If my life is flashing before my eyes, perhaps I am indeed dying…

And yet, amidst the snow and harsh winds, a merciful angel came into view. Rindou thought he was already a goner for his eyes to conjure such a beautiful sight. Vivid colors murked into a blur as his vision steadily failed him due to exhaustion finally catching up to him. However, the second that angel spoke, voice soothing despite the panicked tone evident in it, he realized this was reality.

“Sir? Oh my god, w-wait. I need to call an ambulance—”

“N…o.” It took all of his strength to move his lips and tongue. The woman before him met his dazed stare, shifting her attention between Rindou and something behind her. “No am…bulance…”

“W-what? Why? No, you need immediate attention…”

Haitani Rindou, one of the infamous criminals Bonten has in their arsenal and the fearsome younger brother of Ran was still vulnerable to things that exude innocence. Perhaps it was just in his nature to be drawn toward something he can never be and so he tried to push away the person who came out on a snowy night to help him. This earned him a surprised expression and more questions he couldn't answer. Rindou’s efforts were in vain as his eyelids finally shut, and the last of his energy left him unconscious in the hands of a stranger.

I’m sorry, Ran…

There was a sea of trees you had to drive by to reach your parents’ house. The road was slippery due to the snow but you had to go after promising to drive carefully. After a hearty dinner and entertaining their inquiries about whether you will get married or not, you were set on heading back to your apartment. Tomorrow is Monday and you had to wake up early for your nine-to-five job at the cafe your cousin owned. Normally, your schedule ranged from mundane to the occasional unexpected events that usually revolved around your job or your parents. Yet they were never anything spontaneous or something that will make the hairs on the back of your hair stand until you had to rescue this man now sleeping on a makeshift bed in a veterinarian’s clinic.

Ignorance could sometimes save a person’s life. The second you saw the hanafuda tattoo on his neck, you knew the shit you were about to get into could get messy. Never had you ever thought of bringing an infamous person, let alone one of Bonten’s henchmen, into your home. The veterinarian you called for help swore his secrecy after he commended you for doing first aid, but commented that men like him shouldn’t be saved. Yet, your conscience wouldn’t let you sleep soundly at night if you left him there on a cold winter’s night to bleed to death or get feasted on by bears.

“Are you… his girlfriend or somethin’?”

“No, I’m not,” you responded while cleaning up the bloody clothing and gauze after Rindou’s wound was stitched up. “However, as a human being, I couldn’t just leave him there. I’m… not capable of such cruelty.” The man shifted his attention back to the dangerous person fast asleep and then squinted hard as if his patient was just pretending. Grunting, the veterinarian gathered the last of his tools into his bag and made his way to the door, but not before leaving you some sound advice.

“Be careful because this choice you made might just bite you back. I’ll be back as soon as possible when I find a doctor in the area. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this secret doesn’t reach the authorities.”

Thinking back to what happened earlier, you were sure your blood ran cold at the sight of a broken car by the road. Initially, you thought the vehicle broke down and that the owner must be somewhere nearby since it would take around twenty minutes to get to the nearest town. Unless they had to hitch a ride because it was freezing and decided to leave the car. But the second you saw what seemed to be bullet holes in its body, uneasiness coated your nerves like thick molasses. The dread of finding a dead body doubled upon seeing blood on the snow, leading up to where you found the dying unknown man.

Damn it all. He wouldn’t harm someone who rescued him, right?

No, scratch that, this man wasn’t a stranger to you. You were the stranger—not him. Everybody who worked in Tokyo and heard the news was all aware of Bonten, the most dangerous gang in the country to date, enough to rival the yakuza. Those hanafuda tattoos they branded on their flesh bear the symbol of their loyalty to the man who founded the group, Sano Manjiro. The Haitani brothers were as famous all by themselves. It didn’t have to take you long to know everything they committed under the sun or the veil of night. Rumors of the brothers and Bonten always circulate on the internet. In short, they were individuals you had to avoid to live long.

Eyes glancing at your phone sitting by the couch, you debated whether to call the cops and turn him in. Maybe getting Rindou off your hands will be the first step to having your normal life back… Or will just cement the death sentence he shall bestow upon your unfortunate soul once he recovers.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” you groaned into your hands. Sleep was out of the question. You had to monitor Haitani Rindou for two obvious reasons—one because he might wake up and two because he might silence you the second he does. Gruesome pictures of your death flashed on the television screen ran across your imaginative mind and honestly, you were scaring yourself. Clearly, you didn’t think this through. But, what’s done is done. There was no way you could throw him out now. “Let’s… just make sure he’s fine enough to walk out of here on his own. Y-yeah…”

Exhaling a defeated sigh, you sat down on the floor and stared at Rindou’s unconscious form. For a man as big and bad as him, you bet he would snore loudly. Yet, he looked almost like a corpse—unmoving and quite fragile. The biggest shirt you had at your disposal appeared tiny in his huge frame. The veterinarian even gave up on giving him something to wear on the lower part, muttering how he shouldn’t even be bothered to clothe the criminal. The thought of Rindou being naked down there was slightly distracting, making your eyes wander down from the hanafuda tattoo on his neck to the intricate design on his torso until you slapped your cheeks to make you stop eyeing the muscular hybrid.

What the—don’t do this to yourself. He is a criminal, for fuck’s sake!

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your phone to check for any messages. There was only one from your mother, checking up on whether you arrived home. A humorless laugh escaped your lips as you lied to her. Besides, she will definitely panic if she knew you were looking after a criminal in a vet’s clinic. You hoped to distract your mind from spiraling into endless regret by watching adorable videos of dogs. A good turn deserves another… You just wished Haitani Rindou was a person who would reward good deeds.

The morning was rough on you. With a stretch or two, you cursed your aching back while you proceeded to order breakfast for three. Your cousin was kind enough to give you a day off after phoning in with a fake cold. The minute you finished offering him apologetic words after lying through your teeth, you then grabbed the takeout and sped off to the clinic Rindou was moved to. Caffeine and sweets were the things keeping you sane save for the veterinarian and a doctor, whom he roped into the situation, present in the room. Dr. Hinohara was silently observing Rindou’s body while giving a blood transfusion to the still-sleeping hybrid. Compared to last night, the younger Haitani looked slightly better. He still appeared like he crawled out of hell and survived, though.

“I guess we don’t have to bring this man to the hospital,” the doctor spoke after some time. “There doesn’t seem to be a bullet stuck to his thigh. He did lose a lot of blood. I’ll just make sure to monitor him in case he needs more blood transfusions and if there could be any infections on the wound. If he does turn for the worst, I will have to bring him to the hospital—”

You were quick to object, leaving your cup of coffee to stand up. “H-he told me he shouldn’t go to a hospital. I’ll pay you, Sir. I’ll make sure to pay you for treating him. J-just don’t bring him there. Please…”

Dr. Hinohara sighed at your statement, sharing a glance with the veterinarian. Just as you were ready to shoot down their suggestions of you putting an end to your good samaritan role, the doctor then nodded solemnly in resignation. Appeased, you backed away before sitting yourself down once again. Seeing that there wasn’t anything left for him to do, the veterinarian excused himself and left the establishment. A few minutes later, Dr. Hinohara did the same to attend to his outpatients. It wasn’t until lunchtime when he came back that you decided to head back home to catch some sleep after a long warm bath. To be in a room alone with Haitani Rindou, awake or not, was making you anxious. Your eyes were often fluttering close, trying to stay conscious and alert in the presence of an infamous gang member. To let your guard down would be serenading death.

“You can come back tomorrow afternoon,” Dr. Hinohara said with a gentle smile upon seeing you out. “I don’t think Mr. Haitani would wake up today anyways. Go home and get some rest. I’ll call you if anything changes about his current condition.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hinohara.”

If you knew that the day you saved Haitani Rindou would be the last time you could ever experience a normal life, perhaps the future wouldn’t turn out like this—with you almost sticking to a corner whereas Rindou glared at your quivering form. Dr. Hinohara was nowhere to be found on the second floor and your mind concocted various scenarios at the sight of the trashed room. How could the man be up and ready to threaten you with his sharp claws when he was just barely conscious days ago? You even recall Dr. Hinohara remarking about Rindou being too weak to open his eyelids. So just how?

Irises sharp as his claws remained on you, hues of ultra violet hoping to unmask your intentions by staring right into your soul. Behind his predatory gaze were promises filled with violence and a whole world of pain if you so much as make a single move that he will deem a crime towards him.

Haitani Rindou was not a man to be trifled with.

“You… Didn’t I tell you not to bring me to a hospital?” he questioned in a demanding tone, taking a step closer to you which prompted your weak legs to fall back. This is the very thing you hoped to avoid. Maybe if you were given the foresight that Haitai Rindou would recuperate enough to stand today, you would have come prepared to negotiate. Negotiate with him not to kill you and to leave you alone because you did what he asked. However, he didn’t seem happy at the idea of recovering in a clinic, afraid his location would be alerted to the police. “What’s the matter? Suddenly can’t use that tongue of yours? From what I remember you weren’t mute—”

“This isn’t a hospital. Y-you’re in a clinic, can’t you see?”

The hand you used to gesture at the area shuddered upon seeing him move. Rindou was obviously confused as he surveyed the room, unsure whether to take your word or not. You couldn't blame him, though. Blood rolling down his thigh akin to raindrops on a glass window captured your attention, taking away the assertive statements off of your lips. Your fear for him was outweighed by your concern for his wound that might have reopened due to his carelessness.

Rindou was quick to create distance between you two. Your eagerness was mistaken as an act to lunge and subdue him which was something you couldn't do. He realized this the moment he winced in pain, hand applying pressure on his bleeding thigh. You clicked your tongue and hurriedly helped him back onto his bed. His hostility towards you disappeared with each pang of pain that erupted around his injury. Of course, he just had to be slowed down by this and for you, this was a blessing in disguise.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll go see if Dr. Hinohara has returned.”

Any deity above must have heard your silent prayer for the doctor announced himself inside Rindou’s room, eyes wide at the condition of his patient and the messy room. Minutes passed, and the hybrid was now waiting for the pain to subside once his wound was attended to. Lips in a tight line, you sat by the side, waiting for the doctor to say something—anything that will get rid of the awkward air that settled in the room. Instead of something positive, Dr. Hinohara approached you with a dejected expression that caused your heart to momentarily stop beating. His next words almost had you wishing you were sitting down due to the implications of it.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t do this since I am a practitioner of medicine and should have empathy for my patients no matter who they are… But I can’t have Mr. Haitani stay here any longer. You must understand. My other patients have caught a whiff of his presence here and are too scared to come over. I-it’s bad for me.” Dr. Hinohara then added to soften the blow, “If he stays over at your place, I-I promise to visit and check on him from time to time. Although, I doubt I could do much since he’s close to full recovery.”

Bullshit.

It was utter bullshit. There was no way his other patients knew about Rindou being treated in the clinic. Based on the days you visited the hybrid when he was still unconscious, everyone who visited the doctor didn’t display any signs of uneasiness. Yet, you couldn’t do anything to appeal for Rindou anymore since the doctor was more than eager to kick him out. For all you know, the hybrid trashing the room was his last straw.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, you turned the stove off and poured the hot soup into two bowls. The Bonten executive sat on the living room couch, watching a daytime show. He was unbothered by the small space of your apartment, thankfully. Rindou barely fussed upon arriving, probably because he did not have any other choice. Even with his infamous reputation, throwing him out was inhumane.

You wanted to help him, but it has been years since you took care of someone sick or injured. Plus, your mother’s temperament was far different from Rindou's.

“You okay with miso soup?”

Rindou merely grunted in response, avoiding your gaze while he took his bowl from you. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his moodiness, you took the seat across from him prior to drinking the soup you made. For the hybrid to keep sulking like this, you figured it was because his wound hasn't fully healed, and limped every time he walked. Men like Rindou hated weakness. To display his vulnerability to you like this must be torture to the mighty snow leopard hybrid—someone who isn't used to being on the other side of the spectrum.

Yet, he never dismissed your acts of assistance. No matter how much you teased him in an attempt to lighten the mood or receive his narrowed gaze, Haitani Rindou never made a move to hurt you during his stay here. Or at least that is what he's trying to do—to lure you into a sense of comfort before he strikes like an apex predator. Nevertheless, you continued to meet his needs.

“You okay?” you asked him when his spoon fell to the floor. Your legs were up and running to get a towel once you saw what happened. He dropped his spoonful of miso soup on his bandages because his limpid eyes couldn’t be torn from the show he claimed was too boring. “Mr. Haitani, you shouldn't pay attention elsewhere while eating.”

“Can’t help it,” he answered with a scoff. A ghost of a laugh slipped past your mouth at the thought of him acting almost like he was a big cat distracted by the pretty colors that led to this situation. Shaking your head, you wiped off the droplets of miso soup from his thigh. After you tossed the towel to the side, you stood up straight and placed your hands on your thighs. Rindou’s tail went stiff at your stare which was accompanied by a smile. “What?”

“Are you… enjoying the show? I thought you found it boring?” The giggle that followed your inquiry did not go unnoticed by the hybrid. The tips of his ears turning red were proof of that. Hearing no reply, you continued to tease him. Your hands are busy fixing up the couch before taking your bowl once more. “I mean, it’s alright to admit you like these soap operas. My mom enjoys them too, you know. Well, not enough to be—”

“I wasn't distracted,” he huffed and averted his gaze at your silly smile. “I was just… surprised.” Rindou never elaborated further on whatever stunned him. You merely shrugged and slurped your soup, content with sitting next to him on a Thursday morning. This has been your life lately—taking care of breakfast and Rindou in the morning, going to work afterward, and then coming back during lunchtime. Despite the reasons you came up with, your cousin never questioned you as to why you requested to come in later than your usual hour. He did, however, tasked you to stay until closing time. A small price to pay. After all, this isn't going to be the norm forever. Rindou will have to go back home and disappear from your life as soon as his wound heal.

Somehow, the reality had sorrow creeping up your heart. Rindou staying in the apartment and seeing him every day made you think he has always been there. His sulky expression softens up whenever his guard is down. He wasn't even aware the corner of his lips was curling up once. The way he dismisses you the second he realized he was showing happiness was cute in its own way. You were used to stifling your laughter at his displeased face that did not match well with his tail swishing side to side. His silhouette blended into your little space, making himself at home. And unbeknownst to you, Rindou felt the same way.

“Don’t act like such a big baby. It’s good for you!” You pushed the plate of rice with natto on top. His irked expression eased down while he took his chopsticks. The smell of the fermented soybeans did not sit well with his nose as he ate to appease you. Yet, he willingly ate, especially with you grinning in front of him. “There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it? Can’t believe a gangster like you dislikes natto.”

Innocent things like you were bad for his health. You were poison to his system—having him think of stuff he never gave a second thought on. Rindou lost count of how many ideas of him whisking you away where no one else can see you crossed his mind. Everything about you exuded a normal and peaceful life—a luxury for him who couldn’t afford it anymore. He should’ve turned you away and let himself die that night because now he didn’t want to leave. His wound was almost closed up and he didn’t have to limp around or ask for your help whenever he bathed. Rindou has grown far too fond of you to merely go back and forget about your kindness. For your sake, he held himself back and enjoyed you doting on him despite the numerous teasing you’ve thrown his way. Pretty but lethal flowers were only meant to be admired from a safe distance. Preferring to keep his claws hidden and the space between you wide, Haitani Rindou liked it this way.

Until he didn’t—until he got greedy.

Dr. Hinohara just had to burst the bubble Rindou protectively held with a single statement that the hybrid was free to go. You couldn’t describe the emotion that swirled within you, ignorant to the deathly stare Rindou gave the doctor. Dr. Hinohara swallowed thickly at the heat of his gaze, slowly taking a step back in case the hybrid decided to kill him on the spot. The younger Haitani wished he could turn back time and stop the old bastard from revealing his secret. Despite sabotaging the stitches for so long to keep it from healing too fast, Rindou’s game was up. And yet, not all of his cards were played.

His trump card has yet to fall onto the table.

Ran came over to your apartment the second Rindou rang him up after a month of no contact. The reunion happened under the stillness of the night where not a soul could be found on the streets. The chloroform his older brother brought was put to use to make sure you wouldn't scream or do any trouble as he placed you in Ran’s car. Rindou then discarded the baton hidden at the back of the trunk, already cleaned off of Dr. Hinohara’s blood, into the nearest waste bin before letting Ran drive down the road heading south.

The moment you woke up from what you thought was a terrible nightmare, you were chained to a bedpost in an unfamiliar room in someone else’s bed. The collar on your neck was a bit tight and the chain attached to it wasn't long enough for you to reach the door. A little bell was hanging on the collar and it jingled with every movement you made. You thanked your lucky stars that you were still fully clothed but that feeling of relief waned away too fast. Your head pounded while your eyes frantically searched for signs of where you are. Rindou entered the room with a tray of food. His eyes slightly went wide at the discovery of you greeting the conscious world then his lips broke out into a grin.

“I see you’re awake.”

“R-Rindou? W-what… Where am I? What’s going on?”

Your inquiries fell from your mouth like the teardrops on your cheeks at the realization. Rindou hushed you multiple times while he set your meal down on the nightstand but you never took heed, fearing for your life. It wasn't until he took out his phone to show you a picture of your parent’s house that your tongue felt like it was made out of metal. Your hands balled up into fists at the image.

“Don’t hurt them. P-please…”

“Looks like you're smart enough to guess what I’m implying here, huh?” Rindou chuckles at your horrified tear stricken face. “I guess calling you a big baby right now won’t be satisfying.” Hand underneath his chin, the hybrid let out a contented sigh. “I knew I was right. Other girls I’ve met before weren't as intelligent as you. Saves me from explaining what will happen to your family if you try to escape.”

“What do you want from me?” you demanded, nerves and voice shaky. His irises shone brighter than amethysts as he observed you on his bed. After a month of nursing him back to health, Rindou was intent on returning the favor—just without outside interference, of course. There was no way your parents would allow him to date you and to see you with a faceless nobody would be the icing on top of his cake meant to insult him. He can't have that. “Rindou, what do you want? I-I’ll do anything! Just please leave me and my parents alone. If you want an apology for all those days I’ve teased you or said something wrong, I’m w-will to do so!”

“Nothin’ much, angel. I’ve passed the need for anything.” He then pulled you up by the collar of your shirt. Leaning down to whisper into your ear, Rindou’s lips curled up. “I’ve already got you.” The second he spoke those words, a shiver ran down your spine. Not giving you any time to collect your thoughts or to wipe the tears from your cheeks, the Bonten executive took a step back and gestured at your clothes. “Strip.”

Hands trembling, you did as he said. More tears exited from your glossy eyes which Rindou couldn't wait to lick away. As soon as you got rid of your pajamas, you covered your exposed stomach and breasts until he clicked his tongue. You winced at the sound of it.

“All of it, angel.”

You heaved a deep breath. Your panties slid down your legs agonizingly slow. The rest of your body burned in shame under his piercing gaze. It was as if Rindou would be struck by lightning if he dared to look away from your gorgeous form. You steeled yourself once he took away your clothes.

“Go and eat your meal. I’ll be back.”

Rindou shut the door behind him. You couldn't stop crying even while you ate the meal he prepared. It was hard to know where you were as the window was bolted shut and barely let natural light in. Your heart beats wildly inside your chest whereas you stiffened at the sight of him returning. His violet irises landed on the empty plate before nodding approvingly.

“Good. I’m going to give you a drink now.” He took off the chain from the bedpost and pulled it for you to follow him. But not before commanding you to do it on all fours. His sharp canines peeked out when he smiled at your obedience. The fear strumming its chaotic cords to have you obeying the hybrid. “That’s it, angel. Make sure not to bump into anything on the way to the kitchen.”

Even with Rindou as your sole audience, your soul was close to dying out of shame. Your pussy folds were out in the open, clit throbbing uncontrollably for the wrong reasons as you followed him from behind. It didn't take you long to figure out this was Rindou’s house—or his temporary home. You were too busy making sure you were keeping up with his huge steps and not falling behind to scan your surroundings. The hybrid then paused and turned to you. His hand gestured to a bowl made for a pet sitting on the floor. It was filled up with what seemed to be milk.

“Go on. Drink it all up, angel.”

Cheeks burning, you hesitated for a second. It was when he walked behind you that the panic kicked in again and you unwillingly bent down. Your tongue was stuck out, ready to lick up the milk to appease Rindou, deaf to the sound of unzipping. The palm of his hand was cold against your cunt, causing you to yelp. His free hand was quick to keep your head from turning around to see him.

What the fuck is happening?

“You’re not the only one who’s thirsty… Shit, you’re wet?” He was more amused than disgusted at his findings. This was fucked up. There was no way you were turned on despite what occurred. Maybe you were sick in the head all this time and Rindou’s actions just brought this to light? You would never know as your mind started to grow hazy due to the pleasure of him rubbing his palm across your slit. You were no virgin but it has been a long time since you’ve done it. Perhaps that was the reason why?

Why does it feel like that’s a lie?

Retracting his claws, he plunged two of his fingers into your warm pussy that parted easily for him. Front teeth digging into your lower lip, you kept back the moan bubbling up your throat while Rindou rubbed his fingers against your tight walls. Slick coated his hand which made it easier for him to feel around your gummy walls. His pleased groans were too much for your ears, his hard length brushing on your ass. His tail swished around before curling around your leg. Your hands keeping you upright were trembling as the onslaught of bliss was increasing, gaze glossy.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight… Are you going to let me fuck you, angel? Huh? Does my pet deserve this dick?” he questioned with mirth in his tone. Another finger was added, widening your hole. You couldn’t help the whine leaving your lips, eyes shut as you fought back more from coming out. Rindou held you by the waist when your legs gave out, cooing into your ear. The hybrid brought up his hand coated with your juices, inhaling it then tasted your slick. “It’s that good? I’ve waited so long. Held back and let you have your way. You’ll let me have you, mhm? Been good, angel. The least you can do is return the favor…” A silent gasp was what Rindou earned when he tapped the head of his cock against your pussy folds, rubbing his length on the damp flesh. Slowly, he entered you.

“A-are you gonna—ah!” You were sure he was going to tear you apart. It stung as the girth of his cock stroked your tight muscles, molding its shape there. Rindou took a few seconds to get accustomed to the way your pussy enveloped his dick, hissing under his breath at how heavenly you felt. And now that he has finally held you, Haitani Rindou was damn sure he has found his mate. Now, he will make sure to keep you by his side whether you want to or now. He’ll just have to give you something that will make you reluctant to leave… Or fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk out of this place without him. Maybe getting you pregnant will be the solution to this problem. “Ah, fuck… S’ big. R-rindou!”

“Angel, wanna give you cubs. You’d want that, huh? You want to be mine?”

His thrusts were hard and rough, causing you to moan and squirm. Lust rendered you blind as you took and took what Rindou gave. Time was no longer relevant at this point. All you could remember as he continued to fuck you like a savage beast during the mating season was the way his claws dug into your skin, marking you as his. The place’s layout slowly etched itself into your mind as he made it his mission to fuck you in every area with the endeavor of filling up your womb until all you could feel was his cum running down your thighs. Your breasts and nipples hurt after going through the abuse done by his mouth. Hickeys littered your torso and the skin of your neck. Clit and folds puffy, you couldn’t tell how many times you have squirted. Rindou always patted your head each time before tugging your nipples in a teasing way. The collar still wrapped around your neck jingled along with your breasts, soaked with your sweat and tears.

“R-Rindou! I-I can’t—”

“Yes, you can, angel. You can take more.”

He never gave you a break or a minute to rest and catch your breath. The moment he finished inside you, his balls emptied another load, replacing the cum he spurted into your cunt that dribbled out. Mind all in a mush, you sobbed at the overstimulation. Finally, the hybrid set you down on the couch, panting above you. A puddle of your essence and Rindou’s cum sat around your ass. The furniture wasn’t the only unfortunate victim of its owner’s quest to impregnate you and claim you. Mouth wide open, your eyes were fluttering shut due to exhaustion. Yet even as you stared at Rindou with those tired eyes, he held his cock glazed with both of your fluids right in front of your face in expectancy. The tip was red and super sensitive after hitting your cervix countless times while he fucked your brains out.

“Don’t tap out on me, angel,” he mumbled. Mustering up all your leftover strength, you sat up and licked on the reddish tip, earning a pleased groan. His hand reached forward to brush away the strands of hair from your face then carded his fingers through them. “Good girl. Always remember this, okay? Good kittens should clean up after playing. Good kittens shouldn’t make a mess.”

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