#murdering his own daughter? more likely than you'd think

[the-true-tulpar-captain]

*approaches and flops on the floor*

- @responsible-intern

"........ I'll drag you to the airlock if you stay down there you know. The floors are filthy dude."

[cheyisagirlkisser]

hi!! could u pls write about prison vi or ellie x sweetheart reader who works as the librarian at the prison <3

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮. (𝐕𝐈)

content: fem reader who works at stillwater's library, prisoner vi, fluff, powder mention, mention of implied sa, kind of angsty because i can't write stillwater without mentioning the injustice.

a/n: hi anon sorry for the long wait for this request i've been brainstorming for it but decided to wait until frenzy was out to start it. as for ellie, i have an ellie and sweetheart reader fic i've been working on! it's still deep in the drafts though. i hope you enjoy this:)

Stillwater's contents are harsh and hard to look at. The walls, stacks to the highest of heights, are simply grey bricks with cracks that will never see maintenance. The cafeteria's lighting is low and depressing, and the view of the prison from afar is of the alcatraz, only that prison would be a heaven for stillwater's inhabitants.

The cells are even worse, and that is where prisoners stay most of their sentence. Writings on the drab-toned walls is not uncommon. The beds are made of cheap steel, the springs imprinting into the backs of prisoners even through a mattress layer. Stillwater is the type of place you'd see parents make up scary stories about to keep their children out of inevitable trouble.

However, inside the high fence surrounding the institution, there lay one part that is less Edgar Allen Poe-esque.

You take pride in the library you've been given. Just on the first floor and to the right, prisoners can enter through the doors if they are permitted free time. Inside is your job and where you try to make the miserable a bit less miserable.

You were born in Piltover to a wealthy family, though you didn't care for the life of arts and exquisite tastes. Instead, you secured a well-paying job at a prison most people would rather gauge their eyes out than step foot in. It was when you caught a glimpse of a face through a dark, hidden cell that you accepted the job, and from there, you've tried your best to correct enforcer wrongs.

You sit at the front desk, a pen in your hand.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

Around you is the library you've furnished with books-some your favorites, some you've found as donated treasures or upon a relative's dust-collecting shelf. Though it isn't much, you work with the budget given to, as the council calls it, "provide prisoners with educational resources." You'd like to say that it's more than that for you, however.

You've grown fond of a few prisoners, and some are regulars. Many don't bother with the library, but the ones who do are often the people that you think about at night. Their stories keep you up.

A single mother whose choices were limited, while the mouths she needed to feed were needy.

A man whose daughter was spotted on the street by a group of thugs, a man who would rather be put on trial for murders than know that the men walked freely.

Countless stories of people who deserved a lesser sentence or none at all, while the council's own crimes stack like a pile of dirty magazines.

One girl in general separates herself from the rest, however. You find yourself thinking about her the most.

Click, click, click, click.

You hear the door open, two enforcers present behind Vi. They shut the door behind her, and she walks towards you without much hesitation.

"Got anything new for me?" She asks, eyes briefly glancing over the stack of paperwork at your desk before meeting yours.

"It's been a while since you've visited." You notice, as if asking for an explanation.

"What, you miss me or somethin'?" Vi teases, laughing at the small, embarrassed huff that slips past your lips.

"I'm allowed to care for the people here, especially you. Please tell me you didn't get yourself into anymore trouble, Vi. I told you it worries me." Your tone carries a hint of worry that Vi is unfamiliar with in other people. She doesn't get much bonding behind bars, and to be frank, she doesn't know how to take it.

"It wasn't my fault." She says quietly, not quite meeting your concerned gaze. "I just want something to read. Anything new for me?"

You nod, stepping behind the desk and leading her to an aisle a few rows down. It's further out from your desk, and your heels are loud on the ground, especially loud with just you and Vi in your library.

"I'll never get how you walk in those shoes." You hear Vi say from behind you, and you laugh despite the jab.

"I'm used to it." You simply tell her, leading her down through the aisle.

"I forget you're a Piltie." Though that is another insult, there is something fonder hidden behind it. You know how much Vi hates the better-off, and if she forgets she hates you, isn't that a good thing? "You know, when me and my sister were little, I remember how much she wanted a pair of shoes just like those. I always thought they looked silly, but they kinda suit you." She says quietly, a softness in her voice.

You stop at the end of the aisle and grab a novel from the fourth shelf. You turn back to Vi and hold it up for her eyes to read over the title.

"Your Native Land, Your Life." Vi reads aloud, brows furrowed in confusion. "A poetry collection?"

You nod, a small smile on your face. "Yup. Some of her poetry took me a while to understand, but I think the read is worth it. Really beautiful stuff."

Vi nods, and you're glad she doesn't make a move to leave. You take in her tattoed face and the sharpness of her jaw. It always bothers you how little they feed Stillwater prisoners, but at the same time, something in Vi carries a beauty that you like to admire when you're allowed to.

You think that there is something sweet in Vi that can't ever truly die. You see many prisoners harden with their experiences in here, but not Vi. She carries herself with violence in her cell and throughout the hallways with the rest of the group, but the bits of information she shares with you regarding her sister tells you otherwise. The way she speaks to you makes you want to ask what you are to her, but you refrain. It's mere kindness, and you should be professional.

Still, you don't move away or scream for the guards as she currently leans in. You let her breath hit your face.

"You confuse the hell out of me." She tells you, quietly and intimately. When you seem confused, she continues. "I know you've heard the stories about me. The things I've done to people in here. Yet you still look at me like I'm as innocent as a doe."

"You aren't automatically a horrible person because you're here, Vi."

She scoffs, but doesn't step away from you. "I've done shitty things. Doesn't that make me a shitty person?" She speaks, low and vulnerable. Her voice is unusually small.

"I don't think you are." You say quietly. You can't help but smile at each other. Before you can even think, Vi's lips press against yours in a soft, hesitant but sweet kiss. You process what is happening and return the kiss. Your hands cup her jaw, fingers threading through her soft hair. She presses you against the shelf with a hand around your waist, but she doesn't press for more. Her lips move against yours affectionately for a few more seconds, lingering before she reluctantly pulls away.

This is what always gets you-that look in Vi's eyes, vulnerable and loving. You see it when she talks about things she loves, and you long for it when the prison weighs her down. Her thumb makes contact with your cheek and strokes the soft skin.

"You need to get back to your cell. It's almost lights out." You reluctantly say, still not pulling away. Neither of you can seem to seperate, wanting to prolong the moment. "Promise me you'll stay out of trouble?"

"If it means I can visit you again." She plants one last kiss on your lips before letting you go.

You truly feel sympathy for all of Stillwater's prisoners. You think of them and their situations. You think about their families back in the undercity. However, you think of Vi the most, in the dark of your room. You'll let yourself think of her until you drift asleep tonight, and imagine if she were with you, her hands keeping you cozy and tight in her embrace.

taglist: @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz (if the tag doesn't work it's because of your settings!)

[i-cant-sing]

Okay okay, I have another idea-

Yandere dad Nanami x Nanami reader

I've made yall see the menace Fushiguro reader who we all love and adore, but let's talk about Nanami's daughter who is an absolute angel and polar opposite to Fushiguro reader.

Child reader is just the most well behaved kid, listens to her father always, and since Nanami is raising her, she's also going to be very good in her studies because papa Nanami is a very good teacher. I mean, reader is definitely on top of her class and has a whole wall dedicated to her awards and medals. She just has to show off her math skills when she plays cafe (because obv she's gonna be a baker who bakes fresh bread daily for Nanami to buy and make sandwiches) and uses Monopoly money.

And when I say reader is polite, that is the understatement of the history. She just cannot bear to offend anyone! She has to put "-san" with everyone's name and has to address them correctly. "Yuji-san! Megumi-San!" And "pervert-San!" Which is Gojo, because of course Nanami has told her to beware of him and only address him as "pervert-san".

"But my name's Gojo!" He tells you, but you're so distressed because dad told you to call the white haired man wearing a blindfold/glasses "pervert-san" and it'd be rude to address him as anything else!

And Nanami adores his kid so much. She's such a perfect child, never breaks rules (don't talk to strangers or Pervert san.) and is such a goody-goody. He is a present father, he makes time for you. The Jujutsu sorcerers can wait, the world can be saved by someone else, but he needs to attend your school play at all costs. And even when hes not around for the day, he has raised you to be a very responsible child- like you even go get the groceries on your own when dad is late! (Like that Japanese show in which they send kids to shop on their own)

But of course, there are times when he needs to be away for longer periods, so he needs to hire a babysitter. His top choices: Shoko(although hes a little hesitant since you have a morbid curiosity learning and Shoko would happily let you accompany her to the morgue), Yuta, Maki, Megumi + Yuji + Nobara.

Who is NEVER allowed to babysit you? Gojo.

Gojo babysits anyway. (He fr steals you from Megumi trio)

And Nanami just comes home to Gojo and reader eating takeout and he's just like "Y/n, how could you let Pervert san in your home and eat with him?" And reader's just on the brink of tears and is trying to defend herself "b-but you said to be polite to guests! And Pervert-san bought food for me. Wouldn't it be rude to not share it with him?" *reader's teary eyes* and then Gojo is like "you'd rather let your child starve? Can't you see how tiny she already is?!" *Gojo's teary eyes* and Nanami pops a vein "it's not cute when you do it!"And then kicks Gojo out of the house.

Even though reader can dress herself up appropriately, she still has to have her hair done by Nanami, no matter what age. At some point, reader probably realises that it's something Nanami needs more than she does. It's a tradition, you think, but it's actually a coping mechanism for Nanami to deal with the fact that you're "growing up" and don't ask him to watch cartoons with you or read you bedtime stories anymore🥺

And Sukuna??? He takes one look at you and he's already decided he's gonna be mean to you, but then the more time you spend with him and Yuji, the more he realises.... its just not worth being mean to the only person who is so sweet to him and actually greets and talks to him like he's an individual person and not just a parasite inside Yuji's skin. Like reader just goes "Sukuna-san! I'm painting Yuji-san's nails but he can't pick a color. Will you help?" And he's like "Alright, fuck it I'm taking this brat with me when I comit mass murder. She's safe."

I feel like Nanami will allow reader to have a fairly normal childhood, so he keeps his yandere tendencies at a bay. It's when you start growing up and as he says "the others try to taint you with momentary pleasures" that his yandereness begins to show. Honestly, it's just more of his protective tendencies coming to light than anything else. He thinks people don't have your best interests in and sometimes he's right, but how else will you learn if you don't experience it?

Also, if you do end up having cursed energy and the ability to see curses, I think that's when Nanami starts spiralling down. He does not want you to become a Jujutsu sorcerer, he wants you far far away from the Jujutsu world completely. He can't- he can't allow what happened to Haibrara happen to you. He can't allow your innocence and naivety to be tainted by the horrendous world of curses. He'd rather risk you hating him forever as he locks you away than allow you to put your life at risk for others.

You are his priority. Your safety is his priority. You'll understand in due time why he did what he did, so while his heart does break hearing you cry and beg to be let out of your room, he doesn't regret putting you in there one bit.

Nanami sighs as he continues prepping your dinner. Guess he'll have to add some crushed sleeping pills so that you don't get sick from crying your bodyweight out (or more like he can't bear to see you in such a pitiful state.)

God save the poor souls who do end up kidnapping you.

[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: HOTD

Character: Daemon Targaryen

Pairing: Platonic

Type of fic: Concept

Extra info: Daemon sees fem!Reader as a daughter, even if she's not his own child. (Whether she's Alicent's daughter or Rhaenyra's daughter is up to you)

-🥝 anon

OOO! DAD DAEMON? Let me try my best at this. Hope this wasn't too OOC?

Yandere! Platonic! Daemon Targaryen with Daughter! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Murder, Blood, Mild gore/Grotesque descriptions, Isolation, Spying, Dubious companionship.

If Daemon was your biological father, you'd have to be a bastard he had with another woman who he then took in as his daughter.

Regardless... Daemon seems like an intimidating father?

Of course he's going to be fiercely protective and most likely never hurt his daughter, yet he may sometimes scare you.

He's a man of action, ambition, and murder.

So... by the sound of that... he isn't the most traditional father.

By Targaryen standards, that probably sounds about right though.

I don't think Daemon is very nurturing either as he isn't around his other daughters most of the time.

He's off doing his own thing, most likely wooing ladies or looking for more combat.

Yet when it comes to you, he's... oddly attentive?

Most of the time you are with Rhaenyra.

Especially if he takes you in as his own near when the family falls apart after his brother's death.

Daemon's treatment of you would be unfair.

Which would be even stranger if you were a bastard he sired at one point in time.

He's not known to see his children often.

He still does since he cares for them, but it's like he isn't sure how to be... there for them?

Even with you, who's seemingly his favorite for one reason or another, he seems unsure how to approach you at times.

He may also just be bad with daughters.

After all, you aren't meant to get yourself covered in blood like he is.

You're a Targaryen, perhaps even one with a dragon of your own, yet Daemon is the one who primarily fights for you.

Daemon doesn't care what others think about him when it comes to you.

You're his daughter, he recognizes that.

It's just strange to many that he actually seems to try and be caring to you.

He'll have you meet his daughters, he'll allow you around Rhaenyra's boys.

While many would think he'd be absent...

For some reason he isn't with you?

It's not quite coddling... He's just more involved than he is with the others.

He oversees your dragon riding, he often turns down betrothals proposed to you...

He's protective and caring in his own way.

It even gets a bit... overwhelming for you.

When he does leave to go attend other duties, it's like he always knows what you're doing.

Knowing Daemon, wouldn't surprise me if he hired someone to keep tabs on you.

If he can't be there, he'll find other ways to know what you're doing.

Daemon wouldn't really go out of his way to teach his darling to fight.

Although you'd most likely learn at some point due to the fact you're around children who know how to.

He doesn't really want you fighting, but accepts you at least learning how.

He's not the most affectionate father, his brother was probably better at that for the most part (Stretching it)...

But he's certainly protective.

Daemon would not accept you being bad mouthed.

The people may whisper about you, they always do when it comes to Targaryens.

Yet if Daemon ever catches them?

He'll cut out their tongue and make things bloody.

He's known for being a ruthless warrior.

Many fear him for that and that's why many avoided him being king.

You know your father is this way.

But while he may argue with Rhaenyra or get into physical altercations with others...

He's strangely gentle with you.

He loves you, he really does.

Most of the time he shows if by protecting your honor... in the most brutal way possible.

Sometimes, however... He enjoys holding his beloved daughter, just to feel a bit more grounded.

Especially when he's at Harrenhal, he most likely wishes to take you with him...

All those nightmares are going to break him, know that?

Daemon is no traditional father, yet overprotective fits him.

As time goes on he may go from mostly absent to involved.

He loves your smile and can't believe how pretty you've become.

That also means he isn't going to betroth you to just anyone.

Oftentimes when lords ask to marry you to their sons for negotiations and politics, Daemon turns hostile and dismissive.

"Leave her out of this, she will not be some broodmare for your son."

Does this lose some political connections or causes tension? Sometimes.

Daemon doesn't care, he's always been a selfish man.

His daughter isn't going to have such a fate.

You'll stay beside him, under his protection, for as long as he can pull it off.

If he finds someone for you, then he will approve of any marriages.

Most of the time when others bring it up he just wants to feed them to Caraxes.

Having a daughter during this time period is meant to be a way to get heirs, yes.

But Daemon cares more about your protection than that.

Daemon could be considered manipulative for making his daughter only trust him...

Again, he doesn't care.

Yandere! Daemon as a father is overprotective no matter the cost.

While not the most affectionate, he keeps an eye on his daughter.

Even when he's not around, you know Daemon has you in mind.

How could you not when you hear news of him slaughtering some other poor fool for bringing you up?

Some may call him overprotective, but to Daemon...

This is his form of love...

He doesn't plan to let you go until he approves of it... If he ever will.

[patheticdarling]

Mad With Grief

Summary: Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon swore to avenge their son, Prince Lucerys. An eye for an eye. A son for a son. And now Prince Aemond and his sister-wife had to make the preparations for their eldest son's funeral.

Warnings: death/blood & cheese/mourning/death of a child/funeral/crying/depression/incest (Targaryen)/oc children of aemond & reader/suicidal undertones/possible hotd season 2 spoilers!

Word Count: 1861

*NOT MY GIF*

You could not begin to describe the feelings that lingered throughout your body. It seemed as if your soul was detached from your physical being and now you were just a shell of a woman.

"There we are, Princess," your handmaiden finished applying your makeup. You struggled to move your eyes to the mirror in front of you. She had applied a generous amount to brighten up your colorless face, "As beautiful as ever."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, "Thank you," it was barely audible. "That'll be all for now."

She gave you a quick curtsy before gathering the mess and leaving the room. As soon as the door shut, you could no longer hold back the tears as they came pouring down. The sobs followed soon after and you had no care to conceal them.

It was said the night your son was slain that your cries of anguish shook the very walls of the Red Keep.

"Who are you?" you demanded. You didn't recognize the two men before you, instinctively shielding your children with your own body.

"Debt collectors," the smaller of the two men spoke up. "An eye for an eye, a son for a son. We only want the one, t’ square things. Won’t hurt the rest o’ you fine folks, not one lil’ hair. Which one you want t’ lose, Princess?"

All of the hairs on your body stood on end when you realized just what the men meant. Your husband had killed Lucerys and now, a debt was owed.

"No," you shook your head profusely as you pushed your eldest son behind you, your two younger children bundled in your arms, "Kill me instead. Please. I beg you. Don't hurt my children."

"A wife's not a son," the bigger man grunted, "It has to be a boy."

"Please," you continued to plead, your older son weeping as he clutched the skirts of your dress, "Not my boys. Rhaenyra would not want this. She has always been merciful, please."

"Your sister, the Queen, has lost far too much. Her father, her baby, and now her son. By your husband's hand, might I add. I don't think mercy is an option any longer." the smaller man explained.

"It was an accident," you muttered, "A horrible, regrettable accident. My husband may be guilty, yes. But my children are innocent. Please."

"We don't want to hurt you, Princess. But a debt is owed. Besides, you'll still have two more when it's done," the man used his blade to elude to your children, "So, I suggest you make your choice before we kill all three of them."

You fell to your knees, there was no way out of this. One of your boys had to die or you'd lose all three of your children. You looked at each of your sons, caressing their silver locks. You would never forgive yourself for this. "Mummy loves you."

You kissed the head of your youngest son before shakily handing him over to the men, sobbing as you watched him mockingly rock the year old babe.

"You hear that, little boy? the small man whispered to your son, "Your momma wants you dead."

And before you could register the evil grin he exchanged with the larger man, his blade had already murdered your elder son. You felt your heart stop beating before the most Earth-shattering sob left your lips.

Everything after that shifted into a gut-wrenching blur. You could not manage to feel anything other than pure and utter grief, like a dagger was constantly being driven through your heart with every breath you took. You could not bring yourself to eat, drink, or even bathe. Your mother, the Dowager Queen, urged you to stay strong for your remaining son and only daughter. But how could you even bear to look at him? You had named your year old son to die.

You had not seen your husband since. Part of you wanted what every woman wanted from their husband in times of grieving, a shoulder to cry on and a place to feel safe. And part of you couldn't even stomach the idea of seeing him, of knowing that he was partially to blame for the loss of your son.

A soft knock came to the door, "Y/N?" your mother's soft voice called into the room, she let out a heavy sigh at your sobbing figure, rushing over and wrapping her arms around you.

You fell into her touch. You never had the best relationship with your mother growing up but she loved your children nearly as much as you and Aemond did. It was her who looked in on your babies everyday since.

"My dearest girl," she sniffled as she stroked your hair, "Shhh, it's alright. I'm here."

"I cannot do this, Mother," you cried, "I-I cannot say goodbye to him so soon."

"He's in a better place, Y/N," she tried to soothe me, "Somewhere safe, where no one can ever harm him."

"They already harmed him. And I could not protect him. My husband was not here! I was alone-"

It was as if your words held magical intent within them. Your breath hitched in your throat as your husband walked into the room. Your mother helping you both to your feet.

She took in a deep breath, "I'll go see if the carriage is ready. Ring the bell if you need me," she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before moving to greet Aemond with a quick kiss on the cheek.

Your eyes remained locked with his until the minute the door clicked shut and suddenly you lacked the strength to stand once again. Your knees hit the floor as you broke back into sobs.

Aemond dropped everything and rushed over to hold you, "I am so sorry, I am so sorry," he muttered over and over again.

You couldn't help but cling to him, the contempt you held falling as you grieved your child together, "My sweet boy. My first baby boy."

"I will avenge him, I swear this to you, my love-"

"Avenge him?!" you nearly pushed him back and onto his ass as the blame you placed on your husband returned, "Your vengeance is the reason why Rhaenyra wanted one of our sons dead in the first place!"

Both of you now rose to your feet, "I told you it was an accident. I lost control of Vhagar and-"

"And now our son is dead," you concluded. Aemond's jaw clenched at your words. "Did they tell you what they made me do?"

"Y/N, we don't have to discuss this."

"Did they tell you, Aemond?" you reiterated, Aemond softly shook his head at your question, "They made me choose. Choose which of our sons to die. They said there was a debt to be paid. I begged them to kill me instead. But Rhaenyra wanted a son. Said they would kill all three of them if I didn't choose." Tears fell from Aemond's remaining eye as you continued to speak shakily, "And I named Jaehaerys. Our sweet baby. I thought perhaps he was too young to understand. And Viserys-" your voice caught in your throat at the mention of your late son, "He is our first son and the only heir until Helaena gives Aegon a son. And they butchered him like a sheep for slaughter."

"I never meant for any of this to happen, Y/N. And I will never forgive myself for letting them hurt you or our children."

"I have not been to the nursery since," you ignored his apologies, "How can I mother a child that I was willing to sacrifice? I shouldn't even be allowed to call myself a mother after what I've done."

"Y/N, you are the best mother and our children, they need you. Nobody else could raise them as admirably as you have."

You just shook your head as the bells of King's Landing rang in the background, "We must go. The funeral is starting."

Aemond tried to reach for your hand, "My love, we do not-"

You simply pulled away, not saying another word as you gathered yourself, ringing the bell for your mother and maids to return.

"Are we ready?" your mother asked, you simply nodded before taking her arm.

"Y/N, please," Aemond tried yet again to pull you back to him.

"Aemond," your mother cut him off, "That is enough. We must all be going now."

You could not recall the events of your son's funeral. Not the precession, the burial, the speeches, or even how you returned to the castle after. It felt as if it all took too much effort. Your children were your only reasons for living and yet you couldn't even bear to mother them as you wished. Because wanting was too much. You felt you didn't deserve to want any longer. Living was too much effort.

"Y/N!" your husband's horrified tone rang in your ears. Your mind finally registering what your body had done.

As you looked down at the perilous fall to the spikes that decorated the fall from the Red Keep. Your toes basically hanging off as you stood on the ledge.

"Please, darling," Aemond quietly begged, "We need you. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, they need you. I need you."

Matching streams of tears ran down both you and Aemond's cheeks. This is what it was to be mad with grief. To be so heartbroken that you cared so little about living.

You were sure the rest of your family was grieving your son as well. But not like this. None of them could even begin to fathom the thoughts or feelings you had, or did not have any longer.

"Y/N, please come down from the ledge," Aemond sobbed and begged. You had never seen him so broken, so fearful. And it might've been at that moment that you realized that Aemond might have been the only person in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms who shared in your despair. Strangely, that relieved you. To know you were not alone in your mourning.

Slowly and with Aemond's muttered encouragement, you stepped down and back onto the floor of your bedchamber. Aemond did not rush to put his arms around you or even rush over to you at all. He took quiet and calculated strides, the anguish that had built in his body at the thought of losing you, seemed to melt away with each step.

Though the tears still poured from both of you as he gently cupped your face in his hands, "I'm sorry, Aemond. Truly, I-"

"Shhh," his voice shook under the softness of his tone. Aemond softly pulled you into his embrace. His sobs muffled in your silver locks and yours muffled in his dark-green clad chest. The two of you gradually sinking to the floor, never loosening your grip on the other. The two of you quietly afraid of what might happen if you let the other go.

That maddening grief settled for a moment.

"We will avenge him."

Before taking over once again.

[calmcoldevening]

• Thomas hewitt (dating)- So Reader knows Thomas like we were born in the same town or were neighbors something of the sorts. And we hear rumors about how the Hewitt family are murders,/cannibals. But we remind our business cause we're like, nah cause they didn't hurt me or I haven't seen anything, They're just a little quirky, We defend their family. But for some reason Luda tells us not to go in the basement, We're like okay, whatever it's not my business. Reader is like a, 'idc not my business type.' Until one day reader hears noises or something, so we get curiousand go down there. But this is where we enter the angst, Cause Thomas or someone hears movement in the basement and thinks a victim is trying to escape. So they do something to us which makes us scared of them (torture or something) and it can end with like fluff or something, Because im pretty sure reader would forgive them.

Thomas Hewitt x reader, who knew out he's a cannibal and murderer

Tw: cannibalism, murdering, blood, violence (well, it's the TCM)

Texas was your home, you loved everything about it, from the picturesque meadows filled with yellow buttercups to the dusty city road. These beautiful orange and scarlet sunsets and golden sunrises reflected in a small lake fifteen minutes walk from your house looked like the most real picturesque paintings. It was hot and humid during the day, and cool enough at night. The air was filled with dust and dry grass. Birds were rustling in the distance.

You liked everything here, because you grew up in this place. Your parents moved to Texas before you were born, so this was the only place you'd ever seen in your life. But it was heaven for you. The city you lived in was relatively small, so everyone knew each other.

You've always been sweet and kind, perhaps even a naive child with a soul too pure for this world. Maybe that's why all the neighbors in the neighborhood loved you. The children played with you, and the kind grandmothers often treated you to sweets or pies. Your face has always been decorated with a satisfied smile and cookie crumbs.

Everyone was surprised when they found out about your friendship with the "strange boy". His name was Thomas, he was one of your neighbors down the road. You called him Tommy. His face was covered with a decent layer of bandages, which he kept awkwardly adjusting with his small hands. You always giggled with that cute gesture, but not out of malice, but in a kind way. After that, you went up to him and gently helped him cope with his little problem. You combed his hair and put his hands in order. The boy always had short-cropped nails with dirt under them and dry palms, probably from housework. But apart from his oddities and inability to talk, and he was quite an ordinary child.

Almost.

Sometimes you'd find him somewhere in the backyard or in the field. He stood there, deep in thought. Next to him, you noticed a small fluffy body and a crimson puddle. Sometimes you were scared of his violence against animals, but Thomas was always in a hurry to calm you down. He caressed your cheek and explained with gestures that he had only found the animal just like that. And you always believed him out of your stupid childish naivety. Time passed, and you got closer. The Hewitt family has always been kind to you. Sometimes, they were even more attentive and caring towards you than your own parents. Even grumpy Charlie. Sometimes a man intervened in disputes if you were molested by local hooligans. He could even punch them in their pretty faces, as long as they didn't touch you, the little girl of this family. Luda has always wanted a daughter, and now you have appeared. The woman was more than happy when she found out how close you are with her son. That's why it was no secret that you and Tommy were dating. On the contrary, Luda helped Thomas in every possible way to impress you, she helped him make gifts for you and told him how to take care of the girls. Charlie just turned on his adult film cassettes, that's all his support.

You really loved each other. You were the only one who really understood and cared about Tommy, despite his appearance. You loved his long dark hair, which you often so gently washed and combed. You loved those frosty blue eyes, like two big deep lakes full of love for you. You loved his masks, and tenderly kissed every scar on Thomas's face and hands. You were perfect. Tommy's heart belonged entirely to you.

And now you're 24. Thomas was a little older, but it was never a problem. The man was still very attentive and caring.

But gradually the city emptied with the closure of the slaughterhouse. It was a big blow for most of the residents of the city, because there were no other ways to earn money here. You turned out to be one of the few who stayed. Maybe you just didn't want to leave your home. Or maybe you didn't want to leave Thomas and his family. Anyway, it wasn't easy for all of you, at least because basically there wasn't a lot of food and all that.

But after a while, surprisingly, everything got better. Not really, of course, but old Charlie started getting meat from somewhere. It wasn't as tender as some beef used to be, but it's better than nothing. Although you weren't a big fan of meat before, so you almost didn't care about it. You helped Luda in her shop at the gas station, and at home in your free time you even grew some vegetables, which also helped the Hewitt family a lot. In general, everything was more than good, and yet, the atmosphere in the house was different now.

There have always been some strange rumors around the Hewitt family, sometimes even terrible ones. And yet, you loved Tommy no matter what. The whole family was kind to you, so you had no reason to doubt them, right? Thomas has always been nice to you. You often walked on cool evenings, just holding hands. You were talking about your day, and he just listened with a smile on his lips. You were the only person he trusted and loved. The guy liked your voice, your way of talking and your laugh. Undoubtedly, in his eyes you were damn beautiful, but it seemed that he was forever looking through your appearance, into your very soul. It was so sweet. You couldn't help but fall in love with him even more.

You were in the kitchen at the Hewitt house making a pumpkin pie. Luda has always been surprised by your wonderful cooking skills, so she wasn't afraid to leave you alone. He needed to go back to the store for a while, where Hoyt had taken her. So you're left alone. Humming to yourself, you swayed your hips to the beat of your made-up song. It's good that no one was watching you now and you could do anything. Finally, you put the pie in the oven and wiped your hands on the fabric of your apron with a victorious smile. After removing all the ingredients and washing the dishes, you sat down on a chair and just began to wait. Hundreds of different thoughts flashed through your head, from this very pie to the little ring you noticed in Tommy's room. You were filled with excitement, which made you happily bite your lip. Could it be...?

Your thoughts were interrupted by some kind of thud from somewhere below. Your body instantly tensed up. It was scary to hear something like that when you were alone at home.

You slowly got up from your chair. The sound seemed to come from the basement. But you clearly remembered that Luda, and the rest of the Hewitt family, told you not to go into the basement under any circumstances. It's strange, isn't it? Of course, you always followed this strange rule, but now that you were alone at home, you were scared of what might be there. You didn't find any better options than just going down to the basement and taking a peek. You're fast, no one will notice. What can happen?

The floorboards creaked unpleasantly under your careful steps. The unpleasantly cold water has touched your ankles.

Your eyes widened in horror, and you covered your mouth in fear. There was a man sitting at the other end of the basement, although he could hardly be called such anymore. His face was disfigured, and his arm and part of his leg were missing. His whole body was covered in scarlet blood. The victim's mouth was gagged and his eyes were painfully closed. There was an old bucket lying nearby. So that's what it was... The man was chained to the wall, and there was a massive hole from a meat hook on his shoulder.

"God.." the only thing that came out of your mouth was when you slowly backed away. My mouth was dry, and an unpleasant feeling of nausea was slowly rising in my stomach. Tears welled up at the corners of her eyes.

You took one hesitant step, then another. Finally, your back hit something massive. In the blink of an eye, a huge hand was placed on your mouth, and then darkness.

Thomas's mind was racing. You've seen their secret. Are you afraid now? Of course you're afraid. The moment he found you in the basement, your body was shaking in fear and your eyes were full of horror. But it's all for the family, you have to understand. Sure, Hoyt said to kill anyone who found out about their family secret, but Thomas couldn't kill you. You were his happiness, his light in life, his beloved. Therefore, he gently picked up your unconscious body in his arms, protectively hugging it to himself. It's just a misunderstanding, isn't it? Thomas left the basement, closing the metal door behind him, and headed for his bedroom. He put you on the bed, trying to make sure that you would be comfortable. You should get some sleep, then you can understand him. It's all for the family, for you. He wanted so much to see you as his little wife, to protect you and your possible children, he wanted it so much. But now his dreams were more fragile than ever.

You woke up in a dark room. It must have been Tommy's bedroom, judging by the big bed. You slowly sat up in bed, feeling a dull ache in your head. After a couple of moments, these horrible images of a corpse in the basement popped up in your head. You instantly wanted to empty your stomach. You put your hand over your mouth, feeling hot tears on your cheeks. Your head was throbbing painfully, and nothing came out of your chest except a long-drawn-out cheekbone. You slid down the bed to the floor, pressing your back against the wall in the corner of the room. Your body was shaking in terror, and your mind was full of vile, terrifying thoughts. I wanted to scream, but it felt like your tongue had been ripped out. You covered your head with your hands, tucking your knees in. You need to get out of here, run. Away from this house, away from this city, away from these people.

Your mental reverie was interrupted by the sudden creak of the door. The dark room was slightly illuminated by warm light from the corridor, the doorway was soon blocked by a tall bulky figure. You instinctively cringed, afraid of the consequences.

Thomas's heart ached as he watched you crawl away from him in fear. As his victims. He carefully closed the door and slowly approached you. You looked like a cornered animal. Thomas didn't like that feeling. He gently grabbed your hand, pulling you onto his lap. You resisted and tried to break free, your mind was racing wildly. But he didn't stop. He took you on his lap, holding you gently against his strong chest. You struggled and cried, afraid that you would be hurt. Thomas felt like his whole world was collapsing seeing you like this. You pounded his chest with your hands, muttering some words, but he wouldn't let go, Thomas just held you closer to him, stroking your back and trying to calm you down. You were afraid of him. It was like that.. wrong.

Finally, you were exhausted, hanging limply in his arms. Your head is on his chest, and only long sobs come out of your mouth. Thomas kisses you briefly on the forehead.

"No harm.." He mutters in a rough voice. He rarely talked, but it seemed like the best option right now, "..love Y/N."

You didn't answer. Your head ached, and your mind was empty, the animal fear in your body gradually subsided, replaced by fatigue. You fell asleep in his arms. Thomas sat there with you all night, afraid that something might happen to you.

In the days that followed, he took care of you and tried in every possible way to show that he would not harm you in any way. He'd rather kill himself if he hurt you. Thomas came into the room and fed you with a spoon. At first you refused and resisted in every possible way, but gradually, because of hunger, you simply did not have the strength left. Thomas brought you something that didn't have meat in it, he knew that meat could upset you. Stewed vegetables, your pumpkin pie, some snacks. Thomas wouldn't let anyone into this room, not even his mom. He had to make sure you were going to be okay. You are his sun, his reason to live.

Over time, it seemed that you had thawed out. It wasn't like you were completely resigned to the fact that the Hewitts were murderers and cannibals. But you realized they wouldn't hurt you, Tommy wouldn't let you. He explained to you that it's for survival. In a way, you realized that this was just the only way out, and yet it was still disgusting and disgusting for you. But Thomas didn't do it because he likes it. He did it for the sake of the family, protected it and fed it. It's necessary.

After a while, you even left the room, although you no longer looked towards the basement. Gradually, everything returned to normal. You even started living at the Hewitt house, Monty made sure to bring all your stuff here. You became the second mistress of Hewitt, Tommy's wife. He finally put the ring on your finger, and you realized all his warm love for you. Luda was glad that her boy had really found his happiness. Now you were sleeping together, giving each other love. You even went down to the basement if Thomas forgot to eat. Ignoring the screams of another victim, you placed the food tray on Thomas's workbench and gently touched his shoulder. The man turned around and wrapped you in a hot kiss. You had a strange feeling when you kissed so strangely to the screams of desperate victims. But it didn't matter. At that moment, it was just you and him, your husband Tommy.

[charlottecutepie]

☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: Ive been thinking for a very long time whether I should publish this fic here. this is my fav fic I wrote for fnaf, I especially like the way I portrayed William here. so please, if any of you would like to see this story here, can you leave a comment? It’ll help me to understand. I’m just unsure if I should post this fic here :’’)

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 2.

Chapter 1. Thoughts

Chilly spring night. Light wind and rain. It's so fresh outside that the opposite effect appears: you feel as if you are suffocating from excess air. Outside is your favourite smell of wet grass after the rain. Light smile appears on your lips, and you carelessly go out on the porch of your house, looking at the beautiful view in front of you.

At such moments, everything around seems to be a part of you, you feel some kind of connection with nature and this world. Peace, tranquility, two things what you lack in life.

Today was a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better? Tomorrow will be the same. And when will it be better? Does this hell have an end?

Your head is filled with bad thoughts. It feels like every day is getting a little worse than the previous one. You never understood why you deserved such treatment from your father. It was as if he was doing everything so that you wouldn't feel like his daughter. He never even called you that. Something bad happened in your family every day, mom and dad always argued, and you always ran into your room in a state of panic, anxiety. What if father does something to her? That's what happened a few years ago. When you called your aunt in tears, begging her to come, because your father broke your mom's leg and beat her to a concussion. You could have been next if your aunt hadn't arrived on time. That evening, the picture of father changed dramatically in your little child's head.

“Father” means something cold, something cruel. The one who can punch, beat, shout, scream. Abuse.

You live with this thought to this day, but the only thing that has changed is that now there is no father anymore. He died a month ago, which was a shock to your whole little family. You hardly remember what happened exactly on the day of his death, but you clearly memorised your mother who cried all night because she knew well that the only one who could work to feed the family was her husband.

And now, because of this husband she cannot find a well-paid job, because he took care to provide her with a serious disability. And you're too young to work, first you must finish school and university.

Your skin was covered with goosebumps, you went back into the house. Passing by mom's room, you made sure that she was asleep and went to your own one.

Tomorrow is another day.

…

June 22.

“Y/n, breakfast is ready.” you heard mom's voice from the kitchen. Telling her you'd be coming soon, you headed to the bathroom to comb your hair and wash your face.

On the dining table you saw a plate with your favorite breakfast. Pancakes with honey, it couldn't not make you happy. You smiled and sat down opposite your mom. Woman was in a joyful mood.

“Good morning, dear, how did you sleep?” she asked gently, examining your face expression. That's how your conversation started, about everything and nothing at once. She told something about her plans for today, for a week, about her friends, about how one of them gave birth again. You just enjoyed her monologue, sometimes nodding and shaking your head. It was nice for you to see a sparkle in mom's eyes, it was something strange and unique for you, but warming soul. “I absolutely forgot that soon is your birthday!”

“Oh, really? If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have remembered…” you answered in confusion, fidgeting in your chair and twitching your leg. For some reason, the mention of your birthday made you uncomfortable. Probably because it will be your first birthday without your father. After all, when he was alive, you never really celebrated it. The maximum that was — sweets that your mother gave you in secret from him. You wonder what will happen this time?

“How are we going to celebrate?” Mom asked, smile on her face.

You looked at the floor, nervously fiddling with your shorts. You scratched your head, trying to think of something, but no idea came to mind. Your thoughts are empty again.

“It's your 18th birthday… We need to celebrate it well somehow.” for a second she paused, before looking at you with cheerful face. “Oh… Mr. Afton!”

Your eyes widened in surprise, because after the funeral, your family stopped communicating with Afton family.

“Mom, what are you up to?” you frowned. To be honest, you always got shivers running down your spine from his name, because your last meeting was at that cemetery, on the day of your father's funeral. Memories have entered your mind, forcing you to remember your last dialogue with Mr. Afton.

After the burial itself happened, you ran away from the crowd away. Your heart was racing like crazy, trying to jump out of your chest. You sat down on a wet bench, covering your face in hysterics. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto a puddle under the bench.

“Young lady,” a low-pitched male voice called you out of hysteria. “Everything is okay? You've been sitting here for hour.”

You opened your eyes and raised your head. Next to you was standing was a tall, middle-aged man with dark brown hair, dressed in black trousers and a jacket. He leaned towards you, holding an umbrella over your head. His face seemed painfully familiar, but because of the hysteria, you couldn't remember who it was.

“Oh god, Y/n? I didn't recognize you, little one. Why are you sitting here all alone?” he smiled broadly as he sat down next to you on the bench, still holding the umbrella for you. “Your mom is looking for you, she's so worried. Her beloved girl is lost.”

You recognised this man. It was none other than William Afton. One of your father's friends, he often came to visit you, and your family also visited him. You were embarrassed by ignoring his questions because you didn't know what to respond. He's been staring at your face the whole time.

“Come on, princess, I see how cold you are.” with these words, he took off his jacket, putting it on your shoulders. “I understand how hard it is for you, honey.”

You haven't received so many nicknames from any men for all your 17 years of life. Never, not once. His voice at some point began to seem more comfortable and soothing. Because of all the surging emotions, you burst into tears again in front of him, no longer hiding your face. William, not wasting a minute, threw umbrella and took you in his arms, so that your face was hidden in his chest. His cold hands stroked your hair, soothing you, calming you. It may have looked strange from out of context, but you really needed support in such hard moment.

“Don't cry, Y/n. You'll be fine, little one.” he talked and talked endlessly, but because of your own tears and sobs, you ignored everything, only burying your nose in his chest more.

“He's the owner of a pizzeria! Do you want to celebrate there? I'm sure he'll give us a discount in honor of such an event.” her smile never disappeared for a second. You were already beginning to doubt at how real her emotions were.

“Are you sure? We don't have much money anyway…”

“Never mind, I want you to finally have the best birthday, dear.” she winked and got up from the table, putting the plates and mugs in the sink.

Your lips curled at the thought of having to see William again.

[thesunfyre4446]

I remember when the scripts for deleted scenes were being posted and Team Black was praising Daemon as father of the year for awkwardly saying “Let’s have you with us for now” to his daughter he had not seen in years even though he lived like a 1/2 hr - 1 hr fly away.

They are now pissed that this season will explore Baela’s feeling distant toward Daemon and Rhaena feeling resentment that Baela got to live with their Grandmother while she was left alone on Dragonstone with the “Braedy” Bunch. TB built a fantasy in their heads of “Girl Dad” Daemon and of Rhaena being Rhaenyra’s “favorite child” because she gives her handmaid Rhaena hand me down dresses and jewelry.

We’ve seen no evidence of Daemon being a good father or a good stepfather. We have seen Rhaena’s distressed being ignored by him because he can’t be a grown man about her not having a dragon. We have seen him hang back in the shadows and not show any concern towards his daughters who were just in a fight that ended in another child losing an eye. We saw him only step forward to (according to the script) to try and Attack Alicent from behind and to see about Rhaenyra’s wound.

We’ve seen this blood purist hate his nephews and niece who are all dragon riders that look like the picture of Old Valyria because they have a Hightower mom. Yet people believe he actually cares for Rhaenyra’s Strong sons who are more Andal than Valyrian?

While we DO see Aegon’s pride in his children. His subtle acknowledgement of his daughter who he knows enough about that he knows she has an aversion to touch like her Mother. We see him show his son more attention than both his father and his uncle have ever shown their children. We see Daemon help Rhaenyra steal his daughter’s birthright, while he see Aegon show enthusiasm in training his son to be King.

We saw Daemon not come to Rhaenyra’s aid when she was calling for him while painfully delivering a malformed stillborn baby. We never see Daemon grieve this baby, we do however see his fans say that he’s grieving the loss of the baby to excuse him abusing his wife, being a dick to his stepson and plotting the murder of a toddler.

We will however be seeing Aegon’s anguish, grief and pure unrestrained rage over the murder of his son.

yep. that's the thing that gets on my nerves anon

they've just decided that daemon is a good father despite one of his children literally saying "father ignores me", despite him not even bothering to check on his daughters after they were in a fight, despite him making rhaena feel useless because she has no dragon. we see him looking at her in silent judgment and her looking hurt. at least aemond had alicent for support when he didn't have a dragon... poor rhaena.

we never see rhaenyra interact with her stepdaughter, she invites them to join the family at the table in ep 10 - wow! congrats on not excluding your stepdaughters !!!! best mom evehhh!!! we do know, however, that she planned their marriages with rhaenys behind their back, not even bothering to ask for their consent. you'd expect rhaenyra "i do not wish to get married" Targaryen to at least let her stepdaughters know before she marry them off. we have 0 evidence of rhaenyra being a good stepmom.

and yeah, daemon is obsessed with valyrian blood and bloodlines. this man cannot even be bothered with his own children and i'm expected to believe that he gives a fuck about the strongs? he was literally angry at rhaenyra for "neglecting her roles as queen" AKA looking for her son's body.

and as for daemon as a husband... i don't think anyone's claiming he was a good husband to rhae and laena but he's horrible to rhaenyra as well. he ignored her when she was screaming in pain for him, he physically assaulted her !!

so we have daemon who ignores his children when they're bleeding, openly prefers one twin over the other, assaults his wife, ignores her when she's in pain and i'm supposed to think that he's a family man?

BUT when aegon takes his son to the council meeting, gets angry at one of his most powerful allies for snapping at his son (not really i love tyland and that scene was adorable), looks at his son lovingly and proudly, knows his son's fav games, gently taps his daughter's shoulder (idk if she doesn't like touch like hel, she just looked happy minding her own business), immediately can tell his identical twins apart WE'RE wrong for calling him a good dad? as far as westerosi standards go , yeah, i'd say he's a pretty decent dad.

and then they really try to bring up half a sentence from a TGC interview conveniently leaving out the parts where he says that aegon wasn't an absent father & he loves his kids very much lmao

[hungermakesmonsters]

Ofc we would love to see glimpses of our CMIYC Billy & reader with their bundle of joy!! Do we get a sneak peek as to whether it’s a girl or a boy? Or maybe a glimpse into their life like with the baby’s first birthday (with a little brother or sister on the way??)

I love the way you think and had to do something for this. I went with baby's first birthday because we all know that billy loves a good party, and you know that any kids he has are going to be completely spoiled at every opportunity. I kind of liked this idea so much that maybe one day I'll come back to it and do a little bit more - or maybe do baby's first year idk, I just always have so many feelings about CMIYC Billy and reader. Anyway, thanks for this, hope you enjoy what I came up with!!

The Missing Piece

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Fic Universe : Catch Me if You Can/Take Me By The Hand

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour for baby making (it's not done in a kinky way, but I figured I'd warn)

It was one year to the day since you and Billy had welcomed little Evelyn Russo into your lives and, since then, nothing had been the same.

Billy had stayed by your side throughout the delivery, despite the way you'd screamed and blamed him for every bit of plain you felt, promising him that you'd never let him get you pregnant again. At one point you even almost managed to crush his hand in yours, but Billy held on, not leaving you side for a moment.

Then Evie Russo came into the world with a shock of dark hair and her father's dark eyes, screaming her little lungs out.

The moment he was handed his daughter, Billy's composure crumbled and he cried, completely overwhelmed at the sight of her bundled up in the little teddy bear print blanket he'd chosen for her. He held onto her like he never wanted to let go and, when he finally had to hand her back to you, he lingered close to your side.

Together you'd managed to create something perfect and pure and beautiful, and just seeing Billy with her made you fall all the more in love with him.

The year that followed was more than you could have asked for; watching the little girl slowly grow and watching your husband dote on her every single day. Every night, without fail, he was home to put her to bed, and was up first thing in the morning to help you feed and change her. You never once felt alone or like he wasn't pulling his weight — in fact, he was there so much, you sometimes wondered if you were doing enough.

Billy went all out for her birthday. It was excessive even by his standards.

The house was filled with balloons and banners, and the cake — he'd bought a cake that was twice the size of the Evie (a purple and white unicorn). He'd even been a bought her extra presents, including a stuffed bear that was bigger than he was.

She was spoilt, and it was just something you were going to have to live with because you didn't have the heart to tell him to stop, not when you saw how happy it made him to see his little girl smile.

By midday the house was filled with friends, both Billy's and your own, all there to celebrate your perfect little girl. And Evie, like her father, loved the attention.

When she wasn't wowing the guests with her recent trick of standing unaided before falling back on her butt (walking was still a work in process), she was in her father's arms, little fingers grasping at his shirt and hair, making sure his attention was always on her.

And when she wasn't with Billy —

"I should have known she was with you," you said, smirking at Karen as she stood with Evie on her hip, helping the little girl reach the cake on the kitchen counter.

"It's not my fault that auntie Karen is her favourite," Karen shrugged.

"Auntie Karen is her favourite because she lets her get away with murder."

"She deserves it."

And there was really no arguing with that.

"You're good with her, have you and Frank —"

Karen gave an exaggerated sigh. "I need to get him to commit to a date for the wedding first."

Maybe it was because your relationship with Billy moved so fast, but Karen and Frank's relationship seemed to be moving at a glacial pace. They'd been engaged for almost five months and still hadn't set a date.

"You could always elope?" You suggested.

You held out your arms to take your daughter, smiling as Karen pressed a kiss to the top of Evie's head before handing her over. Evie gave a little giggle and babbled something that almost sounded like 'mama' as you held her tight.

"Now there's a thought," Karen answered, laughing and reaching for her wine glass.

"Do you want me to get Billy to talk to him?"

She looked at you for a minute before you both burst into laughter, knowing that any conversation like that between Billy and Frank would only make matters worse.

Your conversation continued for a few more minutes before she drifted away to find her fiance, but it wouldn't be the last time that afternoon that you caught her helping Evie sneak more cake.

The party was everything you could have asked for and, throughout the day, you found yourself stealing looks at your husband. It warmed your heart to see how much he'd opened up since you first met him, and how willing he was now to let people love him.

But, despite everything you had and how happy you were, there was a part of you that still craved more. A part that felt like something was still missing.

Once the last couple of guests (Frank and Karen) had left, you carried your sleeping daughter upstairs to to bathe before putting her to bed, while Billy dealt with some of the mess. He came into the nursery to kiss her goodnight while you finished reading to her, making sure she was fast asleep before tiptoeing out of the room.

You expected to find Billy in bed waiting for you but, instead, you heard the shower running in the ensuite.

You quickly stripped out of your clothes and made your way into the bathroom, slipping into the shower behind him and pressing yourself against his back. Billy let out a contented sigh and pulled yours arms around his waist.

For a few minutes you were happy to just enjoy the moment, winding down after a long day, but you still found yourself craving more and, finally, you were starting to understand exactly what you wanted, what was missing.

You started to trail kissed along his shoulder and up his neck while one of your hands ran down his body to take hold of his cock. Billy let out a soft moan as you started to stroke him, his cock instantly starting to harden in your grasp.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on?" Billy asked.

You didn't have to see his face to know that he was smiling.

"Everything you did for Evie today," you told him, between pressing kisses against his neck. "The way you are with her — with us — it makes me want more."

"More?" He asked, suddenly turning to face you, a wide grin on his lips. "You want another baby?"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

"I don't know," you said teasingly, "how quick do you think you could do it?"

Billy let out a laugh — and so did you because the whole thing just seemed so ridiculous.

But, ridiculous or not, Billy didn't seem to care. Before you could think to even ask what he was doing, he was on his knees in front of you, pulling your leg over his shoulder. You looked down at him, biting your lip when you caught the desperate look in his eyes.

He hitched your leg a little higher so he could bury his face between your thighs and —

You pressed your hand to your mouth, desperate to stifle your moans as his tongue began to delve between your folds and he started to devour you like a man possessed. It wasn't long before your fingers were gripping his hair and your hips were grinding against his eager mouth.

“Fuck, Billy,” you gasped into your palm as his lips closed around your clit.

In the time that you’d been together, it was safe to say that Billy had figured out exactly how to please you and he took great pleasure in doing it. And, while his tongue and lips lavished attention on your clit, he took the opportunity to slide a couple of fingers into the heat of your body.

Your hand pressed tighter over your mouth, not wanting to let out the cry that was desperate to escape you as his fingers and tongue drove you to the edge of insanity.

Looking down, you caught his dark eyes staring up at you and it was enough to push you over the edge, muffled moans escaping you as you fell apart for him. Billy stayed where he was, dragging out your orgasm until your legs started to tremble.

Your hand pressed to the cold tiled wall for support as Billy let go of your leg and slowly stood.

For a few seconds he looked at you, a hunger in his eyes that you were intimately familiar with. He’d always been so obvious with his desires, with how much he wanted. At the start of your relationship, he’d tried to fight it, tried to push it down and suppress it but, now, you wouldn’t let him.

You reached for him and took his cock in your hand again, giving it a squeeze.

“Fuck me, Billy.”

He didn’t need to hear any more than that.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulder as he lifted you up and pressed your back against the cold tiles, his lips capturing yours in an eager kiss. You whined against his lips at the feeling of his cock pressed against your still-sensitive entrance. 

Fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his head back so you could look at him.

“Billy...” you pleaded.

You expected him to break, for his control to snap, but he surprised you.

His hips moved slowly and you gasped as his cock notched into you and he slowly filled you. Your head dropped back against the tiles, and Billy took the opportunity to pepper your neck with kisses.

You’d expected to drive your husband crazy but it seemed that Billy had other plans. He wasn’t going to fuck you, he wasn’t going to lose all control, he was going to make love to you.

“I love you,” he muttered against your neck as he set a slow, deliberate pace.

He knew exactly what he was doing and what it did to you, and your body seemed to burn from the inside out as a result. You fingers found their way into his hair again and you pulled, forcing him to look at you as you made love.

“Billy — fuck, Billy," you gasped as you stared into his eyes. "I love you."

"Mine," he groaned, in a way that was so reminiscent of the early days of your relationship.

"Yours, Billy. All yours."

That had him moving a little faster, pressing you back against the tiles with each shift of his hips. Your back arched and you angled yourself so that every thrust would find that special spot inside of you, and it wasn't long until your whole body was trembling for him.

"Fuck, Billy I —"

"Let go," he said breathlessly.

And you did, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you came.

A few awkward thrusts later, Billy was following suit, burying himself deep inside of you as he came, and holding himself there until the pair of you had come down from your respective highs.

Neither of your said another word as he slowly pulled away and cleaned you up. You didn't speak as he lifted you out of the shower and dried you off, and he didn't say anything as he carried you to bed and snuggled up behind you, your body caged tightly in his arms.

It wasn't until you were starting to drift off that you felt him press a light kiss to your shoulders and mutter; "I've been waiting all year for you to ask me for another."

[creedslove]

BABY BLISS 🍼 - PART TWO

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: after his breakdown, Joel wakes up and keeps admiring your sleeping figure as he is lost in his own thoughts about your relationship and your future together

(this is the second part of BABY BLISS 🍼 and both parts of this story can be read as sequences of SLEEP BLISS 💤, SHOWER BLISS 🫧 and MOONLIGHT BLISS 🌙)

Warnings: angst, age gap, insecure!joel, fluff, pregnancy thoughts, not quite breeding kink but a little if you want to interpret that way, smut, oral (f!receiving), p in v sex, crempie

A/N: I love Joel Miller 😭😍

1.8k words

When Joel woke up later that night, he groaned confused at the tangled memories that came to him slowly as the sleep fog made his thoughts seem so disconnected and far away. He felt your weight against his chest, your warmth, and his favorite scent in the world: the smell of you, your hair, your body, everything. It was sweet, it reminded him of flowers under a sunny day. He smiled softly as he planted another soft peck on your forehead but you didn't even move, you were deeply asleep. He carefully rolled your body to the side, so you'd be resting your face on your pillow instead of his body and got up as silently as he could, he walked to the window and looked out, as an old habit and paced the room. He thought of how he had hold your body close to his as he drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions he was dragged into earlier that day. He could never imagine he would break down in front of you like that. It was a simple task, all he had to do was to hold his niece for a little while. And he enjoyed it at first, she was beautiful, sweet, she was just a small little being full of love, who smiled at him and fell asleep after nuzzling his chest. 

It was too much purity and love for his heart to take and he was immediately taken to a time where he thought nothing bad would ever happen, where he was young, full of life and hope and he had just welcomed his newborn daughter into his arms.

Of course her mom wasn't in the picture, but he loved her with all his heart and Sarah loved him too, they were a small family but they were a happy family. 

And those memories hurt him more than any other glimpse of murder, violence, raiders, clickers. Nothing was worse to Joel than to remember his daughter alive and come back to the cruel, old reality of her death.

It'd been two decades, but the wound was fresh, as if it had happened the day before, and he knew he would never get over it. So what would happen when Flora started to grow up? Would she have the same laughter as Sarah? Would she be just as smart? Would she ask questions the whole day? Would she love butterflies and the solar system and be the most mesmerizing thing he'd ever seen?  He didn't want to suffer in anticipation but he knew it was a fear he would always carry, to have just small glimpses, resemblances of his beautiful late daughter because she was taken away from him in such a cruel way.

Joel was just so confused at that moment. How could he avoid his own niece? Besides, he didn't want to avoid her, because that would mean he would avoid his own brother and his sister-in-law and he would miss out on birthday parties, dinner parties, special holidays. After being alone for so long, he just didn't want to give up his family. 

And then he had you, and you had told him those three words. 

Joel just froze when he heard that sweet bliss coming out of your mouth. 

He didn't find strength in him to bring you closer and whisper to you how much he loved you back, because he did love you very much. Like he thought he never would again and in such intensity he didn't think it was possible. And yet he cowardly kept silent, not being able to bring himself into telling you how much he loved you.

Maybe it was a good thing, he always lost the ones he loved or maybe if you thought he didn't love you, you'd leave, it would be better for you after all, you could find someone suitable for you, someone your own age, someone who could grow old with you and protect you.

But Joel was selfish and he didn't want to give you up, he knew he would never be a good option, you could do so much better than him, but he was also not letting you go, no matter what. Unless you wanted him gone, he would keep you as his like a greedy man would keep a precious stone: forever.

Joel sat on the edge of the bed and watched you sleep peacefully, you were so beautiful, so effortlessly gorgeous at any hour, but there was something about your sleep that made Joel's old heart race. He just loved watching you like that. 

He eyed your body and noticed you'd fallen asleep in your jeans and your boots and he remembered what you'd told him the night you went back to sharing a bed after getting into Jackson.

You didn't have to sleep in your jeans anymore, because the two of you were safe and you wouldn't have to worry about escaping or fighting during the night. 

His hands found their way to your legs, pulling them closer as he unzipped your boots and carefully took them off. 

He also got rid of your socks, leaving your feet naked, massaging them in light touches and kissed the back of it softly. 

He saw how you whimpered in your sleep and chuckled to himself. 

Joel's hand went for the button of your jeans, opening it and unzipping your pants before pulling them down.

He managed to lift your hips a little in order to get the pants off and you were lying in bed only in your shirt and panties. 

It wasn't an erotic moment, he wasn't undressing you to touch you, he just wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, you were his sweetheart, his princess, his darling. He wanted all the best that old man could give you.

He spotted your lower belly and was taken aback by the sudden feeling of affection and softness. 

He closed his eyes and pictured a tiny little dot inside, one that would grow to a fetus and then evolve to a baby, a beautiful lovely baby. One that would have your smile and your eyes, maybe a little girl who would be his forever princess, or a little boy he could teach how to play baseball or play the guitar one day.

No, Joel told himself. It was a dangerous path, he didn't really want a child, he couldn't have one, he couldn't just put you through a pregnancy in an apocalyptic world.

It was madness. 

But he was entitled to dream, wasn't he? And he liked the feeling he had when he did it, how beautiful you were, the glow he admired, how sexy you became while pregnant. He enjoyed that scenario, he really did.

He opened his eyes and stared into your womb again, maybe there was already a baby in there and you guys didn't know? 

No, Joel quickly dismissed the idea, he pulled out most of times… of course sometimes he would cum inside, you both loved it, but he knew you weren't a virgin when you met, and if you other boyfriends never got you pregnant, he wouldn't either. 

Still, he smiled and pecked your womb gently, feeling a soothing warmth in his heart, he loved you, he just didn't know why he was so weak he couldn't admit it out loud.

You ran your fingers through his hair. You loved how soft it was no matter how wild his curls looked. You woke up when you felt his presence hovering over you, how his beard tickled your soft, sensitive skin and then his lips on your womb. 

You had a warm smile and the moment he noticed you wake, he stared at you. Your hands stroked his cheek softly, loving how he leaned into your touch.

"Hey…" you told him softly and tried pulling him up for a hug, but Joel's strong hands held your waist down, so you would be trapped without moving. 

"Hey darling" he replied "don't move, let me make you feel good, you deserve it, princess" you were about to protest but Joel placed a soft kiss to your clothed clit, earning a whimper from you. 

You look down at him and smirked 

"Taste me, Joel… it's all for you" you tugged his hair and pulled his face towards your clothed cunt.

He chuckled at how eager you were and pulled your panties to the side and spread your lips, watching how your hard clit twitched and smirked.

"So fucking beautiful, so fucking sweet" he whispered and pecked your bud again

"Joel" you moaned, hoping he wouldn't tease you. 

And he didn't tease you. 

Joel sank his face into your pussy and ate you out desperately, he ate you out like he hadn't seen your pussy in months. He feasted on your juices, slurping and suckling on your clit.

He made you cum once, twice and he wanted a third one, but you were overstimulated and wanted him.

"Come here" you groaned, pulling him closer and caressing his cheek gently, you pecked his lips, tasting yourself on his mouth and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

You could feel Joel hard, but he didn't make a move, instead, he stroked your hair and stared into your eyes with so much love, Joel loved you, he hoped you could feel it, because he was a coward.

You placed your hand on his chest, over his heart and stroked it gently "I know it" you whispered "I know it Joel" you kissed him again, you didn't want to pressure him into anything. 

He was in awe at you, you were gorgeous, precious, the best thing that happened to him in so long and it wasn't fair if he made you look for his affection, for small crumbles of it. You gave yourself fully to him, it would be only fair if you knew how much he loved you. 

You reached for his belt and opened it, so eager to have him inside of you, as you freed his hard cock and felt how wet his tip was with pre cum.

You closed your eyes as he slid inside of you, stretching you and letting you get adjusted to his size before you could both move your hips at the same pace. 

You couldn't keep your lips away from his, you felt such a deep connection towards Joel, you wanted to feel him whole.

You could see the sweat forming on his forehead and how his neck vein got more apparent and you knew he was close. 

You fastened your pace, squeezing your inner walls, wanting to make him feel good, as great as he'd made you feel. 

Joel couldn't hold himself anymore, both his orgasm and also his words. He needed you to know.

"I love you" he groaned into your ear at the same time you felt his load inside of you. 

He hadn't pulled out, because he loved you and deep inside of him, a side that still longed for a family, for a happy ending wished there could be more to it, maybe a new start.

_____

A/N: I love Joel Miller so much, I wanna marry him and give him beautiful children 🥺

[corpsebasil]

Bonnie and Clyde Part 3 / Triple Threat Combination

In which a group of psychos attempts to corrupt the eldest Carpenter sister. (Go read triple threat for better context!! This is my take on Scream 7 pretty much)

It had been three months since the murders in New York. Three months of plotting, of recovering, and of teaming up with the secret children of Stu Macher, the twisted psychopath that had inspired your own ideas.

Three months since Ethan had stumbled through the front door, bleeding heavily, and you'd done your best to fix him, though you spent more time crying than anything and felt utterly useless. Three months since Matteo, the middle son of Stu's three batshit kids, had stitched up anything he could, insisting he'd had medical training. Ansel, the eldest, had watched the entire process with such a hungry, menacing look that you’d threatened to skin him alive if he looked at Ethan like that again. The youngest daughter, Lola, had watched you with the silent stare of a predator, an amused look on her pretty face.

Just last night you’d gotten into a screaming match with Ansel, one where he’d threatened to cut you up into tiny little pieces and you said you’d feed him to subway rats. Only Matteo had been able to calm the two of you down, the middle brother seemingly the only one with his head not in the clouds.

“You two—” he said, pointing a rather lethal looking sword at you. A sword. You’d felt ridiculously out of your depth when the three children of Stu had shown up with their advanced weaponry, their connection to Ethan something he’d never told you. “need to calm the fuck down. I’m tired of hearing you bitch at each other all the time.”

“Then put your psychotic brother on a fucking leash.” You snapped, glaring at the stupidly handsome guy. You hated to admit it, but all of Stu’s kids were attractive. Even Ansel had a strangely alluring aspect, even if he made you extremely uncomfortable. “I feel like he’s going to stick a knife in me when I’m sleeping.”

“I’d love to stick something in you, Y/N.” Ansel purred, and the sick glint of amusement in his eyes told you exactly what he was thinking of.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” You said, glaring as you finally calmed down enough to set your kitchen knife down on the counter.

“Where’s your pretty boyfriend?” Lola asked, legs crossed as she sat on the couch. You two weren’t particularly chummy with one another, not like you and Quinn had been, but there was a comforting quality in knowing another girl was in on this chaos. “Matteo should check his injuries. See if he’s ready for tomorrow.”

“I think he’s still asleep.” You mumbled, making a wide berth away from Ansel as you headed to your bedroom. He just grinned at you, that feline expression of his giving you goosebumps.

Ethan had been depressed lately, though he was still on board for round two of a Ghostface attack. He was hell bent on avenging Wayne and Quinn, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t also feel an urge to take out Tara and Sam. But Stu’s kids insisted on recruiting Sam, saying they’d kill you and Ethan both if you tried to make any moves on their ‘honorary sister’, Ansel’s words, not yours.

“Baby?” You whispered, entering the room and shutting the door behind you. You could still hear the siblings muttering amongst themselves as you moved to the bed, but ignored them. “Baby are you awake?”

Ethan blinked up at you slowly, his body curled up into a ball in the bed. He licked his lips, eyes staring into nothing before he spoke.

“Yeah.” He mumbled. He sat up slowly and your eyes moved to his bare chest, cringing at the multitude of scars from where he’d been stabbed. “I cant sleep. You guys are loud as fuck.”

“Sorry.” You said, smiling softly as you sat beside him, taking his hand.

He’d had a hard time after his family’s death. The only solace was that you were alive, and that Stu’s kids were there to help. He wasn’t as wary around Ansel as you were, and he’d quickly began to treat Matteo and Lola like they were his own siblings. Perhaps he was trying to fill a void.

“Is Ansel threatening to cut you up again?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eyes as he pulled your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles.

The two of you had always been in love, sure, but after he’d almost died he’d been treating you with a brand new tenderness that almost alarmed you. It was like all the hate and rage had left him and the only bits remaining were the soft ones. It was a bit confusing, and more than worrisome. Would he actually be able to go through with killing again?

“He always is.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at his grin. “Honestly, if he threatens me one more time.”

“Give him a chance.”

“I have. He’s insane.”

“We are too, sweetheart.” He smiled wider, and a flash of that familiar dark glint reached his eyes. “Just maybe not…asylum insane.”

You chuckled at that, then jumped when you heard a crashing sound. You stood up and opened the door, walking down the hall to peer in the living-room. Lola was straddling Ansel, shoving a pillow down over his face as he struggled. For a smaller girl she was very strong, and you gaped at the sight before you.

“Matteo, help!” Ansel gasped, struggling for air.

“Don’t help him. Get the pliers. Which is your least favorite fingernail, big bro?” Lola asked, tone wry as Matteo smiled.

“What the hell did he do now?” You asked, amused despite yourself, and he shrugged.

“Asked if the carpets matched the drapes.”

“I’m tired of your shit.” Lola was saying, still in the process of suffocating her own sibling. “Say it again and see what happens.”

“You’re just as—mean as her!” Ansel was gasping, flinging a hand out towards you. Lola gave you a wicked grin, finally letting up.

“Your call, Y/N. Do we execute him?”

“I vote guillotine.” You mused, tapping your chin with a fingernail as you fought back a laugh. “Maybe blunt force trauma?”

“There’s too much insanity in this house.” Matteo sighed, standing up and moving to the front door. “I’m getting Dunkin. Get ready for an all night planning session.” He turned and pointed a finger at the three of you. “I’m serious. If I come back and anyone is injured, I’m going back to Woodsboro by myself.”

You all groaned and complained as Matteo left, but then Lola’s eyes slid to your own as the front door shut. Her smile turned feline as she looked at you, her voice soft and angelic.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” she began, blinking flirtatiously. “Do you think Matteo would be too mad if we turned Ansel into a scarecrow?”

“Hmmm.” You murmured, trying not to laugh as Ansel’s eyes widened. “Probably not. He wouldn’t even recognize him. We could say he panicked and fled town.”

“Hear that, Ansie?” Lola giggled, peering down at her brother as he thrashed. “Y/N wants you dead, too.”

“I’m sick of you both.” Ansel spat, still trying to escape. “You’re both hellions. Absolute heathens.”

“You love us.” Lola grinned, and finally let him go, moving off to step towards you. “Come on.” She said, grabbing your hand. “I’m desperate for a sister. Let’s go do girl shit.”

You laughed as she tugged you towards your room, trying to ignore the pain in your heart that occurred when you thought of Quinn. You smiled at Lola, allowing her to flop down on your bed and open up Netflix, her dark eyes scanning the options.

“Wanna invite your boyfriend?” She asked, eyes darting to yours, and you nodded.

But just as you left the room to get Ethan you jumped; Ansel flew by you, complaining about ‘girls night’ and ‘why am I never invited’ as he dived face first onto the bed. You could still hear Lola screaming with laughter as you finally made it to Ethan’s room, a smile on your face.

I’ve decided this is going to be a serious series LMAO

make sure to comment please guys!!! I love feedback and want your opinions on what should happen later in the series?

Who should die? Chad? Mindy? Tara??? TELL ME

[daydreamkissesxo]

Antonio Dawson x reader | baby daddy.

warning: (18+, mature) this story contains smut!

Part 1

Voight and the team eagerly gathered around the board centred in the bull pen, evidence of an old case now pinned up against it as Voight guided them through the necessary information.

"So, we're looking for this prick right here." Voight pointed up at the prison mugshot of your father, one he'd taken on a less serious charge than he'd inevitably face now.

"Previously incarcerated for assault and attempted murder, now he's thinks he's the fucking godfather. Got a whole community behind him, and a hit list longer than my arm." Voight watched as everyone's gaze shifted to the board, stepping aside before lifting his hand to tap the photo beside your father's. "His wife, childhood sweetheart and the mother to his only daughter."

The photo beside your mothers was yours, one your friends had previously taken of you on one of your recent vacations to Greece.

Voight glanced over at the team but one member in particular caught his attention immediately, Antonio.

There was something more than curiosity lingering behind his eyes, he was truly engrossed in the photo on display.

Antonio was aware of the clear age gap between the two of you, but that didn't stop him from admiring the way your breasts almost spill from the tiny bralette you chose to wear, the sunkissed glow that was only highlighted beneath the beach bar's bright lights.

"See something you like, Dawson?" Voight asked as he directed his attention towards him, the rest of the team soon following.

"No, no. Just taking it all in." Antonio replied, attempting to sound as convincing as he could while his cock throbbed almost painfully.

Voight wasn't convinced, but he couldn't care less as there were more important things occupying his mind.

Upon turning away, he tapped your photo on the board with the tip of his index finger.

"This is Y/N, the only daughter of this wannabe mobster. She's our key to getting close to him, and I need someone to go in undercover and woo her hard enough to get there."

Adam raised his hand which brought out an amused chuckle from Antonio, there was no way he was going to let Ruzek take the job.

"I'll go in." Antonio said, completely cutting Adam off before turning to look over at him.

"You think her dad is gonna trust someone as young as you? No. He'd trust someone who's been in the scene longer, someone he can relate to."

Adam looked oddly offended yet he couldn't stop the smirk creeping its way onto his face.

"There's a slight age gap here. You not worried you're old enough to be her dad?"

Antonio chuckled sarcastically, pushing himself up off his desk before roughly patting Adam's shoulder.

"Experience comes with age, pretty boy. Trust me, she'd pick me over you any day." He said confidently, dropping his hand as he walked away.

Antonio barely slept the night before your meet, curiosity kept his mind active.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you since leaving the precinct, you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

He combed through every social media profile you owned, desperate for further insight into your life.

It was easy to see how freely you lived, your posts varied from extravagant city breaks to endless shopping trips.

He could have spent all night looking through the photos, but sleep was the only way for time to pass fast enough so the day you'd meet would finally come.

Antonio had never rolled out of bed fast enough that morning, his heart was already racing with adrenaline and he wasn't even in your presence yet.

His shirt was pristinely ironed, his hair slicked back neatly and he'd even worn his finest cologne which Adam repeatedly pointed out during their meet at the surveillance van.

"What cologne is that? I think my dad wears it." He bit back a laugh, nudging Kevin's side playfully.

"You know, if you worked as hard as you did cracking jokes, the city could finally sleep." Antonio glared up at him before glancing down at his belt to continue readjusting it.

Once comfortable, he slipped the newly tapped phone into his pocket before lifting a hand to gently hover over his perfectly slick hair, ensuring not a piece had fallen free.

"How you planning on woo'ing her?" Asked Kevin as he looked up from the screen in front of him.

"I can get you some viagra if you're struggling to keep it up these days, heard it happens as you get older. I know a guy." Interrupted Adam, on the verge of bursting into laughter.

"Yeah? You go there often?"Antonio snapped back, running his hand down his pristine shirt to smooth out the tiniest of wrinkles.

"How I woo her is none of your concern, let's just focus on the job."

With the surveillance van parked across the street, Antonio stood at the entrance of the bustling bar with growing nerves.

Upon entering, he was met with the attention of several clearly unsettled regulars and a cocktail of scents.

His eyes met every corner of the room in search of you, and it wasn't long before he'd finally spotted you.

He took a moment to admire you from afar, he never knew such beauty could exist.

He cleared the cluster of nerves from his throat, attempting to look around in search of a free seat to avoid any possible suspicion.

Antonio took the seat at the bar beside you, the radiating scent of your perfume hit his nostrils as instantly as he'd sat. The scent was so intense it almost knocked him off the barstool, that paired with your presence had his heart fluttering like a prepubescent boy.

You hadn't acknowledged him yet, and for that he was grateful. Everything he'd planned out before entering the bar had vanished from his mind at the sight of you alone, he had seconds to fully prepare himself and he was panicked.

You abruptly ended the conversation with the girl beside you as the sudden scent of men's designer cologne hit, turning your head very slightly you then noticed the man sat beside you.

You looked him over intriguingly before turning your body to fully face his, your heart excitedly skipping a beat as your eyes unintentionally meet his.

He nervously chuckled and averted his gaze, such simple actions made you feel so incredibly powerful, did you always have that effect on people?

"Can I buy you a drink, handsome stranger?" You asked, your voice dripping in seduction which caused Antonio to smirk as Adam's comment about age sprung to mind.

Antonio turned to look at you, the mischievous twinkle in your eye made his heart flutter.

You smiled as he nodded, motioning over the bartender to order the best bottle of bourbon whiskey on the menu.

You were practically undressing him with your eyes and it didn't go unnoticed, Antonio felt hot and flustered under your seductive gaze but he had to pull himself together for the task.

"Do you always buy handsome strangers a drink?" He asked playfully, placing his hand on the bar just inches from yours, the tip of his index finger brushing against your pinky.

Your heart skipped a beat at the slight touch, taking this as a sign that he was just as interested in you as you were him.

"A man has never let me buy him a drink before. Men usually want me tipsy, hoping I'll give in to their pathetic advances." You smirk, pulling your hand away as you watch the bartender place the bottle down.

"Is that what this is? You wanna get me tipsy?" Antonio smirked, watching as you pour the bourbon.

His playful tone made you smile, this encounter was far different from any you'd ever had with a man before.

"Fuck, you've caught me." You joked, rolling your eyes playfully before placing the glass in front of him.

He reached for your hand as you started to retract it, he held it gently before lifting it to his lips to press a tender kiss to your knuckles.

Your heart fluttered so violently you almost winced, your eyes scanning between his lingering lips and the gentle gaze that stared back at you.

"You're so beautiful Prinseca." He whispered, his lips brushing against your delicate skin before slowly lowering your hand but continuing to hold it.

You'd heard that compliment a thousand times before, but this particular one made you physically incapable of responding.

Antonio knew you were taken back by his forwardness but he shrugged it off, reaching for the glass you'd set in front of him to throw the bourbon back.

You watched his every move in amazement, attempting to gain some control over your newly paralysed vocal cords.

"I'm Mateo." He smiled, his thumb slowly caressing your knuckles.

You briefly glanced down at your hand, watching how delicately he touched you, while you could only dream for a slightly harsher touch.

"Y/N.." you replied, your eyes meeting his once more, your darkened pupils immediately noted by Antonio.

"I bet your dad nearly has a heart attack every time you leave the house."

Your smile brightened with amusement, shaking your head slightly in disagreement.

"Thankfully not. As long as I'm not getting into trouble, he doesn't care where I go.."

Antonio thought it was quite sad, your father was too preoccupied with his own affairs that he'd let you roam so freely with no care or concern.

He could now confidently confirm that you were clueless to your father's source of income and he was thankful for that.

"He'd probably kill you if he saw how close we were sitting though." You smirked playfully, glancing down at the very small gap that separated your knees from touching one another's.

He chuckled, shrugging it off. "Yeah? Well then I'd die a very happy man."

You giggled as he winked, your infectious smile causing Antonio to smile too.

As the night went on, the two of you spent hours conversing about multiple topics, all lead by Antonio as he was practically conducting an investigation of his own.

You'd shared personal stories about your childhood and the absence of your father growing up, money very clearly bought your silence as you never dared to complain about your upbringing.

He didn't shy away from physical affection for comfort, occasionally caressing your knee or softly stroking your hair.

Each gentle touch felt like you were being edged, he could have changed the direction of the night many times but he wanted you to be the one to do it.

You placed your hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze before slowly leaning closer, purposely bringing your barely clothed breasts closer to him.

"Why don't we go and get room service?" You asked in a seductive tone, sliding your hand up and down his thigh a little.

He knew he shouldn't, he knew he could possibly lose his job, but he was ready to risk it all for just a singular night of passion.

"Lead the way baby." He replied, allowing you to take his hand and lead him through the bar and into the back towards the attached hotel lobby.

Once clear of a crowd, Antonio tugged at your hand to spin you around to face him.

You lightly collided with his chest, your hand pressed against his peck as you gently push yourself back to gaze up at him in confusion, your mind immediately assuming the worst.

His arm slithered around your waist, his hand settling on your lower back as he pulled you against him, your breasts forced against his chest.

He saw the nervous glint in your eye, you'd had no experience with a man of his age and he was determined to be both the first and last.

He watched as your lips started to part, assuming it was to ask him something, but he immediately cut you off with a burning kiss.

You instantly reciprocated his kiss, your hand slowly gripping a fistful of his shirt in desperation.

You stumbled back in an attempt to lead him towards your room yet the two of you never came apart, he closed in the gap you'd unintentionally created.

Hotel guests watched in disgust as the two of you passed by, unable to keep neither your hands nor your lips from each other.

Each time you tried to create just a small amount of distance to catch your breath, Antonio pulled you right back in.

Your back collided with the wall as he pinned you against it, his hands groping your breasts before falling to your waist.

"Where's your key, baby girl?" He whispered against your lips, one of his hands falling to your outer thigh before his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your dress to graze your skin.

Your hands desperately unbuttoned his shirt, gasping excitedly against his lips as hands roamed his toned abdomen as his shirt now hang open.

"In my bra." You replied, pulling back from his kiss to plant several wet kisses against his exposed collarbone.

He wasted not a second longer, slipping his hand past the confinement of your bra in search of the key.

He groaned softly as his fingertips graze your nipple, groping your unclothed breast before retrieving the keycard.

He pulled back to glance down at the room number engraved on it, stepping back before reaching for your hand to lead you towards it.

His heart excitedly skipped a beat as he heard the click of the door signalling it was open, and like a gentlemen he then held it open for you to walk in.

You waited for Antonio to follow you in before shoving him against the door to close it, kissing him passionately.

Your hands roam his bare chest as he walks you towards the bed, his hands sliding around your lower back and down towards your ass to grope it.

Antonio wrapped his fingers around the hem of your dress either side, almost tearing it as he rushed to pull it up and over your head.

Your hair fell back into place perfectly, you were left in the light pink lace lingerie you'd thankfully chosen to wear.

He groaned in pure arousal as his eyes roam your semi naked body, you looked so pristine and he just had to corrupt you.

Your eyes fell to his hands as he fumbled with his belt, you immediately reached for his hands to pull them away and replace them with your own.

He felt a sense of relief as his jeans were loosened, allowing you to drag them down past his hips so they pool around his ankles.

He grabbed hold of your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him before his lips came crashing down on yours.

"Go and sit on the bed like a good girl." He whispered as he pulled away.

You did as instructed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed with your legs purposely spread, your hands placed behind your back on the sheets.

He felt a bead of pre cum leak from his aching tip at the sight alone, he was almost breathless.

He watched as you lay back, pressing a knee between your thighs as he lowered himself to hover over you.

With one hand placed beside your head for support, his free hand was able roam your body.

He lowered his head, pressing tender kisses against your neck while his hand slid down your chest and abdomen to find placement between your thighs, tracing your clothed core with his fingertips.

Your hips eagerly bucked in desperation, hoping it would somehow force a slightly harsher touch.

Antonio smirked, halting his touch altogether as he glanced up at you.

"Let me savour this moment mi amor, be patient." He scolded, redirecting his attention back towards your core.

He pushed aside your newly damp underwear with his fingers before slipping them between your soaking wet folds, eliciting a whimper from you.

It was like music to his ears, and he craved to hear more. He ran his fingers through your folds several times over, spreading your arousal and forcing further moans from you.

It wasn't until his fingers started to circle your clit that he saw a drastic change in your response, your moans grew louder and your back started to arch off the bed.

"You like that, baby? Hm? That feel good?" He asked, expecting little to no response as he purposely plunged his fingers into you, his eyes widening lustfully at as your walls flutter.

Your growing pleasure was abruptly cut short as harshly pulled his fingers from you, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear to yank it down past your hips and thighs, stepping off the bed as he dragged it down your calves and ankles before letting the skimpy material fall to the ground.

Aching for his touch and curious as to his next move, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him.

Your gaze fell to his hands as you watch him slide his boxers past his hips, watching as his cock spring free.

You were practically salivating at the sight, your hole clenching around nothing in anticipation for the pleasure his cock would offer.

You watched as Antonio reached down to pull a condom from the pocket of his discarded jeans.

Your heart sank dramatically at the thought of him actually using it, you didn't want to be deprived of the sensations he naturally had to offer.

You waited until he hovered over you once more before taking the opportunity to flip the two of you over, placing one of your hands on his shoulder for support while the other reached down to hold his cock upright before allowing yourself to sink down onto it.

A loud moan erupted from your throat in unison with a grunt from Antonio, your head tilting back as you'd bottomed out.

You placed the hand that guided you onto his chest before starting to rock your hips, a mixture of loud moans and soft whimpers leaving your lips.

Antonio was in and out of bliss, the reasonable man within him knew he had to use the condom that sit between his index and middle finger but the pleasure you provided was so great that those thoughts were interrupted.

"Baby? Baby, I gotta put this condom on." He whispered, lifting a hand to wrap his fingers around one of your breasts to knead it.

You purposely picked up the pace hoping it would distract him, your moans becoming more frequent and noticeably louder.

Bringing both of your hands up towards your back, you unclasped your bra before pulling it from your body and throwing it over your shoulder.

Your breasts bounced freely as you rode him and his eyes watched them so attentively.

"No daddy, please. I wanna feel you, please." You whine desperately, placing your hand on his forearm before gliding it upwards until your hand slipped over his, forcing his hand back up towards your unclothed breasts.

Antonio's mind malfunctioned in that very moment, he stared up at you in disbelief. He'd unintentionally allowed you to dominate the entire moment and being so far gone in pleasure, he didn't even attempt to try to stop you.

Your moans were pornographic and Antonio felt like a god hearing how good his cock made you feel so he refused to deprive himself of hearing how good it'd feel as he came inside you, especially as you were so desperate for it.

He threw the condom aside before reaching up to on your cheek roughly, pulling your head down towards his to allow his lips to crash against yours.

"No condom baby girl." He whispered against your lips, eager to please you.

He felt your movements start to falter and took full advantage of the situation, placing his hand on your mid back to hold you in place as he rolled the two of you over.

In the process of switching position, he'd thrusted into you so deeply that his tip surely touched your cervix, the moan you let out forced Antonio's eyes to roll back.

His hand gripped the pillow beside your head as he thrust into you relentlessly, he was once again in full control.

Antonio's fingers found their way to your clit once more and it took only a few seconds for you to start convulsing beneath him.

He felt your resistance as you attempted to push yourself further up the bed in avoidance of his touch, clearly overstimulated.

The hand the rest beside your head gripped at your shoulder, pinning you against the bed to hold you in position.

"Where you going baby girl?" He whispered almost sadistically, his fingers circling at an increasing speed.

You were a whimpering mess beneath him, writhing within his restraint.

"Don't fight it baby, relax. Just relax.." he cooed, his own climax drawing near as he felt your walls start to tighten around him.

You raised a hand to push at Antonio's shoulder, signalling him to stop but the impending wave of unimaginable pleasure finally hit.

"Fuck, Mateo!" You cried out, throwing your head back as you let it wash over you, your back arching off the bed.

Your body was on fire, pleasure coursing through your veins and slowly paralysing you.

Antonio completely looked past the fact you were calling out his fake name, the sensation of your walls fluttering around him were enough to throw him over the edge of his own climax.

His thrusts began to falter as he filled you with his cum, thick white ropes of it now coating your walls.

He became a whimpering mess, barely able to hold his head up as he felt his body grow limp.

He used all the strength he had left to prevent himself from collapsing onto you, his gaze slowly meeting yours as he looked down at you.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked sincerely, using his now free hand to support his body weight as he brought the other hand down to your cheek to cup it gently.

You nodded in response, a smile slowly creeping its way onto your face.

"Are you?" You asked playfully, breathing heavily as your chest rise and fall at an increased pace.

"Better than okay, never been better." He smirked, slowly pulling himself out before moving to lay on his back beside you, his chest moving just as rapidly as yours.

A part of him expected you to immediately cling to him, but he watched as you lay still, as if you were almost hesitant to do so.

The hesitation regarding your climax slowly came to mind seconds later, it left him to wonder whether you'd even ever experienced one before, his detective skills were slowly piecing these bits of information together to come to his very own conclusion.

Perhaps you'd only ever met men who selfishly thought for themselves, but he wasn't going to let you feel dissatisfied in his company.

He extended his arm, sliding it beneath your neck before gently pulling you closer, signalling for you to get closer.

You slowly turned your head to look at him, the warm gaze staring back at you made your heart flutter violently.

"You're gonna hurt my feelings if you don't get over here. I am good for other things, you know?" His tone was playful and it made you smile.

You willingly let him pull you closer, resting your head against his shoulder as he'd instigated before wrapping your arm over his chest, your calf slipping between the two of his.

The warmth radiating off his body and the exhaustion of your sexual encounter made you sleepy, you allowed your eyes to close to preserve whatever energy you could.

His fingers gently play with several strands of your hair, a smile slowly settling on his face as if he had not a worry in the world.

He forcibly shut out the facts, the real reason he was in your company and the task he had ahead.

He wanted to prolong the night, the time he had left with you before he'd inevitably had to leave to report back to Voight.

He froze as he felt you nuzzle your head against his shoulder, lifting his head a little to glance down at you.

He leant in, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before reaching for the comforter to pull over the two of you.

He wasn't particularly bothered about himself, but he wanted to cover your modesty and keep you warm.

He adjusted the covers, covering only up to your shoulders as he didn't want to smother you.

"So, no round two?" He joked, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"In a minute.." you mumbled sleepily, drifting in and out of your sexually induced sleepiness.

He held you close as he lay his head against the pillow, soaking in the beauty of the moment you’d shared while he could.

- This is my first time writing and I’m still not too confident, any constructive feedback is welcome!

-I am posting several other parts to this story in the next few days🫣

[iamthedukeofurl]

Okay, so I'm not going to speak to the quality of the depiction of mental illness in Arcane But (Spoilers up to S2 E4)

The clear implication seems to be that, while he certainly cared for her a lot, Silco was REALLY BAD for jinx. The Hallucinations seem to be stress triggered. Specifically, Jinx's stressors are ideas of loss and abandonment. We see at the start of Episode 4, Jinx is in hiding with Isha and Sevika and...she's remarkably stable. Earlier in Season 2, we see some hallucination-scratches around Enforcer Vi, which, yeah, that would be terrifying. But in episode 4, she's calm, she's happy. She even says 'Jinx is dead" the same way she referred to Powder. Isha gets taken by Enforcers, and we get a wave of scratches. Scratchy Vi-Gloves. Scratchy Silco. We see Jinx pushing those away and focusing in on the rescue mission. And Jinx on the Rescue mission is...weirdly out of character. She's not the gleefully murderous chaos machine we saw in season 1. She's also not the almost suicidal figure who fought Vi in episode 3. Her attack on Stilwater lacks her usual flair. No bombs, no chaos, no spray paint everywhere. She brings a nonlethal weapon, infiltrating and breaking people out. The "Jinx" Persona, chaotic and violent, almost seems like her response to Silco. Silco's whole philosophy is about the willingness to take action. Silco himself was controlled and reserved, in many ways just as scared as Vander was, but he resented that in both himself and Vander. Jinx developed as a response to that fear, Silco's "Perfect" daughter, who acted recklessly without heed for danger or consequence. She's terrifying, look how she treats the bartender, or Sevika. Not just being chaotic, but being PERFORMATIVELY chaotic, scrawling her signature graffiti everywhere. She's also, clearly, miserable. Silco the Kingpin wants control and obedience, Silco the Revolutionary craves violence against Topside and disruption of the status quo. Jinx is desperate for his approval, and is forever torn between his contradictory desires. You'd think she's get MORE unstable and self destructive after losing Silco, but it's the opposite. Left to her own devices, she doesn't really seek out trouble (Caitlyn's strike team is hunting HER), her big "Attack" on Piltover is basically a protest art project, venting the Grey up to the well-ventilated topside in a cloud of color. She's protective and kind to Isha. She's a lot less showy than she once was, almost like the pressure to perform Jinx The Anarchist Chaos Gremlin is gone and what's left is, well, not Powder, but maybe somebody that Powder could have grown up to be.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Retaliation: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: Everyone can see just how much you're suffering, Spencer more than most. When he confesses to the team about your nightmares, Derek takes matters into his own hands.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

News of another murder comes in at the house that belonged to Dan Otey so your entire team heads over there immediately. The only people left behind by the crime are Dan's wife and son who are upstairs. Dan is dead on the ground downstairs, and Schrader and his partner are long gone.

You turn to the front door and see Dale and his partner come in. You can't get much out of the partner but you know it's a man with brown hair. Dan and his wife are trying to protect his crying son but they ordered her and the son upstairs. The partner goes up there to make sure they are taken care of while Dale shoots Dan downstairs. God, will you ever be able to escape this feeling? Will you ever not take other people's pain and think it's your own?

"His wife and son were home," JJ whispers. "The partner took them upstairs while Schrader destroyed the place. Emily is with the wife right now."

You walk upstairs and stay outside the bedroom door where Dan's wife is. You don't make yourself known but you're close enough to hear their conversation.

"Dan had turned everything around. He was clean. Life was finally good, but I was always afraid to believe it, you know? Because then he could be taken away."

"I'm so sorry for your loss. Did you get a good look at the man Dale was with?"

"Uh, white, mid-forties, short hair? I don't know," she sighs.

"Have you ever seen him before?"

"Dale, yes. The other guy, no."

"We're trying to figure out how Schrader knows his partner."

"I have no idea."

"How did they talk to each other?"

"They didn't. Dale trashed the place and the other guy took us upstairs. He kept pushing me and Jason. I didn't know what was gonna happen," she sniffles.

"Did he hurt you?"

"He just scared us. He locked us in the back room and told us to shut up. Jason wouldn't stop crying."

You stare at the wall in front of you and let the tears fall down your cheeks. God, you hate crying. You wish you never had this gift. It's two AM by the time you get back to the station. Derek is in one of the empty office rooms talking on the phone so you gather with the rest of the team to talk about the case.

"Schrader gets off on power. Power, money, and revenge are what motivate him. He spent eleven years in prison and comes out as a murderer who needs a partner, somebody as bold as him. Where did they meet?"

"Schrader was away and patient. The minute he got out, he hooked up with his partner before killing Stacy on his way to kidnap his daughter. What's missing from his day?"

"The money," you say quietly. "He took his daughter but left the money. It doesn't make sense. Did he have another plan on how to support himself in Canada?"

"He's only known a life of crime. He's incapable of change. Time away proved that," Spencer says.

"Otey's wide said the partner locked them away like he didn't want them to get hurt. He was protective."

"They're both dominant personalities, but they sound like they played good cop/bad cop. It's been four hours since the accident. Do you still think I'm in shock?"

"Let's find out. Y/N, would you do the honors of giving a cognitive interview?"

"Sure," you mutter and get up.

You bring Emily to an empty office to give yourself some peace and privacy.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Fine. Let's just focus on you."

"Y/N..."

"Emily, drop it. I am not talking about this with you. Okay?" She nods and you grab her hands so you can focus on her energy and her experience. You'd rather be alone right now but you're the only one who can see clearly what happened. "Start from the beginning. Just talk about it and I'll pull what I need."

She begins the story of what happened and you use her energy and words to paint yourself a pretty picture. You close your eyes and picture yourself in the backseat of the car, next to Schrader.

Emily was in the passenger seat and Bunting was driving the car. The road was dark and lonely but that didn't stop Schrader from yapping his mouth the whole time. One small four-door black car passes by and he's looking out the window as if he is looking or waiting for someone.

Another car passes by them but this time, it's a big truck. It looks like a worker's truck with yellow lights attached to the top, only they were off. As soon as the truck passes by, Schrader takes off his seatbelt. He bends over as if he is sick and lifts himself out of the seat to pull his arms under himself so he can get his cuffed hands to the front and not the back.

Emily thinks he's actually sick but she can't see what you can see. When Schrader gets his hands in the front, he puts his seatbelt back on. Suddenly, the worker's truck from before comes crashing into the side of the car where Bunting is.

The car flips multiple times down the ditch where Derek found the car. Emily is pretty out of it but Schrader leans over and wraps his cuffed hands around Bunting's neck and starts to strangle him. Once Bunting is dead, he climbs over the seat and fishes for the keys in Emily's pockets, but she is too dazed and hurt to do anything about it.

Someone comes from the truck and Emily believes it's someone coming to help. However, he opens Schrader's door and helps him out, saving him. His partner. No matter how hard you try, you can't put a face to the partner. All you know is that he's a white man wearing jeans and boots.

They struggle for a bit and you know it's because Schrader wants to kill Emily. She knows there is a partner. She's seen both of their faces, but the partner won't allow it. He drags Schrader away before anything else can happen. That's when she gets out and crawls to the street where Derek intercepts her.

You let go of Emily's hands and take a step back from her to collect yourself. She looks tired from having to relive that but she'll be fine. You leave the room and address the team, telling them everything you saw.

"The partner took Otey's family upstairs and protected them from Schrader, just like he did with Emily," you finish.

"Do we really think a good guy hooked up with a criminal like Dale Schrader?"

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?"

You look back and see Derek in the empty office where he was making his phone call. You leave the group and join him inside, and he closes the door behind you.

"Am I in trouble?"

"No. I'm not going to beat around the bush here. I know you're not okay even though you say you are."

"Derek, can we do this some other time? Or never, I prefer."

"Y/N." It's the way he says your name so softly that makes you shut up and willing to hear him out. "I've noticed you're spaced out a lot, distracted, and anxious. I know what happened at the house of our last case. I see it here. You're terrified. You're living in fear." 

You can't say anything because you know it's true.

"What's your point, Derek?"

"Look, prison changes people whether you're in there for years or two and a half months." Again, you can't say anything about that. "You don't have to talk to me about this but you will talk to someone."

"What do you mean?"

Derek hands you a paper with people's names and phone numbers on it.

"Those are therapists the FBI are willing to send you to to help you out. You can choose who you go to."

"I'm fine--"

"No, you're not. You'll have weekly sessions until the therapist deems you okay."

"Derek!" He only shrugs in response. "You're really forcing me to go to therapy?"

"No, I'm not forcing you to do anything, but you'll go if you want to keep your job."

He leaves the office and you look at the paper in your hands. You scoff angrily and watch him talk to the team as if he didn't just order you to go back to a different kind of prison. This time, it's an emotional one.

By the time six AM rolls around, you're not any closer to figuring out who the partner is or where Schrader might be. You're on your fifth cup of coffee while everyone else is having their second. You might be killing yourself with the caffeine but you need it if you're going to stay awake.

"So, how did Schrader get this guy to sign on?" Derek asks.

"Good people do bad things. I'm just saying, it happens."

"Maybe, but this partner wouldn't let me die. He protected Otey's family. On the same day, he helped a convicted felon escape custody. His loyalties are all over the place," Emily sighs.

"The guy sounds desperate. Maybe he needs some money. I mean, Schrader's got a lot of it still out there. He could have promised him a cut."

"I don't know," Emily disagrees. "He's an accomplice to three murders and a kidnapping. Is there enough money out there for you to sign on to something like that? I think it's something bigger than the money. Maybe Schrader's threatening him. Whatever it is, it'd have to be big."

What's the point of discussing with the team anymore? What's the point of anything? You're too tired to think so you're too tired to actively engage with anyone on the team. You'll do what you can to help but you'll need to be told what to do instead of taking initiative which you used to have.

"We caught Schrader because he kidnapped his daughter. He was emotional and his guard was down. Clearly, family means more to him than we thought. Schrader's ex-wife forced him to give up custody of Jenny. Maybe he wants this guy to know what it feels like to lose his family, too."

"It sounds like revenge to me."

"Maybe it is."

"Do we have anything on Schrader's case? Any potential victims?" JJ asks when she walks into the station after getting some sleep.

"The usual--judges and lawyers."

"They're all accounted for this morning," Derek says.

"If it's revenge, then it's gotta be someone who put him away. If it's not the officers who put him away or the judge who sentenced him, then who is it?"

Hotch gets Penelope on the phone.

"Garcia, I need the names of every law enforcement agent Involved in the Schrader case."

"You know everybody."

"Yeah, but I want every single employee the year that he was arrested."

"Give me a minute."

"A whole minute? Come on, baby girl, are you losing your touch?" Derek grins.

"Oh, watch your pretty mouth. Personnel records come at you now."

Maybe Schrader is using someone on the police force as his partner, someone he is threatening.

"Who is still active?"

"Most."

"Would he risk using an active officer?"

"Depends on how much he hates them. Has anyone retired?"

"Two of them. Mat Massey and Jeff Messick. Both are married with kids, white, and in their fifties," Spencer reads from the file Pen sent over.

Why are you even here? There is nothing stopping you from getting up, walking out of this building, and never returning. Wait, there is one. Spencer. He's been so kind and good to you. You could never leave him no matter what you're going through.

"Can I see those pictures?" Emily asks. She shakes her head when she doesn't recognize either of them. "They aren't the partner. Why wouldn't he go after one of the officers who arrested him? It makes the most sense for revenge."

"Wait a minute, guys, listen to this," Derek says. "There was a witness who never testified on Schrader's behalf. He might have seen that as a betrayal. When he gets out of prison, he can use him to get what he wants. Garcia, I want you to run a history on a witness from the Schrader case, Joey Short."

"Alright, Joey was born in 1966 in New York City. He didn't hold a lot of jobs except for in construction. He was in and out of rehab."

"Where is he now?"

"His last known address was ten years ago."

"Did he do time?"

"No."

"Come on, Garcia. People don't just disappear. This guy's got a history with a lot of holes in it. He went to rehab. You know, maybe this guy had to walk the walk."

"He was undercover," Hotch says.

"That makes sense. Those guys are up for anything, and they take big risks professionally and personally. It explains his behavior, too. Good guy doing bad things."

"Garcia, what's his real name?"

"It's not here," she says after a few seconds.

"If Schrader can find it, so can we. The guy needed to be Schrader's friend so they're probably around the same age. Look for academy graduates in the early nineties. Did any of them not go into police work?"

"Baby, I don't follow you," Penelope frowns.

"If he went undercover, then anything tied to the academy would have to be severed. I mean, the guy graduated but had to immediately start working his history as Joey Short. He went into construction, made his contacts in the bank robbery world, and then he met Schrader. He earned Schrader's trust, turned him in, and got out of the game."

Penelope works quickly through the list of men that fit the description Derek gave.

"Okay, here are a couple of guys that look like they dropped out."

"Are there pictures?" Emily asks.

"Sending them to you now."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[eri-pl]

Ar-Pharazôn's mother

(Lady not-appearing-in-the-canon*, I'll probably devise a name for her soon.)

(Late Numenor, but in terms of things explicitely mentioned we aren't going beyond speculated murder + some emotional abuse. Not a veeery long post, but long enough that it would get the cut even without the TWs.)

So, I was thinking about Pharazôn (as you do).

About how his father was a nasty, opinionated guy hating the Faithful and yet Pharazôn in his youth spent time with Amandil, Elendil, Miriel etc, in Andunie. Why? Who took him there, who let him?

Not his father, obviously, so I assume it must have been his mother. I don't think she was one of the Faithful (his dad probably wouldn't marry her in that case, also I think it would lead to Pharazôn being a better person… maybe?). But I think she was quite neutral on the Faithful-King's Men divide—as neutral as one can be—and was close friends with some of them, probably related to some, and keeping close ties with friends and family was important to her.

Technically Miriel (and, more distantly, amandil) was Gimilkhâd's (Pharazôn's father's) family, but knowing Tolkien's family trees (only first cousins are a clear "nope") I would assume his mother was also related to them somehow. Even if not, she clearly liked them enough to keep strong contacts.

And then she died. Yes, I think she died relatively early.

If she leaned (even socially) towards the Faithful, or simply grew old and Gimilkhâd wanted a younger wife… we're talking late Numenor. There were surely many plants and substances he could have used to make it look natural.

Or she may have died giving birth to a daughter (the daughters and sisters are rarely mentioned even if they exist), which would lead Pharazôn to dislike the idea of having kids in general. (I have some HCs about it but that's another thing).

Or, tbh, it may have been both.

Anyway she died and Gimilkhâd had nobody to stop him from "teaching" his son "proper Númenorean values". Which unfortunately stuck, even after Pharazôn left to Middle Earth to prove himself… I imagine Gimilkhâd as the kind of guy who is never satisfied with his son (think: Oazi to Zuko, kind of, but there's no Azula), and his own upbringing hadn't been great either (think: Azula). It was a whole chain of emotional abuse and expectations.

And then Pharazôn returned and his father was dead but at this point he had internalized enough of the legacy. He chose to make the memory of Gimilkhâd proud, or maybe to prove it wrong. Same thing, in the end.

But the friendships ignited by his mother remained alive until almost the end. Almost.

I wonder if Sauron, when he got to know Pharazôn better, slowly changed his voice, every day making it closer to Gimilkhâd's. OK, I do not wonder. He did. He absolutely did.

*btw Edennill, don't ever watch Monty Python, you'd hate it in more than one way. Probably. Anyway, I do reference it sometimes.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART SIX]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Reader and Lee get tied up in a revenge plot.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Is reader really young and naive, or is she just young and angry? Lack of Jervis in this one, I apologize. I love Lee and Readers dynamic. The slow burn is slow burning. She fell first, he fell harder. More of reader dissociating. AU where The Ogre's still alive. Reader and Lee being mortal frenemies. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Small time skip. Reader continues to reference Jervis as "Mr. Tetch." Just you guys wait...they'll get there. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx @all-things-fandomstuck @killingboredom @sweetlimeharvest

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR, - 'PART FIVE, - 'PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, -'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN, - 'PART FOURTEEN,

♫ “I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

Nothing seems real anymore.

You'd heard of the crazies running around in Gotham. Whether that was from your father, mindlessly ranting over a stack of police files. Or your mother, who frequently talked to said crazies on a daily basis.

Prior to Mr. Tetch, you'd only ever dealt with one first hand. At least, one that was actively trying to murder your family. And that was none other than Jason Skolimski. The Ogre. You feel your body involuntarily shake when you even think about him.

You're unsure what happened to him, exactly. You were just thirteen when everything got turned on its head. But you do know one thing. His body was shipped to Indian Hill. Your mother and father never mention it. You wonder if your mother ever thinks about it. The small possibility...that man could still be alive.

She'd probably thank him. It was because of him that she embraced her "true self".

You bite your lip, lost in your head. Somethings been missing ever since Mr. Tetch turned out to be...whatever he is. Ever since he left, Tabitha’s seemed happy. Your mom hasn’t. Appearently his hypnotism act was attracting a bunch of publicity to the club.

You should've been thankful, like Tabitha. Good riddance. That should've been the end of it. But you had begged Jim to take you to the GCPD, to ask Alice questions. You needed answers. More than he did.

You always hated the GCPD. The last time you went to the department, you were young and naive. It was ‘take your child to work day.’ You watched a serial cannibal try to bite Harvey Bullock's finger off. Tale as old as time.

It didn't matter, regardless. Jim didn't let you go again. You remember the vague shouting match between you two. Good thing, maybe. Judging by the fact Mr. Tetch hypnotized a family of strongmen to kill everyone in the place. And then Alice impaled herself on a pole. All in the papers.

What does it matter? You're not sure why you let the whole situation get under your skin.

A few dreams, a few encounters, a few shared looks. You find yourself scoffing at your own blind idiocy. Maybe you are still young and naive.

You've been taking your rightful place at the bar, next to Butch. You two have been tossing back shots of tequila, mindlessly ranting at the same time to one another. Again, there’s comfort in knowing you both want to speak to someone that you can’t have.

"I don't understand. She doesn't even look at me anymore. I mean, she just looks at Barbara. Sorry, I know she's your mom, or whatever."

"Don't apologize. I don't understand either. Where the hell even is he?"

"Your dad?" Butch furrows his eyebrows.

No, you think. Mr. Tetch. You don't vocalize that though. You lie with a nod.

Maybe the alcohol caught up to you. You should've known better. Day-drinking never ends well. You cringe, remembering Harvey slurring his words, knocking on your dads apartment door. Either way, you aren't in control of your own body. Before you know it, you're leaving the club, tossing a wad of cash to Butch. He wolf whistles and takes it gladly.

You're just walking down the street. Maybe drunkenly. Kicking loose pebbles on the sidewalk, swinging around streetlamps. You'd expect a weird look or two from bystanders. But you realize no ones on the street except for you.

It's Gotham. You should be more concerned by the fact your alone. But it's broad daylight. Surely nothing could go wrong-

Before the thought can be fully thought out, a pair of arms grabs you from behind. You find yourself kicking and screaming, being dragged by a heavy-set man. Yay.

Huffing through the set of hands over your mouth, you're shoved into a trunk, light significantly dimming as it's closed. You hear the lock click, and you stop fussing. Attempting to calm yourself, you search your pockets for your phone. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. Your mom is a crime lord. Your dad is a cop, or rather, was one. You'll be fine.

You can't seem to find your phone in your pockets though. You feel your heartrate speed as you frantically start to search. The bar. You left it at the fucking bar. Nice fucking job Y/N. You definitely wouldn't survive in a horror movie.

You give up. You're defeated. Maybe they'll be a pair of nice human traffickers. Take pity on you. You sigh and throw your head back for the rest of the car ride. Squeezing your eyes shut, you manage to accept whatever fate is in store for you.

You had a good run, champ. A voice that sounds an awful lot like your fathers praises in the back of your mind.

Like a ragdoll, you're roughly placed on the floor. Eyes still trying to get used to the bright light, you feel both dizzy and discombobulated. Your head is pounding from any alcohol you had prior. Picked a great day to drink.

Blinking wildly, the first thing you manage to digest is being chained to a bathtub.

"Y/N?" A voice asks, and your eyes snap up. Staring wide eyed at you, just tied up as you are, is Lee Thompkins.

A million thoughts rush through your head. The first one you promptly register is what is this bitch doing here?

"Lee?" You mumble. You think this might be a hallucination, but if you were going to hallucinate someone, it wouldn't be her.

You two stare at each other for a moment. Tense, awkward. The last time you saw her was when your father witnessed her having moved on. You still remember the feeling, standing on your tiptoes to look through a window. Seeing your fathers heart break before your eyes.

You never really talked to her. She always tried to talk to you though. A lot. Too much. But she could never be the Barbara you used to know. No matter how hard she tried.

"What the fuck is going on?" You whisper yell. Lee looks at you, swallowing.

"Tetch blames Jim for Alice, and we're his means for revenge."

At the mention of his name, your blood runs cold. You didn't expect to ever see him again. Let alone see Lee. You watch, petrified, as Lee fidgets around through the bathroom cabinet.

For the most part the room is silent, other than the clanking of items being searched through.

"Leave it." Is all you say, watching her look uncontrollably for something to pick the lock. She sighs.

"You expect me to just sit here and die?"

"Yes." You hiss. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but you can imagine her face, disappointed and irritated. You don't care. You get mean when you're nervous.

"…It's not my fault. Jim is who he is, Y/N. I can't change that. Neither can you."

The truth stings harder coming from her of all people.

"Oh, give yourself some credit, Ms. Thompkins," You say the name snappish. "Without you, I hardly doubt we'd be in this mess."

That makes her perk up. Her nostrils flare, and the clanking sounds louder.

"You don't seriously blame me for this?" She still doesn't make eye contact with you, but she motions wildly to the locks on your ankles. You give a nonchalant, bitter shrug.

"If you didn't leave him, he wouldn't have become a bountyhunter."

"You don't know that." Her eyes soften in hurt. It fuels you.

"No. But I know you're a whore." The words escape your mouth before you internalize them. There's a long beat of silence before she finally turns to look at you, still sitting on the ground. She huffs.

"Maybe you're just really scared and this is your way of coping," She starts, "Or maybe you're just insanely committed to taking care of your father. Either way, all I'm interested in is getting out of here."

You look at each other with a mutual mix of regret.

"Try a cuticle pusher." You finally say, smiling humorlessly. "My dad's was a cop, after all. Taught me how to pick locks. I can walk you through it."

She nods. You nod. It's not the same feeling of understanding you get when talking with Butch. But...it's not too far off either.

"You really are his daughter." She sighs, snatching a cuticle pusher up from the counter.

"Thanks."

"It's not a compliment."

"Remember you have to-"

"I got it." Lee cuts you off, fiddling with the lock. You put your hands up in mock defense. At least your humors returning back to you.

"Can I ask you something?" You start off, slow. She glances at you for a moment, before returning to her chains.

"As long as it's not about why I left your dad." She mutters.

"Not exactly," You pause, looking for the right words to say. "Why did you return to Gotham? You looked all cozy down south."

"It's really none of your business."

You let out a loud scoff at that.

"You were ready to become my stepmother less than a year ago," You continue. At this, her movements falter. "You could've chosen any city. Any job. But you chose Gotham."

"You realize we both might die today, right?"

"Yes. And I don't want to die not knowing why you left us, just to come back and dangle it in front of my dad."

Her movements stop completley.

"I didn't come here for James Gordon." She's firm in her stance. In one last fluid moment, the lock unclicks before our eyes. She heaves a small sigh of relief.

She offers you the cuticle pusher. You take it. About three seconds in, it breaks. Shit.

Not the worst fate in the world, you think. You'd be able to see Mr. Tetch again. Ask him all the unanswered questions. That is, if he doesn't immediately kill you. Maybe you’re a fool to think a part of him enjoyed your company.

"You can still escape." You nod to Lee, hopeful she'll leave, hopeful she'll stay. With what you said to her earlier, you wouldn't blame her.

"I'm not leaving you here," She speaks. Her tone is gentle. Somewhat motherly. The sentiment actually makes guilt bubble up inside you. "There's got to be something else."

Looking around the room madly, you two are interrupted in your searching's.

"My, my," A voice drawls. You know that voice. "You two have been busy."

There he is.

Jervis stands tall, looking down at the both of you. You meet his gaze. For the first time in quite awhile, that feeling of electricity shoots through you again. You want to tear yourself apart. Find whatever part of your brain is fascinated with the idea of this man. Cut it out of you, examine it, and throw it away.

"Now, if you'd kindly join me in the dining room?" He speaks. You notice his eyes are focused solely on you, effectively ignoring Lee. He still looks relatively angry though.

Despite his demeanor, he offers you a hand to help you up. Lee watches his movements. You take his arm without question. That seems to spark something in his eyes. In Lee's eyes, too.

...You're unsure if that's a good or bad sign.