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thebiggerbear · 1 year ago

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"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: You're tired of running and you go to Soldier Boy for protection. He agrees to do it but not without a price.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. The original character I wanted to respond to this prompt with before deciding to make it multi-character. This scenario immediately popped into my head reading the line and I just had to write it. Hope it's okay.

Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Sequel

Warnings: violence/murder; implied assassination attempts; sexual propositioning; Soldier Boy being himself; starts out as a blackmail type dynamic that appears as if a little dubcon at first; language?

Word Count: 2528

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

You can also read on AO3

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Tom version ✨ Jason version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Alex version

You never thought in a million years that you would be seeking out one of the most dangerous Supes in the world for protection. Then again, you never would have thought that a multi-billion dollar corporation would be after you, intent on seeing you torn apart and scattered to the four winds. You didn’t exactly blow the whistle on them, but you didn’t exactly tow the company line either—something Stan Edgar was less than thrilled with and now the evil son of a bitch wanted you dead.

It was no secret that Edgar and Soldier Boy had a falling out of sorts after the truth about his being handed to the Russians had come to light. His old team may have made it happen, but it was Edgar pulling the strings all along. Surprisingly, the Supe who had been so focused on revenge hadn’t hunted Edgar down after this revelation, which made you wary about going this route. However, after narrowly escaping the latest death squad sent after you, you decided you had no choice but to take the gamble. There was nowhere you could run that Vought wouldn’t find you and you just hoped this would be more of an ‘enemy of my enemy’ situation rather than a ‘handing you right over to your enemy’ situation.

Once you had managed to track him down in Hong Kong while you were busy running yourself, he had shockingly agreed to a meet, and even more shockingly agreed to help you. Not without certain stipulations, of course.

“Let me in that sweet pussy of yours and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

You should have known, especially from the way he had been eyeing you up ever since he caught sight of you. Screwing your face up in disgust, you flat out refused. “Not happening.”

He shrugged and began to walk away. “Then you must not need my protection that badly.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re seriously turning me down because I won’t fuck you? Whatever happened to the ‘Soldier Boy is America’s son’ bullshit? The OG superhero who fought Nazis and protected people?”

Soldier Boy stopped and slowly turned back towards you. “I’d be putting myself on the line to protect you. For that, I deserve one hell of a payment.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “So now you’re blackmailing me into sleeping with you? Unbelievable.” You had heard he was more like America’s Asshole than its Son, but you still couldn’t believe your ears. You had even offered to help him take Vought down with what you knew, so long as he kept you safe. You knew he’d want that kind of information. Why else was he hopping from continent to continent in the last few months, trying to shake Vought just like you were? Instead, his dick was taking top priority. Typical.

“It’s the least you can do, doll.” He faced you fully again, shield hanging off of his arm as if it weighed nothing. “Like you said, I fought for this country, fought the Nazis, and now you’re asking me to play bodyguard while taking on Vought for you. I deserve something worth all that trouble.”

You ran through all other options in your mind. You still had a contact that could possibly put you in touch with someone that wouldn’t mind tapping into Vought’s offshore accounts that weren’t supposed to exist. You were already on Vought’s kill list; what would a few hundred thousand dollars of theirs matter? “I could pay you,” you offered.

“I’m not interested in money.” His eyes roved over you as he approached. “Besides,” he murmured as he came to a stop in front of you. You tensed as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair that had gotten loose from under your ball cap behind your ear. ”I haven’t had a looker as pretty as you in a long time. Been locked away.” He gently gripped your chin in between his thumb and index finger, his eyes intent on your mouth before lifting to meet yours. A hint of a smirk started to appear on his handsome face when he most likely heard your heart beat starting to increase.

He released you and even took a step back from you, allowing you physical and metaphorical space. “Your call.”

You bit your lip as thoughts chaotically swirled inside your head. On one hand, you refused to be manipulated or pushed into sex with this asshole. No matter how physically attractive he might be, you weren’t willing to get on your back just so he would help you. But on the other hand, the cold hard truth was that you were tired — tired of running, tired of little-to-no sleep, tired of the paranoia that came with such a flight. Hell, at present, you hadn’t slept in almost two days and you were running on fumes; there wasn’t enough caffeine or energy pills in the world to get you through another day with no rest. Your reaction time was already dragging if your last narrow escape was anything to go by. If you continued this way, you’d be dead before the sun started to warm the sky; you were certain of it.

Soldier Boy stared you down. “What’s it gonna be?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you glanced behind you at a small noise far off down the street. Thankfully, it was an old woman tossing something out onto the pavement, but you couldn’t deny it put you further on edge. You turned back to the Supe whose eyes stayed trained on you. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and readied your response. His lips began to quirk upwards into a smile; he knew what your answer was going to be before you even said the words.

Vought Tower had been completely demolished. Luckily, it had been mostly evacuated before the destruction occurred. A fight between Soldier Boy and the now-dead Homelander had caused most of the damage, but the C4 that had been carefully lined throughout the infrastructure is what ended up bringing it down.

Before it went boom, Soldier Boy had approached Stan Edgar, who refused to cower in a corner. The Supe respected that, but it didn’t change what he’d come here to do. He gripped Edgar by the throat and lifted him in the air, choking the older man and ignoring the fingers that desperately clawed at his hand.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Edgar rasped out.

Soldier Boy shrugged. “She made me a better one.” He then snapped the man’s neck and tossed his body aside like a rag doll.

“Oi! We ought to get out of here,” Butcher warned after seeing Stan Edgar lifeless on the floor. “Frenchie’s about to blow this place to fucking hell.”

He glared over at the Brit and picked up his shield. He still didn’t trust him, not after what he and his merry band of assholes had tried to do the last time they’d teamed up, but he’d made a deal with you and he was intent on keeping his end of it. The only conditions Butcher and Captain Lesbo had given this time around was: no civilian casualties and Ryan was off limits. He did his best with the first and he could give less than a fuck on the other. As far as he was concerned, the kid was Butcher’s problem as long as the kid didn’t come looking for some payback once he got older, which Butcher assured he wouldn’t. That, and there better not be Novichok gas waiting at the end of this mission for him. They’d reluctantly agreed, knowing they had no other way to kill Homelander and take down Vought all in one swoop.

“After you.” Soldier Boy gestured for Butcher to leave first. The man scowled but obliged, keeping a wary eye out as he moved. Smirking, Soldier boy followed. The Supe might have enjoyed the reaction—or even tried to settle the score from Butcher’s previous betrayal—if he didn’t have you to get back to. He needed to let you know that you no longer had Stan Edgar or Vought to worry about. He’d kept up his end of the bargain you’d both made — now, finally, you were free.

You woke up to the sound of someone moving through the darkness in your room. You grabbed the gun from beneath your pillow and bolted upright as much as you could, trying to get your eyes to adjust so you could get a good shot.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Soldier Boy assured you.

Recognizing his voice, you slowly lowered the gun and focused on his location. When your eyes finally adjusted, you realized he was near the foot of the bed, completely nude, his hair damp from a fresh shower. “Ben,” you breathed out in relief. “You scared me.”

Through the beams of moonlight shining into the room from the window, you saw him give you a smile and lay his shield down on the floor next to him. “Didn’t mean to.”

You slipped the safety back on the gun and stashed it into the drawer of your nightstand. You hated having it under your pillow at night; it was super uncomfortable and you only needed to do that when Soldier Boy — Ben, as he’d asked you to call him instead — wasn’t around. “Everything go okay?”

“Better than okay.” You glanced back to see a smirk adorning that handsome face of his, with an all-too familiar gleam in those green eyes. You watched as he slipped on some sweats and then made his way to the opposite side of the bed. You moved onto your side to face him, smiling as he climbed in next to you and sat up against the headboard, turning to grin down at you. Within seconds, he had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up against him, and he was kissing you a proper hello. He only pulled back when you needed air and tenderly rubbed his nose along yours, nuzzling you. “How about you, doll? Everything go okay while I was gone?”

You nodded and snuggled into his bare chest, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his warm hands stroking your back. “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, closing your eyes. You’d never admit it aloud, but you felt so much better when he was around. Not only did you feel protected but you just felt better in general. You’d have to be under the pain of torture to admit to him (or yourself) that you actually missed him when he had to leave.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his lips linger there, continuing to rub your back just the way you liked. “Edgar and Vought are gone,” he murmured. “The Caped Cunt, too. You’ve got nothing more to worry about.”

Your eyes snapped open and you lifted yourself up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed. “What?” You asked in shock.

“You heard me.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his grin now a smug smile. “You’re safe, baby.”

Your eyes widened when the realization hit you. “That’s where you went?”

Your only answer was the lengthening of that smile.

“Jesus, Ben.” So many thoughts and emotions swirled within you all at once. You were free, truly free. You no longer had to worry about Vought death squads hunting you down, Homelander coming for you, or Stan Edgar sending after you any ragtag Supes he could scrounge up. You were free. Although, Ben hadn’t told you that he was about to go on his most dangerous mission yet. He might be America’s original superhero and he might be tough to kill, but that didn’t mean he was completely invincible. He’d admitted as much to you over the last few months. “What if… What if you didn’t—”

He kissed you, effectively cutting you off. “I did,” he hummed against your lips. “Told you I would.”

You nodded, gently tracing his facial features with your hands before gliding down to his shoulders, dipping down the warm expanse of his back and then slowly returning to his chest. As always, he remained patient whenever you did this ritual of checking him for any wounds or injuries, knowing you wouldn’t find any but needing to assure yourself just the same. Truthfully, this man had come to mean more to you than you’d ever imagined would be possible. Hell, there had been a time when it wouldn’t have been possible at all.

When you were done, you met his gaze head on. “Do I want to know?”

Ben remained silent, but his eyes said it all: no, you didn’t want to know. You and Ben may have planned for the downfall of Vought and the ends of Homelander and Stan Edgar, the very same bastards that had put a target on your back in the first place, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear the gory details of their deaths. You were just grateful Ben had come back to you alive and unharmed.

You gave him a thin-lipped smile in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Ben studied you for a moment, then pulled you in and kissed you again, his fingers slipping through your hair until he grabbed the back of your neck and urged you to meet him more fully. Just as you were getting into it, he broke away and chuckled. “You’re real eager for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” You shot him a look and the smirk was suddenly back on his face. Without warning, he picked you up to rearrange you in the bed how he wanted you. “Too bad that you need to get some rest. We’re blowing the fuck out of here tomorrow and you’re gonna need to keep up.”

As if he would leave you behind if you couldn’t. “I thought you said Butcher would leave us alone after this.”

“I don’t trust that dicksucking Brit and I trust his bitch of a boss even less.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking when you felt him settle in behind you, knowing how much he enjoyed spooning you like this. “‘Kay,” you agreed. He had successfully protected you this far; you’d follow his lead on this one, too. You shut your eyes and snuggled into your pillow, content to feel his hands on your back caressing you once more.

You were just about asleep when you heard him murmur in your ear, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” You smiled when you heard the words he’d been saying to you every night now for many months and your heart lightened when you felt his hands trail from your back to cup protectively over your rounding stomach, rubbing gently. ‘Safe’ is exactly how you felt right in this moment, and the little girl moving to meet her father’s embrace—like she always did when she sensed he was near—only cemented the knowledge that this was the first night neither you nor she were in danger any longer. It gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #sleep i'll keep you safe #thebiggerbear writes

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ughdontbeboring · 7 months ago

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Wasted Days

Feyd Rautha x WoC Reader (can be read by anyone)

Feyd’s mood is easily soured by what he calls “wasted days”.

warnings: Feyd-let’s be honest the man is a menace. Smut and murder 🫠

note: I really wanna thank all y'all babes on the love my first Feyd story got. It reached over 500 notes in just a couple weeks and thats HUGE for me. So y’all are the best! Hopefully y’all enjoy this just as much. It’s not the 2 Feyd stories I said I’d put out but the one y’all voted on will be done before the weekend is over! I don’t own dune or any characters. I couldn’t give a fuck less about typos or misspelling sorry not sorry y’all lol

If yall like it, love it or fucks with it please share and comment! I love talking to y’all about our mans.

I give no permission for my work to be used anywhere.

You watch the table of the formal dinning room shake beneath both your palms. The rare jewels that adorned your hands and writs glistened under the artificial light, gifts of your adoring husband. All the expensive glasses and dinnerware shake and rattle with each thrust into your wet cunt.

The baron had just abruptly left the table to talk with Rabban who had busted in on the dinner the three of you were having with urgency, some business with Arrakis.

You couldn’t care less about Rabban’s sudden appearance on his home planet, your husband had seemed to be in a mood all day. Frustrated with something he had yet to reveal to you, though you had a sneaking suspicion the whole day what had soured his mood so noticeably. He’d been so busy lately with everything while the Baron’s focus was on Arrakis and cleaning up behind Rabban.

He didn’t have to stare at you the way he did during dinner for you to know he was in a mood, he had fled your room early after kissing you while you slept. 5 servants dead simply because of your husbands mood. You’d talk to him later about it and surely scold him when you were thinking clearly.

Right now your only focus was your current situation and how your screams of pleasure would surly rival any whore house.

The large doors to the dinning hall were hardly closed when he had you trapped within his warm embrace. Your back to his chest as he nosed at your neck, licking and biting. Groaning how displeased he was that he hardly had time with you today. He had no time at all today to sink his hard cock into his wife’s tight little cunt.

He declared how any day he didn’t fuck his wife full of his cum at least once was a day wasted.

A yell was ripped from your throat as he stepped closer, his knees slightly bent as he thrusted up into you harder, a tight hold on the root of your hair that had been braided. The table shook violently. The loud clatter starting to drown out the sound of your slick cunt and slapping skin.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled out, no longer concerned the Baron or Rabban may possibly come back with how good your husband was making you feel. He was so deep, you were sure you’d start to see the stars of your old home planet if he kept fucking you like this bent over the table that you’ve hosted the emperor and nobility at.

Hell the whole of Giedi Prime could watch and you’d bask in the power and ecstasy of being taking apart by none other then thee Feyd Rautha.

You heard him grunt deep from within his chest from behind you.

His hands are bruising on your round ass as he grips the flesh and spreads you wide open for him. You don’t have to look back to know where his lustful gaze is, you feel it burning into you. He groans from the view of your wet cunt sucking all of him in to the hilt. You clench involuntarily from the weight of his gaze and moans when you feel it. You’re still spread open when you feel the wetness on your puckered hole before it slowly drips down to where you both connect.

Your eyes roll back from the sensation as he keeps fucking into you watching himself completely disappear into your swollen cunt.

“Good fucking girl” his rasps as you take all of him.

“Oh, nggh fuck!” You yelled trying to catch your breath, each thrust of his large cock punching the air from your lungs at this angle. Your heeled feet hardly touching the cold marble floors from the force of him behind you. “Feyd, gonna fu-fucking c-cum all over you! M’ ma-make a mess!”.

Your husband didn’t need to be told, even with your short time together he knew you inside and out like no one else. Literally. Much to his surprise and everyone else it had only took a brief moment of your eyes locking at a ball held by the emperor -which Feyd was forced to attend by his uncle for appearances sake- for Feyd to fall completely for you. The night wasn’t over before you had fallen in return for the ruthless na-Baron.

This seemed to please your husband if the groans he was making were any indication.

“Fuck this is the sweetest cunt in the whole fucking galaxy and it is mine” he grunted in his raspy voice above you, you had falling forward at some point from the force of his thrusts, your palms flat and elbows on the table.

“P-please don’t stop!”

You felt Feyd’s strong hands grip your shoulders and pull you back forcefully. The sudden moment causing a gasp to leave you. There you both stood, your back to his chest, his hand in your hair as he fucked you deep. The drag of his cock was driving you insane. You felt so full of him this way. You felt his blacken teeth nip your ear.

“You said you’d make a mess, go ahead little wife. Make a mess all over me” His rough voice encouraged as his full lips sucked the skin just below your ear. “Cum for me” He whispered.

“Fuck!” You yelled out as your body jerked and the tidal wave of your orgasm came crashing down on you. Drowning you completely in the pleasure only he was able to take your body through.

“Do not spill me wife” you heard his low begging against your neck.

You felt him continue to pump into you as you slowly started to come down from your high as you felt him swell within you. The feel of him, the sounds he was making had your body quickly chasing him again.

Your eyes meet his as you started to rock into him again. He smirked he already knew. Knew what you need from the way those big beautiful eyes stared at him. He was quick to wrap his hand around your throat, the same hand that killed others daily but would never dream of hurting you in a way that wasn’t pleasurable.

“Please kiss me” You choked out, hardly getting your words out as you watched him watch you.

His lips were on yours dominating you completely before you finished begging him. His tongue licking into your mouth. You felt the slight movement of his rhythm being off and knew he was close.

Your hand slips down to your cunt, working your wet clit softly to compliment the rough fucking when you felt the first bit of his warmth. You moaned loudly in his mouth before pulling away so you were able to watch his face of pleasure as he took you, fill you with his seed.

Feeling full of him and filling with his seed pushed you over the edge again as your mouth fell open with a scream. Your eyes never left his as he stared down at you with that look you’ll never get over. Here you were fucked stupid and yet he looked at you like you hung the moon.

Your body shook and you almost fell forward with the strength of your second orgasm when his strong battle ready arm wrapped around you keeping you in place, slightly off the floor so he could keep his cock in at this angle. His other hand tightened around your throat as you both stared at each other, you breathing uncontrollable while your infuriating handsome husband looked like he had only exerted a little effort. Years of training did him well.

He kept his hand at your neck, tighten and relaxing his grip as his other hand sank down to your swollen cunt. His eyes showed amusement as he smirked down at you. Sometimes you’d give anything to know what he was thinking and other times he let you see, those big beautiful blue eyes either an ocean storm or a clam one would openly say what his words sometimes failed to.

He tsked at you when you felt him work you clit a little before his long fingers brushed softly where you both were still very much connected.

“Such a greedy girl” His rough voice teased you for chasing a second orgasm before you both could make it back to your shared bedchambers.

You whimpered at the loss of him when he pulled out but you noticed he didn’t pull away. Before you could comment you felt his long thick fingers ease themselves into your wetness.

You moaned as you sunk into back into his chest.

“Since my wife is such a needy one why don’t you give me one more hm? One for good luck?”

You knew you sounded ridiculous as you laughed but quickly moaned at his words you. You could tell he was curious about the laugh that has escaped you.

“Good luck for who husband?” You asked genuinely and breathlessly as you stared at him. His fingers never stopped working you.

He looked as though the answer was obviously.

“Everyone”

You could feel the pressure building in you. You arched an eyebrow in question but could not speak words as your orgasm quickly approached.

“Your husband is less likely to kill when his wife is well pleased” He said his forehead against yours as he pushed you both into the heavy table trapping you between literally a rock and hard place. You felt yourself clench as your pleasure flooded you “Less likely to kill when I have already fill you with my seed for the day”.

You were sure he was making you see those stars.

His grip on your neck tighten while your body shook as much as it could being trapped. You were so worked up you couldn’t even talk as you both stared at eachother. Him watching you reach another wave of ecstasy by his hand. Chest full of pride.

Your breathing once again slowed as you kissed his lips, pecking them over and over as your hand ran up his neck and around trying to embrace him from the position you were in.

He pulled you both back from the table before pulling out and letting your dress fall back down. His fingers were in your mouth before you could notice as you both now stood face to face. You did your wifely duty and sucked them clean while keeping eye contact with him.

His look of approval was all you needed in your day to day life. The shame taught to you of doing such things as a noble woman long abandoned with him by your side.

His eyes left yours to glance down at his soften cock, wet with you before his blue eyes moved to the floor where you two were standing moments before to see the mess of you both.

You watched him tuck himself away before taking a napkin and quickly cleaning the floor. He had this thing with anyone coming close to your…release. The thought of anyone else touching or even smelling it drove him into a rage.

He smirked as he stuffed it in his pocket. Hie eyes finally landing back on yours.

“Well wife looks like you’ll just have to take me again and this time I won’t let you leave the bed until you listen like a good wife and do not spill me”

You felt the familiar tingles of pleasure at your core from his threats.

😅🫠

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hp-hcs · 1 year ago

Note

I don’t know what came over me but this came to me in a dream, Yandere Theodore x Male Reader x Yandere Enzo. The reader is notoriously oblivious like cannot take a hint unless you kiss him and even then he still might not get it. In my dream Theo and Enzo were all over him with affection and then he would be like “wow you guys must love affection! I’ll gladly do that for my friends! :D” in my dream he was a Gryffindor but you can put reader wherever.

it’s literally me 🥹 you could make out with me and i’d still be like “im so glad we’re such close friends!”

also this is like really short but wtv

requests open

our dumbass darling — yandere! theodore nott x gn! oblivious! gryffindor! reader x yandere! enzo berkshire

warnings: implied sexual content? (no detail, post-sex scene)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“And Snape was like- oh! Hiya, Teddy!” You giggled when Theo wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, and picking you up to spin you around once before setting you back down.

“Come along, love,” Theodore said smoothly, shooting Neville Longbottom—whom you’d been chatting with—a rather dirty look.

You had to jog to keep up with his long strides, glancing behind you apologetically at Neville. “Teddy, slow down, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, darling. Just don’t like other boys… looking at you.”

You giggle, scrunching up your nose. “Well obviously other boys are gonna look at me, Teddy. This is a big school, and it’s common courtesy to make eye contact with whomever you’re speaking with.”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled, putting an arm around your waist as you walked, his hand low on your hip.

“You’re the only one who does,” you shake your head. “None of my other friends are as overprotective as you.”

He scoffs. “What can I say? I’m just a really caring… friend.”

~~~

“Y/N! There you a- whose sweater is that?”

You look down, smoothing your hands down the front of your red knit sweater with a large golden ‘G’ on it. “Oh! George Weasley’s. He took me to Hogsmeade today, isn’t that sweet? He wouldn’t let me pay for my own butterbeer either! And then it got a bit cold, so he loaned me his sweater. He is just such a good friend, isn’t he?”

Enzo stared at you for a long moment, as if he was trying to tell if you were joking. “Right. Friend.”

You nod obliviously, grinning cheerily.

“Well I don’t like it,” Enzo harrumphs. “Red’s not your color.”

“I’m in Gryffindor, Enzy.”

“You look better in green,” he insists, tugging off his hoodie and handing it to you with an attempt at a charismatic grin. “Now, why don’t you take off that, and wear this instead?”

You shrug, pulling on his hoodie over top of George’s sweater. “I can layer up.”

Enzo frowned, but at least his hoodie—his Quidditch team hoodie with a large BERKSHIRE written on the back—was covering up that horrendous ‘G’.

~~~

“Good morning, Teddy!”

“Morning, love.”

Draco pretends to swoon as you reach across the table to grab a piece of toast. “Oh! Teddy~”

Theodore has the most humorless expression on his face, his distinct ‘dead eyes’ looked like they were plotting his murder as his gaze swung over to Malfoy.

Draco shut up quickly.

“You don’t ever get to call me that,” he says gruffly. “Only they can.”

Draco nods mutely, staring resolutely down at his plate and avoiding all eye contact.

~~~

“Hi, love,” Enzo sighs, flopping down on his stomach onto the library’s couch, his feet hanging off the edge and his head in your lap.

“Hi, Enzy,” you murmur, not looking up from your book as you start carding your fingers through his hair.

He lets out a pleased purr, his eyes falling shut.

You sit in a comfortable silence for a bit before Enzo suddenly speaks.

“Go out with me.”

“Out?” You ask, puzzled, as you look away from your book and down at him. “Out where?”

His eyes remain closed as he mumbles into your stomach, “Fortescue’s?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “I love ice cream. Ooh! We should invite Panz and Matty too!”

His eyes open slowly and he sighs. “Y/N.”

“Mhm?”

“I’m asking you out on a date. Romantically.”

“Oh!” You look bewildered. “Oh- no one’s ever asked me out before.”

“Yes they have. Like, multiple times a week.”

“Really?” You look absolutely stunned.

Enzo rolls over to lay on his back, his head still in your lap and looking up at you. “Are you even… aware that Theodore likes you?”

“Teddy?”

“Yeah, darlin’. Teddy and I’ve both been in love with you since like, first year.”

“First year?!”

“…yes, love. I’m pretty sure ninety-five percent of the school is under the impression that we’re dating.”

“What??”

“I literally kissed you at the Yule Ball.”

“I thought that was in like, a friendly way!”

“How??”

~~~

You pant heavily, sweaty and exhausted but content. Theo’s chest heaves with exertion as he rolls over onto his stomach, tossing an arm over your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck.

Enzo follows suit, pressing a kiss to your forehead and settling down beside you, his fingers drawing random shapes on your outer thigh.

You wait a moment before asking, “So does this mean you guys are like… into me?”

“…Y/N.”

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yanavaseva · 2 months ago

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Hey everyone, I'm not dead! Took a little break after a short stay at the hospital. This did take a really long time to finish, however.

Here's some background to go with it. Might affect the mood of the picture, though.

On the question of whether mind wiping is real, there are a couple of instances of me being unable to recollect a period of several hours, and I believe that it’s not just because they were entirely unremarkable. One of those was a routine patrol after which two people were abruptly missing, so I understand where conspiracy theorists are coming from. As for the other one, I don’t have a clue as to whether anything of note had occurred.

Lady Naeva was holding the annual celebration on the second of Dezmether, and, as is customary, everyone of note was invited.

More than the ostentatious displays of wealth on the part of the local elite, I disliked that the team on watch were issued “historically inspired seasonal” outfits so as not to disturb the guests’ mood. It was unlikely that anyone would smuggle a lethal weapon in this situation. But, in case that they did, I wasn’t sure whether I’d first succumb to my wounds or to the embarrassment of dying in such a manner. As the evening went on I was looking forward to seeing the last of the revelers leaving.

I vaguely recall exchanging a few words with the lady Iamphorynne Maedarae. I know just as little about her now as I did back then, but at a glance you could tell she has traceable Antheian ancestry, and an air of “could get away with murder”. She was among the last guests remaining despite her dour look during the entire evening. I’m pretty sure that I eventually learned what was bothering her but the details come up blank.

Eventually Lady Naeva personally came over to talk. My first reaction at seeing her make her way down the twenty-times-the-length-of-my-apartment hall was silent terror that perhaps she mistook Iamphorynne’s enlivened speech for displeasure about something I and Saedrizar did or should have done. We were about to leave to let them talk more privately but Lady Naeva took us aside and said something that sounded like gibberish to me.

The next thing that I definitely remember is waking up for my next shift.

#my art #my characters #elves #dark elves #digital drawing #fantasy art #you might call it pulp fiction #lavish furniture #questionable happenings #art nouveau inspired #celebration #I like where this is going #as they say #impractical armor #sheer dress #gold #the decanther is heavily inspired by a real one from 1900

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randomdragonfires · 10 months ago

Text

Pieces of a Woman | Bonus

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | In the aftermath of the Battle Above The God's Eye, a mad widow weeps.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Yearning; Major Character Death; ANGST.

WORD COUNT | 1.2k

A/N | Not beta read. To be read as an accompaniment to this one shot, but I suppose it works as a standalone too. Repost from my old blog.

There is a chill in the air that she does not like.

The white shift that she wore was too thin to allow her any semblance of warmth, and she is reminded of that as the cold air hits her form. Her days are long and her nights are lonely, each moment taking longer to pass than it should as she sits quietly, rocking herself back and forth with her hands hugging her knees. A loud thunderstorm strikes through the Keep - it is scary and loud enough to make her whimper and mumble into her hands.

“Aemond, Aemond, Aemond,” she repeats over and over.

Her eyes are an endless pit, having lost all their charm from months of isolated confinement. Her hands are frail, and they shake incessantly even when there is nothing within her line of sight to scare her. Her once beautiful hair is now unkempt and dry, falling around the sides of her hair like a dark, damning curtain.

Aemond loved my hair, she thinks. He always thought I had beautiful hair.

Aemond is dead.

She continues to cry, her eyes a mad, murderous red as the tears fall freely down her cheek.

Aemond would have wiped them off, she thinks. He would have kissed my forehead and told me I’d be alright.

Aemond is dead.

It is a rare moment of clarity, this moment in time. She does not have them often anymore, she knows. In times like this, she has always heard servants whispering about her apparent behaviour when she was not conscious of her being.

“Madness. She’s gone mad, the poor thing,” the servant maid had whispered outside her doors one night. “Absolute shame. She scratched the poor Prince’s face out yesterday!”

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond. Her husband, her love, hers.

Not anymore.

She lifts her hands and cries, her tears a seemingly endless stream. She had hurt the man she loved with these very hands - her nails had dried blood on them, and she doesn't know where it could have come from. Was it Aemond’s blood? She does not know. Has she been scratching her own skin out?

She stands up and screams as the words continue to ring in her weak, fragile mind. “Aemond is dead. Your husband fought valiantly, Your Grace,” the servant maid had said. In a fit of anger, she takes the book - Ten Thousand Ships - left strewn about on her bedside. She does not know who had brought it, or where it had come from - all she knows is that they did not believe her worthy enough to deliver the news to her themselves, and had sent a servant maid to relay it to her.

She was everything to Aemond. She is worth nothing to them.

The realization hits her harsher than the gust of wind that she is now trying to shield herself from as she cries and tears the book to shreds. The pages fly about before they fall to the ground like light noiseless water drops. She continues to tear at it to her heart’s content and cries, cries, cries - but it is not enough. It is never enough.

Aemond is dead.

She does not remember much from when they were married - just that she had a husband who loved her enough to keep her. Was there a son? She remembers a baby boy. Was he hers? Was he Aemond’s? Where was he?

Aemond is dead.

She grips the hem of her shift and bends down to let her head rest on the cold, unmade bed. Her sobs are muffled by the cushions as they permeate the air in groans and whines. She then sits on the same bed and continues to weep - for what, she struggles to recall - only for a moment before it hits her again.

Aemond is dead.

She does not recognize the movement of her hands as she hugs herself. Her nails dig deep into the flesh of her arms as she weeps, rocking herself back and forth once more. Her cries are loud, louder and louder still, almost as though she was shouldering the sadness of the entire Keep. How could she not, after all she had been through?

Aemond is dead.

She is a dark silhouette in a greying room, a scary sight in her shift and untamed hair let loose. The servants treat her like she is some sort of wild animal, one that they are afraid of being eaten and hurt by. She has not known the love of her family in what seems like years, and she does not remember all the nights that her husband had come to give her warmth and comfort.

Aemond is dead.

But who was Aemond?

Her thoughts fluctuate constantly - one moment she knows, one moment she does not. One moment she was in his arms, and the next she was screaming at him to let her die. Die, die, die. The words have taken over her completely in this moment and her feet carry her to the large window of their own accord. The young Princess, a new widow, steps on the ledge and watches the grounds of the city as it sleeps in the pale moonlight.

Die, die, die. Aemond was dead. Dead. Who was Aemond? Who is he? A husband. Aemond? A baby?

Her feet sway just slightly as she regains her balance, and she turns back to look around the room as she spots the torn pages. True to her madness, despite her confusion all this time, her thoughts oscillate once more. Ten Thousand Ships, a gift from… Aemond. A man who loved her more than she could even try, a man she loved back with all that she ever was.

But who was Aemond?

She breathes out raggedly, heavily, audibly - waiting for the loudness in her mind to stop as she clutches her head tight with her palms and covers her ears. But it does not, it never does.

Madwoman… wife… a son… a Prince… poor thing… once a beautiful, happy girl born in the spring… dead. Aemond was dead.

In her last moment of unhinged grief, one of the pages flies about and she remembers.

Aemond was her husband. Aemond loved her. Aemond wanted her to get better. Aemond wanted her to be safe. Aemond wanted her to love him again. Aemond wanted her to come back to him. Aemond did not want her to die.

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…

She remembers. She remembers happy days when she had been a wife and a mother. She remembers better days when she was beautiful and happy and had a husband who worshipped the ground she walked on; in whose eyes she could do no wrong.

She remembers safe arms around her, kisses to her temple, rough thrusts into her cunt. She remembers her hands holding onto his, his warm breath fanning her face, sweet nothings whispered in her ear. She remembers him reading to her in his low voice, in rumbling whispers that made her giggle once upon a time. She remembers and knows that Aemond did not want her to die.

Die, die, die. Aemond did not want her to-

It happens quickly.

Her foot slips and she falls, falls, falls. It is seemingly never-ending and she does not scream. She makes no noise as she sees windows and bricks zoom past her, looking at them briefly at an angle she never has before. Her shift billows above her knees and her hair flies in all directions and she falls, falls, falls…

Until she abruptly lands.

The warmth of the blood pooling below her head is a last moment of comfort for her. The last thing she sees is the blurring sight of thick, viscous blood seeping through her hair, coloring the floor red.

Not my hair, she thinks with her dying breath. Aemond loved my hair. He always thought I had beautiful hair.

NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

MASTERLIST

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 10 months ago

Text

The Ranger (Part 3)

Summary: The reader and Dean are in trouble as they come face to face with the person who's been pulling the strings all this time...

Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of murder/manipulation

A/N: Please enjoy the finale!

_______

“Stand down!” a voice shouted, holding up a closed fist. “He’s fucking feral!”

Feral? You reached a hand down between your thighs, pulling it back and grateful to find no blood. On the one hand, you were grateful Dean went feral. It was like a shit’s hit the fan reflex in an Alpha. Knots deflated instantly so pairs could escape danger. He would be stronger than five Alpha’s combined. Dean’s hair stood upright on every inch of his body, sense hyper aware of everything right now, searching of a way to protect his omega.

But going feral meant that in a few hours, Dean’s body would force him to play catch up for going into overdrive and knock him out for a while to recover. You had to find a way out of this and fast.

“Are you fucking…” said a heavy sigh, your head popping out from behind Dean. Your heart skipped when one of the men ripped off his mask. “You fucking mated him? You let this fucker knot and claim you all the way didn’t-”

“Did, did you just come in here to try and kill my mate? My Alpha? My goddamn true mate?” you growled, stepping around Dean but held back by his extended arm. “If anyone takes a step towards him, I’ll kill you myself. I don’t care if you’re my dad or not. Don’t fuck with my mate.”

“He’s your dad?” said Dean, his scent threaded with a sharp twinge of heat, like burning ash, anger pulsing with every heartbeat.

Your dad, turned his back, shaking his head. “Put on some damn clothes. We aren’t doing this right now.”

“Get these people out of my house and maybe I will,” you shot back. He grumbled but you watched as the others in the room walked out the broken front door, gathering at the far end of the front porch. The two of you dressed quickly, Dean always keeping an eye on you. Your dad grunted when he turned around, eyes narrowed at Dean. “Of course it had to be you, you sniveling little shit.”

“Dad, back off. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“He’s full of shit is what he is,” said Dean, picking you up before he stepped over the back of the couch to avoid the glass. He set you down by his side, careful to make sure you stayed behind him. “You were gonna kill your daughter’s true mate before we could cement it. The only reason I’m not dead right now is because it’d destroy her.”

“Why would you want to kill Dean? You told me he was innocent,” you said, brushing past Dean to join him at his side. He didn’t like that but he was the one in danger right now, not you. “Why?”

“Because you’re The Boss, aren’t you. You’re the one that gave out orders to my team lead for who to kill. Didn’t you?” Your dad stared at Dean, his jaw clenched. “Don’t deny it. I know there was someone above him calling the shots.”

“Listen you little shit,” he said, taking a step closer, resting his hand on his holster. “You don’t get to walk away from my business. You were all supposed to die that day but you lived. I let you live, Winchester, don’t forget that. I told the bureau you were a good kid with shitty luck to lose your whole team. I told them to help you get accepted to be a fucking forest ranger in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. I told them I’d watch out for you like the good person I am. I let you go, Dean. I let you think your little conspiracy theories were right. I was going to let you go but you just had to be her mate, didn’t you.”

“Touch her and I’ll-”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he snarled. “That’s my fucking daughter.”

He wiped a hand over his face, breathing deeply as Dean grabbed the back of your sweatpants, holding you close.

“Seeing as how killing you would make my own daughter hunt me down, I’m going to let you live.” Dean scoffed, your dad cocking his head. “Boy, don’t you think for one second if I hadn’t gotten here five minutes sooner you’d be still breathing. I won’t fuck up my own family but yours? I have no problem sending Sam and his little girlfriend a visit or your parents. You fucking work for me again and this time? You’re not hiding behind your team. You’re killing who I say when I say it.”

“No he isn’t.” You took a step forward, Dean’s grip still there. “In case you didn’t realize, those people you just threatened are my pack now. They are as much my family as you are. Dean let go of me.”

“Be careful,” he muttered, reluctantly dropping his hand. You raised your chin and took a few more steps, as close as you dared. He wouldn’t hurt you but you still couldn’t trust him.

“I know you love me, dad. If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be talking right now.” He shifted on his feet, keeping his face blank. “Today was supposed to be my day to spend with him. Today’s supposed to be the best day of my life and you stole that. He’s not a hitman. He’s my fucking soulmate and if you do not stop hurting him right this second, I will call her, call them both, and tell them everything.”

His lips parted as he took in the threat, the way you stood your ground. You honestly weren’t sure what he’d do. Clearly he wasn’t the easy going nice guy you’d always known him as which made your gut churn. But you’d deal with that later. Right now you needed this resolved.

“Well?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Am I calling them or what?”

He raised his hand and did a twirling motion with his finger. The people on the porch shared a look but you watched them retreat off into the woods. Your dad let out a long breath before crossing his arms back at you. “Alright. I will leave your…mate and his pack out of this. Happy?”

“What the fuck is going on?” mumbled Dean behind your back.

“My dad has two mates. My mom and his true mate he met a few years ago,” you said, turning around for a closet down the hallway. You ripped it open to find a broom and dustpan, happily grabbing them before tossing them at your dad. “Clean up the mess you made.”

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t understand the kind of liability this kid is.”

“Clean. It. Up.” He grumbled but picked up the broom, sweeping the glass into a pile near his feet. “What Dean chooses to do is not your decision to make. You’re going to live with the consequences of your actions. Unless you want me to tell mom what kind of man you are? Tell Sasha who you are before you claim her?”

“You haven’t claimed your true mate?” asked Dean, your dad turning so his back was to your both as he worked. “How the hell did you hold off?”

“Dad always said it wasn’t fair to mom since he loves them both but when he met Sasha, he was strangely against it. Seeing as we both know just how hard it is to not claim a true mate, I’m going to guess it’s something else,” you said, glancing at Dean.

“He’s on Novi-Alpha,” said Dean, shaking his head. “You can’t claim her or you’ll kill her.”

“It’s why you moved out here away from mom for a ‘covert’ job huh? You don’t want your mates near you,” you said.

“Thanks for being such a sympathetic pup to the fact I have cancer,” he said, throwing the broom down. “For the record, miss know it all, I’ve been on Novi-Alpha for a decade. The kind I have is extremely aggressive. If I stay on it, the cancer stays away. Hopefully.”

“Hey,” you snapped back, holding up a finger. “I don’t want you to be sick. I don’t want to know that you’ve been…killing people for hire for who knows how long. I am so angry with you but do not think that means I want you dead.”

“Oh? What if he wants me dead?” asked your dad, nodding towards where Dean stood beside you. “You going to let him do that?”

Yes, I would. He’d forced Dean to be part of a group that relentlessly made him to be part of their hits. Maybe he hadn’t pulled a trigger or taken a life until it was his own team but he’d participated. Helped plan, coordinate. All against his will so his family would stay safe. So yeah. Dean could walk over there and kill him this second and you wouldn’t be more than a little upset.

But you hid that gut instinct to yourself for the moment.

“This may come as a shock but I don’t like killing people unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Dean bent down, palm wrapping around the broomstick. He held it out to your dad, staring him dead on. “My friend is an oncologist. A good one. He’s the one that was giving me access to Novi-Alpha the past few years while I thought someone was hunting me.”

Dean nodded his chin, looking him up and down.

“It’s better than the basic crap your insurance covers. I could talk to him, see if we could get you on the new stuff. It might actually heal you and you could be with your mates again.”

“Why the fuck would you help me?” he asked. Dean glanced over his shoulder at you, giving him a smirk.

“You have a lot of making up to do with your daughter and your new pack family. We need you alive to do that,” said Dean. Your dad reached for the broom, Dean holding it back. “Why’d you kill in the first place?”

“Why do you think? When I was diagnosed, Novi-Alpha didn’t exist. I was trying to get money fast to pay off the house, pay that one’s student loans, make sure my family was taken care of. They didn’t know it could cure cancer when it first came out so I kept at it.”

“So you went Walter White on the situation,” said Dean, handing over the broom. “Maybe you ought to quit the business while you still have a family willing to take you back.”

Your dad pursed his lips, gaze wandering to you. “Not sure that’s possible anymore.”

“Probably not. But that’s your pup. You have two mates, one you’re overdue to claim. You owe them.” Dean turned, giving you a small smile. “You want to give him a second chance?”

“We’ll see. But first, you need to do something else for me.”

Three Months Later

“Good morning,” said your dad, hopping out of his truck as you sat on the front porch with a cup of coffee. “Surprisingly sunny today, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is, Harry,” you said, taking a long sip, eyeing him up and down. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, got some in the truck,” he said, Dean walking out the front door, adjusting his coat. “Dean.”

“Asshole,” said Dean with a smile, tilting his head. Your dad hid his frown well, Dean taking a seat across from you with his thermos. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Harry?”

“I uh, wanted you both to know I’m leaving town. I sat mom and Sasha down last week and…told them the truth about everything.” He kicked the dirt with his boot, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I was always worried about them getting along and now they’re closer than ever with how much they hate me. Guess I got what I wanted.”

“I’d try groveling,” said Dean, slurping up the steaming hot coffee with his best bitch face. “You’re starting to get good at it.”

“Yeah,” he laughed dryly, gaze shooting to you. “I need to go try to salvage something with my Omegas.”

“Sasha will let you back, eventually. She’s hardwired into you. Mom might be a different story, though,” you said.

“I just wanted you girls to be okay when I was gone,” he said as you sighed. “Sorry. I know. Not an excuse.”

“I know you’re trying but you’re going to be making up for this the rest of your life. So go try with your mates. Dean and I will be fine on our own for awhile,” you said.

“You still hate me,” he said.

“Travel safe, Harry,” you said, your dad nodding before heading back for his truck. “I heard the new Novi-Alpha strain you’re on is working better.”

“Are you happy about that?” he asked.

“I’m not unhappy.” Dean reached over to take hold of your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Call once you’ve settled in back home.”

“Take care of her,” he said, Dean humming. With that, he was gone, down the gravel driveway and you could feel Dean relax beside you.

“He won’t do anything,” you said, raising your hand and running it through his brown strands. “S’okay, Alpha.”

“I know. He makes me nervous. S’like my body remembers going feral because of him and will always be on edge.”

“I doubt he ever moves back here. Mom and Sasha are making him donate every penny he ever made from killing, volunteer, be a blood donor once he gets the all clear from his doctors, therapy, and a whole bunch of other stuff.”

“I like those two,” he chuckled, closing his eyes when you scrunched up your fingers against his scalp. “Oh, you’re making me want to go back to bed, Omega. A nice massage sounds like heaven right about now.”

“You are the sheriff. You can show up late you know,” you said, trailing your finger down the side of his cheek, tickling his jaw.

“Ugh, raincheck. I have a staff meeting at eight I’m supposed to run.” He nuzzled into your touch though, his breathing calm, steady. “Why’d you make your dad call the bureau and tell them to give me a job as a cop?”

“Because you’ll never get to go back to being an agent. Because you deserve to be able to help people how you always wanted to.” He inched closer, resting his head on your shoulder. “You never have to be The Ranger again.”

“I know,” he said, sighing against you. You frowned, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. He lifted his head when he saw you dial, watching you hold up a finger.

“Hey, Caleb, it’s Sheriff Winchester’s wife. Listen, Dean’s not feeling too great today so he’s calling in sick,” you said, Dean flashing wide eyes at you, trying to steal back the phone but you got up before he could. “Yeah it is too bad, just a touch of flu. Well he’ll be in tomorrow if he’s feeling better, alright? Take care.”

“Omega!” said Dean when you hung up, his hands on your hips as you shrugged with a smirk. “You…you…”

“Yes, sheriff?” you purred, scratching under his chin, scraping over the bonding gland in his neck. He mewled at the sensitive touch, losing the urge to turn into it. “What a good Alpha you are when you relax for me. Hopefully with Harry being gone you’ll relax more. I do love helping you relax.”

“I do like relaxing with you,” he mumbled when you squeezed his hip. “I…I still don’t like it when you call me a good person. It doesn’t feel right when I killed four people and researched how to-”

You pressed a hand to his mouth, Dean staring at you with soft green eyes.

“Think of it this way…you were doing what you had to to protect your pack, just like a good Alpha does. You are not a bad man, Dean Winchester.”

“How do you know that?” he whispered.

“Because I can feel your soul and yours is one of the best.”

“Oh, Omega,” he said, voice smooth as honey, the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls in the air. “Your soul is my favorite too.”

“Want to finally relax?” you asked, sliding your hand down to his. He laced your fingers together, smiling when he found your face.

“Yeah. I think I finally can after all this time, Omega.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, grinning through it. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Alpha.”

_______

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean x you #alpha!dean x omega!reader #abo

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snowysosturn · 1 month ago

Text

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 28

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x dealer!Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, angst, cursing, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mention of guns, description of murder, description of shooting, description of dead body, arguments

The room felt suffocating after we watched the footage. It was as if all the air had been sucked out, leaving nothing but a heavy, oppressive silence. My hands were trembling, still resting on the keyboard where I’d paused the video. The image of Vince standing over Danny’s lifeless body was frozen on the screen, but it was seared into my mind.

I forced myself to breathe, in and out, but the weight in my chest wouldn’t ease. Turning to look at the others, I saw their reactions mirrored my own. Chris stood behind me, his face pale and his jaw clenched tight enough to crack. His eyes were glued to the screen, a storm of rage and disbelief swirling in their depths.

Willow sat on the edge of the couch, her head bowed and her hands clasped together like she was praying. She looked like she might be sick. Nate was the only one moving, pacing back and forth across the room like he was trying to outrun the images we’d just witnessed.

No one said anything for a long time. The silence was unbearable, but none of us seemed to know how to break it. Finally, I closed down the computer, shutting off the horrific scene but not the emotions that came with it.

“That bastard” Nate spat, stopping his pacing to glare at the now-blank screen. “He didn’t even hesitate.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He-he just killed him. Like it was nothing.”

Chris turned away from the screen, rubbing a hand over his face.

Willow let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how you guys deal with this. How you’ve been dealing with it. This is..this is so much worse than I thought.”

“It’s not just Danny” I said, my voice trembling but steadying with each word. “If we’ve seen this, imagine how much worse Vince has done that we don’t know about. You could’ve ended up like this too Chris. He’s dangerous, and if we don’t do something, he’ll keep getting away with it.”

Chris moved closer to me, his voice low. “I know this is a lot to take in, but you’re right. We can’t stop now. This is our chance to take him down.”

I looked at him, my chest tightening at the pain and determination in his expression. He was trying to be strong, but I could see the cracks forming beneath the surface.

“We need to talk about what happens next” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “For now, Chris, it’s not safe for you to leave this place. Vince has people everywhere, and if they see you, it’s game over. You have to stay here.”

Chris looked up at me, his jaw tightening. “You’re saying I just sit here while the rest of you go back and forth, putting yourselves at risk? I can’t-”

“You have to.” I interrupted firmly. “If Vince realizes you’re alive, all of this falls apart. He’ll come after you, and he won’t hesitate. You staying here isn’t just about your safety, it’s about giving us a chance to end this.”

Willow nodded in agreement. “Y/n’s right. This place is out of the way, and no one knows you’re here. It’s the safest option, for now.”

Chris exhaled. “And what about the rest of you?“

We’ll be careful” Nate said, his voice firm. “We’ll keep our heads down, do what we need to do, and get out. Besides..” He hesitated, his eyes narrowing in thought. “When the rest of the Crimson Cartel sees that footage, sees what Vince did to Danny, they’ll turn on him. You know how much Danny meant to everyone.”

Chris nodded slowly, his expression darkening. “None of the guys in the footage were part of Crimson. They weren’t our people. But Danny.” His voice broke slightly, and he looked away.

“Everyone loved him” I said softly, reaching for Chris’s hand. “When they find out Vince is behind his death, they won’t stand by him. They’ll turn.”

Chris finally nodded, his grip tightening on my hand. “Fine. I’ll stay. But promise me you’ll all be careful out there. I can’t-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I just can’t lose anyone else.”

“You won’t” I said firmly. “We’ve got this. We’re going to end this.”

Willow stood up, brushing off her hands. “Well, if that’s settled, I’m making a list of what we’ll need for the back and forth trips. Food, clothes, maybe even disguises for when we’re in Boston.”

Chris snorted softly, the faintest trace of a smile appearing. “Disguises? What, are we pulling a heist now?”

Willow smirked. “If the shoe fits.”

The mood lightened just a little, and for the first time in what felt like hours, I saw a hint of hope in Chris’s eyes. We weren’t out of the woods yet, but at least we had a plan. And as long as we stuck together, I believed we could see it through.

The first rays of sunlight started peeking through the curtains, and the exhaustion of the night finally caught up with all of us. Willow was the head to bed, stretching her arms over her head and muttering something about getting at least a couple of hours of sleep before her brain gave out.

“I think we all need it” I said, standing up. My legs felt like jelly, and my head pounded from the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through me all night.

Willow and Nate had already disappeared into their rooms, leaving Chris and I standing in the dimly lit living room. I placed a hand on his arm. “You should sleep too. We’ll figure everything out in the morning, or, well, later today.”

He gave me a faint smile, brushing his thumb across my knuckles before heading toward our room.

Once he was gone, I set an alarm for 10am and followed him toward our room, flopping onto the bed. My body was begging for rest, but my mind raced with everything that lay ahead.

By now, I’d practically abandoned my college routine. The thought of catching up on my workload made my chest tighten with anxiety, but I clung to the hope that my professor would understand. Surely, with the information I had to share, he’d see why I’d been so preoccupied.

Before I could spiral too far, I made a mental note to ask Nate in the morning if he wanted to drive back to Boston with me.

I stared at the ceiling for a long moment before finally closing my eyes. The sun was almost fully risen now, casting a soft glow through the window, but for the first time in days, I let myself give in to the pull of sleep.

The buzz of my alarm startled me awake, yanking me from a restless sleep. For a moment, I stared at the ceiling, disoriented, until everything from the night before came rushing back. I groaned softly, rolling over to check my phone. It was already 10:15. I’d snoozed my alarm more times than I realized.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The reflection in the mirror was a harsh reminder of the toll this week had taken, dark circles ringed my eyes, and my hair was a mess. I looked like I’d been through hell, and in a way, I had.

By the time I made my way into the kitchen, the smell of coffee greeted me. Nate was already there, leaning against the counter with a steaming mug in hand. He looked equally worn out, his usual energy dulled by the weight of the situation.

“Morning” he muttered, his voice rough.

“Morning” I replied, grabbing a mug and pouring myself a cup. The first sip was bliss, the caffeine slowly tricking my body into a false sense of alertness.

We stood in silence for a while, the events of the past 24 hours hanging heavily in the air. It was Nate who finally broke it. “What’s the plan today?”

“I need to head back to Boston” I said. “I left my laptop at home, and I have to figure out what to say to my professor. At this rate, I’ve probably fallen so far behind, but... I don’t know, maybe if I explain some of this, he’ll cut me some slack.”

“You think you’ll tell him everything?” Nate asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Not everything,” I said quickly. “Just enough to make it clear that I’ve been dealing with something serious. I’ll frame it around the legal side of things, like how I’m trying to help someone navigate.. a dangerous situation.”

Nate nodded, considering my words. “I’ll drive you back” he offered.

“You sure? You’ve barely slept.”

“So have you” he countered. “Besides, it’s better if we stick together for now. You don’t need to be traveling alone, not with everything that’s going on.”

I gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

As we got ready to leave, I grabbed my burner phone from the counter and hesitated. “I think I’ll leave this here” I said, placing it back down. “I don’t want to risk bringing it into the city.”

“Smart move” Nate said, already heading for the door. I made sure I had the USB in my pocket and followed him out.

The drive back to Boston started in silence, both of us too drained to muster small talk. I stared out the window, watching the trees blur into the cityscape as we approached the familiar streets. The normalcy of it all felt jarring. How could everything look so unchanged when my entire world had been flipped upside down?

“You doing okay?” Nate asked, his voice breaking through my thoughts.

I turned to him, offering a faint smile. “Define ‘okay.’”

He smirked faintly, his eyes still on the road. “Fair point.”

“Thanks for driving me” I said after a beat.

“Don’t mention it” he said. “You’ve been holding up pretty damn well through all this, you know.”

I let out a dry laugh. “If by ‘holding up,’ you mean barely keeping it together, then sure.”

Nate glanced at me briefly, a rare softness in his expression. “You’re tougher than you think. Not many people would have stuck around, let alone tried to help us the way you have.”

The unexpected compliment made my cheeks warm. “Thanks, Nate. That means a lot coming from you.”

When we finally pulled up to my house, I felt a strange mix of relief and unease. It had only been over 12 hours since I’d been home, and stepping out of the car felt surreal, like I was returning to a life that no longer fit.

“I’ll check in with my professor and try get a meeting with him today” I told Nate as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Do you want to meet me back here at 5pm?”

“Yeah” he said with a nod. “We can head back then.”

“Alright. Stay safe, okay?”

“You too.”

I watched him drive off before turning to face the front door of my house. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside. I made my way to the kitchen, where my normal phone sat abandoned on the counter. Picking it up, I unlocked the screen, only to be met with a flurry of missed notifications. Emails, texts, and calendar reminders from college flooded my home screen, each one a stark reminder of how much I’d let slip through the cracks.

Ignoring the overwhelming wave of responsibility, I opened Google and searched for my professor's office phone number. Professor Hawkins was one of the few people I trusted, someone who had always been approachable and understanding. If anyone could offer guidance without prying too much, it was him.

I hesitated for a moment, my thumb hovering over his office number. What would I even say? How could I explain everything without giving too much away?

Taking a deep breath, I tapped the number and held the phone to my ear. It rang twice before a familiar, warm voice answered.

“Professor Hawkins speaking.”

“Hi, Professor. It’s Y/n Y/l/n..” I said, trying to steady my voice.

“Y/n! I was wondering when I’d hear from you. You’ve been absent from class for over a week, is everything alright?”

“Sort of..” I said, my words faltering. “I’ve been dealing with.. a complicated situation. I was hoping I could meet with you to explain and maybe get some guidance on how to move forward. It’s related to my studies, well, partly, but it’s also personal.”

There was a pause on the other end, and I held my breath, worried he might dismiss me outright.

“Of course” he said finally. “I have some time this afternoon. Would 2pm work for you?”

Relief flooded through me. “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you so much professor.”

“Not a problem, Y/n. I’ll see you in my office at 2.”

As I hung up, I leaned against the counter, exhaling deeply. This was a step forward, a small one, but forward nonetheless.

I grabbed my laptop from my desk and slipped it into my bag along with a notebook. My

After double checking that I had everything I needed, I locked up the house and headed to campus.

Chris’s POV

The morning light seeped through the thin curtains of the Airbnb, casting a golden hue across the room, I sat up, rubbing my face to shake off the remnants of sleep. My mind was still clouded by the events of last night. But now, there was an absence I couldn’t ignore. Y/n wasn’t next to me. I got up and made my way to the living room.

“Morning” Willow’s voice broke the silence as she stepped into the room, a mug of coffee in hand. She was already dressed, looking far more put together than I felt.

“Morning? It’s 2pm..” I muttered, glancing toward the hallway. “Where’s Y/n? And Nate?”

“They left early. Y/n needed to take care of some things back in Boston, and Nate’s her chauffeur for the day.” She smirked, taking a seat in one of the armchairs.

I frowned, the thought of Y/n leaving without a word twisting in my chest. “Did she say anything before she left?”

“Something about needing to talk to her professor” Willow said, waving her hand dismissively. “Relax, she’ll be back. You’re not gonna lose her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I huffed, leaning back against the couch.

Anyway, how’re you holding up after last night?”

I glanced at her, debating how honest I wanted to be. “It’s a lot. Seeing that footage, knowing what Vince did.. it just makes me feel like...” I trailed off, shaking my head. “I don’t even know what I feel. Anger? Guilt? Fear? All of it, I guess.”

Willow nodded, sipping her coffee. “Yeah, it’s a lot to process. You’re not the only one who’s scared, though. We all are.”

I tilted my head, studying her. “How’d you and Nate not lose your minds waiting for the cops to clear last night? Four hours is a hell of a long time to sit in a car.”

Her lips curved into a sly smile. “Oh, we found ways to pass the time.”

I blinked, the suggestive tone in her voice catching me off guard. “Wait a second.. Are you saying-”

Willow cut me off with a laugh. “I’m not saying anything. But, hypothetically, if I were, it’s none of your business, Chris.”

I smirked, leaning forward. “You like him, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “Nate’s.. different. He’s got this rough exterior, but underneath all that, he’s a good guy. And, well, spending hours in close quarters tends to make you notice things.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Who would’ve thought? You and Nate.”

Willow shrugged, setting her mug down. “Enough about me. What about you? You’ve been glued to Y/n ever since this whole mess started. It’s pretty obvious you’re head over heels for her.”

“Yeah, I love her. I’m not gonna deny that.”

Willow’s gaze softened. “It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?”

I nodded, exhaling slowly. “I want to be with her for the rest of my life. I know that sounds crazy, especially with everything going on, but it’s the truth. She’s the one, Willow. And I want to make that clear, not just now, but when this is all over.”

Willow smiled, her expression unexpectedly kind. “You’re a good guy, Chris. And she knows it. She wouldn’t be here, sticking by you through all this, if she didn’t feel the same way.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, filling me with a mix of hope and determination. “Thanks” I said, my voice quieter.

“Don’t thank me yet” Willow teased, standing up. “Just don’t screw it up, alright?”

I chuckled, the tension in my chest easing slightly. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m bored without social media.. Want to make burner Instagram accounts?” Willow suggests.

Y/n’s POV

By the time I arrived on campus, my stomach was in knots. This wasn’t just about legal theory or hypotheticals. This was real, messy and dangerous. I smoothed my blazer, took a deep breath, and knocked twice.

“Come in” his deep voice called.

I stepped inside, my hands gripping the strap of my bag. Professor Hawkins was at his desk, glasses perched on his nose as he reviewed a thick stack of papers. He looked up, and his sharp, analytical gaze met mine.

“Miss Y/l/n” he said, gesturing for me to sit. “It’s nice to see you! I was beginning to think you’d dropped out of my class.”

“I know, I’m sorry..” I admitted, lowering myself into the chair. “I’ve had some personal matters to deal with, but I’m here because I need your guidance.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“There’s a situation I’ve gotten involved in, a dangerous one” I began carefully. “It’s about a criminal operation in Boston. I have evidence, but I’m scared to go to the police because it could put me and the people I care about in danger.”

At that, his expression sharpened, and he leaned forward. “Go on.”

“It’s about Vince Moretti..” I said, watching for a reaction. His eyes narrowed slightly, and I knew I had his attention.

“Moretti” he echoed, his tone measured. “I’ve been looking for a way to dismantle his operation for years. The drug feud in Boston is destroying lives, but no one talks. Everyone is either too scared or too loyal to open up. If you have evidence, Miss Y/l/n, you might have what we need to take him down.”

Hearing that sent a chill through me. “I have video footage of Moretti committing murder..” I said quietly. “But I need to do this in a way that keeps me out of it. The people I care about, they’re already too close to all of this.”

Hawkins studied me for a moment before nodding. “There was a raid at the docks last night, but my contacts in law enforcement have been quiet, which means they don’t know exactly who it's linked to or they’re keeping what they did find under wraps. If you have something concrete, it needs to stay quiet. The last thing you want is for Moretti to catch wind of it before law enforcement can act.”

“I understand” I said. “This evidence could be the turning point, but I can’t afford for it to lead back to me. Can you help?”

I paused, suddenly realizing how much trust I was putting in Hawkins by sharing this information. I couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not with so much on the line. My hand instinctively went to my bag, and I pulled out the small, nondescript USB drive.

“I.. I have the footage with me” I said, my voice steady despite the knot tightening in my stomach. “It’s all on here. What happened with Vince and Danny.. the moment Vince killed him.”

Hawkins raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. He didn’t seem surprised, though his gaze flicked briefly to the USB in my hand. He held out his hand, and I hesitated for a moment before passing it to him.

He examined the drive, turning it over in his fingers as if weighing the decision on what to do next. “You’re sure this footage is unaltered? No editing or manipulation?”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s untouched. I’ve kept it safe.”

Hawkins didn’t say anything for a moment. He seemed to be processing, considering what he was about to dive into. Finally, he spoke.

“Alright. I’ll take a look at it. But you understand this is a delicate situation. If this footage confirms what you say, then we’re dealing with a murder, and Moretti won’t let it slide easily. His influence is far reaching, and the moment this gets out.. it won’t just be you at risk.”

“I know” I said quietly. “But I can’t just sit back anymore. This needs to be dealt with, and I need to know I did everything I could to stop him. For my own peace of mind, and for the people I care about.”

He nodded, his eyes softening just a fraction. “I get it. I’ll keep this in safe hands. But you need to prepare yourself. There’s no going back once this is in motion.”

“I’m ready” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I truly was.

Hawkins gave me a sharp nod before getting up and walking to his desk, plugging the USB into his computer. As the screen came alive with the footage, I stood frozen, feeling the weight of what was to come. My heart beat louder in my chest, knowing that once the truth was revealed, there would be no turning back.

After a few moments, Hawkins turned to face me. “This is solid. You’ve done well to get this footage. But now the hard part begins.”

“I know” I whispered, my stomach twisting.

Hawkins leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the desk as he thought. After a long silence, he looked at me, his expression serious.

“You know, Y/n..” he said, voice low but steady, “There’s a way we can handle this without you directly being involved. If we go about it anonymously, if we can release this evidence to the right people without your name attached, then the state can take it from there. We get the authorities involved, and it’s their job to pursue it, not yours.”

I blinked, my mind spinning at the possibility. "You mean.. you think we could turn this over without anyone finding out it was me who gave them the footage?"

“Exactly” Hawkins confirmed, leaning forward, his gaze unwavering. “If we can make sure no one knows where this evidence came from, if we keep your identity out of it entirely, then the state can arrest Vince without putting you or your loved ones at risk. You won’t be the one in the line of fire.”

I let out a breath, feeling a sliver of relief. The weight of what he was offering began to sink in. I’d been terrified, every day, that my involvement would make me a target, or worse, put Chris, Nate, and Willow in harm's way too. The thought of remaining anonymous, of not having to watch my every step, was a relief. But at the same time, it felt like I was still hiding from the truth.

“So, how would we even get this to the right people without anyone knowing?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the logistics of it all.

Hawkins raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by my willingness to question the plan. “There’s a network. I have a few connections in law enforcement who are more than willing to work discreetly. We can get the footage into the hands of the right people who’ll work behind the scenes to make sure Vince is arrested, while keeping everything under wraps. But you need to understand, once this is out there, it can’t be retracted. If it leaks or anyone catches wind of who helped, it could undo everything.”

I nodded slowly, processing the risk. It seemed like the perfect solution. It would protect me, Chris, and everyone else involved, while still putting Vince away.

“I understand” I said, feeling the weight of his words. “But how do we make sure it goes through? How do we ensure that it doesn’t get buried or lost in the system?”

Hawkins smiled faintly, though his eyes remained sharp. “That’s where I come in. I’ll make sure it gets to the right people, the ones who are beyond Vince’s reach. But you need to trust me on this. If you want to keep this as clean and anonymous as possible, you can’t be involved directly from here on out. It’s going to take time, and it’s going to require patience, but in the end, it’ll be worth it.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in. If I did this, if I let Hawkins handle it from here,I would be taking the risk of putting everything in his hands. But at the same time, it was the only way I could be sure that the right thing was done, without endangering myself or the people I loved.

“You have my trust” I said quietly. “I’ll let you handle it. I just want Vince gone. I want him out of our lives.”

Hawkins nodded, his expression firm. “I’ll do everything I can to make that happen. I’ll get the ball rolling right away. But remember, you can’t talk about this to anyone. Not even your closest friends. The less you say, the safer you’ll be.”

“I get it” I whispered, my heart racing. “Thank you, Professor Hawkins. I don’t know what else to say. Just.. please make sure this works.”

“I will” he said, voice steady and confident. “Now go. I’ll handle the rest from here.”

I left his office with a heavy heart but a renewed sense of hope. This was the right move, the only way to stop Vince without risking everything. I finally felt like I could breathe, if only for a moment. The end was in sight.

–

By 5pm, I was standing at the window, waiting for Nate to arrive. The sound of a car pulling into my driveway snapped me out of my thoughts, knowing we were about to head back into the chaos once again.

I grabbed my things and stepped outside, walking toward the car quickly before getting in.

"Did you get to talk to your professor?" Nate asked, his expression a little more serious than usual, probably from everything that had gone down recently.

"Yeah" I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But I got a call from him again about thirty minutes ago. The police have the footage now, but.. Vince is nowhere to be found since the raid last night. They can trace everything back to him, but without him in custody, it's like a waiting game."

Nate's expression shifted, brows furrowing. "That’s.. not good. So, they’ve got everything, but no Vince?"

"Exactly" I replied.

Nate’s grip on the wheel tightened, and his jaw set as he drove. "This isn’t good" he muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror as if expecting someone to be following. "The whole point of getting this footage was to put the pressure on Vince, but if he’s nowhere to be found.." He trailed off, frustration clear in his voice.

I could see the wheels turning in his mind. He was never one to be idle when something was wrong, and the thought of Vince slipping through their fingers was eating away at him.

"Maybe he’s hiding" I suggested, though it didn’t feel like much of an answer. "He’s got resources, people who could help him disappear, but they're probably piecing things together, hoping someone will slip up, reveal his whereabouts, but right now.. it’s just a matter of time. Professor Hawkins said once there’s an arrest, it’ll be all over the news" I added, my voice laced with uncertainty.

"Yeah, I know" Nate growled. "But it’s not just that. He’s smart enough to keep a low profile. If the cops can’t find him now, it means he’s pulling strings, keeping his head down, and the longer he does that, the longer it’ll be before he’s found. It’s like we’re chasing a shadow."

Nate stayed silent for a while, focusing on the road. "I just don’t know how much longer we can wait for that. We need him caught now. If we wait too long, everything’s going to fall apart." His words were sharp, frustration lacing each word.

"Well.." I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "the cops are looking. They’re not going to stop just because Vince’s gone to ground. We need to trust that they’ll catch up with him. We’ve done everything we can. And we need to make sure we just lay low now."

When we finally pulled into the driveway of the Airbnb, stepped out of the car, still processing everything that had happened with Professor Hawkins, and headed toward the front door, Nate trailing closely behind me.

As we walked inside, the soft murmur of voices filled the air. Willow was in the kitchen, scrolling on her burner and Chris was lounging on the couch, his expression neutral but tired. When he saw us, he sat up straighter, his eyes immediately locking on mine.

"How did things go?" he asked, his voice low, his gaze flickering between me and Nate.

I nodded, taking a seat at the table. "We’ve got good news and bad news" I started, trying to keep my voice steady. "The footage is in the right hands, and Vince can be linked to everything, but.. he’s gone."

"Yeah" Nate added, rubbing the back of his neck. "The police can’t find him, and he’s laying low since the raid. No one knows where he is. They can’t even get close to him right now."

Willow frowned, putting down the papers she was holding. "That’s not great" she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. "But at least we’re making progress, right?"

"Not enough" Nate replied, his frustration clear. "We don’t have time to wait around for Vince to come out of hiding" Nate muttered. "We need to do more. We need him behind bars sooner, not later."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "The police have the footage. There’s nothing more we can do right now. We just have to be patient."

He let out an exasperated breath, pacing around the living room. "Patient? Patience isn’t going to get him behind bars! He’s slipping through the cracks, and we're just standing here, waiting for him to screw us over again."

"I know you're angry" I said, trying to keep my voice calm, "but there’s nothing we can do to force their hand right now. If we make any noise, it'll mess everything up. The best thing we can do is stay silent and let the police handle it."

Nate stopped pacing and glared at me. "Stay silent? We’ve been silent this whole time, Y/n!"

I could hear the frustration in his voice, and I understood. We’d all been waiting for something, anything to happen. But rushing things now would only make it worse.

"We're not doing nothing" I said, my tone softer but firm. "We’ve done everything we can. We got the footage, we tipped the cops off, and now it’s in their hands. Vince is running out of options. He’ll slip up. He has to."

Nate crossed his arms over his chest, still scowling “I’m going to bed.” Shaking his head as he made his way down the hallway toward one of the bedrooms. I could tell he was still seething with anger, unable to let go of the frustration that had built up. I didn’t blame him, but for now, we all needed a break.

Willow and I plopped down on the couch next to Chris, flipping through TV channels to put a news channel on, in case any news broke. The silence between us was tense, each of us processing everything in our own way. Every update on the news made my stomach twist tighter. No word on Vince yet. But we kept watching, hoping for some shift that would give us more clarity.

Willow shifted beside me. "You know" she said, breaking the silence, "Chris and I set up burner Instagram accounts today while you were talking to Hawkins."

I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You did?"

She nodded, her lips quirking into a smile. "Yeah. I thought it might be useful, you know, staying low key while we keep track of things. Still having some sense of normality."

"Good thinking" I said, reaching for my phone. "Guess I’ll set one up too then."

We sat there, the murmurs of the TV in the background, as Chris and Willow helped me create a burner account. It didn’t take long, and soon enough, I was scrolling through random pages, looking at reels.

Time seemed to stretch on as we sat there, clicking through posts, our minds occupied with the task but constantly flicking back to the news, half expecting to see something break. The quiet ticking of the clock felt like it was counting down to something, but we had no idea what.

After about an hour, the silence in the room was finally broken by Chris. He leaned forward, his eyes glued to his phone screen, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Theres no fucking way" Chris muttered under his breath. His voice was a mix of disbelief and anger.

Willow and I exchanged a glance, both leaning in, asking in unison, "What’s wrong?"

Chris's fingers moved rapidly across the screen as he scrolled through, shaking his head in frustration. "I was being nosey" he said, his voice tight. "I was checking out one of the H Block guys’ pages. They-"

His words were cut off as he turned the screen toward us, and my heart dropped into my stomach. There it was. The footage.

The grainy, shaky camera work was unmistakable, the same one we'd watched hours ago on that USB, only now it was out there in the world. The caption above it was a slap to the face: "Crimson scum, killing your own 🐀"

My breath hitched in my chest, and I felt Willow’s eyes on me as my stomach twisted. I felt sick, my hands trembling as I reached for the phone to get a closer look. But even before I could process it all, my mind was racing. This could change everything.

"Shit" Willow breathed, leaning back into the couch. "This is bad. This is really bad."

Chris exhaled sharply, his eyes dark with anger and disbelief. "Yeah. And it's all over Instagram now.”

"How did they get this?" I whispered, the question more to myself than anyone else.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick with the weight of the unspoken truth. Chris jumped up from the couch, his legs moving before his mind fully caught up with the frustration building inside him. "No" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if to convince himself that this wasn’t real. "There’s no fucking way..."

But as soon as he moved toward the hall, the door to one of the bedrooms creaked open, and there stood Nate, leaning against the doorframe. He was holding his phone, his expression unreadable as he watched Chris’s every move. The moment their eyes locked, I felt the air get even heavier. Something was about to snap.

Chris’s voice was low, simmering with anger. "You fucking leaked it, didn’t you?" he demanded, his gaze hard as steel.

Nate didn't flinch. He just stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Chris with a mixture of defiance and coldness.

“I did what I had to do" Nate said through clenched teeth, his voice low and almost challenging. "You think I’m just gonna sit here while Vince gets away with everything? While Danny’s gone? I had to do something."

Chris shook his head, pacing in frustration. "You think that’s the way to fix things? You put everything at risk. Everything we've been working toward. Y/n told you to stay quiet, and you fucking ignored her." He stopped, turning to face Nate with a look of disbelief. "You could have trusted us, man. We could’ve handled this the right way."

Nate’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "The right way? There is no ‘right way’ when it comes to this shit, Chris. I didn’t make this mess, but I’ll be damned if I sit around waiting for Vince to tear apart everything we’ve been working for. Crimson’s not just gonna sit on their hands, pretending like everything’s fine. They needed to know-"

"That’s not how you do it!" Chris interrupted, his voice rising. "You don’t just act on impulse, you don’t just go and leak shit to a rival gang, especially not with the people we care about in danger. What if someone tracks it back to us? What if this blows up in our faces?"

"Then so be it" Nate shot back, his voice colder now. "I don’t care anymore. I just want Vince to pay for what he did. I want him gone." He hesitated, his gaze flickering to me and Willow on the couch. "I had to make a move. So I sent it to H Block. They don’t know it was me, but they’re gonna spread it around, and then Crimson won’t have any choice but to turn on Vince. They’ll start talking, and then he’ll be the one running, not us."

Willow shifted beside me, her eyes wide as she watched the back and forth between the two. Chris’s face was flushed with anger, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was trying to stay calm, but the frustration was evident.

"You’re out of your fucking mind, Nate" Chris spat, his voice barely containing the fury he was feeling. "What the hell made you think that was the right call? You really don’t get it, do you? We were trying to handle this quietly, trying to get Vince without anyone else getting hurt. And you go and throw all that out the window. Just like that."

Nate didn’t flinch. "And if I hadn’t done it? Vince would still be out there, laughing at us, thinking he can do whatever he wants. You really think I was just gonna sit back and watch that happen? Watch people we care about get hurt while I did nothing?"

The two of them were standing there, inches apart now, the tension thick enough to choke the air around us. I could see both of them on the verge of snapping, both holding on to their frustrations in the same clenched fists. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, the sound of a breaking news report cut through the silence, pulling all of our attention to the TV in the corner of the room.

"Breaking news from Boston." the anchor's voice rang out. "Authorities have confirmed that a known leader of one of Boston's major drug gangs has been arrested, on the outskirts of Massachusetts. The arrest comes following the discovery of shocking footage implicating him in a recent murder of a close affiliate related to the feud. The footage comes a day after a raid near the docks late last night, which is now being linked back to this gang."

The words hung in the air and for a split second, it felt like the room itself froze. My heart started to race as the news anchor continued. A mixture of panic and relief.

“Wow, maybe that is how you do it” Willow whispers under her breath, only loud enough for me to hear.

Chris’s voice broke prominent silence, shaky but determined. "He’s gone. This is it."

Nate, still standing with his arms crossed, didn’t respond right away. His eyes were glued to the screen, his expression unreadable. "Yeah" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "It’s done. Vince is done."

But despite the relief that seemed to come with hearing about Vince’s arrest, it was clear from Nate’s tone that it didn’t feel like a victory, not yet.

Chris and Nate made their way back to the couch. We all sat there, glued to the screen, waiting for any further details.

I knew this wasn’t over yet, but at least it was a start.

a/n: 2 more parts

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo @sophand4n4 @ilovepurpledragons @mattsside @riasturns @sturnslutz @chrisstxrnsaxe @2prcntmilkluvr @trevorsgodmother @anonymouslyachrisgirl

#snowy speaks #snowys series #allies or affiliates?#dealer!chris #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo series #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #nate doe #sturniolo x reader

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warnersister · 2 years ago

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Tom Riddle x Reader

Tom Riddle x Pregnant! Reader

Warnings + Summary: Tom being a nicer version of Tom, old fashioned views, non-con pregnancy, teen pregnancy, arranged marriages, dom / sub dynamic, controlling / possessive Tom, toxic Tom

Fucked. That’s the only word you could use to describe the situation you were in - you were totally and utterly fucked. Whatever were you going to do? You paced back and forth in your dormitory as the thoughts and questions weaved and wrapped around the many veins of your brain which were now becoming apparent to you that they were useless in their entirety. How could you be so stupid? So reckless? You bit your nails anxiously - walking in your room for a good twenty minutes still unable to come to an educated conclusion.

You were pregnant and you had no fucking clue about what to do about it.

You’re a seventh year, potentially your most significant point of wizarding school. But you’re seventeen, a year off of being an adult. And unmarried adult - what would your parents think? A child outside of wedlock would be blasphemous! They’d disown you! And Tom - oh Merlin, what about Tom?

You and Tom had a rocky relationship as it is. He’s too domineering and charming and you’re too conforming and feisty to say no go him. It was like cat and mouse if the mouse laid down in the cats dinner plate and handed it cutlery. Tom rules your life by his own means and you felt it was okay to let him, after all what harm could come by it?

This. This harm. Tom had told you of his plans to rule the wizarding world and you had just nodded along, not thinking anything of it. But a child? He’d kill if! He’d kill you. You were going to die. Oh dear god you’ll be dead my morning if you told him.

“Hey- hey! Are you alright?” Your dorm mate asked. You hadn’t even heard her enter your shared room, but as soon as you heard her soothing and concerned tone you broke down into her arms crying. “I’m pregnant, Darla.” You told her between sobs and she reassured you as he caressed your back gently. “Is it Riddles?” She asks when your tears dry and you nod into her shoulder. “He’s no father. He’s hardly a partner. I allow him to control me but there is no way I’d allow him anywhere near a baby, regardless of whether or not it was his.” You say, angrily. “And I’m guessing he is unaware?” She asked and you nod. “Only just found out.” She understood but explained to you how you’d have to tell him. It was ethically and morally correct to inform the father of a child of his position and future.

You’d avoided Tom and his ominous stares for a few days now. But you could feel his eyes baring into your skull, reading your mind. You knew he was eyeing you and your untouched plate of food at breakfast and unusual concoctions that were boarder line criminal at dinner. You knew you were unable to avoid him forever, after all he had made it clear that he was in charge.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” A voice asked, pushing you against the cold stone wall of an empty corridor. You looked into those death grey eyes and said nothing, attempting to wriggle out of his hold. “Stay still. Don’t you dare try to run away from me.” He threatened. “Fuck off, Tom.” You say, fighting back and you could’ve sworn he’d given you a shocked smirk. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to? Need I remind you that I own you, princess.” He hissed into your ear as he leans down to your height.

Tears begin to form in your eyes and he surveys your face without any changing emotion. “Talk to me. Now.” You inhaled deeply before glancing between the floor and his eyes. “I’m pregnant.” You say, voice barely above a whisper and it feels as if the world stops - you are shaking, body shutting down as it prepares for all the ungodly torturous and murderous spells you had seen him unleash on his other victims, it was only a matter of time until you became one, also.

Yet he smiled. Thomas Marvolo Riddle smiled. Something you had never seen before. Everything was going according to plan, he thought. He’d spent many sunrises and sunsets trying to convince you to be by his side while he brought his fascist views into this land and ruled all by any means necessary. Your reluctance was infuriating, to say the least and he had found the only plausible solution was to impregnate you with his offspring. Afterall, a poor defenceless girl like yourself needed protecting. Now with a foetus in your womb? He’d put you in lockdown, a dungeon, a high tower with no doors. He would make you his queen whether you would give him your hand or he’d have to cut it off and take it by force.

“Tom, why are you smiling?” You ask yet his expression didn’t drop. “Don’t you see? Silly girl. This baby is what we needed. Just you, I and our child. We shall bring uprising to the world with you by my side and a child on your hip. We shall be indestructible.” You thought for a minute before the cogs ticked into place. “You did this on purpose.” You spoke breathlessly, lurching away from him in disgust.

“Now, now. That is no way to speak to your future husband. You will learn your place the easy way or the hard way.” He’d even spoken to your parents of whom had a strong pureblood line since Merlin’s time and they were more than happy to offer your hand. “Come along now, you must plan the wedding and pick out baby items - I shall plan our takeover.” And with a flick of his wand, you were out cold on the floor, easy to pick up your sleeping figure and take you back go his chambers, where you would stay.

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muzaktomyears · 3 months ago

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Yoko said to me: ‘I was told John was in danger in New York’

Elliot Mintz was the friend with whom John Lennon and Yoko Ono spent some of their most private moments. Now he has written a book in which he reveals what went on after the former Beatle was murdered in 1980

John Lennon and Yoko Ono in New York on November 26, 1980, just days before his death

Part of me started to wonder if perhaps I’d acted rashly. My mother had heard a radio report about a shooting on 72nd Street. The Lennons were not answering their phones. The Dakota operator had hung up on me. Was that enough to send me racing to the airport to catch the last flight to New York? But then I saw a flight attendant exit the cockpit, tears streaming down her cheeks. As she hesitatingly made her way down the aisle, I reached out and touched her arm.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “They killed him,” she answered, gulping back a sob. “They murdered John Lennon.”

For a long moment I found it impossible to process what I’d been told. And then, like a flash fire in the brainpan, the horror of what happened exploded in my consciousness. “John is dead,” I whispered to myself. My best friend was gone. My heart began to race, I found myself gasping for air. I literally doubled over in pain as my whole body absorbed the shock.

Lennon, Ono and Elliot Mintz outside the Mampei hotel in Karuizawa, Japan, in 1977

I don’t know how long I sat, crumpled in agony, but eventually I regained a modicum of composure. I realised I had to marshal my thoughts and plan what to do once the plane touched down at JFK. I needed to pull myself together, bury my grief, and be strong for Yoko and Sean.

I had seen John just a few weeks earlier, in New York; he and Yoko and I had spent a long evening at the Dakota listening to their soon-to-be-dropped Double Fantasy album. At around two in the morning I said my goodbyes. John walked me to the door.

“Remember,” he cautioned me, “walk on the side of the street where the doormen are. Don’t walk on the side of the street next to the park.” “John,” I said, “I grew up in New York. I know how to walk in this city.” That was the last time I saw him.

Lennon and Ono at home with their son, Sean

By the time I got to the Dakota, at around 7.30am, at least 5,000 people had gathered on 72nd Street. At the request of Richie De Palma, Studio One’s office manager, a couple of officers helped me across the police cordon. Suddenly, I was face-to-face with the crime scene: there was blood on the pavement as well as shards of broken glass from a window shattered by one of the bullets.

I rode the elevator to the seventh floor. The Lennons’ housekeeper, Masako, let me in. It was clear she’d been crying. “Yoko-san in bedroom,” she said in broken English. “Door locked.”

I paused at the closed door, then gently knocked. “Yoko, it’s Elliot,” I told her softly. “I’ll be right outside until you are ready to see me. I’m not going anywhere.”

After about five minutes, I saw the door open a crack. I stood up and peered inside the bedroom, illuminated by the big-screen TV, which was showing live local news footage of the Dakota. Yoko had been watching, with the volume off. Even though the windows were shut and the shutters closed, I could hear the music from seven floors below. The sound of mourners on the street singing John’s lyrics would fill the apartment for days to come.

Lennon surrounded by fans in New York in August 1980

Standing by the bed, wearing silk pajamas and a kimono, Yoko looked incredibly frail. I reached over and gingerly put my arm around her. She touched my face, then crawled back into bed.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked her. “There’s nothing anybody can do,” she weakly responded. “Have you eaten anything? Can I bring a cup of tea?” “Elliot,” she answered, “your presence is comforting. You don’t have to say or do anything.”

I sat down in my usual spot, the white wicker chair, and we both watched the images flickering on the TV. For a while, my eyes wandered around the room, eventually settling on John’s bedside table, where I spotted a pile of books — it was an eclectic stack, to say the least, everything from The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir to Your Child’s Teeth: A Parent’s Guide to Making and Keeping Them Perfect by Stephen J Moss. Yoko’s reading material was similarly varied.

Suddenly, a picture of the suspect appeared on the screen. Yoko sat up and stared intently at the mug shot of the assailant; she seemed both mesmerised and repulsed — and deeply confused — by the face of the man who had murdered her husband.

The following weeks were a blur. I spent a lot of them downstairs at Studio One, joining a staff of four or five employees, fielding a never-ending barrage of phone calls. At one point early on, an assistant held out a phone for me. “He says he’s Ringo Starr,” she whispered. Ringo was calling from a pay phone and wanted to make a condolence call with his girlfriend (now wife), Barbara. I ended up sneaking them into the building through a back entrance.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Ringo told her when she greeted him and Barbara in her bedroom. “No, you don’t,” Yoko replied, “but I’m grateful you are here.”

One evening, just a day or two after John’s murder, I returned to the apartment to find Julian Lennon sitting alone in the kitchen. He was now 17 and had just flown in from London by himself to pay his respects. (He told me later that the flight was filled with passengers reading papers covered with headlines about his father’s killing.) John and Julian had made some repairs to their estranged relationship, but Julian had practically no relationship with Yoko or with his half-brother, Sean.

“Would you look after Julian?” Yoko asked me. “It’s so depressing here. Take him around New York, show him different places.”

She was asking partially as a kindness to Julian but also as a mercy to herself. Yoko was in no condition to deal with John’s grieving teenage son; she could barely handle her own child’s grief. Sean reminded her so much of John, she found it painful to be in the same room with him, so he and his nanny were dispatched to the Lennons’ vacation home in Florida.

Police outside the Dakota, the apartment complex where Lennon was killed

I found the idea of sightseeing with Julian a bit odd, but we ended up spending a day together, culminating with a trip to the viewing deck atop the World Trade Center. It was one of the few pleasant interludes in an otherwise unbearable stretch of misery.

One of the other assignments I took up around this time was reading through the bags of hate mail. The most worrying ones were flagged for further investigation by law enforcement and shared with Yoko’s private security, who started pinning the names and descriptions of the senders on a bulletin board at Studio One.

I was always running into bodyguards in the kitchen. The irony was impossible to miss: this house built on love and peace was now filled with guns. At one point, even I started carrying a snub-nosed .38 revolver in an ankle holster. I was also provided with a bulletproof vest. One of the few times I recall willingly slipping into it was when a man fitting the description of one of the assailant’s fan club letter writers was spotted on the street outside the Dakota.

He was a tall, young, otherwise innocuous-looking fellow. I approached him carefully and asked him for the time. When he lifted his wrist to look at his watch, I could see under his jacket what appeared to be the butt of a gun.

I quickly returned to the Dakota lobby and called the police. They arrived in minutes, pushed him against a wall, discovered what was indeed a weapon, and hurried him away.

Julian Lennon, Ono, Mintz and Sean Lennon at the dedication of Strawberry Fields as a memorial to Lennon in New York in 1984

Nearly as shocking and upsetting as the dangers that were swirling outside the Dakota were the perils lurking inside. Yoko would learn that some of her most trusted confidants were scheming against her. By far the worst offender was an assistant named Fred Seaman, a trusted aide who, earlier in the year, accompanied John on a trip to Bermuda — the trip on which John wrote many of the songs for Double Fantasy.

Incredibly, almost immediately after the murder, Seaman began smuggling shopping bags stuffed with private papers from the Lennon offices and residences — including five personal journals that John kept hidden under his bed — hauling them uptown to the apartment of his accomplice, Robert Rosen, as part of a scheme to write a tell-all book. We eventually got the diaries back, and Seaman ended up pleading guilty to second-degree larceny.

Yoko found herself surrounded by traitors. Whom could she turn to? For a while, she leaned on the companionship of her friend and interior designer Sam Havadtoy, who not only moved into the Dakota but began sharing a bedroom with Yoko, although not the one she had slept in with John. This struck many on her staff as curious. Although Havadtoy was undeniably charming, appeared to have Yoko’s best interests at heart, and was terrific with Sean, he was also a gay man.

Yoko continued to grow more and more wary of just about everyone around her. I don’t know if I ever fell under Yoko’s suspicion but I do recall one moment when she and I came dangerously close to a serious argument, after I implored Yoko to let me conduct a radio interview with her and Sean to dispel some of the more outrageous rumours being spun about the Lennon family following the publication of Albert Goldman’s book about John, like the notion that he was an abusive husband and father (who once allegedly kicked Sean across a room); and that he was a drugged-out recluse, possibly schizophrenic, and an enthusiastic devotee of Thai prostitutes.

“I’ve never asked you to comment about any of the other books, but this one we can’t ignore,” I told her. Yoko paused for a moment, then responded. “Let me check with my advisers,” she said, meaning her team of tarot readers and numerologists.

Mourners at a vigil for Lennon shortly after his death

I’d never expressed scepticism about Yoko’s mystical beliefs but for once, I pushed back. “Yoko, let me ask you something,” I said. “If these advisers are as good as you believe they are, why is it that none of them saw what was going to happen to John? Why was there no warning?”

Yoko’s answer astonished me. “Elliot,” she said, “how do you know I wasn’t warned? Did you ever ask me if there were warnings?”

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll ask you: Did any of your advisers warn you about John being in danger?” “Yes,” she answered. “I was told he was in danger in New York and that he should be removed immediately. That’s why I sent him to Bermuda over the summer … But I couldn’t keep him away forever. He had to come back at some point.”

I was speechless. “Look, Elliot,” Yoko went on, “you know how John felt about his own safety. We talked about this at our kitchen table when your friend [the actor Sal Mineo] was killed. John said, ‘If they’re going to get you, they’re going to get you.’ It didn’t matter what my advisers told me. He didn’t believe in bodyguards, he wouldn’t put up with them. He wanted to be free.”

(source)

#john lennon #yoko ono #elliot mintz #removed the photo of mdc because fuck that

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silassinclair · 10 months ago

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Say My Name

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CW// 16+ Content, Abduction, Guns, Yelling, Talk of Murder

Introduction (Optional to read)

Last night my life changed forever. My Father managed to get on the bad side of a wanted outlaw by the name of Maddox Graves. And that very same night that very same outlaw killed my Father in cold blood. I thought I’d be next but instead he bound my ankles and hands and threw me with him on the back of his horse. We’ve been riding for hours and I have no clue where this psycho is taking me. Maybe somewhere far away to do diabolical things to me. If that’s the case then I’d rather be dead.

“What’s on your mind princess? You were thrashin‘ and screamin’ a few hours ago. Where’d that fire go?” Graves turns his head slightly back to face me. But I look away. Being this close to him was the most uncomfortable I have ever been in my life. But I had to keep my arms around him as to not fall off the horse and break a bone. I need to be in top condition if I want to escape.

“Nothing…” I mutter. But that answer doesn’t seem to satisfy the greedy bastard. So he halts his horse with a gentle tug of the reins. For a psycho murderer criminal he’s nice to his horse.

“You hungry? Gotta piss or somethin'?” Even though he has a bandana covering his mouth I can tell he’s annoyed by the way his eyes wrinkle slightly.

“No! I’m fine..”

But I’m not fine. How could I be fine? This animal killed my Father and is taking me only God knows where! We've been riding through this desert for hours and it's almost sundown. I'm scared shitless of potential bandits and I'm literally starvi-

Growl~~~

"Your stomach is tellin' me otherwise sweetheart." I can practically hear the smirk on his stupid face.

Hugging myself I sigh in defeat. "I haven't eaten in over a day.. So of course I'm hungry. I just have no appetite."

Lies. I could eat a horse.

"Well you're lucky because look on ahead princess."

Moving my head up and to the side to see over his broad shoulders I see a town less than a mile ahead. I thank the lord in my heart and soul.

"Now don't go thinkin' you can run off and escape. You go to anyone for help and I'll shoot em' dead like your old man." He adds.

Well that dug deep. Scowling, I kick him in the shin causing him to hiss a low curse.

"Watch your mouth. You may be all big and bad but I'm not afraid of you. I won't let anyone disrespect my Father. Especially not the likes of you." I say. But Graves only furrows his eyebrows and crosses his arms. He hops off his horse and grabs me by the waist, pulling me down with him.

"Get off you mongrel!" "Silence that mouth of yours before I gag it!" He snaps, I immediately do as I say. This unpredictable gunslinger could kill me or worse in seconds. I shouldn't have said anything in the first place. My initial plan was too cooperate so I could escape but here I am blowing it. But it's hard because he pisses me off to kingdom come.

His hands are still on my waist as he pulls me closer and speaks, "Do you have any idea why you're alive girlie?"

I feel myself unwillingly do a full body shiver. His eyes were a dark brown but not a normal brown. Almost red due to the sun's setting light shinning down on us. He asked me a question but my throat can't conjure a reply. I only shake my head 'no' back and forth.

"It's because I think you're pretty, and I'd hate to waste a pretty lil' thing like yourself." He slurs. His rugged hands go lower, I can feel them. The fabric of my dress protects me from his direct touch but the violating feeling is all the same.

"So young and precious, you-" He pauses. "What's your name? I never got it."

What a dunce. I sigh and remove his hands from my waist, luckily he doesn't fight back.

"It's Y/n. Y/n L/n."

His eyes soften, but only barely. There's still a hunger behind them. "Y/n..." He tests the name on his tongue.

"I like that. But I like princess more. Sweetheart is a good one too. It matches that cute face o' yours. Or missy when you're bein' a bad girl." His hand goes under his chin as he lists off the stupidest pet names ever.

I deadpan and shake my head back and forth. Pinching my nose bridge I look over at the town in the distance.

"So aren't you gonna ask what my name is?" His sudden voice whispering in my ear and his fingers grazing my neck makes me physically jump and clamp my hand over my neck.

"D-Don't do that!" I shout and take in a deep breath. I'm probably a tomato right about now.

"And I already know your name." I scoff and cross my arms, turning away from him. But he walks around me to try and get me to face him, which I turn again and again after every attempt me makes.

"I wanna hear you say it though. Bet it'd sound real' sexy comin' from your lips." Grave's hands squeeze me around my biceps and lock me in place, leaving me to look no where else except for those devilish eyes of his.

Knowing him for the day I've been around him I know he won't relent. He'll keep me here until I give in.

Sighing I say his name. "Maddox Graves.."

It came out softer on accident. Maybe I'm exhausted. But looking at his concealed face I can see his wide eyes.

"Say it again." He whispers. His grip tightens. It hurts and I whimper in pain but his eyes still bore into mine.

"Maddox Graves." I say firmly. But he groans and shakes his head back and forth. A dissatisfied groan leaves him.

"No not like that! Say it how ya' said it before!" He whines, but he still sounds aggravated.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about..." I mutter and clench my teeth. He has the grip of a bear trap.

"Say it like a wife would! Say. my. name!" He snaps and jerks me forward. My eyes widen in fear at his outburst and I'm reminded that this is no normal man. He's a killer. A dangerous outlaw and the one who killed my Father.

But what he said has me confused. What does he mean by that? He must tell how confused I am because his grip loosens.

"Just... Say it like ya' don't despise me."

That's damn near impossible. But if I want to survive and get food in my stomach then I need to perform.

"Maddox." I say only his first name this time. Gently, I raise a hand and lay it over his that is on my arm. Both his hands drop and I hear his let out a long breath.

He says nothing but he turns away from me and hops onto his horse. His hand reaches for mine and I take it. He pulls me up but I nearly fall over. The control I have over my legs is lacking because of their bound state. Luckily he catches me with an arm.

"Easy now sweetheart. I don't want ya' gettin' hurt. After all, I know what I'm gonna do with ya now." He says in a low timbre that strikes fear into my core.

"Hya!" He shouts and his horse walks in the direction to the town ahead.

This unpredictable psycho... I'm at a complete loss here. What can I do? I'm hopeless! His behavior is nearly bipolar and he's a walking weapon. But now he has a plan for me? Whatever it is I don't want it...

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #obsession #cowboy #western

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gaysindistress · 5 months ago

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A Fool’s Devotion

disclaimer: shoutout to @malsorie for letting me use her stunning art. The center picture as well as the bottom one are her master pieces. All others were found on Pinterest or Google.

pairings: Minthara x f!reader (could be read as gn since I didn’t use pronouns for reader)

Summary: Only a fool would remain faithful to a coward god.

Warnings: bg3 cannon violence

Word count: 2.7k

Bg3 masterlist

A Fool’s Devotion teaser

Drifting through the stale winds of the Underdark on mushroom spores, I have finally found her.

Sitting in a cold and silent room with her chin resting on her closed fist as she watches the city from the window, I have finally found her.

Singing the songs of both her victims and allies, a reckoning begins in the hallows of slit throats and caverns of forgotten hope but I finally found her.

A paladin who’s lost their oath, willfully broken under the pretenses of another’s twisted lies, she sits with the blood of her mother caked into the creases of her hands. A daughter, once sworn to her house and to her goddess, she no longer is but in her place is a creature of darkness.

A wickedly evil thing lives in the mess that Orin made of her mind.

Darkness from the depths of Mykrul’s personal hell has crept into her heart and warped whatever demented love that Drow society left behind.

A soldier for her people, her house, and her goddess has been lost to the wild of Faerun and now only remains a soldier for herself in the haunting study of House Baenre.

Floating through the open window, I watch her stare at a distant fixated point in the city. Alone she has let her guard fall and with it, the look of desired anguish is pulled taunt on her face. The thought of not remembering her time with the Absolute must eat away at her every moment she is awake and those from her childhood must find her at night given the way her brows are pinched together. Within the red of her eyes, dry tears gather but don’t fall down on her lavender cheeks. Her lips are pulled into a tight line and her jaw is set in a similar fashion.

The veil that hides me from her view falls as my boots make contact with the floor. Like the smoke that dances above a dying campfire, I flicker into existence and come to stand beside the window facing her. Her melancholy comes off of her in waves that lap at my feet but from my spot, I’m a safe distance from her sea of emotions.

“You’re here,” her voice cracks for a moment as she speaks to me but continues to stare past me, “I was beginning to wonder when you would make your appearance.”

“There are rules, Minthara.” She interrupts me by waving me off with the hand her chin had been resting on.

“Rules that even you have to follow,” I continue, “and I tried to warn you about what would happen if you broke them. I told you what the consequences would be if you continued down this path of murder and chased a power you would never hold. I sent you all kinds of signs, omens of what your future would hold should you continue to ignore me.”

I feel those exhausted red eyes cut to me, slicing through the leather of my armor and hoping to find a weak spot beneath. When no vein is ripe for her blade, she chooses a different route to maim me.

“A power I would never hold? You are a fool if you think that I haven’t been successful in my efforts to gain whatever it is that I seek.”

A sigh of defeat escapes my lips. I’d hoped that time would ease her determined mind but from what little she’s said, I can tell that it has only made it more rigid.

“Do the consequences of your actions not matter to you? Have you no sense of self preservation?”

Her hand falls to grip the edge of her chair. White strands of hair are disturbed from her movement but flutter back around her shoulders in moments as angry water laps at my feet. I fear that if I look down I would find a stormy wave ready to overtake me so that I may feel her anguish fully.

“Without it, I would have been dead by my mother’s own hand long ago. Self preservation is what has led me to where I am now. It’s been the only thing that has motivated me when all should be lost, when even YOU deserted me.”

The hole where my heart must have once sat clenches at her words; she believes that I deserted her. When all others have left her and deemed her too maniacal for their liking, she doesn’t care because there has always been one person who remained. When everything was stripped from her and she became a plaything for the Absolute and Orin, it didn’t matter what she suffered because her heart still knew there was one person who cared for her. As Tav decided to save her from that prison and make her a part of their camp, she didn’t seek out the companion of the others because she yearned for one person alone. While standing over Orin’s eviscerated corpse, she felt relief at the reality that this monster was gone but grief that she couldn’t share this feeling with one person in particular. When the Nether brain fell and she returned to her city, she searched for this person in every alleyway and noble house alike. Laying awake at night as she tried to ease the tension that unknown horrors had inflicted on her, she prayed to me and asked me to come back to her.

Can you hear my prayers? She cried one night. Can you hear me? Or are you ignoring me, ust-nor?

My answer feels thick on my tongue but there’s nothing else I can tell her, “I didn’t intend to desert you. I had no choice. I’d been called upon and you know that I cannot leave sooner than necessary.”

She lets out a sinister, mocking chuckle as she adjusts in her chair. She’s taken on a more relaxed pose, slouching with her hands folded on her lap although it’s merely a mask. “You reprimand me for making the wrong choices when you have done the same.”

My whole body bristles at her tone, “Minthara.”

She glowers at me with a menacing stare for a moment before sweeping over my appearance. “I suppose that you’re not here for old time’s sake if you’re wearing your armor. You’ve been called here, haven’t you?”

The armor in question is a complex web of leather and spider silk woven by Lolth herself. The chest plate boasts of Her favoritism from small pieces of Her candles that decorate the neckline and to the intricate spider designs carved into the blessed leather. Trousers and boots crafted in the same fashion fit closely to my legs, both blessed by the Spider Queen to grant me advantages in my line of work. However my gloves are the true testament of Lolth’s favor; a rather unassuming set of black leather gloves that grant me the ability to paralyze any creature that I desire. A soft touch to one’s arm in passing is all it would take for the paralytic to take effect in seconds and remain in effect until I release them. They’ve been the envy of many people but Minthara, in particular, has attempted to persuade me into giving them to her numerous times.

I glance down the gloves and flex my fingers to see the lights around us disappear into their black shade.

I allow my voice to fall into a deeper and authoritative one as I ask, “What is the name that people whisper when they speak of me?”

Her eyes narrow at the change before she answers, “Dobluth.”

The outcast.

I nod my head as I move away from the window at last. My boots make small, almost eerily silent sounds as I approach her and fully look at her. Ragged is not a kind word nor is it one she would ever allow someone to call her but it’s too simple of a word to describe the state that she is in. Now that I’m closer, I can see the true extent of her exhaustion and how it has wreaked havoc on her. No longer is she the vibrant and ever imposing Drow successor but in her place is the rotting corpse of a woman who’s witnessed and inflicted far too much evil. Fatigue has dulled her senses to the point that she barely reacts when I remove my cloak and place it on the small table beside her. Crouching before her, I study her face closely when I ghost my hands up her legs and brush them against her fold ones. I take note of the way her eyes almost flutter closed and she lets out a long sigh when I take them into mine.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

The simple command seems damn near impossible for me as she takes seconds too long to do so. She looks everywhere but my eyes at first and when I squeeze her hands, she finally meets my gaze.

“I’m the first Dobluth, Minthara. I was neither born nor created; I simply have existed since the dawn of time and will continue to exist when all else has perished. I will live in the hearts and minds of all living creatures and will putrefy with them as they take their last breaths. I will feed on the consequences of wrong doings and ease the pain of those who cry out for deaf gods as I do so. I am the devourer of all sin; I absolve souls of their weight and as a consequence, was named the first outcast, the First Dobluth. I am known by everyone yet no one knows who I am.” I keep eye contact with her as I press my lips to the top of her hands and murmur my sacred devotion to her, “No one knows me for who I am but you, Minthara. You may very well be the only person to have said my name in centuries, to know my face, to hear my voice, to have my interest. You’re the solo person who has known who and what I am but yet still chosen to be mine. My heart may no longer beat but it has found sanctuary within yours. My blood may be solidified within my veins but it flows within yours. My body may feel frigid but against yours, it feels alive once more. I may be fundamentally incapable of being anything other than a devourer but I’m sated with you and finally found fulfillment knowing that I am enough for you.”

I cup her face while keeping her hands firmly clasped in the other. Perhaps against her mind’s will, her heart allows her to lean into my hand and savor the feeling of a gentle touch. A lone tear smears against her skin as my thumb catches it and sweeps it across her cheekbone.

“I heard your prayers and I did everything I could to come back to you because without you, my existence would be a blur of fear and loneliness. There’s no reason other than to cause ourselves pain to dwell on what we wish we could change about the past but I need you to know that I never would’ve left had I known what that Bhaalspawn would do. I would’ve fought harder to stay had I known what horrors you would face by her hand. I would’ve slaughtered every cultist and their Chosen myself had I known what I do now.” Her angry waves crashed into me the moment we touched and began to form a hurricane of her emotions and mine within me as I spoke. As more determined tears fall, the hurricane crumbles into a beast of a different nature. Sorrow replaces that anger and tells her that I am here now and that is all that matters.

“You failed to answer my question; were you called here?” she murmurs.

It catches me off guard when it shouldn’t.

“I was called by you, ust-nor.”

Disgust twists her face at the pet name, causing her nose to wrinkle and brows to furrow. She pulls her face from my grasp, meanwhile against the leather of gloves, I feel the minuscule twitch of her fingers as she keeps herself from shoving me away entirely. Although I vowed to never bring her harm, she knows all too well what lethal consequences could come from irrational actions right now. A single misunderstood movement from her could result in endless paralysis with no way out.

A moment passes as Minthara presumably considers her next move. She leans down, close enough that her breath washes over my face.

“I will tell you what I told the first Oathbreaker bastard who offered me a chance at redemption; I will never be governed by another again. I will not vow my life to a thankless coward. I will not force myself to live by an oath that does not serve me nor prioritize my wellbeing. I’ve spent too long serving those who don’t care if it is me or some other mindless soldier who returns victorious. I’ve given everything I have and been forced to give even more for a cause that is not my own. I refuse to praise a god for simply allowing me to worship them.”

I wish disappointment had been the emotion that greeted me as she spoke. I wish I could say that I didn’t expect her to react this way or to say the words that she did. I wish I didn’t know her as well as I do so that this unfortunate reunion wouldn’t bring me as much misery as it does.

Sighing, I pull my hands back and rock back onto my knees. With my hands resting on my knees, I stare at her. It’s an act of submission, my stance but for her, I would strip my armor and present my weapons with a bare heart if she asked.

“If you do not wish to retake your oath, our Goddess has been generous enough to offer…”

“Fuck your goddess.”

The silence is astounding.

She gets to her feet and is at the window in one fluid motion it seems. Candle lights dance down the expanse of her back, across the pale strands of her hair and over her void like black dress. In her chair remained the forgotten over layer of her dress; a structured piece that was crafted to strike fear into the hearts of her enemies and allies alike. Pointed shoulders and gold edges give her a towering illusion that matches her confidence. The dress she still wears reminds me of what she lovingly called her at-ease clothes. It almost feels like a call back to a time simpler and much happier than now.

Almost.

“The so-called Spider Queen has no place in House Baenre.” Her voice is steady now, devoid of any previous emotion as she takes a pin from the window’s ledge and twists her hair back into place, “Soon she will find that she has no place in Menzoberranzan at all. Her effigies will be destroyed, her books burned, and her memory scrubbed from history. I had hoped that you would see reason one day and join me as I fight to reclaim the city but there is no place for a bleeding heart in war.”

Once more she has become Minthara, Matron of House Baenre.

Somewhere lost beneath the countless sins of others I have absolved lies a naive soul that yearns to take my place by her side as she becomes the Slayer of Lolth but it is that very same goddess that binds me to the floor now. Her envy and anger crackles with a ferocity I’ve seen only a few times through my body and into the marrow of my bones. Her power seethes and tightens around me when I try to push back, to stand, to move at all. It was one thing to allow me to come and speak to Minthara but Lolth is not the generous type.

“You are dismissed, Y/N.”

I catch a brief look of longing before Lolth retakes me, wrapping me in her spidery webs and dragging me back to her clutches.

“Goodbye alurlssrin.”

#minthara baldurs gate 3 #minthara imagine #minthara baenre x tav #minthara baenre x reader #minthara x reader #minthara bg3 #bg3 minthara #minthara baenre #minthara #minthara x tav #nightwarden minthara #bg3 imagine #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

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thatoneyanderewriter · 1 year ago

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ghostface!coriolanus snow

tw: dark themes, possessive behavior, coryo is insane, so in character lolz, implied murder and stalking, blood, lmk if there is more.

I might explore this au a bit more but I’d like to hear from you guys.

“Lucy Gray, what are you doing? You ask your sister. “Going out, just for singing and stuff, you know how it is, She kindly replied.”You can come too.”

“I know a liar when I see one, you’re going to a party tonight, aren’t you? You smirk. “Maybe, but I do plan on singing, music wise, Lucy Gray laughed.”Again, you can come.”

“Nah, it’s fine, Alcohol and I don’t work together well, and parties aren’t my thing, You politely decline. It was true. And your parents wouldn’t be home for another week or so. Business and all that. You had cousins, Maude Ivory and Barb Azure, but they lived a bit further from you.

Lucy Gray was always the life of the party. She had more friends than you, was a straight A Student. You were jealous happy for her.

“Well, you know the rules, don’t tell, bye! she said, and leaves. she wasn’t always honest with you, but at least she was right now, and able to trust you with that information.

you made some popcorn after dinner, with soda of course. this town was quite peaceful, and up until last year, there hadn’t been much crime. that was, until a murder happened.

ever since then, things had been paranoid. everyone and everywhere. but overall, the town hadn’t changed other than that. In the midst of the movie, you get a call. “I swear to fucking god… You begin, then pick up.”Hello? Who is this?”

“Is Lucy Gray home?”

You sigh, always for your sister. You knew people but were mostly invisible.

“No, I can take a message for her though.”

“Okay.”

“So, what’s the message? You ask, suspiciously.

“Just a friend from school, asking about the project she agreed to be partners on. Gave me the number for the project. Uh, you know when she’ll be home?”

“No, sorry, I’ll tell her though, bye!”

“Wait-“

You sigh, unpausing your movie when only a few seconds later, the phone rings again. You groan, but pick up anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

“I thought you were leaving a message for my sister, shouldn’t you call back later?”

“Yeah, but you’re much more interesting to talk to.”

“I’m flattered, you say sarcastically.”Listen, there’s not much to talk about. I’m-“

“watching a movie?”

“how did you know that?”

“lucky guess.”

freaked out, you hung up and locked every door. someone must be watching you. closing every curtain, you tried your very best, you really did. you’ve watched scream a million times, you know how to play smart. or so you thought.

the moment you heard footsteps you grab a knife from your kitchen, stepping forward but back with hesitancy. this better not be ghostface, you think. but just your luck.

suddenly, ghostface appears, knife in hand and blood on the mask, it was hard to tell on the actual costume. that’s when you bolt, and run as fast as you can while dialing 911, until your wrist is grabbed and your phone drops, surprisingly not breaking.

ghostface turns you around with the knife in hand. he’s found you, you’ve lost, and you’re about to be dead.

“I do love a good chase.”

despite the voice modulator, you could visibly recognize it a little, the voice. but you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping your demise comes faster if you do.

suddenly, you hear a laugh. and that’s when you know for certain who is ghostface. “coryo? you whisper, with a tone of relief and fear.

“that’s right, doll.”

you open your eyes, that nickname was once sweet, maybe even attractive when he said it, but now it made you feel sick. “why would you kill people? you said.

taking it off of him, he holds your face in his hands.”had to make sure they knew who you belonged to, that’s all.”

#drabble #ghostface au #coriolanus snow x reader #modern!au #scream au

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sentientgolfball · 11 months ago

Note

hello, may I ask for:

¹²⁾ “no underwear?”

with Dew and Swiss? Maybe feminization, Dew wearing a skirt, if you are okay with it? >:)

You said Dew in a skirt and I blacked out

Swiss has been staring at Dew all night. Really all of them have, but Swiss was the most obvious. Can you blame him though and Dew looks like that?

The pack had decided they had enough lazy days after returning from tour, so they threw on their glamours and hit the town for a night of bar hopping. When Dew walked into the common area where everyone was gathered waiting to leave they almost didn’t make it outside. He was in a skin tight, short little black dress. His hair was down with just the smallest bit of Infernal magick streaming out of his glamour to make it seem like it was glowing. The dress was strapless with the back cutout. His eyes raked over everyone with the smallest knowing smirk.

“So are we going or what?”

They were already at their third bar of the night. Some shitty little concert club Swiss couldn’t remember the name of. He could barely remember his own name with the way he’s captivated watching Dew dance with Rain. It was unfair how gorgeous Dew looked. It was unfair that Rain was the one who has been glued to him the entire night. Swiss nearly growled watching Rain’s had grab Dew’s waist, traveling down and around to drag to the tips of his fingers down Dew’s spine. Dew leaned into the touch, back to chest, and looked up at him with half lidded eyes.

“Careful there Sparky” Cirrus nudges him, amusement in her voice.

“Huh? What?”

Cirrus stares at him waiting for him to get it. The longer he looks at her with confusion the more he starts to notice it. He sighs with a groan and works on strengthening his glamour, hiding the claws and fangs that had begun to slip out.

“Good boy” she pats his cheek “we can’t keep having incidents or they’ll never let us leave again.”

“I find it insulting you’d think I’d pull a Rain.”

“We sent you into the bathroom to go take care of a murder scene and instead you had sex can you blame me?”

“Hey to be fair I had sex and helped Rain clean it up. I was summoned to multitask, baby.”

Cirrus rolls her eyes but there’s a grin on her face as she takes a sip of her drink. Swiss returns his attention to the two dancing ghouls and almost wishes he hadn’t. Rain has Dew pulled against him, one hand around his waist the other around his neck. Rain had his lips to his ear as the two grind against each other. That was the last straw for Swiss. He jumped out of his seat and made his way over to them. Dew held eye contact with him the whole way. Rain glared at him when he was close enough to speak to them over the loud music.

“Mind if I have a turn with our lovely Spitfire, Rainy?”

If looks could kill, Swiss would be a dead man. His hold on Dew tightened.

“Aw come on Rainy baby don’t you know sharing is caring?”

“Who said I cared?” Rain glares at him before kissing down Dew’s neck.

Swiss steps closer with a grin on his face “Getting a little bold are we?”

“Care to find out?”

“Alright you two cut the shit no one needs to pull a Mountain” Dew wiggles out of Rain’s grasp. Rain scowls at him.

“Come on rainstorm it won’t kill you to let me play with Swiss for a bit. Besides, you have to make good on those promises when we get back” Dew pats him on the cheek with a wide grin.

Rain just scoffs, pulls him in for a quick filthy kiss, and walks off to the booth the pack claimed when they arrived. They watch him go before Dew crowds into Swiss’ space.

“What now Sparky? You got me all to yourself.”

Swiss immediately wraps his hand around Dew’s wrist, dragging him to the nearest bathroom. Swiss locks the door once they’re inside before bending down to suck a mark over the spot Rain kissed. Dew laughs and tilts his head back to give him more room to work.

“Real fucking excited aren’t ya?”

“You have no fucking idea Spitfire.”

Swiss takes a step forward, causing Dew to be pushed against the door. The fire ghoul thread his hands through his hair and hooks one legs over his hip. Swiss uses the new angle to his advantage, running his hand up Dew’s thigh before slipping under the hem of his dress. He gasps.

“No underwear?”

“Didn’t want lines” Dew shrugs.

“UhHuh that’s the reason.”

Dew laughs and grinds his hips forward against Swiss’ hand. The multi ghoul brings Dew into a filthy kiss as he grabs at Dew’s cock, stroking him fully hard. Teeth clack together as Swiss makes an effort to shove his tongue down his throat. Swiss brings his other hand around to Dew’s back. He pets gently over the exposed skin for only a moment before dipping before the hem to slide a finger between his cheeks.

Dew lets go of his hold on Swiss to pull the dress up to bunch around his hips. Swiss gives him a look.

“What? This shit was expensive, I'm not ruining it.”

“Oh I’ll ruin something.”

Swiss latches onto Dew’s neck, sucking and nibbling where his gill scars would be under the glamour. He probes his finger against Dew’s asshole, huffing out a laugh when he feels wetness. He continues slowly stroking his dick as he slides the tip of his finger inside of Dew. He groans into Swiss’ neck before licking up the column of his throat to taste his mixed elemental flavor. There’s an underlying taste of whiskey and spice that Dew can’t get enough of. Dew sighs when he feels Swiss curl the finger that’s inside of him. Swiss slips a second finger into him and Dew keens, biting into the side of his neck.

“Good fucking girl” Swiss thrusts his fingers in and out of Dew.

He laughs when he feels his cock kick in the hand, blurting a glob of pre into his fist.

“Shit you’re so pretty Spitfire. Need you to get all dolled up like this more.”

Swiss strokes him faster, content to feel him clench around his fingers with every twist of his fist over his head. Dew groans when he feels him slipping a third finger into his ass. His hips twitch forward, fucking into Swiss’ fist with each downward stroke.

“Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum” Swiss frantically pressed kisses into Dew’s skin.

Dew groans “When have I ever been a good girl?”

Swiss thrusts his fingers into Dew, curling inside of him and that’s all it takes. Dew bites Swiss’ shoulder with a grunt, spilling hot into his hand. Swiss licks and kisses every part of skin he can get his mouth on until Dew’s legs stop shaking. He takes one more deep inhale of his campfire and cinnamon scent before pulling away. He grins at Dew before bringing his hands to his mouth, cleaning his slick and his cum from his fingers with a moan.

Dew takes a moment to catch his breath, smoothing out his hair and his dress.

“You know Mount’s gonna go ballistic when you walk back out there smelling like me.”

“Well at the very least it won’t end with another code murder” Swiss laughs “but I think he’ll be distracted by another scent.”

Dew raises his eyebrow at Swiss, scanning over his face until it hits him like a truck.

“No fucking way. You didn’t” Dew laughs.

“You’re the one who decided to wear a slutty little black dress” Swiss shrugs.

“Oh Mounty is definitely gonna lose his fucking mind” Dew palms the front of Swiss’ pants, making shudder with the feeling of his cum before spread around.

“Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go entertain a water ghoul” Dew gives him a quick kiss before leaving the bathroom.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #the band ghost fic #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #swiss x dewdrop #golfball writes

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just-wrting · 2 years ago

Text

Can't Take the Hint

Title: Can't Take the Hint

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You're having a hard time rejecting guys, thankfully the one you're into helps you out.

Warnings: Creepy guy and smut

Word Count: 2,826

Master List

A/N: This was meant to have more scenes in it, but I've opted to save those ideas for another time. This is also only my third time writing smut so I hope it's not that bad.

“I don’t know Dave. Asking them out seems like a bad idea.”

You hear Hotch’s voice even through the closed door. You want to linger and listen, but there’s a new case. Instead, you knock gently on Rossi’s office door. Within a few seconds, it swings open and Hotch is standing in front of you.

“Garcia said she’s got a case and to come get you guys,” you say. “I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“No, we were just finishing up. In fact, I’ll walk with you if that’s okay?” Hotch moves toward you, and you back up.

“Sure. Though I hope you don’t mind if I borrow Rossi later. I have some guy trouble that I want his advice on.”

For a split second, he frowns. It’s so quick you think you’re imagining it. You study his face intently, wondering if it was just a trick of the light. There’s no reason that he would be upset about you having guy troubles. He’s just your boss, nothing more.

“Rossi’s advice may not be great, he does have multiple divorces. I could help you.”

“That’s actually why I’d like to talk to him about it. He’s gotten used to rejection.”

You give him a soft smile. He chuckles but doesn’t say anything. You know his offer still stands if you ever need to talk to him. He’s a great boss, and you’re grateful to him for being there for you when you need it.

You do your best to pay attention as Hotch and Garcia present your next case. A couple of bodies turned up in a forest on the west coast, and the local police had no idea how they got there. They all showed various stages of decay, indicating that they had been there for a different amount of time each.

“Well, the ME states the body that had been there the longest was there for about a year. Given that there are six bodies in that area that puts us at a murder every two months,” Emily says while placing her tablet down.

“So either he’s doing something to them that takes about two months, or he’s being extra careful.” Rossi rubs his chin.

Reid leans back in his chair. “Based on the ME’s report of the most recent body, he’s most likely torturing his victims for about a month.”

“Great. Cause that’s what we need to be doing, scouring the missing persons reports for a person that could be joining the body pile,” you groan.

Granted, Garcia is lightning-fast and great at sifting through things like that, but you still think it’ll take forever. This is shaping up to be one of those cases that just takes time. Time that you don’t have to be wasting on dead ends and possibilities.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Be prepared for long days.”

—

It’s been over an hour and everyone is just lost in thought. Occasionally someone will throw out an idea, but without doing more interviews and crime scene analysis, there isn’t much to discuss. You take the opportunity to slide into a seat across from Rossi.

“Mind if I ask you some stuff? Take your mind off the case for a second?” you ask. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

Rossi gives you a smile. “Sure thing, kid. What else is someone with as much wisdom as I, supposed to do?”

You relax muscles you didn’t realize were tense. “Besides helping others out, I’m not too sure. So there’s this guy, I see him all the time since he goes to the same breakfast place as I do, and he asked me out.”

Rossi nods. “And you aren’t sure if that’s a good choice?”

“Actually, I know it’s a bad choice. Since the day before I’d seen him with another girl. They’re obviously a thing so I told him no. The problem is that now he won’t leave me alone. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Rossi reaches out to grab your hand. He gives it a gentle squeeze and makes sure to look into your eyes.

“Kid, you didn’t do anything wrong. A man like that is just plain creepy and probably won’t take the hint until you tell him there’s another man you're with. If you need us to, I’m sure Hotch or Morgan will gladly help you play pretend to get him to leave you alone. We’re here to help each other.”

You slowly nod. You really didn’t think you’d actually encounter one of those guys that give off the same energy that serial stalkers have, but you did. Not to mention, it was while you weren't working.

“You’re right. I’ll give it some thought during the case, but for now, that’s what needs our attention. Let’s just hope things go better than they usually do.”

—

Things are not going better than they usually do. Hotch paired you with him and Morgan to go to the crime scene which wouldn’t have been an issue if it wasn’t for the constant drizzle that had started well before you had landed. Nothing says ‘a great day for a walk in the woods’ like rain.

You watch as an officer slips slowly down the hill to reach where the last body was found. The whole area was slick with mud. It’d probably be fun if you were a young boy in your own backyard but as an agent hoping to get an idea of what this dump site looked like in its horrible prime, not so fun.

The rain picks up and you duck under a tree. Hotch joins you while Morgan chuckles.

“I’ll go get the umbrellas from the SUV since you two must be made of sugar. Don’t start without me.”

Shortly after Morgan walks off, another officer approaches you. He sticks his hand out for you to shake.

“You must be Agent Hotchner and Agent (L/N),” he says while giving you a large smile. “Do you need an umbrella? I have one in the car.”

“Oh no thanks. Agent Morgan is returning with the ones he went to get. I can see him now.”

The officer’s smile wavers, but stays firm on his face. “Well, (L/N), I’m Officer Mike Morris. If you need anything, anything at all, let me know right away and I’ll help you.”

With that, the officer leaves. Hotch looks at you with an odd look on his face. You can’t quite place the emotion that’s behind his eyes.

“Here’s the umbrella. You two can share it because I’m not letting (L/N) pull me down into the mud.”

Morgan gets a head start down the hill. You watch him complete the task with ease, and you can’t help but be a bit envious. Sure you can take down grown men, but Morgan makes most physical feats look easy.

“(Y/N)?” Hotch’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You do know that if you need anything, both on the case and off the case, you can talk to me, right?”

His hand rests on your shoulder. You give him a smile and start to head down the slope.

“Of course. You’re my go-to person if I need something, Hotch. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

—

It’s the next day, and you’re sitting at the table staring down a pile of paper. It’s early in the morning, and you think you’d kill for a cup of coffee right about now. Unfortunately, you got up early and were one of the first in the office. That means that there was no coffee for you to have and you have to wait for some to brew.

A sudden knock on the doorway startles you. You whirl around to find Officer Mike Morris standing in the doorway.

“I see you’re into mornings, just like I am. Figured you would want a cup of coffee.”

He sets down a cup of lukewarm coffee. You watch as the liquid settles and realize that the color is off. It won’t taste the way you like it, but you do your best to take a sip. You’re right. It’s not how you’d like it.

“(Y/N)? You left early today so I brought you coffee and breakfast. I hope that’s okay.”

Hotch walks into the room holding a tray of coffee and a to-go bag. He briefly looks at Officer Morris before looking at you.

“Thanks! What did you get me?”

A soft smile spreads across Hotch’s face. He sets the coffee tray down and pulls one of the cups out. You carefully read the label on the cup. It’s made just the way you like. As you take a sip, you feel the caffeine send tingles to your brain and you start to wake up.

“And breakfast?”

Hotch pulls a muffin out of the bag and hands it to you. You're quite grateful for the snack. Nothing says FBI breakfast like coffee and a pastry.

“Thank Hotch. I got up pretty early so I didn’t have a chance of getting food.”

You bury your face back into the papers, ignoring the men. You can feel the tension in the room though. They seem to be locked in some sort of silent fight, over what you can’t tell. A fight over ruining your train of thought is possible, but you can’t imagine that making you useless was a great idea.

“Well, (L/N), I’ll see you later. Don't be a stranger,” Officer Morris says before leaving.

—

“Oh, I call shotgun!” You say as you open the passenger door.

Hotch slides into the driver's seat. “As long as you don’t touch the radio we’ll be fine.”

Before the two of you can leave the parking lot, there’s a knock on your window. Hotch is quick to lock the doors. You frown when you see it’s Officer Morris. He seems to be everywhere. If it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t fit the preliminary profile, you’d assume he was the unsub.

Rolling down the window, you ask, “ Was there something you needed, Officer Morris?”

“I heard you were headed to see the Willows and I figured I should come with. They’re grumpy and old so they don’t take well to strangers. I actually happen to know them quite well and am off duty now.”

You glance at Hotch, unsure of how you should shut Officer Morris down. Hotch’s mouth is drawn in a thin line and his eyes are cold. You can practically feel the irritation coming off him and you turn your gaze to the clock. Staring at the time seems like a better choice.

“I think (Y/N) and I will be fine. We’re both highly capable agents who’ve dealt with difficult people.”

Morris smiles tightly. “I’m sure (L/N) is an exceptional agent, but I can assure you that these aren’t your ordinary grumpy old people. We got a call once that Mr. Willow tried to shoot the mailman when he got too close.”

You hear the leather squeak as Hotch’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. He’s getting far more than irritated. In fact, you’d venture to say he was getting pissed. It wasn’t hard to tell why. Morris is wasting your time.

“Aaron is a more capable agent than I am!” you blurt out. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll be off. Serial killers don’t wait around for us to find our clues.”

You let Hotch roll up your window and drive off. As soon as you start rolling, you see him relax.

“Man, he just won’t let up. Is there something I’m missing?” you ask.

“If he gives you any more trouble, I’ll take care of it.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Of course.”

—

It finally hits you once Morris grabs your wrist. His grip is tight. You shake your hand a couple of times, but he still holds fast.

“I’ve been hoping that I could get a chance to talk to you alone, (Y/N). I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner.”

The whole time you had been here, Morris was hitting on you. You pride yourself on being able to read people, but you admit that your ability to spot romance is a bit lacking. Unfortunately, you have zero interest in going out with Morris. Not only is he being quite rude at the moment, but you had no intention of going long distance. Not to mention your lingering feelings for someone else.

“Well, given that we still haven’t caught the killer, I’ll have to decline. There’s no time to waste.”

His grip tightens even more before he releases you. His eyes are dark and he’s sporting a tight frown.

“Does Agent Hotchner not let you date?”

You stare at him in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Is Agent Hotchner interfering with your personal life? Does he dictate whether or not his team members can date?”

You shake your head. “No, he doesn't. This is a personal choice. I’d rather not go to dinner with you when I have a serial killer to catch.”

Morris says nothing, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. His animosity toward Hotch confuses you. You don’t bother trying to understand it, however. There isn’t anything about this guy that is making sense.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to my team. If you need anything, feel free to contact one of them.”

With that, you turn and walk back to the main room. You want nothing more than to have someone tell him off, but you opt not to mention anything. The team has other things to worry about.

—

Once again, Morris has done his best to ask you out. This time making the mistake of asking in front of Hotch. The tension in the room grows thick, and you feel uncomfortable. You can see Hotch seething.

“I don’t think-“

You’re cut off by Hotch. “You are to leave (Y/N) alone for the rest of this case, Officer Morris.”

His voice is icy. There’s a vein popping in his forehead and his hand is tight on the file. There’s no one else in the room to stop the fight that’s about to break out.

“(Y/N) doesn’t need to date whoever you approve of Hotchner. You’d be stepping out of your boundaries by making that choice.”

Hotch strides over to where you’re standing. He tosses the file onto the desk next to you and grabs your face. Within milliseconds, he’s pulled you into a kiss.

His lips are chapped and you let his tongue enter your mouth you can faintly taste blood. He’s passionate about it. One hand reaches around to the back of your head to keep you in place. There’s more force than necessary, and you feel yourself growing light-headed.

You don’t know how long he’s kissing you for, seconds or minutes, and it doesn’t matter. He’s set a fire inside of you and you find yourself whining when he pulls away. He’s careful to keep you close though.

“If you don’t mind, Officer Morris, (Y/N) and I will be leaving.”

—

Aaron pins one of your legs up against your body with the other wrapping around his waist. Your ankle is behind his head and you feel sweat fall from his brow.

“Why didn’t you tell him off sooner?”

You can’t answer his question with anything but a moan. You arch your back as he continues to pound you. Your body craves him and you feel delirious. The only thing you can think about is the way he’s making you feel.

“I could’ve done more to you in that office, but he doesn’t deserve to see you like that.”

Each thrust of his hips punctuates his statement. You can’t even tell what he’s saying though. The only thing on your mind is him. The way he’s filling you up. The way he feels inside of you. The way that each thrust hits that sweet spot makes you moan.

“A-Aaron!” you cry out.

His lips press harshly against yours. With one final thrust, you come undone. Your fingers grip his bicep tightly as you cum and you feel your legs tremble. You’ve been doing this for hours, and you’ve lost count of how many times that was.

When he pulls away, his face is soft. There’s no more anger or jealousy hidden in his eyes and a smile is slowly spreading across his face.

“You aren’t hurt are you?”

You giggle and shake your head. “Just a little out of practice for this. I’ll be a bit sore later but otherwise fine.”

His next kiss is soft and tender. You relish the fact that you’re spending the night with him.

“Good because when we get back to D.C. I’ll have to show you a different side of this. Perhaps after dinner?”

You let your eyes flutter closed. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch smut

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