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the-kr8tor · 7 months ago

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Mr and Mrs Smith AU: When Jane met John

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 9k

Summary: Joining a spy agency? Check ✓ Hired in said agency? Check ✓ Getting a new fancy house? Check ✓ An entire armoury of weapons at your disposal? Check ✓ A new Husband? Check ✓ wait, what?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie and R call each other by fake names (ie: John, Jane, Smith etc), spy AU, CW suggestive, CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, CW vomit mention, TW death.

A/N: Happy 1k! Happy reading!!!❤️

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Buy me a ☕?

The waiting room seems like it's designed to make you extra anxious. From the bright fluorescent lights that whir above, to the carpet that smells like a very harsh citrus soap. Add the metallic chairs that's incredibly cold under your slacks— It all makes you bounce your leg from the bundle of nerves inside your stomach. The people waiting around you don't help either, they all look like they came out of magazine covers. Hair all tied up in a perfect bun, pencil skirts that cinch their waist perfectly. Button ups that are ironed until there's no crease in sight.

You bite your lip, eyes glued on the steel door, to where your last resort is, to where your entire future depends on. Looking around the room full of models, it doesn't seem like you're applying for a security job.

Maybe you should've worn that pencil skirt that's gathering dust in your closet.

Even though you technically don't know what kind of job it is, you really need to get this one, or else. Your savings could only get you so far. An old ‘friend’ of yours recommended this ‘company’. It operates at the highest security, the risk is just as high, but the pay is higher. More than what you've ever earned in the five years you've worked anyway.

Flicking your eyes above the door, the light finally turns green from red, and a chiming sound can be heard as the door clicks open on its own. You still wonder where the applicant goes after their interview since you never saw them exit out the same door. A morbid thought passes by your mind: a gun plus a bullet to the head. The image makes you grab the rubber band on your wrist to slap it against your skin. It leaves the stinging pain for only a moment, but it's enough to throw away the vision from your brain.

An applicant enters and you look down at the piece of paper in your hand— you're next.

The number, 2715 is written in Times New Roman. You can recognize that font anywhere, for it's the same font used on newer gravestones, the same font on his— you slap the rubber band against your wrist again. This time harder than the last. The stinging stays for a minute more. Your heels tap against the carpet, the clock ticks, the fluorescent whirs, someone coughs and you want to punch them in the face— you slap the rubber band against your skin again.

Your ears perk up at the familiar chime like you've been Pavlov’d by the sound after waiting for three hours on that uncomfortable metal chair that has tiny holes that you've gotten your pinky finger stuck in on hour two.

With a deep breath, you saunter your way towards the creaking door, trying to summon all the confidence in your body. They may be watching so you do your best to not look as nervous as you feel like.

As you enter the room, the large screen in the center raises a curious brow. The light from the monitor shines a spotlight on the singular office chair right in front of it. The room is dim, save for the single light. The screen reminds you of one of those mall touch screens that shows you the map of the building. There's another door on the opposite wall, now you know where all the other candidates exit, and it's definitely not from a bullet judging from the clean floors.

With a tentative step, you cross the distance. Sitting down, the chair is a comfortable welcome from the last one you sat on.

“Am I supposed to push a button?” You roam your eyes over the circular shape up top. You surmise that it's the camera.

The calming sky blue screen flashes words,

> Hihi, welcome

“Hi?”

> Insert nail clippings

A box slides out below the screen, prompting you to take the ziplock with your nail clippings from your bag. It slides back in with a mechanic hiss once you place the plastic on the drawer, and the screen blinks to a couple of questions that you answer honestly.

> What's your ethnicity?

You don't falter. Answering it truthfully.

> Height?

You clear your throat, the lump is either from the nerves or how your voice faltered when you answered.

> Are you willing to relocate?

You wring your hands together on your lap. “Yes, absolutely. Nothing's holding me back.” Then the dreaded question pops up on the bright screen.

> Tell me about yourself

“Uh, I graduated top of my class.” You scratch the back of your neck. “MI6 agent for three–no, uh four years.” Chuckling shakily, you continue. “I got high merits…w-well until the thing— but I was on the road to promotion b-before it happened.” God, you hate interviews.

> Words that people would describe you with?

You blink, sucking in a breath. “Truthfully?” Joking, the screen doesn't appreciate your humour.

> Yes

“Oh, p-people would describe me as a… someone who has initiative. Cunning…” unfeeling— you slap the band on your wrist again. Sitting up right, you gaze at the camera like your eyes could see the person typing behind it. You guess it's a person at least. “Passed all my training with flying colours, infiltration, marksmanship, hand to hand, you name it. You tell me the job and I'll do it with no questions asked.”

> Are you okay with high risk?

“More than okay.” You answer quickly.

> With a team or alone?

“I'm alright with either, but I prefer alone.”

> Why did you get fired?

“You know why.” You say intensely, eyes boring holes into the screen. For a second you thought you flubbed it but the screen continues to flash a new question.

> Have you killed anyone?

> And why?

The question turns into what you're more accustomed to. “Yes, approximately…” you inhale sharply. “Forty three. Two unintentionally, the rest with various…weapons.” You mindlessly play with the loose thread of your blazer to get rid of the flashing images in your head. “As for why, that's confidential information.”

The robot or the person behind the screen seems to accept your vague answers for it moves on with the interview.

> Favourite food?

Your eyebrows knit at the sudden turn of question. “Uh, I have a sweet tooth, ice cream. I think. But I can't resist good popcorn.” Your tone wavers at the end.

> Have you been in love?

You laugh, but the question still flashes on screen, unchanged and unamused. Clamping up, you feel for the rubber on your wrist.

“I-I'm sorry but what is this part for?”

The screen remains the same.

“—No,” you remember that they've probably already known everything about you even before you applied. So you decide to answer vaguely, that seems to work out before. “Once, just once.”

> When was the last time you said ‘I love you?’

“A long time ago.”

> To whom?

“You know who.”

—

You're surprised that you got the job even after the disastrous interview. The suitcase is light in your tightly clasped hand. The belongings you've tossed inside are sparse, only packing the ones you only need.

The large wooden door looms in front of you, the street behind you is bustling and right across your new home is an expansive park. A park that looks like you need to pay just to get inside. The neighborhood that you're situated in can be described as exclusive, rich and very suburban. The kind of setting where parents would do anything to raise their kids in. Something you've never thought in your dangerous life to live in, more so even step foot in.

With an exhale, you unlock the door. It clicks open surprisingly, you doubted the company for a second when you pushed it in. Maybe they gave you the wrong address? Maybe something went wrong in their system and your name popped up instead of someone more worthy? Someone who's a better shot, someone who isn't as bat shit insane as you.

The long hallway greets you, the low warm light brings comfort to your rattling bones. Its carpet runner is soft beneath your sneakers, red and blue threads weaved around the thick cloth. Framed art is posted on the walls, the artist's name you recognize from some pretentious reality tv about selling mansions that you once drunkenly watched alone on a friday night.

You leave your baggage in the hallway. Opting to explore the cinnamon scented home. Its rich walls remind you of chocolate that you once got for your birthday. The furniture doesn't look like it came from Ikea, the oak is sturdy under your palm, no rough surface, no protruding nails that slashes your flesh.

You snap the rubber band on your wrist for the umpteenth time today.

There's an ornate door sitting on your right, robins and roses are carved on the wood. The biometric scanner is placed right next to the door, it’s a stark contrast to the traditional home. Flipping the cover open, you place your thumb on the smooth surface of the scanner. After a half second, the door clicks open, revealing a steel elevator. The bright light above it almost blinds you.

Your curiosity makes you enter the steel cage, roaming your eyes, you spot the buttons.

“Might as well.” You say to the emptiness of the house.

As the elevator door closes, the front door opens.

There's a lack of elevator music, perhaps that's the best since you always hated the cheery chiming of it. The second the door opens, you take a peek inside. The weird smell combination of chlorine and butter hits your nose.

“Holy shit,” you mumble in disbelief at the indoor pool and theatre. “A fucking pool under the house? And a fucking theatre screen in front? Which rich fuck decided that?” Your voice echoes, bouncing off the tiled walls of the pool.

Roaming the large room, eyes wide and strides small, you marvel at the high ceilings with the same warm tone lights hidden in the coves to soften the lights. You crouch down, letting the warm water lap at your hand.

There's a handful of sun loungers on the side, tables in between them for drinks and whatever rich people put on it. A projector hangs above the pool, an electrical hazard, you thought and an image of an entire pool party getting electrocuted lingers in your mind. You snap the rubber band against your wrist.

The popcorn machine helps distract you from the intrusive thought. Opening the machine, the popped kernels are still warm against your skin. You quickly scoop up a handful of it in your palm, the butter slicking your hand and your mouth as you eat it like how a baby deer eats grass.

You've had enough of the overly decorated basement, getting back on the elevator, you finish off your popcorn with one big bite. Still chewing, you wipe your hands on your trousers to press the shiny buttons on the elevator. The doors close as you chew loudly, eyes up on the screen showing the floors of the house, you don't notice the stranger standing outside of the opened doors.

Butter on your lips, you almost smack him on his pretty face.

“Christ!” You yelp, almost choking on a kernel.

“Close, but no.” He smirks, eyes flicking at the sheen on your lips.

Your husband, the title echoes in your popcorn filled head. His smile captures your attention, a ten megawatt grin that could power the entire posh neighborhood. His piercings glimmer in the warm light, and your eyes are glued to the ones on his eyebrows. Hazel eyes, the left one seems to be lighter than the other, watercolour eyes stare back at you, scanning your features. If you stare long enough you swear you can see patches of green and gray in those expressive eyes.

“John Smith.” He introduces himself, your husband, your partner. John doesn't raise his ringed hand for you to shake, instead he nods at you, waiting patiently for you to say your name. As if he doesn't know.

Clearing your kernel filled throat, you quickly run your tongue across your teeth (with your mouth closed of course) because you don't want to embarrass yourself further by having popcorn stuck in your teeth.

“Jane, Jane Smith.” You reach towards him to shake his hand, he raises a brow at you in turn.

“I don't do that, love, sorry.”

“Shake hands?”

“Yeah,” he looks to the left of your face, his eyebrow twitches slightly— a tell.

“Are you a germaphobe?” You ask before you could stop yourself.

“Not really, I've got issues…with intimacy.” John shrugs, the metals on his leather jacket clinks together. You think he'd rather be a model or a rock star instead of a spy with how he dresses and carries himself with confidence.

You smile knowingly, “We all do, but you don't have that issue. It's our first day of marriage and you decide to lie to your wife?” You click your tongue, eyebrow raised. “Not a very good first impression, John.”

He'll never get used to being called that basic name. ‘John’ takes your hand, it's warm, searing hot under your slippery hand. You'd thought his warmth would cook your flesh, you guess the butter on your palm would work wonders. You're starting to regret snacking. The calluses on his palm matches your own, a large scar across his palm tells you a story untold. Silver rings decorate his long fingers. There's a more simple silver bracelet on his wrist, a stark contrast to the ornate rings he sports on both hands.

He's handsome, you think, rightfully so. With his chiseled jaw that rivals any greek statue and eyes that could be mistaken for stars; he's tall too, so that's a plus. You lucked out on the fake husband department. Well, there's worse men to fake marry out there. Just judging from first impressions, you're glad he's the one you have on your side,

“How'd you know?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

“I'm very perceptive.”

“Trained?”

“Nope,” you hide your bundle of nerves with your casual tone. His hand is still clasped on your own, you don't notice it. “Just very good at reading people.”

“Did you have a stint at the BAU too?”

Too? You ignore it for now. “No,” chuckling, you finally notice the heat on your palm so you let him go. “Just…natural talent, I guess.”

“What’s under the house?” John asks, stepping aside so you could exit the elevator.

“A beating heart.” You curse yourself, fingers already reaching for the rubber band on your wrist.

To your surprise, John laughs. The sound is genuine, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I got the reference.”

“I figured.”

“I saw a black box in the office, you wanna check it out?” He points behind him with his thumb.

“Why? Do you think there's a beating heart in there too?”

“Maybe.” He plays along, walking beside you. “You never know with the company, for all we know there's a head in there.”

“Morbid.” You joke as he opens the door for you.

“Says you?” John keeps reminding himself of his real name whilst he memorizes the side of your face. He already wants to tell you his real name, not the one assigned to him by the suits behind the faceless screen he has grown familiar with. He says his name in his mind again, if he accidentally blurted it out, well, c'est la vie.

“Says me,” you shrug casually, trying to keep up with his wit and charm. You already think you're losing. You scrunch your face at the painting above the mantle. It's an art of two lovers doing the tango, if tango excludes clothes and includes intense snogging.

He chuckles right next to you, an airy laugh that has you smiling too. “A very brave choice. Not my taste, but whatever floats the company's boat. What's inside is a bit better though.” Your ‘husband’ reaches towards the frame of the painting, gently pressing down, it releases a metallic click as it reveals a secret compartment full of weapons.

You hide a snort behind your hand. The cabinet reminds you of your own. Unimpressed, you flick your eyes down at the office table, the large black box sitting on top of it is just begging to be opened.

Without a second thought, you open it. Taking out the bottle of expensive looking wine, you read the card that is tied in a neat ribbon around the neck.

“‘Good luck on your first day of marriage’” you look at the man beside you. He's incredibly close to you, his elbow grazing yours, lips slightly parted whilst he takes a peek at the wine. He smells of burgundy and leather, it calms your senses for some odd reason. “I prefer coke.” You practically shove the bottle in his hands. The glass clinks against his metal rings.

“The snorting variation or the fizzy one?” He asks, placing the bottle down on the narra table with an almost silent thud.

“The fizzy one.” You take his question at face value. He doesn't question why you don't prefer alcohol. Sitting down on the plush office chair, you open the laptop in front of you. It dings, needing a password to open it. “It needs a—”

Before you could even finish the question, he gives you a scrap of paper from the numerous envelopes inside the box. The password is printed on it with the same font as the one from the piece of paper you held a couple of weeks ago.

You type it whilst he rifles through the box. The home screen pops up, nothing too fancy or out of the ordinary. Except for the single application in the corner that's only labeled as ‘S’

Clicking it, a chat box appears.

> Hihi, follow man

John snakes up next to you, the harsh light from the laptop shines on his pensive face. You return your attention towards ‘your boss’. A picture of a young blond man pops up in the chat, there's a mole near his left eye, he sports dark eyebrows. And a look that says ‘daddy paid for my college!’

> 40.748817, -73.985428

“That's downtown I think.” John pipes up next to you, and you look at him like he just said the sky is green and the grass is blue.

> Take keys, take car. Bring car here

> 51.505554, -0.075278.

“A car?” You rhetorically ask.

“Must be a very expensive car, or an important one.” John answers back as he leans further down to take a better look at the monitor. His hand is on the back of your chair, his necklaces dangle on his neck like a pretty chandelier.

You both wait for more instructions but it doesn't come.

“Hihi isn't very talkative, huh?” Your voice echoes in the awkward silence.

“‘Hihi?’”

“Yeah, I thought I'd give it a nickname.” You think he's weirded out but with an amused laugh he pats your shoulder nonchalantly.

“Cute.” You don't know if he's referring to you, or to the nickname you dubbed your electronic boss. “I've separated our papers.” John says as you still contemplate his last comment. “Here's yours.”

“Thanks.” You scan the pile in your hands. Your own face greets you as you flip through it all.

“It has everything we need. Credit card, ID's, carry permit and a passport.”

“What's that one?” You point at the larger envelope next to John's pile. A smaller black leather envelope sits atop it.

He opens the large envelope, giving you the contents of it. “Marriage certificate. And this one…” shaking the leather envelope, whatever is inside of it clinks. Taking it out, he shows you the gold bands. “...our wedding rings.” Heat rises in your cheeks unavoidably once he says it softly. “May I?” Open palm reaching out, he beckons.

You try to remember which hand wears it. With a split second decision, you place your left hand atop his own. Carefully sliding the cold ring in your marriage finger, you stay locked in on his eyes that's concentrating like he's disarming a bomb.

John pats your hand and then inserts his own ring in his finger, mirroring yours.

“Guess we're married.” You shrug casually like your heart doesn't beat against your ribcage, like it's trying to escape its confines. “It feels kind of weird?”

“We are,” he flashes you his signature smirk. “And we'll get used to it, hm, wife?”

“Yeah, I'll adapt.” You say just barely above a whisper, hands suddenly clammy.

“That's my girl.” Throwing you a wink, he walks away from a flustered you.

Yeah, you got lucky.

—

Morning comes and you had the best sleep you've had in years. Even if you slept on an empty stomach last night, you still slept like a baby on the eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton blanket. You stare blankly at the beige ceiling, hands roaming around the soft bed sheet like you're making a snow angel. Sleep ridden eyes roam around the expansive master bedroom to which your new husband has graciously let you take.

Speaking of ‘John’, his bedroom is just across your own. Surprisingly enough, he hasn't woken up yet based on the silence in the hallway outside, you hadn't pegged him as a late riser.

Breakfast calls for you when your stomach rumbles loudly, but you're too comfortable to even move from your spot. Something taps from your window that's facing the foot of your bed. A soft tippy tap of something hitting the glass that has you sitting up. Eyes blinking rapidly, you stare off a pigeon perched outside. Its iridescent feathers shine in the early morning sun, its beak tapping rhythmically at the window.

Sliding your hand behind you, blindly grasping at a pillow, you fling it across the room to scare off the bird. The pillow hits your mark and out flies away the annoying pigeon. With a sigh, you get off your ass to get ready for the day ahead. You don't want to be late to your first day out in the field, no use in rotting in your luxurious bed if you can't keep it after you get fired for being late.

You dress for the day and for the cool weather. Spring has come but the freezing temperature has decided to stay for a little while. With a cozy turtleneck and comfy slacks, you forgo the torturous device called ‘heels’ for a pair of trainers. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you shrug with a huff. And you snap the rubber against your skin once again.

Taking the chair off the doorknob and then unlocking the door, you exit your sanctuary. Closing your door softly, you find yourself in front of John's room. Judging from the soft snores, you notice that he’s still sleeping. You might be his fake wife but it's not your job to wake him up. So you continue down the hallway and into the kitchen to fix yourself a bowl of cereal.

Bowl in hand, you chew as you walk up to the rooftop. Unlocking it, the sun greets you with a comfortable heat, and you frown at it. You keep eating whilst you explore the space. There's a bountiful garden in the corner, raised garden beds full of fresh vegetables and fruit that is ripe for the taking. An outside dining area sits in the middle, you recognize the long table from a catalog you once read to pass the time at the dentist. You remember that it doubles as a grill and leg warmer in the winter.

“Fancy,” you murmur with your mouth full of grainy goodness. Sipping the leftover milk in the bowl, you place it on the expensive table to crouch down next to a bushel of strawberries to sniff. “Almost ripe,” you figure from the softness of the fruit.

A bird flies above you, it's shadow casting over you. With the sound of fluttering wings, the bird perches on the table, black orbs staring at you, head tilting like it's observing your presence.

“Are you the same fucking bird?” You question the pigeon. It coos at you, and then pecks at the ceramic of your discarded bowl. “Motherfucker—” standing up, you have the look of someone ready to square up with the feathered creature.

“Why are you fighting an innocent bird?” John appears with a mug of tea in his hand. You forgot to make tea.

“I wasn't fighting with it.”

“He,” your partner crosses the distance, the bird doesn't fly away from the close proximity. You raise an eyebrow at that. “might be hungry.” He gestures towards the strawberries behind you with his chin. “Think you can grab us one, lovie?” You're gonna need some time to get used to that term.

“It's not ripe.”

“I don't think he's picky.”

“It's too sour, it might upset his stomach.”

“He's a pigeon, he's used to eating shit off the pavement. I think that's fine, love.”

With an awkward nod, you pick the one that's redder than the rest. Throwing it towards John, he catches it with a practiced hand. He sits down before laying the fruit in front of the bird. You watch it unfold, the pigeon hops on the table, beak pecking at the seeds. You're intrigued at their interaction.

John sips at his drink, still in his sleep clothes. Toned arms in full display from the loose tank top he sports. Pajama pants hanging low on his hips, silk bonnet on his head. He only has one sock on his feet, you tilt your head.

“What happened to your sock?” You point at his bare foot curiously.

“Hmm?” He looks down, and he chuckles like he just realized the missing article of clothing. “Don't know, probably kicked it off while I was sleepin’”

“Oh,” you blink, “you should get ready, we might miss our target.”

He fakes salutes at you, drinking casually from his mug as you leave the rooftop. He doesn't miss how you didn't take your dish with you. Sighing, he watches the pigeon eat his fill.

—

You and John arrive at a pub. It's dim inside with only a few miserable patrons sitting sparsely at different corners of the musty establishment. They all look miserable, all having expressions from different points of the human emotion. But there's only one face you're observing— your target.

He sits alone on the bar stool, back hunched, eyes red and nursing a half filled pint of beer. Holding his face in his hand, blond hair raked in between his fingers, bomber jacket hanging loosely on his form, bags under his sagging eyes. He's the picture of someone who's on the bottom of the barrel.

John guides you with his hand hovering on your back. Not touching, at the same time still close, you are supposed to be a couple after all. You slide into a booth that has the perfect view of the target, but still out of his sight and out of earshot. The leather seat is worn down, tiny bits of it are ripped, at least it's not sticky. He orders for you, and you observe how he slyly roams his eyes towards the man, looking out for the keys.

He comes back with a plate of chips and dip. “Thought it would be weird not to order anythin’”

“Good call,” you take a chip whilst your eyes only briefly leave the target's back. “Thought you'd buy me a pint.”

“Did you want a pint? This early? Do you want to talk about it?” He half jokes as he takes a smaller chip.

“No,” you scoff, “and no. I just thought you'd order it instead of this.”

“You're not the only perceptive one in this relationship.” John looks over his shoulder to quickly do a once over at the forlorn man.

“Did you see where he's keeping it?”

“Inside his jacket, right side.”

You nod, “Is he carrying?”

“Not that I can tell.” He shrugs, licking the salt off his finger. “So, why'd you join?”

“Really? We're doing that?” You watch as the man gulps down his remaining drink and then orders a new one immediately.

“Yes, we're doin' that. Won't that make us work better together? To get to know each other a bit more?”

“Fine,” you silently huff. “No one else would take me, this is a last resort, I guess?”

“Bullshit, love, I think anyone would be happy to have you in their…agency?”

“Flattery won't get you anywhere, birdman.” A small smile appears on your lips, he beams at you. “Besides, who else is hiring for someone with the specific skill set that I have?”

He hums, while turning subtly to take a peek at the target. Returning his attention to you after seeing the blonde man still hunched in his stool, John takes another chip. “True, did you get kicked out from the last one?”

“Not really,” you stare at the crack on the wooden table. “You?”

“Not really,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“You MI6?” He asks casually. “This your first time in London?”

“I'm not answering either of those questions.”

“C’mon,” he wiggles his left hand, the wedding band shines in the pub light. “Husband, remember? ‘sides, I won't tell anyone.”

You place your elbows on the table, smiling sarcastically at him. After a beat for his anticipation, you grin wider. “No.”

His shoulders fall, a chortle escaping his lips. “Cheeky.” Pointing an accusing finger at you, he quickly looks behind him, only to find the target sluggishly exiting the pub. “He's on the move.”

You both follow the drunk man like gravity is pulling you towards him. Walking the streets of busy downtown London, stranger's faces whizz past you. John has his hands casually in his pockets, yet he stays close to you, eyes flicking in the corners to check on you.

“Why don't you ask me a question? Y’know tit for tat?” He waits patiently for you to answer back, hell he'll even take a grunt at this point.

“Okay,” you surprisingly start the conversation on his behalf. “Have you killed anyone?” The passing pedestrians don't seem to notice you and the morbid subject.

Your partner snorts, nose scrunched up, eyes glued on the staggering target. “Nah. Have you?”

“I call bullshit,” you dodge a distracted woman scrolling on her phone. “Anyway, I have. I'm not exactly proud of it or flaunting it if you're thinking that I'm doing that.”

“Good, once you start flaunting it like a bloody trophy, you've lost it.”

You hum in agreement, the sound of a deep rumble in your chest as you two turn a corner. “Why do you think hihi needs us to nick the car?”

“Hihi” he chuckles, you turn to him with a serious face. “There's probably a stash of confidential information in the trunk or somethin’”

“Maybe a stash of weapons?” The man in front of you stumbles. “I don't see him as the type to harbor secret documents.”

John nods, “a highly infectious disease then?”

“Christ, we better drive carefully once we get a hold of it.” You turn to him briefly. “Maybe it's a really expensive sports car and he's all sad and mopey because he's gone broke after buying it?”

“Got a whole story now, huh?” He pushes you lightly with his leather clad shoulder, and you smile softly. “You good at pickpocketing him?” Your partner gestures with his chin, said target is walking into traffic. He seems unbothered by the oncoming vehicles. John curses under his breath.

“We should do that now before he kills himself.” You speed walk across the crossing, grabbing the drunk man before a car hits him.

Arms enveloping around his bomber jacket, swiping him away and quickly carrying him to the footpath, you save him before an suv hits you both. The car honks loudly and angrily as your target groans in your arms like he's about to hurl the contents of his stomach.

John punches the hood of the car, pointing at the driver accusingly. A distraction for you to take the keys hidden in the man's jacket.

“You almost hit my fuckin' wife, you wanker!” Your partner yells, covering the sound of jingling keys in your expert hand. He plays the part well.

Surprisingly, the target straightens up in your hold, a split second after you pocketed the car keys inside your own coat.

“Y-you,” he slurs, feet struggling to keep himself upright. “Dickhead!” Slamming his fists on the hood with a loud *thunk, he joins John who gives you a look and a shrug. The drunken yelling gets louder and the driver now exits his car with an equally angry look.

John takes this opportunity to come back to your side, hand holding your elbow, he leads you away from the screaming match as more and more people try to intervene.

“Got it?” He whispers closely to the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps to rise in your arms.

“‘course I did.” You jingle the keys inside your pocket. “I'm not an amateur.”

Playing along, he laughs, hand still holding your elbow softly. “Good job, missus.”

With an awkward chuckle, you lean away from him. “Just so you know, I'm not in this for…the romance.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I'm not looking to date my co-worker.”

John raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine by me. if the situation calls for us to actually act as a couple—”

“We'll act as a couple, I won't fuss if that's what you're saying.”

“Good, now let's get this bloody car.”

—

“A fucking ‘99 toyota corolla?” You stare in disbelief at the rusting metal. “At least it's one of the good models.” Kicking the wheel, you expect it to tumble over like in an old timey cartoon.

John is crouched way down to check the bottom of the car. “It's clear.” He stands up fully, cleaning his hands on his jeans. You wince at his movements. “What?”

“Nothing.” You open the driver's side, the smell of alcohol and something musty hits your nose. “Nasty.” Coughing, you air it out by opening another door.

“You know your cars?”

“A little bit.” You say with your nose pinched. Sparing him a look, he stands in the parking lot like he's still waiting for the rest of the story. “What?”

“Throw me a bone here, love.” You roll your eyes. “Why do you know so much about cars?”

“I said I know a little bit.” You place your hands on your hips like an exasperated mother whose son keeps asking weird questions about dinosaurs. “I dated a mechanic.” You say flatly.

“Really? Did you date a pickpocket too? Or do you date people so you could absorb their skills like kirby?”

“Are you jealous?” You tease him with a comment you didn't have the foresight that it would backfire.

“We are married.” He says matter-of-fact with a killer smirk and eyes glinting with mischief. “And this is technically our honeymoon so—”

“Get in the fucking car, birdman.”

—

The wheel is sticky under your hands, you have an intense urge to wash your hands or to at least grab a sanitizer. Apparently your disgust shows on your face, for John chortles next to you.

“What?” You say through gritted teeth.

“Nothin’, you just look like someone shat in your tea.”

“The wheel is sticky.”

“I have a handkerchief with me, d’you want me to?” Taking out the dark green cloth from his jean pockets, he's already twisting in his seat to wipe it clean.

“Please,” you ask softly, hands sliding down to make space for him.

Your hand never left the wheel while he cleans it for you. John's seatbelt is unclasped so he could have more movement, his face is close to your vision, warmth blanketing over you. He's so close that you can smell his cologne, it's a different one from yesterday, it's more flowery with a hint of mint. You spot a hidden mole under his ear. A tiny dot that is just begging to be poked.

Without thinking, you press softly with the pad of your finger. He yelps, flinching away instinctively. Looking at you with wide eyes and mouth agape, you're ready to be called a nasty nickname, or be cussed out with a loud voice. Instead of what you're anticipating, a laugh bellows out, a rumbly laugh that makes you smile and let out an almost silent chortle.

“I think you found my mole.” John holds the side of his neck with a grin. “You let your urges get to you, love.”

“Sorry,” you keep your eyes on the road to hide your embarrassment.

“It's fine, your hand was just cold. Ask me next time, I have a few more cute moles on me.”

“Nevermind, you ruined it.” With a roll of your eyes and a smile, you park at the coordinates. “Nice acting back there, I see an Emmy nomination for you in the future.”

“Thanks, I barely remember what I said. You sure this is the place?” John peeks at the map pulled up on your phone. “Shit, we're here.”

The entire street is suburban, large colonial houses lining the sides, tall pine trees decorate the sidewalks. There's not a lot of people walking by, save for a couple pedestrians walking their dogs, the place is devoid of people.

“What now?” You unclasp your seatbelt to twist around in your seat so you could observe the neighborhood.

“Hihi told us to bring it here, so maybe we should—?” John lets out a high pitched scream that also has you yelling in surprise, not from whatever made him shriek but from the sound that escaped him. “What the fuck!”

Leaning slightly to look at what had his knickers in a bunch, you stare blankly at a bespectacled man in a bespoke suit. The man gives you and your partner an apologetic look, he points for John to open the window.

He turns towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Should I?”

“Yeah, I think you should.”

“What if he's got a gun?” He whispers.

“We also have guns, John. I'll cover you, don't worry. Maybe this is what hihi asked us to do.”

“Easy for you to say, you're not the one opening it.” He gives you a glare before rolling the window down an inch. “Hi, mate. What can we do for you?”

“The car,” the stranger points a lengthy finger at the wheel. His voice is crackly and gravelly, like he just smoked a pack of cigarettes before he went up to the car. “You're late, but that doesn't matter. How much do I owe you, folks?”

“Uh, the usual.” You say with fake confidence.

“Good,” the lean man straightens up, “mind gettin’ out of the car then?”

“Right, sorry, bruv.” John, gives you one look before exiting the car. He's nervous and so are you.

As the doors shut, the man flexes his open palms expectantly for the keys, to which you hand off immediately. He gives you bad vibes, maybe your intuition tells you to run for the hills.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I'll wire the money to the usual account.” The nickname sends shivers down your spine.

He closes the door and starts up the car. With a splutter of the exhaust, he slowly drives away. You and John watch, standing side by side in the middle of the street in confusion.

“He was weird, right? Not to mention it was too easy.” You turn your head to look at him. “Maybe they're trying to ease us in?”

“It was all weird, not just him—” A blast coming from the car interrupts him, the sheer force of it sends you two down on the rough pavement.

Your cheeks are incredibly warm from the searing heat of the bomb. The light from it blinds the two of you.

Palms skinned, trousers slashed at the knees, your ears ring loudly like an annoying buzz from a broken microphone. Coughing loudly, smoke fills your lungs, debris is scattered around the once pristine neighborhood. There's blood on the concrete, you can't hear John calling for you, your vision is blurred by the cloud of smoke. His hand reaches for you, and your instincts tell you to run.

“Fuck!” He yells, running beside you at full speed. “What the fuck!”

“Keep running!” You yell as he turns around to check on a woozy you. “I'm fine!”

Someone behind you screams for you to stop so you and your partner run faster. Knees aching, thighs burning, you don't stick around to look who's running after you. The unmistakable click of a gun’s safety is loud in your eardrums, even if your lungs threaten to give out, you sprint right next to John as he turns a corner and into a carwash.

The smell of soap and heavy pine scented car freshener hits your bloody nose. He tugs you towards the plastic curtains and inside what you presume as the employee lounge, someone yells after you but it falls on deaf ears as you and John continue your escape.

Exiting the establishment, the metal doors open to a messy alleyway. Boxes upon boxes of trash and god knows what are littered all around. The pungent smell makes you want to hurl, or maybe that's the adrenaline having a weird effect on your stomach.

You two find reprieve for a second, huffing, trying to get oxygen back in. Hands on your aching thighs, the concrete below you slowly turns crimson as your mysterious injury drips precious blood on the messy ground.

“You're bleedin’” He says in between inhales. There's rustling of fabric next to you, and you feel the warm cloth placed on your forehead.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Waving the drenched cloth away, you scoff lightly. “Don't.”

“What am I supposed to do? Let you bleed?”

You stand up straight, blood coating your lashes as you stare at him. “I've got a better idea.” Placing your palms on the source of the pain, you let your blood coat it.

“What—?” You roughly smudge the warm ichor all over his face and shirt, the plain white of his t-shirt turns a dark pink shade with your touch. Leaning away, he gives you a slow nod of understanding. “Ease us in, huh?”

“I'm rarely wrong and this is one of the rare instances.”

“Let's hope you're right about this one.”

—

You kick the backdoor open with ferocity. It bangs loud against the wall, getting the restaurant staff's attention.

“Help please! My husband!” John's limp arm is around your shoulders, your hand gripping on to his waist to add that one detail that would convince them of your innocence. “There was a bomb!” You don't let the bystanders touch you or John whilst you quickly lumber through their dinghy bathroom. There's murmurs and chairs scraping on the tiled floors as you lock the door behind you.

The bathroom is small, tiles yellowed from the years, the stench of bleach itching your nose. The lightbulb above you whirs like it's about to burst out. He leaves your side to take off his bloodied jacket, tossing it outside from the window— his exit, you presume.

“Your phone.” He holds his empty hand out to you, when you only raise an eyebrow at him, he sighs, eyes turning soft, adrenaline melting out of his system. “Please, c’mon, love, you got me sayin’ please and shit.”

“What for?” You try desperately to wipe the blood off your face.

“To contact you, just in case you need help.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can, how else did you get the job then? Just let me,” his voice wavers a bit but he corrects himself with a timed clear of his smoke filled throat. “Please, Jane.”

After pausing, you take your phone out from your pocket to give it to him. He enters his number after seeing your home screen of a basic mountain range.

“There.” Giving the phone back, you expected him to give his too, but he doesn't as he's already halfway out of the window. “I'll see you at home?”

You let out a chuckle, “yeah, I'll see you at home.” He gives you one last smile as he exits the small bathroom and into the streets where numerous sirens go off from ambulances and fire trucks.

—

It was a blur the entire trip home, you bought a loose hoodie from a thrift store and then promptly discarded your blood soaked coat in the bottom of a dumpster. It was a shame though, you liked that coat, it had real wool in the lining. The uber drive was thankfully uneventful, if the driver noticed the remnants of dried blood on your skin he didn't mention it. You gave him five stars for it.

An empty house greets you, John's shoes are nowhere to be seen in the hallway, nor his jacket. You worry for a second, mind rushing through possibilities. The rubber band burns as you pull it back and release it with a harsh thwack against your skin.

The water is cool as you shower, your blood mixing in and pooling around your feet and into the drain like a macabre whirlpool. You don't let your mind wonder about the man that you turned into a street pancake. Instead, you focus on yourself in the mirror.

You stare at the gash near your hairline, the skin around it is angry, leaving a throbbing sensation. There's also a few scratches on your face, especially around your chin. Your main concern is the large gash. It doesn't look like it needs to be stitched together though, which is a good thing since you don't have the energy to even tend to the tiny scratches on your palms. Cleaning and bandaging the wound, you put on clean pajamas and head to bed.

You stop in your tracks when you see John lying face down on your bed. Still in his iron soaked clothes, save for the jacket. You glare at his boot, it's off the bed but you still grit your teeth at the thought of it grazing your bedsheets.

He senses your presence, and he lifts his head up, chin helping prop himself up. “Your bed is better than mine.” His multi coloured eyes are laced with exhaustion, dull yet there's still a spark when he looks at your annoyed gaze.

“Who are you? Goldilocks?”

“Yeah, I ate your porridge too.”

“Damn, not my porridge.” Too tired to fight him, you slither into bed next to him, an arm's length away from his equally tired body. Staring at the ceiling, you feel his eyes on you. “What's up with your eyes?”

“It's called heterochromia—”

“I know what it is, I'm asking why you're staring at me like you're about to devour me.”

“I could devour you if you want.” He says nonchalantly but with the charisma of a man who knows what he's talking about.

“Maybe next time.” You blindly pat his shoulder which ended up with you patting his cheek. He hums at your touch, a deep rumble that you felt through the mattress. “Not bad for our first day huh?” Lifting your hand away, he twists on the bed to mirror your position. Now you're both gazing at the beige ceiling like it owes you money.

You're tired but for some reason you're fighting off the sandman from sprinkling sand in your heavy eyes.

“I lied back there, I've killed before.” His voice is merely above a whisper but you heard it as loud as a trumpet blaring in your ears.

“I know, you wouldn't be here if you haven't.” You answer with empathy. “If it makes you feel better, I've been to London before. Twice, on a family trip and a decade later…on vacation.”

“Glad to know.” He taps the inside of your elbow as a thank you for trusting him. “You CIA?” He blurts out above the comfortable silence.

“God no.” You truthfully say.

“And here I thought you're an alumni of the culinary institute of America.”

For the first time in years, you let out the loudest laugh you could muster. Snort and all.

Your ‘husband’ joins in with his own rambunctious laughter, the bed shakes at the loud guffaws. The happy sound fills the room, and your heart feels like it isn't as heavy as before. It's still there, the heaviness, but it isn't as cumbersome. You now realize that you've only snapped the rubber band on your wrist a couple times today.

An annoying tapping sound interrupts you both. Simultaneously sitting up by the elbows, you two tilt your head at the intruder.

“It's that pigeon again.” You actually smile at the thought of the same bird coming back to your house like a white strand of hair that keeps growing even after you've pulled it out. “I think we should name him. Something like Terry or Flanders.” You chuckle softly.

“Jeff.”

You shake your head. “Nope, doesn't suit him, what if it's a she?”

“His name is Jeff.” John turns to look at you, eyes full of certainty.

You turn to him, blinking rapidly in realization. “He's yours. He's your bird, isn't he?”

“You are insightful.” He smiles, a soft one that fills you with endearment that you haven't felt in years. “Met him a few months ago, fed him once and now he wouldn't leave me alone. I guess he followed me here too.”

“Y’know, pigeons are really smart, kinda like crows. He probably thinks you're his daddy.”

“Does that make you Jeff's mummy?”

“I don't want to be Jeff's mom.” Said bird taps on your window again, like he senses that you're currently talking about him.

“Too bad,” he raises his marriage finger, showing you the gold band. “He's our kid, love.”

You smile, hiding it with a huff and by laying back down with a gentle thump.

“Can I tell you somethin’?” His face pops up in your vision, you nod in place. “My real name is—”

“Let me stop you right there.” You sit back up, almost hitting his head with your own at how fast you sat. “There's a reason why they gave us fake names. Whether we like it or not, It's John,” You point at him. “And Jane Smith.” You point at yourself. “Until they dismiss us, that's our names. Not whatever you were about to tell me.”

“But you know it's not our names, right?”

“Of course I do. You don't look like a John, John.”

“And you don't look like a Jane. I just…” He sighs. “Just want someone to know my real name. We almost died back there, what if we stayed a minute longer inside that car? What then? I don't want to die with someone else's name written on my grave.” His words are genuine, but it sounds like he has said these words before.

Still, you sympathize with him. You've gone undercover before, taken someone’s name instead of yours for months. Those missions were so long and tiring that you almost forgot your own name. But it was…survivable because he was with you. John has no one, and this time you have no one. No one that calls your real name, no one that can identify your body if you suddenly croak in the middle of a mission.

No one else but John and Jane Smith.

So with bated breath, you give him the go ahead. “Okay, tell me. But I can't promise that I'll call you by that name.”

“Don't want to get in trouble with hihi?”

“No,” you scoff. “I don't give a shit what that robot says. I just don't want to die with a stranger's name. So fuck it, tell me yours and I'll mine.”

He smiles the same smile that he gave you before he went out of that dinky bathroom window. The smile that reassures you, a smile that tells you everything will be alright.

“It's Hobie,” Hobie finally says. “Hobie Brown.”

“It suits you better. Thought it was Jeff.” You whisper, and you give him your real name. The same name you were born with, not the fabricated ones your former agency has given you, not the ones your new company has given you.

He whispers back your name, tongue rolling off it like honey. Then, Hobie smiles again, nodding and those heterochromatic eyes bore into you comfortably like the sun's rays kissing your skin in the summer.

“You look like one. Definitely suits you better than Jane.” You smile shyly as you lose the fight against sandman.

In Hobie's mind, he hopes that knowing your real name is enough, enough to keep you alive, enough of an incentive for him to keep you safe, since you're not just a typical Jane anymore that the company randomly selected for him, no, you're Y/N L/N, and he'll do anything to protect you better. Because maybe, just maybe, knowing your real name this early would work, and you'll outlive all the Janes that he himself has outlived.

As you fall asleep next to him, he stares at Jeff the third. In that luxurious house, within those bulletproof walls, and in your room lies a deep anger in him. An anger that keeps him sane in all those years trying to pay his debt. He needs to end the cycle, not just for him but for all the agents that are in the same shoes as him. For now he lets you sleep soundly, for now, he plots the demise of the people behind the screen.

The laptop flashes a new message from the company.

> Mission complete: 3 fails remaining

> Good job, next mission?

Support banner by @cafekitsune ❤️

A/N: thank you for reading!!! Please consider reblogging if you liked it ❤️❤️❤️

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punkeropercyjackson · 6 months ago

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My audhd brain won't stop telling me to do a full breakdown of the parallels between Percy and Hobie so i will.Alright,let's do this one last time!

Troubled but good kids

Afro-dominican New Yorker/Jamaican-English(NY and England are where punk first started)

Anarchists,proffessional instigators,always helping out around communities(it's implied Percy participated in Rachel's protests and charities with her)and looking out for the little guy

So they're actual punks instead of just EdgyTM douchebags because they wanna do the right thing no matter what

No masking game autistics

Trans femmes who come across as masc only to normies

Chillaxed and super kind and love cute shit and people but also have major street credit,a huge edge and strong as fuck backbones and the reason they're so kind is that their childhood was beyond brutal so as they grew up they decided to be the positive older figure in younger people's lives they didn't take to have to the point they turned into Team Dad's

The EXACT same sense of humor

Blue-coded

Alt music lovers

Expressions are always either super intimidating or meme worthy goofy

Pet supernatural dog(Spidermutt and Mrs O'Leary)

Widely regarded as the coolest ever in-universe and correctly so but they're huge dorks when you get down to it but that only makes them even cooler-They were this cool the whole time

6'something with guitarist hands and described as so attractive it's shocking

Go by a nickname instead of their full name and have a common black surname

Oldest and most experienced heroes in their main casts

Hobie's dad is a deadbeat who left him as a baby to do supernatural shit

'I'm not a role model' 'I hate the a.m,i hate the p.m,i hate labels' 'I don't believe in consistency' / 'Was i a troubled kid?Yeah,you could say that' 'I AM impertenent' 'The sea does not like to be restrained'

'Calling yourself a hero makes you self-mythologizing'Hello???????????

Gwen is the Hazel to Hobie's Percy.She's a younger trans girl with a ghost motif who's a pastel ray of sunshine and runs her mouth as much as they do and has a dead mom,an abusive corrupted figure dad and their own impressive experiences in heroism before meeting them

Nico is another teen Ghostkid who Percy gifted a Ramones shirt and gave shelter to multiple times when he was homeless because Hades/Pluto is as much of a fucking cunt as George Stacy is.Nico is also a Miles kinnie because he's an optimistic softboy who's nerdy,a fast food lover and a lot stronger than he gives himself credit for and Percy is the big brother mentor to him the fandom thinks Hobie is to Miles(Nah fr Hobie and Miles are ambigious but Percy's canonically a grown ass man and Nico's Miles' age,P*rcicos pack it up and get over that your ship only works for transfem Percy proof)

Karl=Jason(the cooler St*ve R*gers,the actual voice of reason on the team but just as unhinged as the rest of them,very nice guy vibes and Hobie's righthand),Riri=Annabeth(Black girl genius who takes no shit but is still written as a person instead of a stereotype)and Mattea=Clarisse(red-coded,rowdy tomboy and war paint)

Mayday and Margo are basically just Estelle and Rachel,Jessica makes a pretty convincing Sally and Miguel reminds me of Poseidon but especially when he's interacting with Hobie

Sarcastic troublemaker smiles i've always found endearing(Rip to Annabeth but i'm different)(Also for Hobie i mean this platonically)

Immaculate rizz that's mostly unintentional but reaches critical levels when on purpose

Cocky asf and self-loathing at the same time

That one scene of Hobie leaving Gwen a Watch with the 'In case it don't work out' note with a lil doodle of him on it after getting her dad's ass/Percy sending the Olympians Medusa's head in a box after slaying her with a note saying 'Best wishes' to spite them

Goofy ahh who are nonetheless taken seriously cause Watch Out

They even both have terrible singing voices

And technically not the same thing but Hobie's also pink-coded so they're cotton candy colors and with Percy's white streak they can be the trans flag too!!

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rockhoundbeck · 2 years ago

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Ladies and gentlemen... Mattel: Reservoir Dogs pt 1 🤙🏻✨🖤

Credit me if you're using these lol

#steve buscemi #reservoir dogs #mr pink #mr orange #quentin tarantino #harvey keitel #michael madsen #mr blonde #mr brown #tim roth #mr pink x reader #mr white #barbie template #barbie #barbie movie

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pangborns · 7 months ago

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CASUALTIES.

Mr. Orange x fem!reader

The accusations quickly lead to fatal injuries.

Blood, death, violence, weapons, etc.

to the ppl that liked my post :D - @bshutsky @bloodandglittertastessobitter @manunitedfan1 @vapidluxury

You held a tight grip on Orange’s bloody hand as Mr. Blonde continued to torture the hostage.

“Please! Just leave him alone.” You pleaded, voice cracking and vision blurry. The man ignored you as he turned the radio up and quickly advanced on the bound cop.

The sound of your scream along with the cries from the hostage still did nothing to rouse Orange’s unconscious figure.

Mr. Blonde was now atop the man, bringing the knife up to his face. You tightened your grip on Orange, burying your face into his shoulder as you held him. Blood smeared over your face, but that was the least of your worries as you imagined all that Blonde would do to the man.

The sound of Mr. Blonde’s circling footsteps had you lifting your head. The psycho held an ear, he waved it in front of the cop’s face teasingly as you quickly pushed yourself to your feet.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You screeched, getting in between the hostage and Blonde. Your face was drenched, air hard to grasp as you panted.

Blonde clicked his tongue, “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional, sweetheart?”

You recoiled, “I never agreed to participating in a hostage situation. As if we weren’t fucked before, you had to go and dig us a deeper hole.” You sputtered, anger replacing the fear.

Blonde scrunched his nose with a small chuckle. “Watch your mouth, sweetheart. You’ll be next.”

With a shudder, you watched as he made his way out of the warehouse with car keys in hand. You wasted no time in crouching in front of the police officer. You lightly tapped at his cheeks after noticing he was starting to lose consciousness.

The man groaned, struggling a bit as he remembered where he was. “No, shh, it’s alright! I’m not going to hurt you.” You hurriedly muttered, glancing behind you to be sure Blonde wasn’t on his way back in.

You started ripping the duct tape from the man’s ankles, cringing each time he would groan particularly loud. “Please, we have to be quiet.”

His muffled voice grew louder and more frantic. “I know, I know. I’m hurryi-“

A click.

The cool metal of a pistol rested against the back of your head. “Stand up, Red.”

You dropped the wad of duct tape, keeping your hands up as you slowly raised yourself to a stance. Blonde grabbed your forearm, forcefully turning you around.

Now, facing the weapon, the fear returned. Your lower lip trembled as you fought to keep tears at bay. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” You spoke softly.

“No need.” Blonde nodded, taking a step back and readying the gun against your forehead. You tightened your eyelids closed, preparing for the blow.

Four gunshots were heard, but none of them hit you. Peaking your eyes open, you could see Blonde on the other side of the room, bleeding out.

You released the breath you were holding, a cry escaping your shaky lips. Turning to your right, you watched as Orange’s gun fell to the floor with a clang.

He clutched at his stomach, whimpering in pain as his head hit the ground once again. You slid down to his side, laying him across your lap.

“He didn’t hurt you. Did he?” He gasped, struggling to find his voice through the fog of pain.

You quickly shook your head. “No, I’m okay. You saved me.”

The cries from the other side of the room quickly faded as Mr. Blond stopped breathing. You cringed, grabbing a fist of Orange’s suit. “Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

Mr. Orange’s face fell a bit. “I shot a woman today.” His face was pinched, both in pain and regret. “I’ve never done that before.” You brushed his hair from his eyes, humming a sad sigh.

The doors to the warehouse slammed open as Mr. Pink, Mr. White, Eddie, and Mr. Cabot walked in. A doctor quickly followed behind, pausing beside Blonde’s body.

“What the fuck happened here?” Eddie cursed, running over to Mr. Blonde.

“Blonde went crazy. Slashed the cop’s face and cut off his ear.” You started, shaky breaths escaping you as you watched Eddie’s fury grow.

“Who the fuck cares what he was going to do to this fucking pig!?” Eddie turned toward the bound man, shooting him three times in the chest.

You yelped, tears forming once again in your eyes. “Oh my god, oh my god..” You hyperventilated, gripping Orange’s hand even tighter.

“He tried to off Red. Aimed a gun at her head and everything.” Mr. Orange spoke up, blood dripping from his lips.

“You were saying he went crazy? Something like that? Worse or better?” Eddie raised his voice, clearly frustrated.

“Look, Eddie, he was pulling a burn. He was gonna kill the cop, Red, and me. And when you guys walked through the door, he was gonna blow you to hell and make off with the diamonds.” Orange’s face pinched as speaking only caused the pain to grow.

“Uhuh, uhuh, what'd I tell ya? That sick piece of shit was a stone cold psycho.” Mr. White finally spoke.

“You could've asked the cop, if you didn't just kill him. He talked about what he was going to do when he was slicing him up.”

“It’s true! He said I was next.” You defended the man, flinching as Eddie stepped closer.

“I don't buy it. It doesn't make sense.”

“It makes perfect fuckin sense to me. Eddie, you didn't see how he acted during the job, we did.” Mr. White continued, getting cut off by Eddie once again.

Eddie then explained to the group as to why Mr. Blonde would never pull a fast one on him and his father. That left the room silenced.

“I know what’s going on.” Joe finally said something, stepping up. “This piece of shit is working with the cops.”

Mr. Cabot aimed his gun at Mr. Orange. “- and I bet the girl is in on it too.” Eddie’s gun was quick to raise and aim at you.

Mr. Orange gripped your arms tighter, trying to pull himself up to make a shield. You shook, looking down the barrel of a gun for the second time in the last hour.

“Woah, woah..” Mr. White slid himself between the two of you and the Cabots. “Joe, I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re wrong.”

“Like hell I am!” Mr. Cabot retorted, shaking the gun in your direction.

Your eyes grew wide as the men continued to argue over your lives. Eyes traveling to Orange’s figure, you watched as his gaze was already on you. His face was still pinched in pain, but he sent you a hopeful smile. The voices of the men quickly faded as you watched Mr. Orange.

“It’s not me, I promise.” You spoke silently to him.

The muscles in his face settled, “I know, honey.” He brought his hand to your cheek, comforting you as his blood transferred onto your skin.

“C’mon guys!” Mr. Pink’s voice snapped the two of you out it. “Nobody wants this. We’re supposed to be fucking professionals!”

“Larry, we’re going to kill them.” Joe spoke surely, taking the safety off of his gun.

“Goddamn you, Joe! Don’t make me do this.” Mr. White pleaded, finger shaky on the trigger.

“Larry, I’m asking you to trust me on this.”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“I’m not asking, I’m betting.” Joe raised his gun once again, shooting three times in your direction. All three bullets hit Orange as you screamed.

Eddie was next, as Mr. White was taking care of Joe, Eddie readied his gun and fired four bullets into your gut before turning the gun on Mr. White. The two shot each other at the same time, ending with all three men dead.

You yelped, falling to the ground. Harsh groans escaping your now bloodied lips. With shaking hands, you struggled to see the wounds through the blood.

You could barely make out the sound of Mr. Pink grabbing the briefcase and making a run for it. Struggling to catch your breath, you wheezed in pain.

“Red,” Mr. Orange croaked, turning to you. He struggled to grab your hand, shushing you as you panicked. “It’s okay.”

“He- He shot me!” You sobbed, voice wavering. “Why did he shoot me?”

“I’m a cop.”

Your ears stopped ringing in that very moment. All the air in your lungs escaped. “What?”

“It was me,” He wheezed. “It was a set up.”

A broken sob escaped your bloodied lips at the confession. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” You lurched forward as he applied pressure to your stomach.

He broke, now wracking with sobs. “No, no of course not. They’re on their way. You just gotta hold on a bit longer.” Now ignoring his wounds, he made note of the way your reaction time slowed each time he pushed down on a particular painful spot.

Your breathing grew shallow and your face paled, head lolling to the side.

“Nobody was supposed to get hurt.” He repeated as you fell from consciousness.

#tim roth x reader #reservoir dogs #reservoir dogs x reader #mr orange #Mr orange x reader #Quentin Tarantino #Mr pink #Mr white #Mr Brown #Mr blonde

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ltadoriyuujl · 1 year ago

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I have a thought to offer the hobie brown nation

I don't think we're taking full advantage of the potential of hobie x deadpool!reader

#think about it right #it has all the good parts of the spider x spider hero relationship #plus the inherently incredible spideypool dynamic #PLUS you cant tell me mr “bashed the presidents head in” wouldn't vibe perfectly with a merc working against the system too #spiderpunk and punkpool match made in anarchic heaven #hobart brown #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader

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theobsessiveloser18 · 9 months ago

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🦋Y/N In Karate Kid🦋

-Before karate kid-

•Y/N Nomen nescio Born on March 30, 1961, she is the second daughter of the Nomen couple. The tallest of the family, the most intelligent of the family (in her own words), the adoration of everyone she knows and above all things the younger sister of Jimmy, one of the most Popular at school, and an honorable Cobra Kid

•Being the only daughter of a workaholic lawyer and a retired housewife from 4 supermarkets struggling to survive in the complex confines of the middle class, Y/N has had a difficult life.Quiet with good friends, a great family, being an average student with good grades, and having the best relationship with her older brother

•You could say that everything began to change in his life when his brother began to draw his attention to karate, Your mother enrolled him in a dojo near home, run by a walking psychopath and Having 13-year-old classmates completely deranged by using what they learned on anyone they wouldn't like, y/n began to see the havoc that an egomaniac spirit could wreak on The world.

•It could be said that someone like Jimmy would not be affected, he was a boy raised with good principles, responsible parents and without worries about his future, unlike some he had no reason.To become a bad boy, and he didn't, however he was 13 years old and being friends with Dutch, Johnny and Tommy was obviously going to affect him like it did Bobby and it did.

•So like a good sister, you tried to advise him, scold him, guide him and practically prevent him and his friends from going too far. Sometimes you succeed but other times you don't, however your parents never They have noticed the change that your brother had And let's say that you unconsciously make sure that this is so

“Y/N, let's go out, We take you somewhere ?”

“no Mom,The outing with the girls was canceled,” you shouted from your room, focused on the drama on your television.

After a while you went down to say goodbye to your parents

“Jimmy is going to bring his friends for a while, the cake is finishing in the oven, I hope you take good care of them” You looked disgusted at your brother and his cheeky smile.

“The boy is 18 years old ma, he's not stupid,And even less invalid, I don't see why he would need my help for this, other than cultivating sexism”

“The ideas of modern television rot the minds of young girls, I hope you don't watch too much while we are gone, one day you will be a mother and if that attitude has not disappeared by You divorced in 1 year, and believe me you don't want that”

“believe me ma, I don't want children and even less a man to support I have enough with these two”

“time will tell” your father left his office quickly Claiming that he was late for his meeting, they said goodbye to your parents, your mother did not leave without first telling you “and dress appropriately for the visits,” she commented, pointing to your shorts and Your strappy blouse

"Don't offend me, the last thing I want is for those chimpanzees to have to share information about my body." SHe gave you a dirty look and finally got into the car. You returned to your room, after a while. you changed and remembered the cake just before it started to burn

“Hey, I thought you didn't want the kids to comment that I have a sister who likes to dress like a clown.”

“Get lost kid, those stupid people don't deserve me to look this good, much less waste it. An expansive cake in them”

“Yes yes, whatever you say Stuck-Up”

You had the decency to open the door for them when they arrived,

“Jimmy,The Scorpions arrived” you shouted and immediately closed the door in their faces, by the time your brother had opened it for them. You were already halfway up the stairs.

"Y/N, let this be the last time you do that to the boys."

“You're not in charge of me” you argued and the boys looked at you quite amused

“I'll tell mom that you're staying up late watching TV”

“And I'll tell them both where you keep Dutch's marijuana” Everyone They were offended, while you laughed at their reactions

“Go back to the kitchen, let's see if you tame the hyena." You went down the stairs quickly ready to confront him but Jimmy stopped you while the other cobras scolded him

“Suck my excrement, you damned caveman”

“What the hell with those insults ?” Johnny ask with an awkward laugh,The fulminating thing with your look

“I wouldn't have broken the door down on them if they didn't come with The incarnation of the damned Cráter- face”

“Don't compare me again. With your fucking comedies you little bitch” this time he received a blow to the head from Bobby

“Where are you going with that”

“they don't deserve my strawberries much less the sacred whipped cream”

“You will gain weight”

“At least I'll never have your damn height oompa loompa” Finally you disappeared from the room.

After 2 hours you returned to the living room to leave your plate and half a jar of cream in the refrigerator.And you thanked God for having done it when you realized the state of your house

What the hell is this?

Don't exaggerate y/n" Tommy said a little drunk, of course for a boy who could barely stand the smell of marijuana, an apparent large speck of dust,What was it really? the cigarette butt on the table,The amount of empty beers on the floor, and the 3 bales of them that still remained to be uncovered, were nothing to him.

“"Don't exaggerate, you idiot." You took off the headphones of your brother,And you almost fainted because of how dazed it was With the voice of Judas Priest, you ran to cut off his voice.

“Don't fuck around.”Johnny said, approaching angrily with a cigarette but he started to back away when you faced him, much more upset.

“You guys don't fuck with me with all this...you can tell me what the hell made you think this was all a good idea” your screams seemed to sober everyone up “you have a damn thing Idea of what time it is?, My parents are going to arrive any minute, and fucking look at this, this..."your brother started vomiting, everyone left the room including him, he washed himself in the dishwasher and after a few minutes he tried to Regaining your composure you continued “and don't even get me started on all of this together.”

“Okay, okay, we understand, we're leaving."

"Oh no, gentlemen, you're not leaving now," you commented, grabbing him and Johnny by the collars of their shirts. "You are going to help clean the place that they turned into Satan's damn inn”

So they started cleaning the house “seriously!!! “You guys drank 4 bottles of dad’s red wine...Oh damn it, damn it and well damn it”

“Here, all at once and you'll be as good as new,” Bobby commented, offering you 4 cigarettes. You looked at him wrong. “Bad idea, I got it.” He walked away. you began to exasperately trying to detect which one was the most sober, and surprisingly your recently vomited brother fell into the category

“listen to me carefully, honey You're going to get it damn in the old man's cabin damn, you're going to take them in a Unfortunate bag, they're not going to fall off the danmn it bike, you're not going to damn it delay... and above all," you approached him, grabbing his shirt, "you're going to bring Exactly the same damn brands, or else you and your friends are going to learn what a modern bonfire is, are you screwed or did you understand me right? Before he could respond, Dutch asked,

“With so much rudeness," you snapped at your brother and responded sarcastically, "oh seriously, I'm being very rude, my goodness, forgive me, Dutch, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I thought you were fed up with my Insults from a good girl baby” you looked at him annoyed and he simply rolled his eyes “every damn world get to work.”

You really put them to work, Bobby made the 4 pots of coffee to get rid of the hangover, Johnny He mopped the house, Tommy threw away the beers and cigarettes 4 blocks down from his neighborhood, and Dutch took care of his friend's vomit, washing the mop and the kitchen things (nothing personal)While you put everything back as it was originally and certain inconsistencies in the crime scene disappeared, when they were finally finished, your parents walked through the door,

“Good night sir and madam nemon.”

“Good evening young people” Your father greeted awkwardly, you and your brother wanted to laugh

“It's a little late for you to still be here, did something happen?”

"No, of course not, ma'am, just "We ran out of time," the tender Bobby responded too quickly,

"it stinks of air freshener, excuse me."

"Eh, is the gentleman okay?"

"Yes, it's just that strong smells bother him, and he's right, the house stinks of clean... And because his father's wine bottles are in a black bag" without them being able to avoid it, Your mother approached, took the bag and fine price tags put them on the apron, you passed your brother while Dutch kicked him in the shin, your mother said as politely as she could to The boys, and your brother and you were left in an interrogation

“Are you going to explain to me what happened?”

“It was my fault mom, I burned the cake, and I rushed to be someone else but that's when the boys arrived and it was a complete disaster,I spilled the juice, I collided with Dad's bottles, put old milk on the cake and Dutch got sick and I mistook the soda for beer."

You didn't know who was more surprised, your brother or your mother, her scold you a little, punish you a little, give you more homework and you got rid of your addiction to television for 2 weeks, (the replacement for your addiction to romantic books)

Your brother and the cobras kidnapped you at school at almy time“A gift? My God, you guys are so sweet, you wouldn't have bothered, I did it with all the good will in the world, I would do it again if that were the case.”

“We created a monster,” Tommy commented, amused,

“actually, just woke him up.”

•Deep down, your brothers' friends are like the distant cousins with whom your brother forced you to play football when you were little. You want them your way (except Dutch)They do it their way, and you could live with them even if your brother wasn't there.

•To bother you they like to sneak into your plans

“Don't come into my fucking room without knocking, you fucking bastard.”

“Will you never recover from the insults?” Johnny asked, leaning out of the doorway.

“Where does the television clown go?

“Are you sure you said that word right, Tommy?” you asked, finishing your makeup.

“You're not going to distract us, smartass, you're going to go out without your older brother.”

“If it's about intelligence I'm older than you”

“If it's about street experience I'm still the oldest”

“Are you sure”

“oh so this is how we're going to play?”They both stood face to face, you looked at him mischievously Letting him know that you wouldn't back down, he then unexpectedly ran out of your room, “Mom, mom, don't let Y/N out, she's going to go to a dangerous neighborhood,” you obviously ran after him,

“That's not true,Mom I'm going to Veronica's ”

“But she doesn't want me and the boys to accompany her, it doesn't seem suspicious to you, mommy."

"Because she didn't invite you, and you always talk bad about her."

"Because she's weird, I don't want you to get that."

"It's stupidly ridiculous, mom."

In the end, your mom ended up agreeing with your brother, forcing you to join him in your plans.

"After you, dear little Sister”You fell dramatically on your bed.

“So where are we going,” Tommy asked, playing with your pillow.

“Veronica's House,” Jimmy informed.

“I would kill you if there was a way for mom and dad to not find out.”All the cobras began to mess up your room, while you tried to call your friend to inform her of the change of

•Although they also like to force you to go out with them

“Get ready girl let's go to the bar”Tommy informed

“I hate bars”

“well we can golf n stuff”Bobby suggested.”

“That place has me fed up” “To the movies it will be” Johnny said determined

“Cinemas seem pathetic to me”

“since when?!

“Since you have been with me”

“Very funny little mouth, let's go” your brother said pulling you by the arm

“leave me alone.I have to study for an exam ”

“You've been watching TV for like 8 hours”

“I'm going to study”

“exactly when?” Johnny butted in.

“I will review all my notes, 5 minutes before going to sleep so that the information is concentrated in my brain.During sleep, and the adrenaline of ruining what defines 85% of my final grade, will help me get exactly a C.”Everyone looked satisfied with your answer, however Johnny insisted

“Okay that. It gives us 5 hours To choose between mad max 2 and Ramboo:First blood,And if you go for hamburgers, ice cream and pizza, should I leave it at that or are you still not hungry?”

"I hate you"

"I don't believe you"

-In Karate Kid-

•You weren't at the beach the night Johnny met Larusso,But that didn't stop you from finding out about the situation, you hadn't even been at school for 5 minutes when your friends found you and told you everything.

“Seriously, not even in the summer you guys can't keep calm” They raised their shoulders and gave you their best stupid face. “Okay, who is the guy?”

“That transvestite.”

“Since when are they xenophobic?”

“Hey, don't insult us with words we don't know?”

You try to convince the kids that the boy has learned his lesson, but there is no one more stubborn than John.

“she's not your girlfriend anymore Johnny, they broke up like 3 months ago, she has the right to go out with whoever she wants, Don't treat this whole matter as if the boy stole something of your property."

“Using so many words, it's not going to confuse me, I know exactly what I'm doing”

“She was your first girlfriend, you're almost 18 years old, you're Johnny Lawrence, you're going to have hundreds of girlfriends after her, and she's It will become a memory of everything that could have been for a 17 year old boy, get over it” you commented holding his shoulders

“you're making a pass at him?” ask rogue tommy “gross dude”

•Although you felt a little bad for the boy, there was nothing you could do to avoid the situation, and deep down you knew that Johnny was right when he said that Larusso liked problems.

•It was the Halloween party at school and surprisingly you managed not to go and no one questioned your decision. You were calmly resting in your room when one of your friends called you. Telling you that another of them had sprained her foot, and possibly needed to go to the hospital, as worried as if hell were burning, you asked your father for permission to take the car.

“I understand that you're worried, but the road won't do it, so if you get into an accident, or end up in jail, I most likely won't help you today."

You arrived almost trembling at the party only to discover that they had set you up, and you had made their job easier by bringing jeans, a striped shirt,and cowboy Shoes, hat were really easy to get

You were enjoying this change of plans, when you saw the cobra skeletons slip while chasing a shower.

“Who were they chasing?

“to Daniel”

“Who?"

“Larusso!,the new guy” You denied,

“Ali's Dirty Dream Boy”

“He's not,” the girl argued, a little blushing.

“Yet”Susan commented.

You ran away trying to catch up with them.Walking around the school, and a little further screaming and trying to find them You were afraid of getting lost and/or that something would happen to you because you were alone.

“Well, I'll have to give them away at home.” Suddenly you heard moans and screams. Determined to find them, you continued looking for them. “Forget it, I'm going to have you arrested right now.”

You saw the boy lying on the floor from afar, but as you got closer you realized that the skeletons were being beaten

"Hey hey, leave them" you ran towards them screaming like crazy "Go damn it, or I'll call the fucking police" before you could get close enough, the one who hit the cobras was running away with the larruso in his arms, you couldn't really see who he was from.But I don't know if you forget those words, “Mr Miyagi, we have to go.”

You were on the verge of insanity watching your brother, Johnny and Tommy seemingly unconscious and Bobby next to Dutch writhing in his sleep.Pain

“My God, this went down an abyss”

As stubborn as they were, they refused to go to the hospital, you negotiated with them to take them the next day.

You called your parents to tell them “that your friend was fine, with a sore foot, and you were going to stay at her house” they didn't agree, but upon hearing “That the girl lived across the street from Tommy(where was your brother staying)” they calmed down for a while

You treated the boys as best you could, they decided to watch the stars for a while in Tommy's yard, you lay down on the grass feeling that your back was finally relaxing

“I'm done...Bobby 4 They are not enough,“I'll settle for the pack” Johnny threw something at him

“we only have pore left” you raised your eyebrow.You fell asleep in the patio

•The situation was forgotten by them, not by you, you were too alert for Larusso and they, curiously, were in the Restaurant Where Daniel's mother worked, in charge of Cobra Kai (you didn't know she was his mother) you saw Daniel enter with a man, your nervousness increased

“Go ask for what is ours, the conflict is not going to escape me this time”

“Don't do anything stupid”

“I assure you” you said, tangling a lock of hair with your finger, a code of trust between you.

You entered the dojo, but you remained discreet listening to the entire conversation, you cursed Kreese, Johnny, Daniel and especially the old man, both of them passed by you, and you looked heavily at the already scared Jersey

“You need something, young lady?" you were paralyzed by Kreese's abrupt voice.

"I'll take care of it, sensei, excuse me." He looked at your brother with distrust, but when he asked his question he assumed that they were related and left it. "What the hell are you doing here, I told you what sensei thinks about women?"

“I just...I wanted to tell you that I was in the cafeteria across the street...you know in case something” he messed up your hair playfully, but he said quite angrily

“You're not going to harass me like a damn police officer” Bobby gave you a half smile before you found the strength to leave.

•Reduce surveillance of your brother and the boys by focusing now on Daniel and the old man who possibly hit them.He noticed it but didn't pay attention to it, because he didn't consider you a threat, just a paranoid girl because her brother was hit, him mistake was exactly what made you her threat. You found out where the old man lived, and everything was very easy for you.

•A few weeks later Larusso was furious at the cobras, he pushed your brother in the back, luckily for him there were only the chestnut, Bobby and Tommy.

“What sissies are happening to you, boy?”

“That's what I tell you, damned coward, why don't you fight me if you're such a man?”

“Oh believe me, that's just what I would do, if our senseis didn't have a deal.”

“Screw the deal, I'm going to cut you in half”

“I'll do it to you first Cockroach Nest” Tommy shouted but was stopped by your brother and Bobby.

“We're trying to stop Dutch and Johnny from crushing you like a potato, but you don't help yourself much, masochist.” Bobby said, you were leaving school calmly when you saw what was happening in the Parking lots

“I'm sorry I'm such a sinner, Jesus Christ, that you can't grant me a moment of peace.” You mumbled before entering the scene “get lost boy”

“You do it is a man thing”

“How curious, I don't see any” if If you weren't in the middle of a possible fight, your brother's friends would have already laughed.

“I hate to say it but Y/N is right, just go away”

“Why don't you keep your part of the deal, and wait until the tournament to get your long-awaited trip to the afterlife?"

“Are some cowards for involving Me Miyagi in this."

"What the hell are you talking about, you damn loudmouth," Tommy asked.

"About the complaint they made against my sensei."

"Stop crying, I was, a damned whiner."

"Why the hell would you go where you don't have any business, and where you don't know anything?" you started hitting him in the chest with your finger, making him retreat.

"What I know is that you, Mr. Michaci, hit my brother and his friends.", to defend a little girl who doesn't know how to do anything other than fall on her face in the puddle where she doesn't belong, so that when she's already dirty, she cries saying that life is unfair 'to someone so nice' And oh surprise!, where my family is involved is up to me. ”

“I told you to leave Y/N” your brother shouted grabbing you by the shoulders but you quickly let go “I'll leave when my belly button feels like it” he looked at you disgusted and you said in a low voice “And don't touch me, I'm not one of these” enough anger for him to take a step behind you, and you returned to the black-haired man

“you haven't left yet, what do you expect me to ask you nicely or what?”

“You're going to withdraw the complaint”

“besides being mentally retarded, stupid, you're the whole package” you commented sarcastically “You didn't listen to what I said to the boy, I do whatever I want, the last thing I would do is bend down The head for one of your kind."

"If you don't withdraw the damn complaint," he began to yell at you, causing the boys to almost pounce on him.

"I'll kill you, sewer toad."

"Don't get involved, this is now between the child and me” They stayed behind you “Excuse me, darling, what were you telling me?”

“If you don't withdraw the damn complaint I'm going to" he said while shouting pointing a finger at you, but you pushed him, he almost fell

"What are you going to do, huh, what are you going to do to me, I hear you cute"You continued advancing, he walks backwards, trying to find a way out, while half the school witnessed the spectacle “Are you going to hit me?! You can't handle them, you charge less with me, In my life a Guy has threatened me, so that almost one of them dares to even think about it” you pushed him again, and finally he fell, people laughed at him,You took your bag, approached him one last time, pointed at him and said in a low voice “I'm more dangerous than them, and believe me, you don't want to check.”

•Halfway down the road the cobras caught up with you, insisting that you let them get into their fights. “You can rot, you are dying for me Jimmy, and I don't want to see you in my house again”

You wouldn't show it but this was killing you, you were walking with your girlfriends, when you ran into

“Acquaintances.”

“This fucker, it must be a joke from the decomposed part of the left cerebral cortex”

“The fact that I didn't understand what you said, won't stop me from making something very clear to you!!

“Give me a second Lasagna, girls where always” when they were already far away you continued “Now that Cassie Powell”

““Withdraw the damn complaint”

“your brain is only coded to say that, why would Parrot, You can learn a new word”

“I don't do a bad thing, defend the young man” speak to you for the first time, Lord. “You hit minors, sir, I don't know if you understand English, and I don't know what the laws of the country you come from are like, it's not my intention to be xenophobic, but in the United States it is a crime.”

“It is a crime that he defends me, but that they have beaten me since they saw me is not an action rewarded by your beloved law, perhaps?”

“You're supposedly a man, right? I don't see you as one-armed.”

“Even the most Brainless knows that 5 against 1 is impossible” “Johnny, Bobby, Dutch Tommy and even my brother could” “They have trained

“Well, you do the same... Oh no, I know a better idea, stop putting yourself where you're not called”

“I have never done anything wrong”

“You are right, but you are not innocent either, trying to Attract with a bully's ex-girlfriend, and then getting revenge when he is at his calmest, is the equivalent of messing With the wife of a Gangster and stealing his gun when he is drunk, believe me, I have seen too many movies, it doesn't end well, keep that in mind for the future.”The man looked at the boy with quite curiosity. He looked embarrassed at being exposed. You were about to leave.

“The gang and your brother are not good people.” He shouted. You turned back.

“They're not bad, they're just not Good, like you, like me, like any teenager” You said too kindly, surprising him “Do you want them to pay for what they did? I myself can send them to a correctional facility but only after That he's in jail for hitting them" you were about to leave again

"You're evil" he murmured, you came back, your eyes were heavy he got scared "I'm not, I'm just a woman, a sister, who's fed up Of karate, of his parents' occupations, of his brother's change, of his brother's friends,Of having to take care of them, and Cover their mistakes just so Just not to be heard, seeing the disaster they cause, but above all I am tired of Kreese, do you want a villain in your story?,It's that I hope they screw him up, that they burn alive, and that their dojo is demolished and the ashes licked by a dinosaur."

With the last thing you said, they were a little confused, you resumed seriousness.

"I'm sorry that you They have done all that, child, and I'm sorry to have to ruin your plans, but you had a mother?,She must have noticed that something strange is happening, and you haven't let her get involved, well... this is what happens when you even ignore women, everything comes to the damn edge of a rock, I'm not bad, I'm just want this to end, and I don't have an adult to help me, so I'm trying to figure out how to stop this alone, and it seems like the only way...If you have nothing more to tell me excuse me,and see you later."

"Her name?" you heard the old man whisper

“y/n”

“Goodbye y/n San”

you stopped short, the man smiled at you,You didn't know what it meant but in a way it made you feel relieved. You nodded and continued your journey.Once at home you couldn't stop wondering if what you were doing It would really make life better.

You had “one of those conversations” again,You were in the supermarket helping your mother with shopping, you were in a section the product was falling out of your hands and Sir grabbed it

“Thank you, Mr Miyagi right?

“The right thing, miss” you shook your hand

“a placer meet you, my name...”

“Y/N knowing...Family shopping?”

“Yes, mom and me, that's our version of them.”

“Need help carrying groceries?”

“No thanks, we compare little by little”

“good time, buy lots, they will have help”

“Thank you, but she doesn't trust strangers and believe me it's not good for them to know each other”

“Because of what happened, understand”

“Maybe it's not appropriate for me to say it, because of everything I'm causing, but it seems incredible to me How could he with the cobras, they were not too enthusiastic about it but I imagine it was a fight like Bruce lee”

“Hear about it, really good wrestling, just different techniques, teach someday if you want”

“Thank you very much, but I really hate karate, and fighting would be the last sport I would practice on this earth”

“For damage caused, understand again, really talented brother and friends”You sighed

“Too much for my liking, I hope it doesn't end up leading them to carry blood on their hands, I'm sorry about the complaint”

“Don't apologize, do the right thing, stranger hit family”

“and family try to murder boy,I thought my parents would pay more attention to my brother, with what happened But in a way the only thing that changed was our opinion of the other, I am a Gossip, and he is an accomplice to an attempted murder.”

“People will change”

“Only if they want”

you turned around and saw your mother in that section picking up more products,

“His mother” He whispered “...Y/N San, good person, life will treat you well” You smiled

“See you later Mr. Miyagi”

“What did that old man want?”

“he couldn't find my way out of the supermarket, poor immigrant.”

Luckily for you, you and your mother never remembered a face

The day of the tournament was approaching.

“What do you want?” You asked with your eyes fixed on your book.

“The tournament is next week,” Dutch informed.

“Good for you.”

“You're coming, right? Johnny asked.

“Why should I do it?"

“You go every year”

“It's not like when you were 14 years old, you are more sadistic, cheap metal blinds anyone, and if I don't like hearing that they beat people for fun, I would like less to see them beat people for ambition and cheap congratulations from Fulgencio batista”

“Are you going to look us in the eyes when we talk?”Jimmy asked, annoyed.

“It's a sign of respect, I don't feel that way about you”

“For anyone?” Bobby asked, you looked him in the eyes

“What do you think? You are the smartest of them,Also why did you want me there? If I'm a gossipy, nosy little bitch, that no one will ever care about”

"say you're sorry." They told Dutch

"it's not about him, I don't care what he has to say about me, it's you."

“Y/N You are my sister, you know us better than anyone, you know we are sorry”

“You are right, I know them better than anyone, that's why I know they only apologize for why things ended just the way they wanted,Dad and mom don't care, and you like the big males, I sent you to rot once, so do it twice." You picked up your things to go to the next class.

“Know that we love you.”

“You have never shown it.”

•Anyway, you showed up minutes before it started, they didn't deserve it but it was your brother and his cobras, you never gave them the answer.You met Daniel in the hallways

“You came”

“I never back down from a fight”

“Good for you, because they don't either, they are more demonized than ever, you know their sensei”

“They don't scare me, I will cut their asses”

“the facts will speak for themselves, I would wish you luck, but I never do it, it would be betrayal, and apparently you don't need it."You turned towards the stands. “Don't have mercy on them,Maybe you can teach those morons Not to underestimate To the people .”

You had read about the Roman battles open to the public, you couldn't imagine how it could be worse than this.

• The critical point came when only the 2 best cobras were left, you were terrified when Kreese He practically forced Bobby to take Daniel out, and your soul actually left your body when the boy obeyed the order, and regretted it immediately afterwards, shaking Daniel for forgiveness.

•You went after him when he left the place, returning only to see Johnny's terror at "Sweep The Leg”

•You were standing there, in a corner watching everything, wanting to go back to Bobby without being able to really move, without feelings and opinions, you felt a chill all over your body when Daniel defeated the blonde, time froze in front of you, everything passing so slowly that It felt unreal, then you saw the boy congratulate Daniel, and you had a small emotion of pride, for both, the winner and the loser, but it was not enough for you to come to your senses, your gaze fixed on Kreese, this tournament had not been the end of nothing, you went for bobby

-Karate kid II-

"step aside,"

•"You enter the scene" in the eyes of Daniel and Mr Miyagi, who see you running with a stick through the crowd leaving the tournament until you reach the parking lot where Kreese and the cobras are,

you hit the man with too much anger in the neck and Head, To let Johnny go , he manages to elbow you in the stomach, and you fall down in pain. Jimmy runs at you, and stays standing next to you while you rub your stomach in pain.

•You catch Tommy when Kreese pushes him too, and you put your hand on Johnny's shoulder, who looks exactly how you feel at that moment, you rock him for a while.

•You feel normal again when Mr. Miyagi makes Kreese cut his hands on car windows, and makes him think that he will kill him with a Bruce Lee-style blow to the neck (if your memory serves you correctly) before he and Daniel walk away, you get the strength to get up

"Mr Miyagi" They both turn around and look at you "Thank you"

"You're welcome, Y/n san"

You smiled at him, you watched them walk away for a few seconds, and you returned to where the others were, Kreese walked past you.

"To rot"

They both stared at each other for a few seconds, but the hatred in their gaze consumed your eyes, and you felt a chill adjoin your body, for it was the first time you had insulted an adult to their face, it didn't feel good, you approached them. guys.

"Get your asses out of here" you picked Johnny up, placing his arm on your shoulder, and holding his back, you looked at him proudly "don't worry I'll take care of yours"

Finally you all got out of there

-The next Karate Kid-

•You live a few blocks down from Julie, you are kind to her, and after some casual conversations, you gain her trust.

•once chatting once passing in the distance Mr Miyagi

"My grandmother left me in charge of her and I barely know him, can you believe it?"

"If it's a little strange, he seems like something out of a movie… but don't worry, I know him too, he's a good man."

"How did you meet him?"

"Karate in a certain way is part of his history, he believes that with it you can change your life, I find it a little difficult to believe, but I would never doubt what that man said"

"Well, he really impressed you."

“He did it, maybe one day I can tell you the story, I don't want to influence you, but maybe you could try to get to know him, see if his teachings could contribute something positive to life, after all human beings are different, which can be useful for you "It may not have been for me, and that's okay." She meditate on your words for a few seconds

“You are quite wise and pleasant for being almost my age.”

•She listened to your advice, and you began to notice her more open and happy.

•but since most people had to leave, shortly after while you were sweeping the front garden you received a visitor

“Mr Miyagi! glad to see you, after all this time!”

“Same feeling Y/N San, traveling a lot is tiring, it's better to be home”

“Surely that's the case, the furthest I have been from home has been 4 days away. It must be quite a merit to leave the country where you have been seeing for a long time to return to your country of origin... What is Okinawa like?”

“Beautiful place, pleasant to visit, but too much family and enemies, privacy, and tranquility here, good to the United States for that”

“I get it, some families are too much for the world.”

“Your family will be that for you?”

“A little, being married and having children is difficult, I would prefer to live like you, I will enjoy the tranquility of silence”

“San, being too nice not to have a family of your own.”

“You are much more so than me, and yet you have a cozy place to live, doing what you love, and educating the new generations”

“Coming from the airport, saying goodbye to Julie, your neighbor, also a lovely lady, she will do well in the world.”

“Yes, I met her. It's good that she was able to meet you.”

“Going back to California in a few days, how long will you stay in Boston?”

“I will finish my degree in 3 years, I am working in a nice cafeteria, I like it, but maybe I can work on what I am studying soon”

“Well, time goes by quickly, well received in California, I'm sure we'll see you soon Chan”

“I hope so Mr Miyagi”

•Before leaving he give you a beautiful Bonsai.

#karate kid #karate kid 1984 #Karate kid I #karate kid II #karate kid 1986 #The next Karate kid #Karate kid 1994 #karate kid imagine #johnny lawrence x reader #daniel larusso x reader #Johnny lawrence #daniel larusso #mr miyagi #tommy karate kid #bobby brown karate kid #jimmy karate kid #dutch karate kid #Y/N karate kid

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thelaughtercafe · 9 months ago

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Mr. Love Ler Headcanons

Tea Type: Brown Sugar Boba

Potential Triggers:

Pairing: Kiro/F! Reader, Lucien/F! Reader, Victor/F! Reader, Gavin/F! Reader, Shaw/F! Reader

Length: 1.4l+

Summary: N/A

Kiro:

Omg Kiro as a ler is super playful and energetic.

Likes to use his hands the most! Feels it’s the most intimate.

Does NOT shut up.

Has known he was a Ler since childhood actually, unlike the others so he’s the most experienced with terms, tools and wrecking you.

He sees it as a super fun way to break the touch barrier and also help lift moods or break a silence so he will just lunge at you out of nowhere while you’re chilling with him and just go to town.

“Aw c’mon cutie you can take a little more cantcha? Look at that beaming smile!

King of teasing holy fuck he will make you red.

Partial to coochie coos and tickle tickles to fill any moments of his own silence.

Lives to see you afterwards, pink, discombobulated and pouting which leads to a quick scribble at your ribs to make you giggle again.

“You know you love me~”

Cheeky little shit.

Lucien:

OMG HE’S SO MEAN DON’T LET HIM FIND OUT YOUR TICKLISH PLEASE GOD-

He’s a man of science and you know what that means.

Tickle experiments. All the time.

And if he knows you like it? He won’t stop.

And believe me…he’ll know.

You won’t need to say a word.

He’ll notice the way you arch into his touch, or the way you look away and blush when he makes an analogy about having a tickle in his throat and that’s all he needs to get curious enough to generate a hypothesis.

Once he tests it and just out of the blue while asking rapidfire questions under the guise of a game blurts it out in the same monotone voice as always.

“So I take it you like being tickled hm?”

“Yeah of course I-”

He wished he had a camera to record the way your face had froze as you realized what had just come out of your mouth before you rushed to backpedal.

“I-I mean-no I just-I th-thought you asked something el-”

Too late for that.

He had already cornered you against the nearest wall and begun skating his fingernails under your shirt over your bare sides with a calm smile.

“There’s no need to tell fibs now. I can see from how red you are that you like this whether you attempt to deceive me or not.”

He merely laughed as you groaned in embarrassment and hid your burning face in his lab coat.

From then on, lots of experiments. He is a neurologist after all. What better way to test how laughter affects brain chemistry?

Victor:

Opposite to Kiro; he’s cold and doesn’t open his mouth much besides to offer the occasional playfully degrading comment.

“Ah, so this is your real laugh hm? Quite loud. I should be the only one to hear it.”

He’s much more focused on your laughter and flustered reaction as well as what makes you give him the best reactions.

Always evolving his tickling style. Kind of experimental like Lucien but more spur of the moment and doing it to mess with you.

Quick, nimble, long fingers.

How else do you think he writes and types so fast as a CEO?

Uses his big hands to wrap around you and can tickle both your ribs and back at the same time.

Finds a sadistic satisfaction in the way you jerk and let out a strangled sound of gaped laughter when he does it for the first time, eyes comically wide before you attempt to beg.

Punishes you when you make him worry and when you go MIA in particular.

Does it out of nowhere too, to catch you off guard.

…Absolutely once called you to his office just to wreck you until you were in tears.

Goldman got some ideas after that day the poor secretary-

Gavin:

High school friend already knew you were ticklish, despite never having done it to you himself until now.

He’s too shy for that now, c’mon.

The sweet ler who’ll hesitate even when he’s got you pinned, his hands hovering over your skin after a playfight.

“J-Just call my name if you need me to stop okay?”

His softness is the last thing on your mind as he then roughly digs his fingers into your hipbones.

When you burst into giggles, the smallest of smiles twitches onto his lips as he relishes in the sound of your laughter.

Teases tentatively since he’s worried about pushing you too far.

More innocent comments and him blurting out his thoughts that have the added bonus of flustering you to Hell and back.

“Heh…your laugh hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Man, look how red you’ve gotten.”

Will turn red himself when he goes to pull away, worried you’re not getting enough oxygen and you pull his hand back towards your body with a pout.

Lets out the purest laugh when it clicks and turns a bit more teasy in reaction.

“Oh? You don’t want me to stop do you?”

*SPOILER CHARACTERS BELOW THE CUT*

Helios:

Hi.

Remember how I said Kiro was a master ler?

Take that; multiply it by 500 and you’ve got Helios.

Fuck playful tickling.

This man?

Gonna torture you.

Kiro was very careful to never use his Evol on you, even if you said you didn’t mind or even wanted him to.

Helios has no such qualms and relishes in the lack of control he can force on you.

It’s a reminder to him both that he’s powerful and you’re safe not that he’ll ever admit as much.

Degrades just a tad when he lers.

Makes fun of you for liking it

🥺

“Oh? What a naughty little tickle slut I’ve come across. Look at you barely struggling against me.”

Leans forward to hiss into your ear and you feel his teeth drag there.

“Now if you don’t want me to stop…”

“Beg for it.”

Shaw:

The type to pretend he’d rather be literally anywhere else. Like he’s not the one torturing you and it’s this huge inconvenience as you lose it in his arms.

“Damn your laugh is so squeaky. Ha! Did you just snort?”

Try to quiet yourself and he’ll either pout or threaten as his

“Did I say to stop?”

Omg absolutely the type to let you get away just to drag you back to him!!

Doesn’t show it outwardly but freaking loves the chase and struggle under that tsundere ass façade.

Possessive of his Lee.

He wants to be the only one to tickle them.

Especially in front of a certain brother

Generally enjoys tickling you in front of others despite his possessive nature since he views it as a declaration.

Any of his band members from Loud House try joining in he will 1000% put you down to wreck them till they cry.

“Oh you wanted to join in? Why didn’t you just say so?”

Oh shit wait that’s not playfulness that’s aggression in his tone run little drummer boy run!!

Absolutely no mercy. Follows through on making them cry and taunts them mercilessly about it. Never lets them live it down and threatens them with it again if he gets jealous.

…no-one’s stupid enough to try again after that.

Ares:

Once Lucien drops the mask?

Much like Helios he’s worse.

The only difference? His was done for manipulation against you rather than to protect you and he’s got even less qualms about using it to mess with you.

He already did it as Lucien of course but as Ares?

He’s so much crueler, and he’s not afraid to manhandle you either.

Even if he wants to safeguard you, it doesn’t mean he can’t have some fun with you too.

And maybe he misses your smile and laughter around him.

Not that he’d ever tell you as much.

He never got to show his annoyance as Lucien and as Ares he still mostly doesn’t.

Until he does.

You make one too many passive aggressive comments, roll your eyes one too many times and suddenly he’s got you pinned by your neck against the wall, grin more feral than you’d ever seen it with a glint in his eyes that makes your blood turn to ice.

He clicks his tongue at you.

“Tsk tsk tsk…not a very smart girl now are we?”

His voice is little more than a hiss.

“This has been a long time coming. I hope you’re ready to be punished. Thoroughly.”

He leans forward to purr all too sweetly into your ear.

“And I have just the method. Be a good girl and behave for me won’t you? I’d hate to have to gag you.”

His tone was so full of relish you know if you so much as try it he’ll follow through.

#tlc: brown sugar boba #tlc: tickle headcanons #mr. love tickle headcanons #mr love tickle headcanons #mr love tickles #lucien x reader #kiro x reader #gavin x reader #victor x reader #helios x reader #ares x reader #shaw x reader #female reader #mr love: queen's choice

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evilgwrl · 3 months ago

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ExHusband!Simon x Reader

You Want a Divorce? (One)

Note: I'm having the WORST writer's block now so pls excuse my lack of proper writing... I'm currently sitting in front of a beach writing in hopes that ill gain inspo

CW: Angst, mentions of sex, jealous/possessive Simon, PLS DONT LEAVE YOUR KIDS IN THE CAR !!! Or break into someone’s house

Inspired by: Ex!Husband Simon

PART TWO

Simon stared at you. The shades of his eyes simmering into endless voids of obsidian, blonde lashes moulded against his greased lids, the residue of the perpetual torture his body had succumbed to during deployment.

“You want a divorce?” He spoke, voice deep as he flickered between your shaking heads, sweat soiling into the papers gripped firmly and your swollen face, cheeks feverish with a red hue, eyes even more so.

You held back a rough sob, throat stripped of all moisture evident in your hoarse voice as you spoke, “Yes, Simon. I think it would be best for our family… for us.”

He scoffed. “You think the best thing for our family is to separate?”

“We already pretty much are. You’re away for days, weeks, months at a time. We’re hardly a family and it’s difficult to explain to the children why I’m crying.”

“Ok then.”

That was it. You would admit, it stung. His lacklustre tone felt like a stab in the gut, the blade drenched with anthrax as it reared blistering sores internally, the effects having shown through your putrid complexion. Your skin was dull, practically lifeless, the only living form of you grew day by day through the darkening of eyebags that almost made you look apocalyptic.

It had been 12 months of separation, officially 8 being legally divorced. You kept his last name, the permanent burn of hearing Mrs Riley still searing through you with every syllable, yet you feel it would only hurt you more if they said Ms.

Simon was often away now, and the minimal family time he used to get felt pointless as the shabby apartment he moved into after the sudden interference of your mind-boggling news barely fit the two kids you shared. His body felt more relentless on him, the taunting of his mind fulgurated the inoperative reality that he would come home to you, to his family.

His voice, almost like it dropped an octave had grown richer in aggression, tormenting those he deemed suitable, both with his tongue and with his bruised knuckles, an oil painting of blue and purple hues radiating across the pale flesh as he shrugged it off to his team as “pushing himself and others to do better”.

Couldn’t you realise your mistake? Wouldn’t you prefer crying in his arms about his absence than never having it fulfilled again?

As he looked around the bleak environment, tan stained walls revolting the creaking mattress he had brought someone home to, someone who wasn’t you. It made him feel sick like a viral infection had slunk its way into his bloodstream as he laid next to a woman that failed to make his cock throb, endless images of you sprawled out under him flickering. No wonder he called out your name instead.

You felt the familiar shake of your hands every time your phone dinged; Simon’s dreary tone was evident through his dry “On the way” text. You ushered a day of your children’s life into their cartoon-themed backpacks, innocent smiles adorning their skin, doe-like eyes of brown, far too familiar to Simon’s staring up at you.

The sound of his car scraping into your paved driveway almost made you feel like throwing up, the nerves of seeing him combined with the already present pit of anxiety due to your date later turning you into one big shaky mess as you brushed it off as “too much caffeine”.

The echo of his car door slamming shut rung through your ears, staining you with the reiteration that your ex-husband was now at your door, heavy fists knocking upon the wood. The image you saw of him in your mind morphed back to reality as you stared at him, a blank expression on your face.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi, Simon.”

Your frown was clear, the pet name you were so used to becoming a distant memory in the past few months. It was a hole you were attempting to fill, to clear yourself away from his teasing tongue and faux impression of a healthy relationship. You were divorced for a reason, you knew that, but as you gazed upon the lack of life in his skin, it was almost like he was holding a mirror up to you.

“Daddy!” You watched as your 5-year-old, Ella, practically leapt into his hefty frame, his hands coiling around her like second nature. You could feel his warmth, the heat that would build in your stomach when you felt those same digits touch you.

“Hi sweetheart,” his voice gruff, yet tone lighter as he placed a delicate kiss on the skin of her forehead, “You miss me?”

She nodded, her face buried in the hem of his neck as your other child cooed from the bouncy chair, tubby legs attempting to wheel himself to the door.

“There’s my boy,” Simon practically cooed as he placed Ella down, bounding inside as he lifted the toddler out, grabby arms reaching out to pull at Simon’s locks, gentle tugs causing you to laugh.

Your voice cut through the scene like glass. Why would you want to destroy such a happy moment? Weren’t you supposed to be reuniting? Just say it, tell Simon you want him to come home, that you need him.

“This is Ella’s bag,” you speak, holding up the pink Minnie Mouse bag, “And this is Toby’s.” Your son giggled as he muffled out the words, “Transformers”.

Simon nodded, “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Ella practically screeched, “Mummy’s going on a date!” The thrill of her laughter that followed only seemed to make the situation more awkward.

“A date?” Simon’s voice was deadly, the hair raising on your arms as you shook your head, a tight smile on your suddenly dry lips.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just catching up with an old colleague of mine.”

“But he’s a boy, Mummy,” Ella giggled. Who was raising your daughter to be such a big mouth? Your face formed an annoyed look, eyebrows raising as a line of wrinkles crinkled against your forehead, your pointer fingers massaging your temples.

“An old colleague?” Simon practically gasped. Had he met him at your old work Xmas parties?

“Let’s get you guys in the car.” You fumbled with Toby’s car seat as you strapped him in, your nimble fingers shaking with anxiety before you shut the door, pressing a kiss against the window before wiping away the minimal residue of dirt. Gross.

“Who is he?” His tone was acerbic like he was looking for an argument. How dare you try and replace him? He was your husband, the father of your two kids? Have you seen this random man before? Had he fucked you?

“God, Simon-“

“Who is he?” Simon was relentless, bullying his way into getting the answers as his arms folded across his chest, tattoos practically screaming at you too.

“His name’s Andrew. I ran into him at a coffee shop a few weeks back and he just wanted to catch up. That’s it.”

A loud scoff sounded in the air. “You mean that geezer from that corporate job you hated? The one who didn’t know it was weird to blatantly stare down your dress when you were standing next to your fucking husband?”

“He didn’t stare down my dress! You’re not my husband anymore, Simon. I can see who I want.”

“I don’t want our children to grow up thinking they have multiple dads.”

You’ll admit, that stung.

“Multiple dads? You’re out of your mind. The only reason they would ever believe they have multiple dads is if their real one stopped showing up. And where have you been, Simon? When have you shown up?”

Simon held his tongue, the warmth of the metallic taste gashing through his teeth as he practically snarled past you. “I’ll bring them back tomorrow.”

The dress you wore was practically suffocating you as you tucked your stomach in. Simon never minded the change in your figure after motherhood, he found himself liking it even more. He loved knowing that his seed put you through that, that he made you swell with his children, and he brought out the glow in your cheeks and the delicate stretch marks that laced your hips.

Andrew was nice. His tone was comforting as he walked to your door, ushering you to his car as he insisted you could order whatever you wanted. He was handsome, the salt and pepper hues of his hair settling your insecurity.

“We’ll take the Pinot Noir,” he spoke, looking at you with an almost arrogant sheer in his blue eyes. You only liked white. Simon knew that just like he knew everything about y-

You’re not with Simon anymore. You had to realise that. Maybe that’s why you brought Andrew home, let him shove his cock (that was a lot smaller than what you were used to) inside your heat, as you let out moans you had mimicked from the porn you watched with the actor that resembled far too much of your ex-husband.

Simon's fingers gripped the steering wheel early the next morning, your two children snuggled up in the backseat as he drove back to his old house, your old home. He wasn’t a man who gave up easy, he would show you, prove to you that you made a mistake. You needed each other.

Hold on. You don’t drive a red car?

His car lurched into the entrance of your home, nearly ramming into the garage as he shoved it in park, rolling down the two back windows slightly for air as he dug around in the small side compartment of his car.

The familiar gold key he had stolen from you the night he packed up all his stuff stared back at him, practically egging him on. Go on Simon, march in there. So he did. His hand rattled against the door knob, glancing back to peak into the car for a second before he slammed the door shut.

Your body froze. Were you being robbed? No. It was only Simon. A very angry-looking Simon. You stood, the white sheet barely shielding your naked body as he took in the sight of the man next to you, his hands wrapping around his shoulders as he practically ripped him out of bed, flinging him onto the floor as he grunted, eyes reared with hatred.

“Simon, what the fuck are you doing? WHERE ARE THE KIDS?”

Andrew groaned, on the floor, covering his groin as Simon chucked the masculine clothes at his head, the thin boxers soiled across the man’s scalp as he trembled.

“Our kids are asleep in the car, waiting for their Mummy to come to the zoo with them.” Simon’s words were despicable, laced with an acrimonious tone, small particles of spit seething through his lips as stared at you.

He turned to the man, a giant frame staggering over the top of him. “Get the fuck out, and if you wake up our kids when you go past, I will personally put a bullet straight in the middle of your skull,” he said, pushing a thick digit against his forehead as Andrew rushed out, clothes barely on before you felt the front door shut, a cry of apologises leaving your lips as you tried to assist him but Simon only held you back, a tight grip coiling around your arm.

“What the fuck was that? How’d you get in?” You couldn’t even place the words to say, humiliation roaring through you as you snuggled the sheet closer to you, away from his peering eyes.

“It’s time to be a family again, don’t you think love?”

#evilgwrl #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost #ghost smut #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod

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rockhoundbeck · 2 years ago

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Aaaaaaa he would definitely be like that 😭✨🖤

y/n: let’s be something more than friends

mr. brown: what, like best friends?

y/n: no, I mean something more than that

mr. brown: ...mega-best friends?

#incorrect tarantino quotes #incorrect reservoir dogs quotes #mr brown #mr brown x reader #; hes a ditz #hes so goofy aaaaa

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imaginesbymk · 2 years ago

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RESERVOIR DOGS PREFERENCE

FINDING OUT YOU HAVE A MINIMUM WAGE JOB

Characters: Mr. White (Larry), Mr. Orange (Freddy Newandyke), Mr. Blonde (Vic Vega), Mr. Pink, Mr. Brown + “Nice Guy” Eddie

Tags: —

Taglist: @locke-writes & @aryn-the-bearheart

A/N: something lighthearted and random! enjoy and leave a like/reblog/feedback <33 ^.^

MR. WHITE ( LARRY ) —

Mr. White seeing you bagging groceries wearing a bright vest with your name on it is just so unimaginable.

He makes your job easier by helping you bag his own groceries (even tho nowadays in most stores you have to do it yourself?)

“Your manager’s paying you well, right?”

“Larry, this is Wal-Mart. I don’t get paid enough to bag people’s odd choice for frozen dinners and tennis shoes.”

He swears not to tell a soul. But he visits you at work because he needs to go to the store every week.

MR. ORANGE ( FREDDY NEWANDYKE ) —

Mr. Orange notices you as the new sales associate at the comic book store.

You’re stocking merchandise on the top shelves, using the ladders.

“Y/N?” He calls you down. You froze, fearing the worst for all retailers, seeing someone you know at your own workplace is so embarrassing.

He doesn’t care at all, though. He’s just looking for the limited edition of the action figures he wanted.

Probably wants you to smuggle him a lifelong supply of Marvel stuff from the back.

Orange makes a smug look when he’s at the counter.

MR. BLONDE ( VIC VEGA ) —

The thing is, Blonde KNOWS you work at Big Kahuna, and becomes a total dick when you serve him.

It’s literally Squilliam making fun of Squidward for working at the Krusty Krab.

“I asked for no onions and tomatoes in my burger.”

“Wow, Vic. You’re a convict and a picky-eater. Grow up.”

Big Kahuna is one of his go-tos, so you don’t have much of a choice but to serve him food.

MR. PINK —

Of course... you’re a server at a restaurant

He’s just making fun of you, literally treats you the way a snobby customer treats their server.

“Whatever. What do you want? We’re serving the lunch special.”

Snapping his fingers at you to get your attention across the room

You threaten to spit in his food if he makes one more joke, and you mean it.

“Pink, I told you. We don’t serve those here.”

He doesn’t tip.

MR. BROWN —

You work at the local Blockbuster.

"Hey, where’s the Spaghetti western movies?" You turn around and see Mr. Brown at the front desk.

Both your jaws are on the floor, staring at each other in pure shock.

He can’t stop giggling at you now, much to your annoyance.

It’s a good thing you know enough about your job and where everything is, so every time Brown comes in the store he always comes to you for movies he wants to rent, and you would put it on the store TV and watch it with him

“NICE GUY” EDDIE CABOT —

Eddie seeing you at the dry cleaners when he has to get all the suits ready was a big surprise for him.

“I don’t believe it. From a distance, I was thinking to myself, ‘Hey, that mf kinda looks like y/n’, and lo and behold!”

He uses this to his advantage, though. He wants his, his Dad’s and the people his dad recruits’s clothes clean and tailored to a T.

You’re gonna be his go-to for clean suits from now on.

Would come in, cheerily calling for you or greeting you.

#reservoir dogs x reader #reservoir dogs #reservoir dogs preference #mr white x reader #larry dimmick x reader #mr orange x reader #freddy newandyke x reader #mr blonde x reader #vic vega x reader #nice guy eddie x reader #mr brown x reader #reader insert #twd preference

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rainrot4me · 3 months ago

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Return The Favor

Summary: Stumbling in on your neighbor’s chopped up body, an unlikely friendship forms between you and Toby. Striking a deal, you agree to help the killer and his friends, buying them necessary prescriptions. But when one visit turns to multiple, Toby becomes curious, finding a not so subtle love note hidden away.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mentions of death, explicit description of a dismembered body, decomposition, death, gore, obsession, vomit, throwing up, blood (non-sexual), blood (sexual), vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, vaginal, choking, gagging, somnophilia, rough, Toby literally goes insane about you, virginity kink, first time, desperation

Words: 9.4k

A/N: This shit long asl I'm so sorry... Characters in this story are not canonical!

It’s said that when there’s a dead body nearby, your body can sense it before your brain can.

It’s almost like instinct, a survival nature programmed into your brain. It’ll start with goosebumps and chills running all over your body as if you were being watched, this uncomfortable sensation that you just can’t rationalize. Then the anxiety sets in, body aching and sweating for no apparent reason but it just knows there’s something wrong.

Finally, when you’ve finally choked it up to just being your imagination, that’s when you’ll smell it. Throat instantly closing and nostrils flaring at the putrid stench of rot and gore. It’s incomparable, no amount of food poisoning or disease compares to the sickness you feel in your stomach at the smell of a human body decomposing. Every instinct in your body pleading and begging you to get out of there, run as far away until you can’t breathe anymore.

You would know. And it seemed like the boy huddled in front of you did too.

There was no real reason for you to even be in this house in the first place, but your all-too-good heart guilted you into it. You had just come home from work, mind tired and body sleepy as you unlocked your front door, tossing your bag onto the kitchen table inside. It was well past midnight, the diner you worked at closing way later than normal, but at least you made some good tips.

Sliding into your bedroom, you changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your hair back before stepping into your kitchen. You gripped the tiny journal lying on the counter, cracking the worn pages open to where you left off, scribbling your thoughts onto the paper. It was your nightly routine, journaling things you saw or did, a coping mechanism suggested by your therapist. It wasn’t for anything intensive, just minor anxiety and self-image problems, always having negative thoughts about yourself. It helped. Glancing up, you looked through the tiny window above your sink, a clear view of your neighbor’s back porch, Mr. Higgs, an older man who made it very difficult to be friendly. He was a hateful guy, always nitpicking your choice of decorations or specific outfits he didn’t find appropriate. A real sweetheart, obviously.

But compared to his usual eight PM lights out, the living room lamp was still bright, shining directly through his open back porch door. That was odd. As long as you had known this guy, it wasn’t like him to be up this late, let alone be outside. Every instinct told you to just clean up and go to bed, his angry ass probably scooting off a raccoon or something. But you just couldn’t pass up that nagging feeling, your kindheartedness overpowering you. So, sighing, you tossed a hoodie on and slid out your back door, stepping down the porch steps into the cool grass.

You flinched as a flash of brown passed your vision, small and thin against the dark grass. Cooing, you kneeled down, holding your fingers out as Mr. Higg’s old cat, Addy, sniffed the air around you, pressing against your bare legs as she purred. The man was way too protective of his cat. Something was definitely wrong.

Standing again, Addy pranced away, meowing loudly behind you as your bare feet became wet against the midnight dew, grass sticking to your ankles as you walked, arms hugging yourself against the cold. This would probably just end with you getting told to mind your business and stomping back to bed upset, but it was the thought that counted. Gripping onto the porch rail, you stepped up his creaky wooden porch, knocking against the wooden frame of the open door.

“Mr. Higgs? Everything alright?” You called into the room, refusing to go in. There was no response, you knocked again after a couple of seconds. Still nothing. You gulped, rubbing your arms against your sides, nerves wracking you. “Okay. I’m coming in. Don’t get mad 'cause you didn’t answer me.” You called again, pressing past the door and wiping your wet feet on the welcome mat.

The house was quiet, the only light being the lamp sat on a coffee table adjacent to the old couch. All the furniture had an older look like something out of the eighties, it made you cringe. “Mr. Higgs, are you home?” You shouted down the dark hallway, all the doors shut except for one at the end which you assumed to be his room. Hugging yourself, your legs felt anxious, your mind racing with all the reasons you shouldn’t walk down there. There was no reason for it, this was all just probably some old guy who forgot to shut his door, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

Taking a step down the hallway, that’s when it started. Those feelings, like your body can feel shouldn’t be there. The air suddenly grew thick, a nauseating feeling setting in against your chest, pressing down like a conscious weight. But you shook it off, telling yourself it was just you scaring yourself with all of those crime shows, but you should’ve known better.

The door was cracked, moonlight from the open shades pressing against the doorframe, your hand flat against the wood as you pushed the door open. Then came the smell. It was stout, a putrid funk that wafted against the walls, souring the room. The room was dark, pupils blown wide as they fought to see, hand sliding against the wall and searching for a light switch. Your body was tense, senses on high alert against the dark, breathing ragged against the awful stench filling your senses. Your eyes were beginning to water, wondering what in the hell could be stinking this terribly, until you felt the switch, flipping it on.

Your first instinct was to throw up, throat constricting and stomach tightening, but you just couldn’t move. You were petrified by the scene in front of you. Mr. Higgs was there, at least, what you could recognize of him. His head had been cleaved from his body, intensive amounts of blood staining his beige bedsheets. His cheeks were bloated, a gnarly purple color as his veins poked against his forehead, skin wrinkled and soaked in blood as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. They were yellow now, dark veins contrasting against the orbs as puss leaked from every hole on his expressionless face. The rest of his body was scattered, chunks of muscle shredded from his arms and hands like they had been cut off, legs more or less the same. His wide stomach was completely visible, his skin swollen and dark, bloated against the same liquids spilling from his pores. The blood was the worst part. It was just everywhere. Splattered on the sheets, the nightstand, even the walls, specks reaching the roof. You were so lost in your racing thoughts, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you gripped the door tightly, knuckles white on the frame. You could feel the cold sweat drip down your brow, utter fear chilling your body.

You wouldn’t have even noticed the tall boy standing in the corner if he hadn’t flinched, eyes wide and locked on you. He was lanky, easily taller than you and pale. No, not pale, more gray. He had curly brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, his freckled cheeks flushed against the bandages across his jaw. A pair of goggles rested amongst his curls, a dark mask covering his nose and mouth. He wore dark wash jeans loose around his hips and a heavier brown hoodie that was stained with dark blood. Oh God. The boy didn’t look much older than you despite his bruise battered skin. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just watching.

His hands were behind his back, shoulders scrunched against the corner of the dark walls as you pressed back off the door frame, breathing ragged. “Who the hell are you?” You grimaced, tone coming across a lot more confident than you felt. The boy flinched, not out of fear, more like a bodily reaction. He refused to answer, eyes scanning around quickly until he pressed off the wall, sliding to the shuttered window and pinching the blinds open, scanning the night without explanation. That’s when you heard loud boots stepping up the porch steps, head spinning quickly down the hallway. “Shit.” You heard him, the boy’s voice panicked and rough, his boots stepping quickly across the hardwood and into your vicinity. Panic strained you, head spinning back quickly before your vision was filled with his arms wrapping around you, palm slapping over your mouth as he pressed you to his chest.

You tried to fight back, mumbled pleas against his hand as you shouldered his arms, your back pressed firmly against him. He was dragging you into the room, your feet dragging as you struggled, clawing his arms away but he never budged, practically unaware of the scratches you were leaving on his hands. “F- Fuckin’ quit-” He growled quietly, pressing open the small closet doors and dragging you both in, quickly shutting the door as you heard the boots grow louder down the hallway. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door, leaving you just enough room to see the gorey scene as you pressed off of him, his muscled arms refusing to let you go.

“Toby?” A scratchy voice called into the room, the figure stepping through the door frame and into your line of sight. At his appearance, you froze completely, your body tense against the boy behind you. His arms gripped tighter, bandaged fingers digging into your cheek as he kept you quiet. He was horrifying.

This man was taller than the one in the closet with you, pasty skin a sharp contrast against his dark messy hair. His eyes were wide, pupils dark against his reddened scleras. He wore a white hoodie, dark jeans covered just the same with Mr. Higg’s blood. But the worst part, the part that made your heart pump in your throat, was his smile. It was etched in, flesh torn upwards into a mocked smile, teeth exposed from the side of his cheek. The area was mangled, seemingly unhealed as blood dried against the cut. He almost made Mr. Higgs seem not that bad.

“Twitch, come on,” He called again, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket as he strolled around the room, kicking Mr. Higg’s severed foot out of the way. “I’m gettin’ tired. This guy had some good beers and I’m tryna get back home and drink ‘em.” He snickered, turning back out of the room and back down the hallway, his loud boots stomping against the old floors. Who you presumed to be Toby didn’t let you go, arms just as tight around you as you gripping his hoodie’s sleeves tight. “Fine then! If you’re gonna play fuckin’ hide and seek then I’m leavin’ your ass here!” He called throughout the house, your body only untensing when you heard the back porch door slam shut, loud boots thunking down the porch and out of earshot.

You both waited a couple of seconds, heart thudding in your ears as arms slowly released you, palm unclasping from your mouth. Panicked, you slammed out of the closet, turning around quickly and facing Toby, back pressed against the nearest wall as you searched for something to defend yourself with. “D- Dumbass.” He grit, pressing out of the cramped closet and facing you, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. The stench of the room pressed harder than ever, making your head dizzy as you pressed out of the room and down the hallway, Toby quick on your heels. “Whoever the fuck you are, whatever the fuck you want, I’m sure Mr. Higgs didn’t have it. Why in God’s name is he in pieces in his bedroom?” You hissed, gagging as the image replayed in your mind, turning into his kitchen and wracking the cupboards. When you found a small plastic cup, you ran water in through the sink, chugging the stout liquid down as you calmed your breathing. Toby stayed in the doorframe, crossing his arms. You probably shouldn’t have let your guard down, knowing full and well what he had just down to your neighbor, but you figured if he was going to he would have already.

“It’s none of y- your business. I don’t k- kill innocents, so you s- shoulda just stayed home, m- missy.” He growled back, stuttering through the words. You tossed the cup in the sink, the plastic clattering against the metal as you turned to face him, running your hands through your hair. “Hard to when you guys so obviously left his door open. The bastards hounded me for years, you’d think I’d be happy about his death, but not fucking like that.” You hissed, leaning back against the counter and crossing your arms, bare feet cold against the porcelain tiles. “I mean, Jesus. And I mean, thanks and all for the save back there, but how is killing him and saving me any different? It’s just favoring one innocent over another.” Toby shook his head, sliding past you and tugging a drawer open, shovelling through old receipts until he found the stack he was searching for. He passed it to you, paper crinkling as you skimmed through, old pharmacy receipts for prescription medicine.

“H- Had the old bastard bu- buying our meds. Paid h- him off and everything. Un- Until he started g- giving us coun- counterfeits, sellin’ u- us out. He h- had to pay u- up somehow…” He huffed, shoving his mask down off of his nose and under his chin, his thin lips chapped against the bandages hugging his cheeks. And of course, he was cute.

“So he gets shredded?” You had to breathe through that sentence, throat tight with nausea. Toby nodded, a small smirk crooking at the corner of his lips. You grimaced, pressing off of the counter and through to the living room, the old furniture seeming a lot less homey now. You were going home, filing a police report, and praying to God these fuckers didn’t come back to get you instead.

“U- Uh, might wa- wanna clean up, t- too,” Toby chuckled from behind you. You paused, confused as you looked around, stomach twisting as you looked down. Bloody footprints trekked through the kitchen behind you, a trail leading to your bare feet as you lift your knee, gagging at the sight of Mr. Higg’s blood coating your soles. Toby was laughing, the noise muffled against the ringing in your ears as you hunched over, stomach convulsing as you puked on the hardwood floors, your lunch from work coming back up. Head straining, you panted, wiping your lips. “Oh, s- shit, okay.” Toby hissed, sliding to your side and raising you up, hugging you close to his side. He drug you through the door, stomach still churning as you watched your footprints faintly appear beneath you, purposefully dragging them through the grass to get the blood off. You felt disgusting, giving no fight as Toby brought you to your porch steps, helping you up. He was so bipolar, angry and distasteful for one second, then cautious and endearing the next. It really was like you were dealing with a teenager.

Addy circled your ankles, her dense fur tickling your skin and making you jump, Toby gripping your arms tighter. “Oh, hi kitty.” You cooed, breathing deep as you kneeled down, scooping her up into your arms as Toby helped you up the rest of the steps. Without asking, he slid open your screen door, helping you both inside as Addy purred against your chest, Toby wary as he stared at her. You dropped her on the floor gently, Toby sliding the door shut as you hunched over your sink, cleaning your mouth and grabbing a rag for your feet. Toby still eyed Addy, fidgeting his nails as he followed her. “Ever seen a cat before? She was Mr. Higg’s.” You chuckled, cleaning the soles of your feet off and tossing the rag into the sink, still feeling unclean. Toby nodded, rubbing his arms nervously as he looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Us- Used to have one. T- They kinda sc- scare me now.” Smiling, you scooped Addy up again, petting her soft fur as you brought her close to the boy, his neck twitching nervously.

How could this guy shred a man to pieces, but petting a cat was too frightening for him? You couldn’t understand. Digressing, you gripped his wrist, steadying the twitches as you placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently as Toby flinched, breathing quickly. Addy purred, unbothered by the action as he became more comfortable, fingers playing with her fur before he pulled his hand back, breathing deep.

You were too nice for your own good, too easy at giving the benefit of the doubt. Of course, you would find the redeemable traits in a murderer, heart hurting for this boy who was more or less the same as you. Groaning, you dropped Addy, crossing your arms. “Listen. What you did, it’s… For my own conscience, I can’t let it happen again.” You grit, circling your countertop and sitting on a stool, your journal tucked in front of you as you fidgeted with the pages. “If we can agree, I’ll buy your meds. I have a friend who can write me prescriptions, no questions asked. But I need you to understand, under no circumstances, are you allowed to harm me. I’ll call the cops.” Like the cops could stop these lunatics. But, you needed some type of leverage.

Toby thought quietly, eyes narrowed as he flinched uncomfortably against Addy rubbing on his shins, purring loudly. If you could hold your end, there would be no trouble, but he had to know he could rely on you. “Th- The meds aren’t for m- me. My f- friends, they need ‘em to function, m- mentally… You g- gotta realize this is- is serious.” Even stuttering his voice was stern, arms crossed as he thought, contemplating. You nodded, brushing your hair from your face as you groaned, realizing how desperately you needed to learn to set boundaries. “I can get them. But you have to keep your end, too.” You hissed back, pinching your fingers nervously. Toby smiled, crossing his heart, literally. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, rubbing your face as you groaned. What the fuck were you even doing?

“I’ll have them by the end of the week. Come later at night, cops’ll be swarming for weeks thanks to you.” Toby nodded, sliding over to the counter and gripping your journal, tearing a page out as he wrote the list of prescriptions you would need to get. It was a hefty list, some of that shit intense. “Abou- About that,” He slid his mask up over his nose, sliding the screen door open as he stepped out, chuckling. “Do- Don’t go outside. Gonna ma- make it look like a g- gas leak.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he shut the screen, sliding his hood over his head and peeling down the porch steps. Finally taking a deep breath, you stared at Addy, wondering what in the absolute fuck you were doing. Rest in hell, Mr. Higgs.

He made it look like a gas leak alright. The house was on fire in minutes, the bright orange flames lighting your room as you heard sirens in the distance, your other neighbors gathered outside their houses as you climbed into bed, groaning your displeasure. Cops and firefighters swarmed for days afterwards, investigating the area thoroughly, but never finding any remains of Mr. Higgs, his body buried somewhere far away. They eventually grew restless, the city quickly cleaned up the charred remains of the house and a new plan for construction was set in soon. It went over smoothly, no one even suspecting a thing.

The days passed slowly, nervousness building as the end of the week grew closer, feet shuffling as you stood in line at the pharmacy. You got the doctor’s notes easily, already called in and waiting to be picked up as you were handed a small paper bag, the pharmacist eyeing you closely as you hurried out. Once in your car, you rummaged the sack, eyes wide as you read the dosage instructions on each little pill bottle. You read each bottle carefully, cringing at the names of the contents: Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, and even Aripiprazole. They were all high-end antipsychotics, the list of treatments for schizophrenia and mania, along with treatment-resistant depression. The last bottle caught your eye, a quick Google search told you it was for tourette's. So his twitching wasn’t just nervousness, huh. Shoveling the sack into your bag, you sped home, Toby well on his way as the sun set low.

The first week was easy, Toby in and out without so much as a hello, nodding his thanks as he bolted back into the woods, eyes dark and heavy. It was easy for you, moving along with your life despite the one night of the week. You felt easier, the boy quick about his stops with some chat, but never hanging around for too long, eyes always scanning the tree line nervously.

As weeks passed, he grew more comfortable, you learned that he was quick about stopping due to his friends, their curiosity about you making him nervous about losing his ‘dealer.’ You learned to leave his meds on the counter, sometimes not even present when he would sneak in at the late hours of the night, your job taking precedence over your sleep schedule. But with all of this money being spent weekly on medicine, you had to pick up more time at work, everything being paid for out of pocket not to raise suspicion. You were sleeping more, journaling and your hobbies taking less importance until they were practically nonexistent. It was hard, your serving heart refusing to let you rest, making sure Toby got his medication is the most important thing. You were strained, to say the least.

However, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks, Toby wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He had slid in like he always did, you sat at the counter eating your dinner as you scribbled through the pages of your notebook, summing up the previous days. You were exhausted, Toby making you jump slightly as he shut the screen door, rummaging through the paper sack. “G- Got any more?” He grinned shyly, sliding his mask and goggles off and tossing them onto the counter. You nodded to the fridge, an extra container of leftovers from the diner quickly opened in front of him as he shoveled it into his mouth. “It’s better heated up,” You laughed, shutting your journal as you slid off the stool, gripping the to-go container from him and popping it into the microwave. You both sat there awkwardly, Toby kneeling down to rub Addy’s back as she appeared beneath him, soft purrs echoing. He was still nervous, never petting her for too long before standing back up, the microwave beeping. The food came out steaming, sliding open a drawer and handing him a fork, Toby continued to shovel the food into his mouth. You hissed, holding his arm as the steaming food sizzled inside his mouth, it had to be burning him. “Oh. Y- Yeah, I don’t fe- feel pain. Th’s good, tho- though.” He grinned, slurping up more of the food. He acted like he hadn’t had warm food in forever, stuffing his face and barely giving himself time to chew. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he ate.

The stays became longer after that, his excuse being he was hungry, continuously raiding your fridge until you began to have food ready for him, prepping his meals along with your own. Thirty minutes turned to an hour, to two hours, and then eventually through the night. He would crash on your couch, Addy curled in his lap as the television blared some old movie. That was one of the only times you didn’t see him ticcing, the cat acting as an anchor against his restless body. He looked truly comfortable, using your blankets and pillows to his advantage, beginning to invite himself to stay the night after a while.

You sat at the counter, Toby snoring loudly as he laid face first into the couch pillow, scribbling into your journal. It was the one thing you had time for, having to get up early for work as the soft glow of the kitchen light lit the pages. Toby was practically pushing himself into your life, his lack of manners and curious mannerisms leading him to take initiative. You were grateful for his friendliness, giving great detail of his missions with his friends and explaining that whole situation. Even still, you were wary.

But against your better judgment, your relationship with the killer was becoming less transactional. He brought you things to make for dinner, talked with you through your mutual sleepiness, and even took care of Addy when you were too delusional after work. For lack of a better word, he was becoming a friend, showing up for more than just his medication, even sometimes forgetting the bag and having to chase him down. He was infesting your life, arriving earlier than he should and leaving later than you cared for. The end of the week was becoming optional, the screen of your porch door sliding open nearly every night of the week Toby didn’t have a mission. It was annoying but in a comforting way, like you both were becoming closer naturally despite your differences.

As you heard his snores, you groaned, rubbing your tired eyes as you began to write, letting your pencil guide on the page numbly as you wrote your thoughts. It wasn’t directed at Toby on purpose, but the further you got down the page the further your heart sank, hand fisted in your hair as you rested your elbow on the cold marble counter. “Ah, Jesus…” You grit, scribbling the final few words as you lean back, rubbing your head. The words weren’t lies, more of a hard truth you weren’t willing to accept, chalking it up that you were just tired and desperate. The words could have been about Toby, or they could have been about anyone, you didn’t really care. Sighing, you tore the page out, folding it and shoving it into the back of the book, closing the pages quickly. Sleep sounded much easier as you flipped the kitchen light off, turning the volume of the television down as you trudged upstairs to your room, giving one last glance to the snoring boy and his matching cat.

Toby knew his mishaps with you, his moral compass long forgotten the more time he spent inside your home. He told himself it was just easier, food and shelter at his disposal whenever, but he knew better. It was so much more than just picking up medicine for Tim and Brian now, it was a solid relationship, a bond that was forming in his eyes.

It had been almost four months since the unfortunate death of your neighbor, a smile creeping every time he saw the charred flecks of wood buried in the overgrown grass. You had begun to leave the back door unlocked, reasoning that someone breaking and entering would be less of a hassle than him. That was what Toby really hooked onto the most about you, your humor about everything. Despite your hardships and the emotions you had to overcome, you held a caring heart, compassion always lacing every action. He found it admirable, your humor through your busy life. And, likewise, he did feel bad for making you work so much, tired eyes always hurting his heart whenever you were around. But, it wasn’t like he could get a job, so he helped where he could, cleaning and learning to cook for your sake. He needed this medicine, for his friend’s and his own stability, even at your expense.

You were already nestled at your spot on the counter, writing your thoughts in that damn journal. You barely even looked up as he entered, diving for the fridge as he scooped up Addy with one arm, her purs a nice vibration against his shoulder. Popping the container in the microwave, he leaned in over your shoulder, trying to catch a glance at your scribbling before you shoved him off, closing the book quickly. “Ah, ah, mind yours.” You smiled, forking your own food into your mouth. “O- Oh come on, [Y/N], just a pe- peak.” He smiled back, gathering his food as he began to eat, sliding onto his familiar spot on the couch. It was routine now: where you sat, what he watched, what you both talked about. He explained his latest mission with Masky in more detail than you enjoyed, pushing your food away as you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You both laughed throughout the night before you whisked your food into the fridge, calling your goodnights before heading upstairs.

Toby continued to watch the television, brushing Addy’s back with his bandaged fingers as he sat his empty container to the side. His curiosity nudging him, he raised up, tossing his trash before he slid to the counter, you all too confidently leaving your journal there. Slipping back onto the couch, he began to flip through the pages, listening closely for your footsteps as he read your entries, smiling as they dated all the way back to your high school years.

It seemed as though everything you thought spilt onto these lines, emotions erratic between every page as he realized just how much of a people pleaser you really were. All through your recent years, it was nothing but service, acting through the goodness of your soul until it felt sickening, fake almost. He cringed, flipping quickly through but finding nothing juicy, no deep dark secrets that he felt were interesting. Sighing, he closed the journal, standing to set it back onto the counter, until a slip of paper fell from between the pages. Smiling, Toby leaned down, arms twitching as he slid the journal back onto the counter, leaning against the marble as he flipped the paper open, reading carefully.

“Sometimes, when I think about it too hard, I get all emotional about myself. I know I put on a front, like everything I do I’m in charge of and can handle, always putting everyone around me first. But what if I wanted to be put first? I do so much for the sake of others but it never seems to be returned, never compensated for the mental strain. Well, maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be loved like I see others, rough and real. I have no clue how I even would, I can barely handle touching myself before I'm overwhelmed. But I just want someone else to take the reins, show me that I don't have to work my brain so hard and can just numb out. That's not too much to ask, right? Just someone who can love me, not some creep or one night thing, someone who cares. If I never ask for anything again, that would be it. Someone who wants me for me.”

He could have died. The brunette’s cheeks dark as he re-read the crumbled page, excitement coursing through him. In his mind, he wanted to storm upstairs and just rattle you then, showing you how good he could treat you. It was like a bomb had gone off, Toby having to pretend like him having a crush on you wasn’t achingly obvious, convincing himself he just didn’t know how to act around women. But now it was clear, his mind racing with a million wants and needs, body spasming under the excitement.

Convincing himself to leave, he slipped the note into his pocket, body buzzing with excitement as he slid out your door. He would be back, like always. But this time, he would show you what you truly needed, what only he could give you.

Like always, Toby left a note for the medication you needed to pick up, it sometimes changing week to week. Everything looked normal, the usual combination of pills reading off. But as you scanned the bottom, you groaned, shoving the paper into your pocket. Trilafon, Saphris, and… Plan B. As if your desperation for some affection couldn’t have gotten much worse, your heart twisted, a lump growing. Whether it be for some girl he was laying or a girlfriend he already had, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to get the medicine and go. Crawling into your bed sounded like a much more exciting activity than dwelling on the brunette, heart saddened in all the way you knew it shouldn’t.

To make your night even better, Toby didn’t show. It wasn’t unusual, for him sometimes not to show up for days due to extensive missions. But a part of you longed to see him, especially after today, just to help your mind with the whole morning-after pill situation. So now, instead of imagining him surrounded by his friends on a mission, you imagined him towering over a girl. Strong arms holding her, body contorting to fit against hers… You could’ve been sick, shaking your head as you ate quickly and pressed upstairs, barely petting Addy before you slinked into bed, hauling the covers over your head.

It was lonely on nights without his presence in your house. But especially tonight, thoughts racing uncontrollably to the point of tears, thick droplets streaking down your face as your chest hurt, longing for a body, any body, to hold close to yours. Maybe you really were just a transactional thing.

Toby smiled as he trekked through the familiar stretch of woods to your house, heart racing in his chest. He had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to do, his cock already twitching in his jeans.

He hadn’t shown up tonight on purpose, hanging back at the mansion to take the best shower he could, Ben teasing him about how good he smelled as he was leaving. You had to be well in bed by now, body tired after working all day just for him. He would take care of you, showing just how grateful he was for how much you were giving up just for his friends and him. Pressing past the tree line, he smiled, pulling his hood down as all the lights in your home were out, signaling your retirement.

Pressing up the steps, he slid the screen door open quietly, careful not to alert you as he clicked it shut. Stripping his hoodie, he tossed it onto the couch, Addy purring light against the cushions. It was warm in your house, black t-shirt hugging his arms as he untucked it from his jeans, climbing up the steps, his mask and goggles quick to come off next.

He was too excited for his own good, boots stepping quietly against the old hardwood as he slinked to your door, fidgeting with the knob. A rush of your scent blew into his face, your perfume stout in your small bedroom, eyes searching around in the dark space for your bed. It wasn’t hard with your breathing, quiet snores making him smile as he leaned against your mattress, admiring your unawareness. You looked so peaceful, his bandaged fingers tracing your cheeks and brushing your hair from your face, your skin flinching under his touch. “Hi, baby…” He whispered, the pet name sounding right against his tongue as he referred to you, tugging the sheets down.

Toby always knew how nice of a body you had, you sometimes sauntering around the house with shorts and a t-shirt and making his eyes trail just a little longer than normal. But now, under his cold hands, you were even more gorgeous. You were wearing an oversized shirt, a slight tug at the fabric revealing that you only had panties on underneath, you slightly stirring as his nails brushed your skin. The brunette was excitedly jittering, kicking his boots off as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at your curled body sound asleep. You shifted, rolling onto your back as you breathed deep, stretching your arms before settling back into yourself. Toby could have died, your legs stretching out to rest around him, his cock twitching with interest against your now visible panties. A quiet sigh breathed through your lips.

That was all the invitation he needed. Running his cold hands under your shirt, he felt your warm skin and goosebumps rising as you squirmed under them. Your brows scrunched but Toby pressed further, running his fingers along your waist and up to your tits, palming the mounds gently as he smiled. It was crazy to him just how soft your skin was, not weathered or bruised from missions or nature, perfectly smooth under his axe-calloused hands. Pushing your shirt up to your chest, he gasped at your round tits, the weight so perfect in his hands as he pinched at your nipples, rubbing the nubs gently. Toby was never very sure of anything, always brushing through life at the command of others. But the one thing he was sure about? His love for boobs, especially yours.

Nudging closer between your legs, he rested your knees on his thighs, leaning down to your chest as he popped a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently. The nub was hard against his tongue, slowly circling as he massaged the opposite one in his palm, pinching your nipple gently. That’s when you began to stir, hands sliding against the bed and unconsciously searching for the cause of your sensitivity. Lazy hands pushed against his face, soft groans echoing in the boy’s ears as he popped off your nipple and moved to the next one. Your hands fingered through his hair, tugging lightly until your eyes were beginning to flutter, your mind slowly coming alive. Toby let off your tit, kissing along your chest and licking a stripe between your tits, humming as he watched your eyes slowly blink open, confusion rocking you. He kneaded your tits gently, tugging at your nipples as you realized what was happening, eyes slowly widening as you strained to sit up against him. “Toby? Wha-” Your voice was scratchy, ridden with exhaustion as the brunette kissed up your neck to your cheeks, pushing you back down as he slotted himself flush between your legs. Slowly realizing what was happening, your cheeks flushed dark, hands pressing against his chest as you squirmed, nervously babbling as your body was still half asleep. “Lay b- back, baby… You’re so ti- tired, let me take c- care of you…” Toby sighed, running his hands back down along your skin, relishing in the way your body nervously shook under him.

You physically could not believe what was happening. This had to be a dream, some sick trick your mind was playing as you felt cold fingers hook under your panties, sliding them down. Heavy eyes wide, you grabbed his arms, clenching your thighs together against his waist. “No- No, wait- I don’t even, I mean, I’ve never-” Toby was already shushing you, gripping your wrists together and kissing your palms before pushing them back down to your sides, resuming his tug down your thighs. “I’ve go- got you. Don- Don’t gotta worry about a- a thing…” He smiled, raising your legs up to slide your panties down the rest of the way, hooking them off of your raised ankles before pulling you down closer to him, pushing your shirt over your head. “Read y- your journal, you don- don't gotta act protective, ba- baby. I know this is what y- you want…” If you weren’t already panicking, you definitely were now.

You wanted to hound him for snooping through your journal, mouth opening to tell him off. But as his fingers brushed against the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds, you lost all train of thought. He was watching you, eyes excited in the darkness of your room as he swiped his thumb closer again, your thighs flinching shut. “Anyone else e- ever touched here before?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb against your plump lips and tugging them open, getting a nice look at the wetness that was already forming between your folds. Shaking your head, Toby lit up, cock pushing hard against his jeans as he had to adjust his position, using both hands to pull your lips apart, sighing at how pretty your cunt was. Just something about knowing that Toby was claiming his stake on you, imprinting his touch for the first time before anyone else could, made something deep inside of him burn. It wasn’t like the brunette got much play himself, hooking up with a girl here and there, but being your first? That already made this so much better than any other girl could even try.

Sliding his fingers through your wetness, you gasped, hands clutching the pillow behind your head as he groaned, spreading your arousal across your lower abdomen. You whined, thighs begging to clench together as he purposefully slid your juices over your cunt, pressing his thumb down against your swollen clit and jolting your back off the mattress. You had only ever masturbated here and there, your body getting too overwhelmed after one orgasm and forcing you to stop, but would Toby stop? As he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, you doubted his restraint.

“Please be gentle…” You warned, hands planting on the mattress as you sat up, resting on your elbows as you watched Toby bring his digits back down to your cunt. He rolled his eyes playfully, tugging your folds open with his opposite hand as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your entrance, pressing in slowly. “I’ll try…” He laughed, your fingers gripping the sheets tight as you watched his fingers sink in slow, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. His index and middle fingers screwed into your tight walls gently, twisting his wrist to draw a moan from your lips, digits spreading against your gummy walls and making your entrance ache. “Just i- imagine my dick in here…” He cooed, eyes darting between your nervous face and your pretty cunt fluttering around just his fingers, barely even handling them.

Pressing his opposite thumb against your clit, he began to rub in small circles, dragging your hips further and further off of the mattress until you were practically rolling your hips against him. His fingers probed in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, just enough to make you comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion, but his arms ached to go faster, curl his fingers until you spasmed. “Toby…” You sighed, his hands moving in time with other as he screwed his fingers inside of you, angling them just enough so they pressed against your tight walls. His name sounded like heaven against your aroused tongue, so quiet but so desperate, secretly drawling for more. “Tell me w- what you want, ba- baby…” The pet name made your face hot, your stomach fluttering as you pressed back into the pillows, running your hands down to your thighs and squeezing the flesh. “I want… more…” You sighed through your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around Toby’s cold fingers, sucking them back inside every time he drew them out. The brunette laughed, pushing his feet under him to push his hips up against your ass, your hips raising off the bed as he fingered down into you. You could feel his cock straining behind his jeans below your raised ass, twitching needily with every tug of his fingers and moan that whined from your throat. His size was overwhelming, making your heart pound as Toby began to curl his fingers, making your eyes shut quickly.

His fingers pressed so deep in your cunt, curling against your sensitive walls and making your jaw hang, beginning to press against your walls at a steady rhythm. It was like a new fire had lit under Toby, fingers screwing in at a quicker pace and making your stomach clench, face screwing into an overwhelmed feeling. His fingers pumped in, knuckles sinking in through your wetness and gripped by your gummy walls, curling his fingertips just right as he got deep. It was so intense, so rough, just a mess of slick and your wet cunt sounding through the room with every squelch as he abused your clit, swiping left and right quickly. Your thighs twitched and ached with every curl, trying to close around his hand practically fucking you into sensitivity. Your hands wrapped around his forearm quickly, begging his wrists to stop curling abusively inside of you as you tugged your nails into his skin. Toby wouldn’t, continuing to pump his fingers as he stared at your flushed face, cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. “Just a l- little more… Co- Come on…” He groaned, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milked moans and whines out of you, his fingers glistening with your arousal every time he tugged them out. He couldn’t feel you clawing at his arms, loud groans begging him to let up as your cunt clenched, molding around his thick fingers.

You could feel your orgasm rolling through you, Toby huffing as the veins in his arms popped, his shoulder muscles straining against his shirt as he watched your face carefully, picking up as your moans became louder. “Gonna come f- for me? Yeah?” He teased, clothed cock twitching against your ass, pushing your cheeks apart as he rutted against you. He curled his fingers quicker, mumbling his arousal as he watched your cunt swell around him, clit throbbing under his thumb. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, stomach tightening and forcing you to sit up, Toby was quick to let off your clit and wrap his arm around your back, holding you up as he pumped your through your cunt squelching, tightening around his digits. Your eyes rolled, teeth grit tight as he palmed your clit, slowing his pace to a slow thrust as you became undone against him. No orgasm of your own had ever compared to that, head light and chest heavy as you breathed quickly, gripping Toby’s shirt tight.

Refusing to let you go, Toby leaned in, pressing kisses against your neck and licking at your sweat, relishing in the warmth around his digits. You whined, cunt sensitive as he tugged his fingers out, his skin raw and pruned against the wetness coating his digits. Your folds were absolutely drenched, Toby spreading his fingers through your lips and pushing his sopping fingers over your warm thighs wrapped around him. “God, y- you’re so wet-” He gasped, pressing his fingertips back against your clit as he laid you back, gripping your tit. Your mind panicked, cunt flashing with sensitivity as he began to rub against your clit, swiping left and right against the rub quickly. “Toby- Stop- Toby, please-” You cried, breath catching in your throat as your stomach clenched, his fingers pressing hard as he pinched your nipples, eyes trained on your wet pussy. “You e- ever squirt before?” He smiled, transitioning fast between digging his fingers into your cunt and pulling them back out to swipe against your clit. It was nauseating, cunt crying desperately for relief as he dug nails into your tits. Gasping loudly, you gripped his arms, knees screwing tight against his sides as you cried out, hips bucking up against his hands.

Every time his fingers slipped into your entrance, they squelched loudly, fluttering around the intrusion before desperately aching as they tugged out and moved onto your clit. “Squirt li- like a whore, m- mkay? Quit fightin’.” He hissed, letting his hand off your tit and scooping under your left knee, pushing it back to open your cunt wider, spreading your legs further apart. Your head was dizzy, heart pounding as you gasped for air, panting at every push of his fingers. You were already quick to cumming, but it felt weird, not that normal clench you felt in your stomach, more of a strain against your cunt itself. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as he forced your pussy against his will, ruining you.

As he swiped his fingertips down hard against your clit, your entrance clenched, mouth opening wide as you cried out, hips bucking up as you felt your cunt squirt, thighs trembling hard. There was literally nothing to compare it to, mind hazy as you sprayed onto his black shirt, his fingers digging into your entrance and pushing more juices out of your swollen folds. Toby was smiling, moaning his approval as he rubbed your clit softly, pushing the last of your orgasm out as you strained against the mattress. “Gunna fu- fuck you dumb, baby…” He growled, tugging the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down and off his legs as his cock hung heavy against your drenched cunt. You couldn’t even react, head spinning as Toby gripped your hips, pushing you onto your side as he grabbed your ankle, pulling it onto his shoulder and straddling your other.

Neck craning with excitement, he teased the tip of his swollen cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your ruined juices. “This is wh- what you wanted, is- isn’t it?” He smiled wildly, pressing his cock into your ruined cunt, groaning loudly as you swallowed him in, warmth gripping tight as he gripped your leg, other hand stable on your tit. You groaned, face turned into the pillow as he began to thrust deep, giving you no mercy as he tugged at your nipple, biting at your calf as he fucked into you. You felt so full, your body so exhausted already as stretched you further, your entrance burning against the sting of this new girth. You squeezed him so tight, cock forcing itself deeper with every tug of his hips as you began to cry, tears staining your pillowcase.

“Fuckin’ tal- alk to me, baby. Gunna mak- make me cum al- already.” He sighed, teeth chewing against the meat of your calf as he pressed your cunt wider, sweat dripping from his nose as his curls clung to his forehead. He let off your tit, left hand slinking up to grip your jaw and turn your face back to look at him, your eyes heavy as they blurred with tears. Toby looked so good right now, cheeks dark against his freckles as he towered above you, cock pushing against your gummy walls and making your mouth hang. “So pretty…” He smiled, slinking his hand down to your throat and squeezing, cock pulsing as your face tightened, mouth gasping out as he clamped tighter, refusing you air. There was something so orgasmic about cutting your airway, watching your body react as he fucked your virgin cunt, holding your life in his hands. He had to breathe deep to stop himself from cumming, his violent brain spasming out.

He pushed your ankle over his head, pulling out roughly as he rolled you onto your stomach, you gasping from the wave of air hitting your lungs. Pushing himself against your ass, Toby swore, pushing his cock back into your cunt as he pushed your back down, making you arch against him. “Just a l- little more, m’kay?” He growled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and squeezing hard, pressing your face down into the pillow. With a new pace, he fucked down into you wildly, hand kneading your ass hard as digging his nails into your skin, little welts forming across the soft flesh. Your muffled cries sounded against the pillow, head light and static filled as you gasped for air, Toby’s cock ramming down against your g-spot. “Never s- seen a bitch so willing, so des- desperate for my dick you’d gi- give it up so easily.” He teased, growling as he let off your neck, neck sore as he leaned down, pushing your hair off your neck. Toby hadn’t felt like this before, wanting to mark you, fucking you so desperately he wanted to carve his shape deep inside. He couldn’t let you go without knowing exactly who you craved, corrupting you, ruining you, molding you to fit only him.

He licked against your shoulder, sucking onto the skin before he pressed his teeth, digging both hands into your hips as he sunk them in, groaning at the pop as your blood soaked his teeth. You were crying, screaming into the pillow as your entire body begged for him, craving him, mind going blank as your blood dripped from his chin as he licked at the wound. He pressed on, nibbling into the crook of your neck and sucking revolting hickies into your skin, marking you like an animal. “Wan- Want you to come on m- my cock, baby. I got- gotta fill you full, want y- you ruined for everyone b- but me.” He mumbled quickly, cock begging to spill inside of your warm cunt as you reached around, gripping his hair as he sunk his teeth in again, walls fluttering around him. You pulled his hair, dragging his mouth off of your neck and to your lips, smashing your swollen, tear-stained lips against his as he groaned, kissing you roughly.

You were cumming again, back arching onto Toby’s cock as you moaned into his mouth, walls holding him tight inside. He tried to move, to continue thrusting, but you were so tight all he could do was rutt his hips, begging for friction as his own seed spilt, his brows screwing tight as he came deep inside of you, warm cum seeping deep into your cunt. Your mind was blank, eyes rolled as you cried into his grasp, his nails digging into your hips until you were nearly bleeding. Your cunt squelched, milking his cock as he finally pulled from your lips, letting the last of your orgasms fizzle out before he pushed off of you, slowly tugging himself out as you whined. Looking back, his cock was soaked, glistening with your arousal and streaks of blood, Toby’s eyes wide. “Ah… Yo- You tore…” He hissed, wiping his soft cock with his shirt before pulling his boxers on, quickly trotting out of your room. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, cunt aching and body ruined as you sat in your sweat and each other’s cum, mind tired as you slowly blinked.

Toby was back in seconds, a water bottle, a wet rag, and a small bag all in tow as he climbed back onto the bed, flipping your lazy body onto your back. You smiled, sipping the water bottle slowly as he began to clean you up, gently running the warm rag between your folds and against your thighs until he was satisfied, gently rubbing your skin. Finally, he grabbed the bag, your confusion evident as he tugged out the prescription bag, rummaging for the plan b he made you buy and popping one of the pills out, handing it to you as he smiled. Your chest welled, previous anxiety dissipating until you began to tear up, taking the small pill before reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down next to you. Toby went easily, body cradling against yours as he kissed against the bruised spots on your neck, rubbing your bite mark gently.

As you began to doze, Toby mumbled something about your note, your mind too dizzy to hear the rest. The last thing you saw was a subtle flash behind your eyelids, sleep overtaking you as Toby held you close.

Morning came quickly, your body stirring, reaching for Toby but finding the bed empty. Confused, you sat up, eyes heavy and head still pounding but you pressed off the bed anyway, searching for the boy. Downstairs, on the countertop, laid his hoodie neatly folded, with a small piece of paper resting on top. Sauntering over, you reached for the top, sliding it over your head, it falling before your hips as you gripped the paper, reading its contents.

On a mission. Be back later tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy ;)

Flipping the paper over, you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth. A small picture was taped to the back, a polaroid-type photo of the two of you cradled together, your bare body pressed against his, bruises and sweat on full display. Smiling, you tucked it into his pocket, breathing the scent of his hoodie deep as Addy circled your ankles, begging for breakfast.

Staring out your back porch door, you made sure it was unlocked, always open for him. Killer or not, that boy was yours now, accepting his every mishap the same way he did yours. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted.

Rest in Hell, Mr. Higgs.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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